Fantasy The Last Judgement

[Chise_Robin_]

ALASKA ​

mentions: sleepy witch stella, Badass Jamiez boy, Kaeden/Jaeden runaway, Part-time devil, Brilliant Day Dream, hot cop , military Rambo
location: the police academy
BGM:

The ride to the police academy was relaxing, Alaska was too tired but drove anyways, relieved that now she won't have to worry about the bleeding. She knew her
leg would heal in a matter of weeks, hunters' healing time was faster than regular humans. Their resident angel had introduced a new kid as Jaemen before they'd left the fire station, Alaska's mind still hovered around the blue eyed guy. Her first thought was that there were a lot of blue eyed people in their group, but for some reason the color, and the way each of them looked had a different effect. The second thought toyed with his name Jaemen ..... that wasn't right! where did she know this guy from?

Alaska's eyes wondered to James who rode shotgun, exhaustion written all over his face, she opened her mouth to ask about the new comer when it all clicked into place. His name wasn't Jaemen! That was the guy who disappeared on the last day of his final hunter exams! The whole academy went on about it for an entire year! How he had so many potential, the gossip.....the guessing.....the speculating! Even her older brother Alexander had talked about it and had tried to get the council to reschedule the test in case the boy shows up......they didn't agree.
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They finally arrived, tired, exhausted, and smelling like shit. Alaska stepped out of the car walking up to Rhys, Nik and Stella, hugging herself tightly as she looked at the skies which threatened to drown the world in snow. Sargent Rambo with the intimidating air and the fancy guns got out of the military vecihle, followed by two children who looked like they trusted him with their lives. Alaska smiled faintly at Reverie's remark and agreed hugging herself tighter, there was no use in waiting out in the cold. The look on the man's face didn't seem threatening, though she still kept a cautious distance between them, her hand resting lightly on her pistol, waiting for any sudden move. Stella looked like she was ready to jump the man if he were to make any sudden move.

"Authorization granted. Welcome, Detective.'' the computer welcomed Rhys as if it had done it a million times before. Their resident angel turned out to be their resident detective! To Alaska, he seemed to carry himself in a different way now that the word detective lingered in the air. Detective Emrys Conteillo What other things did this group hide from each other, the young huntress wondered, looking from face to face, studying her friends features one by one. How long were they going to last? What's waiting for them inside? And please God, let there be water for showering!

 

[Lakyr]

James
BasiliskVeranda

He would've loved to take a nap whilst the rest of the drive but the pain, especially in his leg and shoulder, got more distinct with every second and kept him awake. So he kept talking and listening and tried to keep the pleasant mood up. As they stopped near an old police station James looked the building over with a sigh. "It's gonna be a pain in the ass to make sure it's save in there." The thought of walking through all these abandoned rooms on the lookout for danger made him remember that he had emptied his gun earlier. He opened up his backpack and took out his last magazine and proceeded to reload his gun. Seventeen more bullets, but he was positive they'd find more inside the station. He holstered his gun again, got out the car and leaned against its side whilst he watched Rhys and Emma walking towards the door.

His attention shifted as a big military jeep approached the police station as well. He drew the machete from its sheath whilst still on his back, it wasn't the quickest of movements but still better than taking off his backpack just to draw the blade. He brushed the pain out of his face and calmly watched the vehicle. He held his blade casually and not in a threatening manner, but pointed towards the ground just ready if need be. A group of three left the back of the car, a boy and a girl both a little younger than James and an older guy. They were all armed and the air seemed to thicken slightly as soon as they arrived. All of them had a military posture in the way they moved and they walked straight towards Rhys. He watched the scene between Rhys and the newcomers playing out until Detective Emrys Contiello opened the door of the police station. No fight, that was always a good thing, right? James believed so, but he didn't trust the group of newcomers, he'd keep an eye on them whenever they're near him.

James looked around until he saw Nik, smoking a cigarette again. He walked over to Nik slowly, cursing the cold and the pain under his breath as he tried to seem as fine as possible. "Told you I'd take you up on that offer and I gotta do it before you burn every last one of them." he cast a smile onto his face and waited for a moment before he glared towards the police station and spoke again, "So, what do you think of our newly arrived army of three?" James looked back towards Nik, still smiling, but with a faint flicker of concern in his eyes.

 

[CupAndCough]

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Location:
Police HQ parking lot
Tags: @Basically Everyone
Mentions:
The group, police hq
Companions:
Darius
Velska

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[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]

Glance. Affirmation. Tension. The body movements of not just Rhys, but those he looked towards were sealed within observational data that tan back years of Grigori's work as an "interrogator", perhaps even before that. Emotions came later to him than anyone else, but he understands their make up. How to oarse fhe micromovements. The nanotwitches and minuscule muscle reactions. Text book or not, Grigori was near unparalleled with this strange ability to read people, to coax out reactions and manipulate those around him. Rhys would be an interesting challenge, if he provided, to deconstruct. Something about those hue of those eyes seemed...inhuman. 'Is that why you have been leading them? They defaulted to the gifted of the group...?', Grigori pondered to himself

"It would do better to prove your point of meaning no harm, if your children weren't dangling their digits so close to those shooters.... just saying"

Grigori synthetically produce a scoff, slightly diasrming, weightless and without malediction. Airs of humor. Grigori had emotions, all prophets do. This is a fact that will never be erred from, but he isn't like most prophets. Most people aren't like Grigori, and if they were he would have been sent to kill them long ago. The comment held no weight to him as he allowed the process of entering the building to initiate. He knows about doors like these, military had higher grades and most jobs took place behind lines where such wards were commonplace. It didn't stop those inside from dying, and the darker suspicions he held about this place were so readied in his mind. So ready that the taste of wet iron was ever so stuck on the tip of his silver tongue....

"The guns aren't for you..." He said in a low, personal, form. Audible to only Rhys, its matter-of-factness so sure that it cut like colder winds than the blizzard around them. Grigori had already taken precaution, already deliberated with himself that in this scenario he was relatively safe. More so now than ever being so close to the leader, save for the one with the trigger half squeezed. Her prone form recognizable from the reflection of the entrance's glass windows. They lacked discipline, but Grigori--as an occupational hazard prevention-- never underestimated a potential threat. It did not however left his mind with great annoyance and great emotional awareness to their obvious tension.


As the words of "Detective Emrys Contiello, NYPD, Badge number: 14188.", left the lips--rushed and hastened. As if not to catch the ears of those around him, such weakness. Minuscule fracture, and much like many secrets....it holds much more than brief embarrassment.

'Such criminal behavior hiding from one's past. Detective. Skulker's voice...', Grigori's thoughts trailed.

As the door relented, the children looked towards the silent hand movements of the father. Military call signals. The clear tactical training the children most likely under went was in full display as the rapid movement of Grigori's hand signals blurred, and within the movement of fluttering signals and motions the children form a perfect wedge formation. Within the matter of moments of Rhys speaking to his convoy, the "squad" had entered a breaching phase. Children as they were, they had more than enough ability to survive on their own in this hellish world.

"I'll cover your six". Grigori was not surprised, but not a bit deterred or insulted. "How kind of you, Detective"

Whatever wrapped its grasp in this station was another dead body to him, no matter how far the roots may go. Grigori's team filed into the foyer, guns at the ready--but strangely not Grigori. In fact he had holstered his gun, and opted to take forth his hatchet and kukri machete. The black axe and silver machete formed a silhouette of... viciousness as he readied himself as he could tell from the stale, putrid, air that they were definitely not alone.


"My 6, Detective. Perhaps the world took you a bit literally", Grigori murmured. As with his arms open, like some sort of divine relief of violence and human malice, walking forth to a group of six revenants. Three feasted upon the dingy bone of a poor soul, tatters of clothes displayed no identity. A stint of anger rushed through. Lives taken and forgotten.

As three noticed his lone approach--the closest barreled towards him. He saw for a briefest of glimpses the anger against a life robbed, against the living. But he offered no pity. Only mercy.

With a might, wind clearing, swing he smashed his elbow onto the revenant dazing the creature. As it flailed and snarled the two behind it rushed. Grigori's face transfixed into an strange mixture of anger and catharsis. Its moves were childish and predictable. Dodging the slashes with subtle side steps he slammed his boot against its leg. Snapping it in twain, sending it spiraling in the opposite direction, facing its kin.

As it yelped and hissed in pain, he rammed his blade through its sternum. And comeforth on the other side. The two soon beared down upon him, only to have the closest to him be hoisted into the air by the blade and slammed down upon the last.

As the wounded two tried to free themselves Grigori smashed their skulls into pulp and mash by a few boot strikes something seemed deliberately vicious as both were not but bone-bowls once first smashed. The third, with a fierceness of an animal sought to counter. Only to be met with an axe to neck. Rolling the revenants head across the floor with punctuation.

"Poor souls, robbed of life. Always an ache within me...."
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[Epiphany]

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[/div][div class=statusText]Location: The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy
Tags: JustAki Rui Artificial Angel GuavaJuiceXI Gravitational Force [/div][/div][div class=title]Emma Treadstone[/div][div class=text]
The immediate tension was over. Soon to be replaced by more tension, once they went inside. This Salvadore and his team weren't the easy-to-absorb one offs this informal group had taken on in recent days. It was all too easy to imagine they had their own agenda, and the potential for executing on that agenda aggressively.

But the oncoming storm was the immediate danger. As was whatever lay inside that police station. One thing hadn't escaped Emma's notice; this place had been sealed. After two years, it's possible there could be genuine survivors in there living off of supplies. Or there could be monsters. What it wouldn't be was empty. No one sealed up an empty, useful building like this. One way or another, further encounters lay inside and yet the descending winter offered few other options. It was time to commit and to make the best of a bad situation.

"Gather up!" Emma said and she pitched it loud enough for her voice to carry in the otherwise silent streets. In two years, everyone learned not to raise their voice so her choosing to do so would get the attention of the other survivors at least. "Luci, Haruka, Stella, Terra, Ezra, let's circle up a minute."

Assuming (hopefully) the other survivors were willing, Emma dropped her volume once everyone was close enough for quieter conversation. "Rhys has a point there; bad weather's moving in fast and we don't want to be caught out in it. Looks like he and the new guy are going to check out the lobby area, with a few of us for backups. But as you all know, the streets aren't exactly safe either. Here's what I propose."

"The five of us stick around out here and unload the vehicles while everyone else makes sure we've got somewhere safe to put them. Ezra, you did good as a lookout back at the gas station. Can I ask you to keep an eye out for us again, in case something comes our way in the streets? Terra, Luci, you've both got some good muscle on you. Get the heavy items out as quick as you can, anything communal. Haruka, Stella, the three of us will get everything else. Let's keep people's personals separated, the last thing we need when holing up for a storm is a reason to fight amongst ourselves."

Her blue eyes gleam golden in the light of day as Emma looks each of the others in the eyes. "We've made it this far. Working together, maybe we all make it a lot further. What do you say? Shall we get to it?"
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[Lekiel]

Reverie Lowiezka

Location: A very civilian unfriendly place. Explains why the police don't smile here like back home. No wonder Rhys sulks all the time.| Interacting with: @Hell0NHighWater | Mentions: Epiphany CupAndCough | Current Do: Hair tied in ponytail, Black zipper anorak over White tank top, Jeans, Black Converse.

❖ ❖​

"Wha-... Well excuse you-" Reverie protested when their testosterone infused leader manhandled her out of the way of the door. She was no small petite lass herself, but her slight frame might as well be a bunch of twigs in their resident cop's hands. Nevertheless, her annoyed look quickly faded to be replaced by one of mild surprise, and then genuine interest when Rhys promptly identified himself and the doors opened with a faint metallic whirr. Reverie let out a low whistle at the intricate albeit dangerous sounding warding system.

"For future reference, Government buildings always have the warding on the side panel. If you stand too close, you'll trigger it."

She matched his sidelong glance with a tilt of her own head, strands of cocoa brown falling across her face but she paid them no heed. "Wardink, as in like a trrap? Seriously? All govurnment builzings? Two whole yars in New York and I ne-vurr vonce eksperianced it." The girl wondered out-loud, her accent suddenly switching to that of her native European tongue, which was really an odd blend of her mother's Polish and a hint of her father's English. "Unteel now, vhen the vworld has gone to the sheets... yoo are implyink zat I nearly died knockink on zis front door? Zhey always talk about ze police brutality, and I ne-vurr under-stood vhy..."

"Amerikans." Reverie rolled her eyes as she stepped away from the door, allowing the two macho men to do their thing.

A voice to her back briefly caught her attention, and she turned observing as Emma immediately began organizing the others into packing up the supplies. She turned back to the front door, watching as the others followed after their detective (no surprise there, she'd guessed he was a man in uniform) and the newest special ops trio. She looked back towards the cars... An icy cold snowflake on her nose was all she needed to volunteer herself to watch the six of the people watching the other people's six. She was no warrior, but with any luck, she wouldn't have to fight.

Sorry for the drop in quality lately. I'm really just putting Revie up to speed. Pretty hectic work week... urgh!
]

code by Ri.a

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; max-width:1200px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; background: #fff;
[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
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[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx The Po-po station.

OOC:xxxx if you think I wrote Rhys taking action in a GodMod way, hell mother and I talked about it, no problemola
TAGS:xxxx Lakyr
TAGS:xxxxMentions Lekiel CupAndCough Epiphany Hell0NHighWater
BGM:xxxxSHERYL CROW - IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY



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[/div][div class=speaks]

"Authorization granted. Welcome, Detective.'' Nik carefully tucked away not only Rhys' full name, but also the fact that he was the actual 5-0, into a small little corner of his mind reserved for the upmost high quality snark he could single-handedly produce. It sat, the brightest bit of information, lulling behind a smile, desperate to pop off from his razored grin at any given moment. But now was not the time for that, so he soothed this particularly excitable inner demon, and let it rest. For after they cleared what they could, for after they managed to settle. Though he didn't know what their future within this establishment held, he would wait for the perfect time.

He grinned, said nothing, and filtered smoke like mist on the horizon from a half-smile.

"How about you guys grab everything out of the cars? That weather doesn't look like something we should get caught up in."
"Got it, chief."

Nik was already on this task, as he wanted everything in his backpack, and close to him. He was itching to unzip the obnoxious bag and rummage through the contents, gulping down the little treasures he had swiped from the oddly quite well stocked little market their group of misfits had dipped into. Though he had been mostly pragmatic in his choices, he couldn't exactly say he wasn't craving peanut butter. It was just one of those things, on a spoon, mulling it over. It reminded him of the time before, possibly the one food outside of coffee that ushered in the pressing memories that he loved, but wished to forget.

Days off, spent sitting in his boxers, with Diana in a too-large sweater. The pair of them, in different configurations of mostly-nudity, watching programs on their refracted, holographic television display. He'd pass the spoon, she'd jam it in her mouth, between rosed lips, ungraceful in that moment. But he liked her best that way, hunkered down over a tub of the stuff, snorting along with him to something irreverent. She'd cackle, belting out some uncouth laugh with her entire face animated and besieged with emotion. He'd take the spoon back, slop a bit of peanut butter on her cheek, and then they'd wrestle, screaming fits of laughter the entire way.

That, that had been something. Something to hold onto, even when the blackness in his veins spurred him to forget, forget, forget. Suck down the dark, embittered poison of sin in one thick pull, and be as nothing.

"It would do better to prove your point of meaning no harm, if your children weren't dangling their digits so close to those shooters.... just saying" Nik didn't say anything to the dark haired woman's proclamations, but made a noise of agreement, more like a hum than anything else. He wasn't sure he had fully gotten her name just yet, which concerned him. He'd need to rectify that soon, because she was brave enough to say the words they were all thinking.

He liked brave.

James broke his inner thoughts with a comment, a shiver, and a look of pain he was trying to hide as much as possible. The blond reached into his back pocket and pulled out his box of cigarettes, having put the one Rhys had found for him long-since in his bag.

"Told you I'd take you up on that offer and I gotta do it before you burn every last one of them."
"I can't help myself," he said with a small snort. The lighter came free from his jeans, he passed it to his young friend, and handed him the cigarette he had pulled free just for him.
"Ask anytime, anything I have is your's," he said this as an off-handed comment with only a small sliver of emotion behind it. Factual, it was just a stated fact. James could have his entrails if he wanted them. The young man had won a friend, and winning the part-time devil over meant he'd go the distance, whatever the cost, to make sure the hunter was alright.

Which, at this moment, he seemed in pain. Nik's face soured, but he wouldn't try to dash his pride with some stupid comment. Not right now, anyways.

"So, what do you think of our newly arrived army of three?" asked his friend, leaning in to speak in softer tones as they walked within the walls of their newly opened destination.
"Grigori is severe. But he loves his kids—a lot. A bad combination. He'd gut us if they got in trouble because we botched something up, no fuckin' joke. Even if it was a mistake." Nik said this without any concern for the man in question, or his progeny, hearing him. His voice was low enough so that it was a conversation between James and himself, but he didn't bother to hide his skepticism. It was simply not his way. Smoke pillowed out from his mouth and swirled around his face like a foggy halo, casting off across his features as perhaps a charismatic monster who breathes fire now and then might look.

When they stepped further inside, there were Revenants to deal with. Nik didn't take action immediately, simply slipping one of his blades from the safety of his belt into his hand, cigarette still stuck squarely between his lips. Several of them were dealt with by Grigori in a skillful manner that told Nik, in no uncertain terms, that this was not someone he wanted to mess with, on really any occasion. Rhys had the right idea with covering his six. Nik, usually trusting, open and friendly—possibly too friendly—had trepidation.

And if Nik had trepidation, it meant there was something there to be trepidatious about, plain and simple.

But his instincts could be wrong. That phrase at the end of the handful of Revenant's lives—if you could all them that—held a sympathy. Certainly he could be wrong, as looks could be deceiving. Like his own smiles and carefree nature, when the Beast within writhed and wrought his veins black, and he had to continually, constantly, mind-numbingly reject its offerings of "Slay" and "Blood" and the ever insistent "Now". It was like living with a terrible roommate, one that didn't speak in words, just in emotions and flecks of adrenaline.

The worst roommate, enticing him to act on things he didn't actually wish to.

Rhys took prime form yet again, as he could always be counted on to, and dealt with the remaining Revenants that they could see at the moment. Quick bullets, perfectly aimed, the gun adjusted at just the right height, a flex, shots, sounds, done. He attempted to blaze a righteous flame upon one of them, but it sputtered in a glow, and in panic, he shot off another perfect shot at the Revenant he missed. Even in panic, perfect.

Nik liked the light show, and was appreciating it from his vantage point—greatly. He supposed he shouldn't have treated it so lightly, but his mind was somewhere else. And he was feeling somber.

This was Rhys' turf, perhaps not his actual home turf, but it was his nonetheless. He expected a certain air of professionalism and decisiveness, and he got it, as expected. Nik let his dark gaze travel up that prime form and smiled behind his cigarette.

A deadly thing of beauty, that one.

Emma began to rally her own troops, Nik caught the tail-end of the dark-haired woman's lapse into the accent of her native tongue, and he smiled. And in that moment, he felt like an onlooker, an outsider, on the bounds between them all. James at his side, though, that was a comfort. It was just that his own silence felt like he was drowning. For when he didn't have much to say, his thoughts played tricks, and begged him remember. Forget, give in, submit. Remember, keep it close. Forget, give in, submit. Remember, keep it close.

Forget.

It never fucking stopped.

[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

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[Chise_Robin_]

ALASKA ​

mentions: Badass Jamiez boy, Kaeden/Jaeden runaway, Part-time devil, Brilliant Day Dream, hot cop , military Rambo, cool leader emma
location: the police academy
BGM:

With the gate now open, and after Grigori slaughtered the three revenants that came his way they ventured forward.Some more revenants rushed their way only to receive Rhys's bullets to their heads.

Emma had taken most of the group to help her gather the supplies, while the rest followed Rhys deeper into the academy.

The new comer, still hiding his true identity, the biker prophet who Alaska found collapsed in front of the gas station two days ago, the stunning brunette named after a day dream who had changed her outfit, the young gifted hunter who's sassiness could drown the world, the gentle, kind, skillful quasi-devil who's soul flirted with the abyss, the resident detective angle who's leadership was completely accepted and welcomed by the group as a whole, and who could quite literally burn his enemies to the ground, and herself.

Alaska clutched both of her daggers in each hand, her eyes moving from left to right looking for any movement, to her surprise, Nik left all of the action to his angelic counterpart, something she found rather odd especially after the juggernaut incident. From her far right he came darting, a creature with short hair and black eyes, it seemed he was turned rather new. The two daggers from a crossed position decapitated his head which now fell tumbling to the ground in front of her, the blood that exploded out of it's neck now covered her brand new band hoodie. . "I swear if I see one more dick head..." her voice trailed off addressing no one in particular as she cleaned the blades with the sleeves of the already ruined hoodie.

The walk that followed that moment was completely surreal. It felt as if she was sitting in a car on a smooth direct highway, listening to music as the car makes it's way forward. Slightly limping on her leg while walking silently, listening to the unfolding conversations with knotted eyebrows. The only thing Alaska could think about was a good pillow to hug and sleep without interruption. Forget the pain, forget the smell, forget the shower, the food, the coffee. The only thing she wanted to do was to close her eyes and drift off to her nightmares.....Funny thing sleep deprivation is, you're even willing to accept the nightmares if it meant you could sleep...

The pain in her leg, combined by the chilling cold kept her on her feet moving forward, she avoided talking to anyone, merely nodding or shrugging when words were addressed to her, her exhaustion now begged her to sleep, and she felt like she'd explode at anyone who tries to talk or to ask her something. Now Alaska hoped for another revenant she could kill...At least that anger would be directed towards the bastard, not her friends..

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[/div][div class=statusText] Location: The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy
Tags: Axeman's shorter but scarier brother CupAndCough | Fire Mom Epiphany | Wise Witch Lekiel |The Great State of Alaska Chise_Robin_ | Blondie BasiliskVeranda | Professional Sass Master Lakyr | Jaemin? Anise | Lulu Paarthurnax
BGM: More to Life
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He gave Reverie a weary smile, "Less about police brutality and more about police protection."
It was odd that she instantly thought about police brutality, but then again he assumed that most civilians probably thought that way when the wardings were first installed. But what people had forgotten, was that before those wardings anyone could walk in without restriction or reason. Police buildings nation wide had become the subject of bombings, shootings, and magical attacks. In Rhys's eyes, the government's decision to implement them were completely valid.

Inside there was barely any light other than what filtered in from dirty windows. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the poorly lit conditions. Grigori's barb brushed off him without so much as a glance. If it weren't for the other survivors here he might have felt the need to shoot back some smart ass comment. His brain, however, was running on low battery, his body needed rest, yet his mind was too anxious. Rhys's eyes tracked the movement of Grigori and his disturbingly trained children with an expression that rivaled chiseled stone.

The pad of his thumb clicked off the safety.
He raised the gun, comforted in the pull of the trigger and the release of the bullet.
The projectile spun, whirling towards the figure of a Revenant by the information desk, and he watched in macabre satisfaction as it entered through the eye socket. There was a sickening squish, a pooling of blood, and a blackening hole that hung in the center. Bits of light pink and grey brain matter exploded from the back of the revenant's skull and splattered on the otherwise white wall. The body slumped to the floor like some ungainly life-sized doll with the remaining eye still open, staring blankly at the detective.

A screech snapped his attention to his left, barely putting a hand up just in time to block the lunge of another revenant. Rhys staggered back a couple steps, the center of his palm warming followed by a couple sparks of blue flame and then nothing. Azure orbs widened in shock, unprepared for the drain that surged through his veins. The revenant smiled. He pulled his hand away in panic, gun raised and another bullet fired. The monster was still smiling even as it's body hit the wooden floor with an unpleasant thump.

Rhys was breathing heavily, lungs constricting as his body struggled to bring in oxygen. He staggered slightly, the edges of his vision blurring. He ran a calloused hand over his face, willing himself to hold it together for a couple more hours. Then maybe he could get some rest. His nose crinkled slightly as his fingers brushed over the stubble forming on his jaw and he made yet another mental reminder to shave.
Tucking the gun back into the holster, he moved towards the information desk almost on auto pilot. He leaned over the console, head bent in concentration as he poked at the dark screen. He watched it stutter to life and then blink out, a tiny frown forming on his lips as he attempted to turn the system back on again. No luck. A low noise of frustration left him as he rose back to his full height.
"The generator must be out...but I think if we could at least secure this area and maybe the locker room we should be in good shape."

Cyan orbs lifted to look around the room, noting that Alaska had apparently dispatched a revenant he hadn't even been aware of. It showed how tired he was, the fact that he could completely miss something so obvious....it was a dangerous thing to miss too. He cast her a thankful glance, before bringing his attention back to the old desk. A thick layer of dust had settled over it and the processing chips that had been stacked neatly on the side were cracked with age. There was a picture on one side, a little girl with warm brown eyes and a big toothless smile--she looked to be around six. He was quiet for a moment as he looked at the picture. Expression almost lost for a moment before snapping back to the reality of the situation. Rhys pulled away from the picture that had held him spellbound, watching as the last of the group funneled in with everything they owned. The ex-detective moved with a purpose, boots making a hollow kind of footstep on the hardwood floors.

"If we split up we can secure the area faster," He checked the chamber of his gun absently, attention gravitating towards the blonde with a cigarette and a smirk. There was a heartbeat of silence as if he had lost his sentence for a precious tenth of a second, he went to speak but his voice somehow caught in his throat and he attempted to start again, "Alaska, Jaemin, James, Reverie, Luiza, and Nik come with me. We'll get the locker rooms cleared out." He turned to look at Grigori then, not at all intimidated by the sheer size of the man. Rhys gave orders like it was something he had done his whole life, his blue eyes almost daring the elder man to disagree with his methods. "You and your people stay here with the rest. Barricade the North and West hallways, we'll clear them on another day."

Rhys moved without waiting for confirmation, pausing in front of the other blessed woman. His head turned to look at her, expression firm as if to say don't trust him before stalking off towards the hallway. Hopefully there wouldn't be much to deal with. A shower would be something he would give his soul up for right now...well, that and probably some food and a good night's rest.

The later, he knew, was probably just the foolish hope of a desperate man.


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[Gravitational Force]

Ezra:

Ezra, you did good as a lookout back at the gas station. Can I ask you to keep an eye out for us again, in case something comes our way in the streets?

Ezra snapped out of the fugue he'd been in for the past several minutes. He'd grabbed a gaming magazine off the shelf and discovered that Half Life 3 had been released the day before the end of the world.
Fuck, that was painful.

Looking at Emma, Ezra nodded.
"Sure, no problem. But at this point I think a lot of us could use a bit more personal. It's been nice being around people for once, you know?"
He runs his hand through his messy hair.

Ezra reflected. Right now he had no idea what he was going to do, no idea what the future held, and no idea if FUCKING HALF LIFE 3 HAD BEEN OUT AND HE'D NEVER BE ABLE TO PLAY!

Ezra took a deep breath. Now was not the time to lose his temper. Especially around one of the few people in this group he actually cared anything about. That and the Tarot card person, but that was more about curiosity.

 

[Epiphany]

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[/div][div class=statusText]Location: The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy, Lobby
Tags: JustAki Rui Artificial Angel GuavaJuiceXI Gravitational Force CupAndCough [/div][/div][div class=title]Emma Treadstone[/div][div class=text]
As the half dozen who unloaded the vehicles moved the last of the supplies into the police lobby, Emma wiped the sweat from her forehead and exchanged looks with Rhys, just as the detective organized up a team to explore the locker rooms. She nodded at the assignments, then raised an eyebrow at the detective's reflex defaulting to Salvadore as the other leader here. But then, it wasn't that surprising. The newly arrived man was a leader, even if it was of children. He was also older than just about everyone else here. There was also the absolute confidence in the man. He had the bearing of someone long since used to suffering, to the point he didn't even feel pain at what the world had lost. Not a good trait for one's humanity, but not a bad trait for a warrior who could keep others alive sometimes despite themselves.

Then Rhys paused in front of her. Her blue eyes met his, and the golden gleam in hers had an answering echo in the taller man. In that instant, the detective had an unmistakable sense of calm certainty, confidence and affirmation. She knew, she understood.

As the locker team headed out, Emma turned back to the lobby team and spoke up once more. "Let's get to it, shall we? Here's some things we need to get done."

1. This place hasn't been touched in a couple of years. The information desk needs a good dusting and whoever does that might as well check out the drawers, see if there's anything useful in there.
2. Does anyone know anything about computers? Maybe we can get the terminal working? If we can get some power, it'd be nice to get control over the lighting system and especially any climate control.
3. Let's get the supplies inventoried and tucked away. Let's get some sleeping areas set up while we're at it, along with my propane stove.
4. Rhys is right, we do need a barricade on the North and West hallways. If there's not enough raw material for it in the lobby, I saw some abandoned cars still parked outside. Let's get a team of at least three for that, two for stripping out seats, tires, anything heavy and removable while the third handles lookout.

When Emma finishes talking, she glances around those in the room before her eyes settle on Salvadore. "I'm going to guess that last one is more up your alley. Think you're up for using a couple of us for labor while you and your kids put the barricade together and keep the rest of us alive in case something stirs, inside or out? You'll find all of us pretty capable, Salvadore, we've all kept ourselves alive over the last couple of years. But I'd be a liar if I claimed that made us soldiers. If the enemy approaches, we're counting on you for a battle plan beyond shoot and stab."

Brushing her hands together in a vain effort to drywash some of the dirt off of them, the redhead drops her eyes to the corpses on the ground, grimaces and says, "As for me, I'll take corpse detail."

Assuming people pick an assignment, Emma gets to work dragging the bodies to the front doors before hauling them out past the flag poles and onto the asphalt. Once she hauls the first, the redhead straightens, points at the body and watches it ignite. Then, one by one, she hauls the other bodies into a pile to smolder and burn. [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#5e757c; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #262626; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #5e757c; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[CupAndCough]

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[/div][div class=statusText]
Location:
Police HQ Foyer > Parking Lot
Tags: JustAki Rui Artificial Angel GuavaJuiceXI Gravitational Force Epiphany
Mentions:

Companions:
Darius (Following Grigori)
Velska (Inside)

[div class=magical]

STAT SCREEN

「 S T R 」
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「 D E X 」
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「 C O N 」
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「 I N T 」
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「 W I L L 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
「 A G L」
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「 C H R 」
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[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]

The dim and now empty room filled with faces and forms. The following of the Detective's group soon took up the empty foyer, the bodies of fresh dead and merciful dead strewn about, the gray-pale bodies beneath him were freed. Their mangled forms meant to be charred black in reverence, or perhaps convenience. He pitied the souls, a habit of his Prophethood, but he had no remorse for what he had done. For the smell of dead and decay, for the putrescent meats that faded consciousness was bound to no longer.

He reflected on the 'wastefulness' of Rhys's group. Refusing to physically eliminate the foes. A resource boldly and horribly utilized. It would normally draw eyes narrowed to match his ire, but he knew all too well how this world created a state seeking of guranteed death for one's enemies. They were not his children, they knew no better.
Rhys's display of elimination bemused him. The look of being overwhelmed, the breaths visibly puffing out in the cold entrance way. The gunshots were of lesser importance to him, the human before him was not. Lung filling and releasing oxygen, the exerting of energy leading to such sorry state. To the point of allowing one enemy to slip his markings. Grigori thought better of the Detective--but with that display it begun to churn ideas within his mind, of assumptions and theories. Psychologicsl profiles, interactions and trusts....
The measure of alertness earned by Grigori was vast and inherently seeking information. As such the orders and shufflings of feet did not go entirely unnoticed. Gender. Age. Names. Proximity. Their gaits and candor. The Slavic accent pushing through one or the murmurings of being able to trust him. Processed and filtered, identified by their traits. It was one of the reasons why the military gave him a spot of a team never meant to exist, one that the old world would never know and the new one will not knlw either. Grigori didn't exist in the old world as far as his life mattered. However in this world? It seemed a commodity for some, and a means to cur short by nihilistic and fatalistic survivors.

"The generator must be out...but I think if we could at least secure this area and maybe the locker room we should be in good shape.".

Grigori's ears pricked up. It had only been two years, he very much doubted the station being derelict beyond salvaging. The generators were most likely a basement trip into the bowels below. If vermin like revenants sought to live in the upperlevels Grigori had a sneaking suspicion that the rooms deeper within held much more than a few stragglers. Revenants are born from Vampiric feasting, and were their savage minions. The few out here? They were canaries in a coal mine. The place was prime for the take over of something foul, of course revenants would seek darkness, but their masters? They would be in dire need of a base of operations. Darkness, enclosed, easily sought out by survivors....

The more he pondered, walking on fallen ceilings and rubble on vicera-stained boots scanning the enviroment, the more he felt nostalgia of being within enemy bases and facilities....
"Smart hunters....not for long." He grumbled, commenting on his own thoughts aloud. As he spoke he came to watch the Detective scour the desk with haste. Dark eyes peered at the man, his stillness. Grigori did not disturb him, he chose not to. It would ruin the purity of the observation, everything one did had purpose or born from it. A trigger pulled kills a man with a finger placed on his own. A step missed when catching a remark. Diction and the use of subtle motions. Humans were readable, they desired purpose or they die. A leader seeks to change the world, an anarchist seeks to remove broken yokes and to trade them with rebellious freedom, and a detective lingers upon a photo of a child. Every action had a purpose, a rule for doing so....Grigori aimed to uncover it, and manipulate it to his own.


"If we split up we can secure the area faster,"Grigori watched as Rhys lead his charge, his marks of leadership being ask of him to dispense his group efficiently. However the momentary capture of attention piqued his interest. Assessing the short stall in his orders. Eyes turning toward the the blond smoker. The reaction Rhys had. Every action, a purpose. Betraying his state of confidant leader....

As the Detective barked an order at him, he seemed mildly enthused, too many tells for Grigori to not be. Only to be given the role of commander in his stead. How flattering, but he could easily do with Darius and Velska the job of five--at least by his findings. A fluttering of signals towards his children begun to silently form. Subtle motions, quiet, spotless.

As he returned to rest his eyes upon Rhys once more, he was met with a morsel of information. The glances of Emma and Rhys. Strong sense of comradery, of trust. Of scheming...
"As you wish, Detective."[ Grigori confidently smiled, coyly gentle and affirming to his wishes.

"Oh, and Detective!", Grigori command attention from Rhys as he flung a radio towards him. "A sign of goodwill. The frequency is tuned, if you forget it is on the back. ". Grigori somewhat desired to gauge his reaction as he smugly explained the terms of use for the device.
As he looked to the menagerie of faces left to him, a voice bolted forth with confidence and pure purpose.

Emma. He wouldn't lie, she did command some sort thrall over his attention, she easily commanded her fellows, much more concise than Rhys. Respect due onto her, it nestled a reminder of competence within his mind. Her ability to command presence, in the face of man seeking to liberate mankind from the reigns of daemon fates, it offered both an obstacle and potental ally....

Velska had already begun unpacking her surivialist gear, as per Grigori's silent orders. She was efficient, quick, expedient. Darius had begun to collect usable materials forr barricades Not as strong as his father, but able.
"You know, Ma'am the computers won't turn on at all unless there's a power source. And even if we could get it running any information worth keeping would be stored in a server room. The back up generator being out would probably nix that plan. Best we can find is a layout of the building.." Darius interjected, he was a smart lad. More astute in knowledges of such peculiars. Grigori had watched him before fiddling with computers at the air force base--quite the exploitative boy.

Grigori looked to Emma, "Darius, my son--he has a habit for using technology. I'd take his, limited, experience with some heed.", the imposing marine clarified as he lifted the arm of a revenant and wiped his weapons off, putting them away.
"I could help with the barricades, yes. Velska is too young, however. She will not be able to lift that much weight, she can attend to those who need medical attention and setting up a liveable quarters for all of us."

With a flicker of a hand Velska nodded. A russian word popped out of her mouth as Grigori left. It would have been rather cute, if it did not gove the airs of the intense training she had gone through.

"Darius, to me!" , Grigori barked, the dark skinned male rushed towards his side, marching at his side. "I want your strong to me, if you have any...".Keen ears could detect the subtle double speech in his words, as such he left it as bait. He left the building towards the empty cars. He wanted to see what hand she'd deal him, what powerful strength sat behind their group. No effort at all.


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[Rui]

STELLA:

Location: Police station
Mentions: CupAndCough Epiphany Hell0NHighWater
————————————————————
The small witch stared at the large Slavic man, studying. Emma’s instructions snapped her out of her daze, however, and she knew it was time to get to work. She knew she wasn’t exactly a ‘heavy lifter’ due only to her tiny stature, but picking through drawers and whatnot, she could do.

“Got it. I’ll try the desks.”

She moved forwards, meaning to brush past Salvador, only to have her small shoulder strike his arm. She moved to apologize when the memories came flooding through. The contact had triggered a connection, like the one previously made with Rhys.
She was unconsciously sifting through his mind.
_____________________________________________

Velska's mother died in battle.
He had buried her, surrounded by their squadron. They had been friends, it seemed.

The battle had been costly, the landscape barren, littered with corpses, riddled with bullets, dusted with ash.

Utter destruction.

He stood on a hill, overlooking it all, an American flag in a white knuckled had, thrust into the dirt where it stuck, and stood upright, declaring its ownership of the desolate valley of death.

Then he's telling her what happened, Velska, the child, then, he is being hugged for the first time in a while.
Her small arms futily tried to wrap around him, envelop him. His slowly wrapped around her, a moment of hesitation marking the beginning of a bond.

He slowly accepted the hug.

He slowly accepted being all she had left in the world. _____________________________________________

Stella’s mismatched eyes watched him then, filled with tears, the memories dissolving around her. She retracted her limbs slowly, sure not to touch him again.
His life was lonely, it had been long, and hard fought. Being inside his mind brought only sadness, as his sentiment was mirrored. He brought only pain and hardship, yet these two children entrusted him with their lives, and he sought to protect and provide for them.

It was fair to say she was touched.

Stella smiled softly at him then, nodding her head in a thoughtful kind of way.

“You’re looking after her well. Her mother would be proud of you.”

With that, Stella did as she always does, and tiptoed off, as though her words of impossible wisdom and knowing were inconsequential as a report on the weather.

An odd little witch indeed.

​

 

[Lakyr]

James
BasiliskVeranda Hell0NHighWater

He put his blade to the side for a moment before he took Niks lighter and the cigarette. He lit it up, put it between his lips, passed the lighter back to his owner and picked up his machete again.
"Ask anytime, anything I have is your's," Nik said the words matter-of-factly as James took the first drag. They meant a lot and James knew them to be true, he just hoped his friend knew that he could do the same. James looked him in the eyes, lips curved into a slight smile once more, and everything regarding that matter was said. They only knew each other for about a day but were already friends and that wasn't a term James used lightly. They'd both fight and die for each other, at least he felt that way and knew he'd do it himself. But right now there was no big fight and he relished on the calming effect the combination of talking and smoking had. It made it easier to push away the pain and to ignore the exhaustion.

"Grigori is severe. But he loves his kids—a lot. A bad combination. He'd gut us if they got in trouble because we botched something up, no fuckin' joke. Even if it was a mistake."
James agreed with Nik and he didn't like it. More people already meant a higher chance of conflict and these three, they just seemed likely to cause trouble to him. "Yeah, let's better not get into their way." he said after thinking for a few seconds as they stepped inside, "I don't trust them." The two of them stood in the back, watching how the others fought a small group of revenants. James held his blade ready but was happy that he didn't have to fight right now.

After Rhys gave his orders James sighed and started to walk forward. "Let's get it over with, okay? Don't know how you feel, but I can't wait to get some sleep already." After saying that he put the cigarette back into his mouth and took a long drag before turning towards Nik again. "You think we'll be lucky for once today and there won't be anymore monster waiting to get their asses kicked?"

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[/div][div class=statusText] Location: The Monmouth County Sheriff’s Office and Police Academy
Tags: Axeman's shorter but scarier brother CupAndCough | Wise Witch Lekiel |Jams Lakyr |Lulu Paarthurnax | Alaska Chise_Robin_ |Jaemin Anise |Nik BasiliskVeranda
Mentions:
BGM: Best Friends
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He caught the radio with one hand. Cobalt flashed towards the stocky giant, lips set into a firm but straight line. There was something in his words...a tone or some sort of twitch that was almost condescending in nature. He took a moment to glance at the radio --a tiny onyx box nestled in the palm of his hand-- before clipping it to one of his belt loops. He nodded at the soldier, a movement that was more like the swift jerk of his head than an actual nod. Rhys was already headed towards the hallway, vaguely listening to the footsteps of those who followed in his wake.

The hallway itself looked like something out of a horror movie.
Bathed in shadow, darker than what any sane person would be comfortable with, and an eerie patch of light that illuminated one of the locker room entrances. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't think that was fucking creepy. Even so, he walked down that deserted stretch without so much as a pause. The gun at his side made a tiny click as he switched the safety off.

Upon entering the locker room, the air was colder, almost as if it had a different sort of bite to it than that of dry winter. The room itself sat untouched, leaving behind only evidence of panic: lockers open haphazardly, clothes flung about, gym bags with their contents thrown to the tile. It looked like an average day had unknowingly been turned into something that was anything but. Rhys's cerulean gaze roamed the massive room, slightly uneasy with the dead silence that hung in the air. He would have thought that there would have been some sort of monster here....or at least something that explained the feeling of being watched.
Shrugging it off, he moved towards a half open locker and pulled out the grey hoodie trapped inside. The ex-detective turned, placing his firearm on the bench as he went to work unclipping the holster around his hips. The black shirt he wore had seen better days and probably smelled like something that belonged in a sewer. He slipped the material off his torso, a grunt leaving his lips from the movement. The pain in his shoulder throbbed once more, reminding him that it was still something that needed to be taken care of. The chill in the room licked at his exposed torso, a shiver running down the base of his spine as he brought his gaze upward. The group, upon entering had seemed to disperse in different directions, taking his non-verbal cue to poke around.

His gaze traveled the area until they were met with another pair of eyes much darker than his own. Rhys blinked, glancing down at his state of undress before quickly turning around and throwing the hoodie on as if nothing happened. Rhys turned to look back at the locker, rifling through the meager contents in hopes of finding a shirt.
No such luck.
A slow sigh escaped him, azure orbs flickering to the locker to the other side of him. It was locked but perhaps if he found something to break the lock with?

Emrys...?

Something cold traveled down his back, almost like a hand but not quite. He turned, eyes widened and complexion a bit pale. No one was there.
But he thought he heard....?

Rhys shook head head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I must be more tired than I thought...."
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[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; max-width:1200px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; background: #fff;
[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx The Po-po station > Locker Room From Hell (?).

OOC:xxxx Bros being bros.
TAGS:xxxx Lakyr Lekiel Paarthurnax Anise Chise_Robin_ Hell0NHighWater
BGM:xxxxRED HOT CHILI PEPPERS - SCAR TISSUE



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]
"Yeah, let's better not get into their way." James uttered exactly what the blond was thinking. Nik leaned his head closer to his young friend as they walked, and let the smoke obscure his vision for a moment, petering off in a trail that signaled a time of respite. This was the short calm before the storm, their confident but leisurely stroll something rare, that he'd like to hold onto for a bit longer. In this time of fight or flight, do or die, their lives could be snuffed out at any moment. He'd like to savor the sweet times a bit more, even if they were commiserating about a new set of allies that the two of them weren't yet keen on.

"I don't trust them."
"Me neither, but then again, we could be wrong," Nik wanted to say more on this matter, about how James had been so quick to befriend him—too quick. About judgements, about first impressions. About how, despite every fiber of Nik's being wanting to be good to these people, the oil slicked on that fiber was drenched in decay, deceit, and defilement. It was the stuff of tar pits, and deep red earth, and ancient tongues muttering up bloody throats, and eyes, and teeth, and worse. He would be a danger to them—he was already.

Or rather, the sin of him was.

They just hadn't seen it yet in a way they could understand. Primed against their enemies, he, a boon. That made sense in their minds. Too far gone in the enthrallment of his Beast's ecstasy, a fucking nightmare. They hadn't seen it, they had only seen teeth in smiles, and so it wasn't in their minds. And he hoped they wouldn't have to witness that, and hoped he wouldn't titrate past the point of no return with his new allies around him.

He'd crush them like dead flowers, if he was finally claimed in darkness. Or if he was too invested in his own spiraling bloodlust. That, was still, a very real possibility. And so, James didn't trust the newcomers, and yet he trusted Nik. Nik loved that trust, and he returned it, but kindness would get his young friend killed, he thought.

Nik felt, in this moment, that he was somehow still a stain on all this.

Damned, and by whom? What gave any other thing a right to dictate that he was over on one side of the fucking tennis court, versus the other? He didn't have a choice in this matter, he had been given no free will to pick where his soul would wander. Playing very close to the opposite side, and yet not allied to it, for he fought hard against it. Harder now, with those he cared about, all around him. Even the ghosts of before, in the little twinkling shards of daylight, he fought for them.

He wasn't happy about not being given a choice in all this bullshit.

"Alaska, Jaemin, James, Reverie, Luiza, and Nik come with me. We'll get the locker rooms cleared out," said their fearless leader. He was always decisive, always taking action. When, at this moment, Nik just wanted to lay down on something soft and snore his way into oblivion. But he knew that that was an impossibility, not right now, not when they had to make sure they were safe enough to even entertain rest. He nodded his reply, quiet upon entering this place. Quiet, because the energy he had was a low, pale flame, and he was still stuck in the thickets of his mind. Battling his greater demons, for the sake of his lesser angels of morality and kindness.

"Let's get it over with, okay? Don't know how you feel, but I can't wait to get some sleep already." Nik shot James a smile from behind his cigarette's small plume, again echoing his own thoughts. They were both exhausted. Everyone here was in some form of malaise, either by wound, fatigue, or in need of nourishment. He, himself, was looking forward to digging into some peanut butter, or maybe that wrapped up bit of cheese that had been so tightly sealed it was actually still viable. Unlike that freeze-dried, air-locked rat with mold on it. That had been a terrible experience, one he definitely didn't want to relive.

He hoped the other team was faring well enough, with their newly added allies, that he didn't quite trust just yet.

"You think we'll be lucky for once today and there won't be anymore monster waiting to get their asses kicked?" Nik plucked the cigarette from between his own lips and held it between careful fingers, then made a deflated sound with his mouth.
"If there's anything I've learned about this new way of life, it's that you rarely get a moment to even take a shit without something trying to mangle your junk or bite the skin off your face," Nik said with a snort, putting the cigarette back where it belonged.

The hallway they were descending down was dark, ruddy in places, shadows positioned just expertly to perhaps play tricks on the mind. It was foreboding, foreboding and cold. And it only got colder once the blond traversed into the locker room, behind their leader, trailing smoke like a damned beacon for the others. The locker room was in a state of disarray. The prior inhabitants had gotten out fast, or...they'd tried to.

Nik began prodding along various lockers, trying to find one that had anything of interest. He managed to find a baby pink towel, not unlike the color of the sunglasses he had hanging off the neckline of his t-shirt.

"Baby pink? Really?" he said to no one in particular, raising his expressive brows. Rounding his bag, he tucked the thing away, then shifted the bag outside of the door. He knew that none of them would be stupid enough to try to mess with his shit. Ezra might have been, he thought, but it wasn't like they were close enough to their other group that he'd manage to gank anything. And if he somehow did, Nik would string him up on a ceiling fan with the spool of fishing wire he had found at the market.

And let him rot there, screaming obscenities.

A smirk played over his face at that mental image, he rounded back into the locker room, and looked around for any signs of danger.

Instead, he saw their fearless leader place his gun down, and remove his black shirt, which had seen better days. This was why Nik had changed into the blue shirt and the flannel...his train of thought had been traveling down a completely different path, and now it had switched to staring at the lines of thick ink playing up the man's body.

In feathers, spired, thick swatches of blackness, bold and ultimately, beautiful. Those must have been a bitch-and-a-half to get done...Nik's mind yet again traveled on a different path, not the one he wanted, as he was in dire need of this excursion into the locker rooms to be over, so he could eat, and sleep, and hopefully not dream the same fucking dreams over and over again, as usual.

Instead, he tilted his head in blatant admiration, until the show was over. He wasn't one to gawk, but he wasn't the type to hide it, either. Rhys met his dark gaze, and Nik did the most 'Nik' thing possible: he winked. A bare-bones, blatant, unabashed, flirty wink. He managed that, despite his tired bones, ailing back, cut and wounded arms, and an empty stomach.

He'd always manage to find a way to hold on to the beautiful things in life. Right up until the bitter end.

He felt, strangely, at that moment, that he was being watched. The back of his neck prickled, his hair standing on end. Rhys turned, white as a sheet, seemingly also rattled by something but not enough to be concerned about it.

"I must be more tired than I thought...."
"What is it?" Nik asked with a specific insistence. He asked this, very directly, his voice flat, the sentence more like a thinly veiled command than anything, because of how the air felt in here. He wasn't one to command Rhys, nor really anyone else. But it felt...stale? Heavy, perhaps, thick, and the dead air hung like sloping weeping willow branches, silent as the fucking dead.

Nik heard something, himself, but it was just a patter at the moment. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least not at first. A pattering sound, that started like a dip of light trickling, perhaps water coming from somewhere. They were in a locker room, after all. But when he pitched his head to the side, to listen keenly, it sounded like short, small breaths, heavy and wet. Short, little gasps, muted by something.

"Something's off," was all he said, and in a moment he took one knife in his hand and started rummaging through lockers. Nik, above all things, trusted his senses. His baseline for reality was very firmly cemented in the flesh. He was either hallucinating a ghost, which knowing Diana's ethereal visage, that was unlikely. She would've sprung up and whirled around him. She had done so enough times now that he knew where to look. Her foggy afterglow was usually in smears of paint across the bodies of the people he now held dear. Or, she skipped across his vision. Real, or imagined, she was vivid and aggressive in all her beautiful jewel-toned colors. And insistent that he pay special attention to those around him.

This, this was not like that.

Not like that at all, and he heard in small, small little blips of sound, a tiny undulation. His last name, repeated like rushing water. Finite, barely whicking the air and hitting his ears. Dripping together, the phrase cascading, as if from a small, small mouth. Wet, and choked, and barely audible. Then another small, small phrase joined the lulling, finite cacophony: Misses. Then, Mister. Each word building off the other in static, still too heavy, deeply based, and warbling. As though it were just hinging on the most obscure frequency he could hear.

"I don't want to ask the stupid fucking question 'did you hear that', but I'm asking it anyways," he said, digging around, using his knife to lift things up and explore, hands pulling things back, rifling through lockers.
[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

ALASKA ​

location: Creepy locker room
mentions: Jamziez Lakyr , Nik BasiliskVeranda , Rhys Hell0NHighWater ,Kaeden Anise
BGM:

The dark hallway seemed to extend, her heart beats were too loud in her ears, so much so that she thought they were audible for all of the group. The conversation going between the young hunter and the quasi devil seemed to soothe her a bit, knowing that they were close soothed her. Alaska's eyes fell shot as she followed Rhys through that hallway, the man had this aura to him, this trustworthy personality that made her want to follow him anywhere should he lead the way.

Light from the locker room sneaked behind her closed eyelids which now squinted open and blinked repeatedly, now that everyone scattered around the lockers peering inside......looting.

Nik found the most ridiculously pink towel and seemed to be very happy with his new treasure, a slight smile spread across her face as she shook her head in exasperation. Her eyes wondered to an open locker, which consisted of a small bag that had some lipstick, mascara, and a bottle of black nail polish. Alaska smiled, it's been a while since the last time she'd applied any makeup, and she kinda missed it........Fuck the apocalypse

The small bag now rested at the bottom of her backpack. The place was so messy that she wondered what would bring a whole squad of police to this state of panic. They were supposed to be the ones people turn to in these situations.
Alaska's eyes fell on a blue woolen sweater, the color resembled the color of Kaeden.....Jaemen's eyes, she smiled stuffing it into the backpack as well now all she needed was a shower, and some sleep to feel like she was human again


''I must be more tired than I thought!'' Rhys's voice came cutting the silince just when the huntress's mood began to improve, she turned her head to look at the blessed, but her eyes could only see Alexander......possessed by the demon, with his half smile. The figure held a finger to his mouth whispering a shush, ''Miss me....little sister?'' Melancholic voice with tilted head and the half smile still plastered on his face. The backpack in her hands fell to the ground with a thud bringing her back to reality. Her eyes now saw Rhys again, a voice lingered in her head: ''How could you let me kill our father,Ally?''

Alaska shook uncontrollably, looking frantically around, trying to calm her heartbeats. Her hands felt ice cold as she now hugged her chest digging her fingers into her crossed arms it's in your head.....it's in your head.....it's in your head... She managed to still her shaking body till Nik's voice came to her ears: "I don't want to ask the stupid fucking question 'did you hear that', but I'm asking it anyways," Whatever color left in the young huntress's face now turned white, her head felt dizzy and she needed to sit down. Collapsing into one of the benches she nodded slowly, clearing her throat when no voice came from her mouth: ''Ye......I.....ahm...Yes''. she finally managed to blurt out trying to calm her mind.

 

[Artificial Angel]

Terra

As Terra was starting to lift the heavy supplies off the back of the cars, he noticed something shining in the snow. He did not know what it was but he wanted to reach it and obtain it. When he went to see where the shine came from, he saw Luci having a hard time carrying the supplies and decided to run over there where he helped him with what he was carrying. "Th-thank you...", the blonde with baby blues said shyly as he went to back to gather more supplies. His aura was becoming more dark which made Terra worry for him more but it did not show on his face. He felt something in his heart tighten, 'Now is not the time...', he thought as he tried to help. The pain went away after some minutes but he knew that his death was drawing nearer.

Terra was whistling a tune when Luci fell and scraped his knee. He immediately went into action and helped Luci. "Are you all right?", the dark haired man said to the blonde as he looked at him with his crimson red eyes. The wound was not that bad but Terra gave it a quick heal and helped him stand. "You know, you should be more careful. Always watch where you're going.", he said with a slight smile as Luci was looking down. "Right...", he said as he was trying to look Terra straight in the eyes. "I wish I could be as cheerful as you. You seem so happy even if the world turned bad.", Luci said as he was smiling, his face seemed to be deep in sadness but Terra responded with, "If you have done something wrong, forget about it. As a human, I have committed mistakes but that doesn't mean they define me. Even if I die, at least I can say that I died happily. You must always have hope for the things to come.", he said as he looked to the sky with shining eyes.

After the conversation with Luci, Terra went to investigate the shine. What he saw baffled him, it was just two star-shaped objects made out of stained glass, it also had a chain with a key chain of a certain species that was from Final Fantasy, a Moogle. One of the stars was black with some metal outlines that connects with half a heart that has angel wings. The other star was white with a metal outline. It also has a heart that is in half with demon wings. Both of them could be joined together when he moved the points of the star and connected it. Terra found the objects quite cute with their whole look and thought that it was just a nice thing to look at. He returned to the station and decided to keep it in his pocket for now.

GuavaJuiceXI

 

[Lekiel]

Reverie Lowiezka

Location: Somewhere in the station.| Interacting with: Dzwon | Mentions: CupAndCough Hell0NHighWater BasiliskVeranda Chise_Robin_ | Current Do: Hair tied in ponytail, Black zipper anorak over White tank top, Jeans, Black Converse.

❖ ❖​

Reverie was one of the last of the forward group to step in. By the time she did, the echoes of a gunshot had long since faded into the vacant shadowed hallways of the station. In its wake, were the broken remains of hellspawn that had sought to overwhelm their prey, not knowing that they were the hunted instead. Mindless creatures, revenants. She'd always wondered what became of the people they once were. Were they powerless, in a shell they no longer owned? Watching helplessly as the bloodlust consumed them? Or did their souls and all manner of consciousness dispell into oblivion at the moment of turning? Reverie felt a strange desire to know.

Bringing up the rear allowed her the time and space to get a good look around the place. To survey the new dynamics she now found herself in. It was second nature to the solitary woman, to always stop and ponder her circumstances. The variables. A new place, new people. The idea of trust was obsolete. It was never a part of the equation, simply didn't fit. She did all the math on her own, calculated the risks, the possibilities. No one but herself was responsible. And right this moment... she was wondering what sort of gamble she played by being there. There was a very tangible darkness about the station that filled her with foreboding. A choking stifling fog that weighed heavily on the back of her skull, its vice an uncomfortable pressure. Niggling at her every moment she stood in that lobby. And she knew it to be not simply the stale dusty air or the fact Client Support wanted to feast on their bowels. No, it was something... more than that, and umbral presence cast over the entire facility that permeated and seeped into the very stone of its foundations. She'd felt it, the moment they arrived on the doorstep. Had she been alone, she would've given the station a wide, wide berth. And so she wondered, why had she trailed after this assortment of individuals. It certainly was not based on trust. Mayhap some part of her believed her chances were better off with them for the moment. She hoped she was being optimistic, and not foolishly justifying her stupidity.

Her hazel eyes roamed across the room, coming to rest on the other variable. An enigma, perhaps even more so than the accursed establishment. She traced his every move, not overtly, but neither did she attempt to hide her gaze. Grigori. She watched as he dealt with the twisted remains of a revenant. Noticed that his dark eyes lingered for a moment longer on them, as if he owed the lost a kind of grave reverence. His were movements precise, every step measured, efficient and economical which spoke much considering the fact that he undoubtedly had a vast reservoir of endurance coursing through his veins. But that was not what piqued the witch's interest. It was those dark eyes. There weren't many, but she had seen her fair share of urban warriors. Men and women of unbridled power and hardened experience. But Grigori had a Machiavellian cast over his facade, a cunning that spun a tale of someone who was no mere man of war. A look that no amount of impassivity could hide. He scrutinized his surroundings with frightening discipline, dark eyes that seemed to strip down your cover leaving you open and vulnerable. Much like a getting caught dead center in a searchlight, where every part of you was exposed while the intensity of the glare revealed nothing other than the fact that you were being taken apart, piece by piece. Reverie looked away then, her attention caught as Rhys had begun talking. She didn't mind, what she might've revealed didn't matter. And what mattered, even a grave robber would never disinter from her dry bones.

"Alaska, Jaemin, James, Reverie, Luiza, and Nik come with me. We'll get the locker rooms cleared out," She acquiesced to the detective's request, wordlessly trailing after the others.

It grew darker the deeper they ventured in, the annoying pressure at her cranium harder, more insistent. Lighting was exiguous, filtering in through grimy windows and even then, the level of illumination could only be described as pathetic, at best. Reverie was towards the back of the group, slightly apart from the rest. She trod carefully, biting her lower lip as her gaze roved to every nook and cranny, every shadowed recess as if she expected some unimaginable horror to burst from the gloom. One of her hands clutched at the other, held close to her chest as if afraid she might be tainted from a touch. In spite of her obvious wariness, she held no weapon unlike the others. Her one and only revolver with its single ammunition was tucked securely into her belt. Their little troop fanned out, and she overcame her growing trepidation to reach out and search through the rusted lockers and dust caked cupboards. She didn't find much of use, though the ample amount of personal chattels and paraphernalia spoke of the final second, before life ended. She wondered what became of the bodies.

If one of the others were to gaze in her direction, they'd find the witch abruptly standing still with a slight tilt to her head. She'd have a distracted look on her face, eyes wide and not quite focused. She was hearing it.

An oscillating susurration of static and unintelligible words. Not unlike those Geiger counters characters in movies used to measure radiation. It filled her mind and was as clear as the beating of her heart in her ears. It was unlike anything she'd ever heard before, but she knew full well what it meant. Her mother had taught her well after all. But the spell had never triggered, and so the young woman had always dismissed it as her inability to make the charm work.. until now. Now... it struck her with an odd blend of horror and awe, as if she looked upon a terrifying abomination not believing that she was the one that birthed it. Reverie thought to speak out, to warn the others. But what was there to warn about? She looked around her, at the people who made up this oddly assorted group of survivors. Rhys was talking to Nic, his mouth moving, but she didn't hear a word. He had a quizzical look on his face, as did Nic.

Yes, there is nothing to say. She would voice her concerns and they might become wary, but then quickly realize that it was for nothing. And then they'd probably not believe her again after that. The static and whispers grew louder, higher pitched. It reminded her of back in the day, when the fire bell in her low-cost apartment malfunctioned and kept her awake through the night until she took a hammer, some pliers and beat the shit out of it. Was the same happening to her warding spell? A malfunction? Considering how volatile and sporadic her magic was, it was highly probable. She was a failure wasn't she? A couple feet away, she saw Alaska collapse onto a bench. Was she okay? Tired? She wanted to go to her side, but something held her back. The alarm in her head was infuriating. Dimly, she felt a sharp chill on her chest, but she ignored it. She had to bust this alarm, it was a broken spell. A broken spell on a broken person.

"Biedny dzieciuch!" That was her mother wasn't it? She'd said it. She was a worthless brat. A burden. Wasn't that why her mother had left? She couldn't bear it any longer. The whine now filled her head, so loud she instinctively covered her ears. End it! Get rid of it! How? Hammer? Some pliers? Just like last time. Shut it up!. No hammers here. A metallic glint at her waist. Her gun! With the final bullet she had carefully saved all this while. Yes, YES! That will do. Quickly! There was a burning sensation on her chest now, not like a fire, but of blazing cold. Ignore it. Shut the freaking alarm! Yes... yes. She cocked the gun and raised it. Pressed it against the side of her head. SHUT UP! She squeezed the trigger.

CLASSSHH A sound of smashed glass. A flash of purest gold. An icy burn that slid between her breasts. Then clarity.

"Fuck-!?" With a start, she noticed the revolver pointed at herself. Hurriedly dropped it to her side even as her hands clutched at the neck of her anorak and pulled at the zipper. Something was burning her! She doffed her backpack and windbreaker so fast as though they were on fire. The hell?! Her free hand flew to her chest, grasping. She looked down. No singed marks. No burns. Just a metal dogtag on a chain. The metal tag was broken. Cracked. As if it were a thin sheet of marble. Reverie stared at it in bewilderment. She could see the broken pieces down the front of her tank top. And then she remembered. It was her charm. Her warding spell, cast over a year ago on that obscure metal tag. If it's broken, that meant... She felt a numbing chill grip at her spine, a shapeless form coalesced by her side. A twisted visage, depthless eyes, and an impossibly wide mouth. It opened even wider, tearing corporeal sinew until it appeared as a black void. And then a horrifying wail followed, like a thousand broken nails on chalkboard.

The Bell Witch rushed her.

"Ochraniać-!" She shouted at it, but it was too quick, or maybe her spell didn't work. The pain was excruciating. It felt like she was smacked with a rake. Tearing into her and out her back. Fresh blood poured from her split cheek and lips as she staggered backwards, tripping over something and fell to the floor. Her back crashed painfully against a bench, but she managed to catch herself. Eyes immediately scanned around, not seeing anything even as a cry of warning left her lips. "B-Bell Witch!" Her voice was hoarse, barely a croak. She knew of the Nightmare, the bane of her very kind. She never thought they'd visit her one day.

Sorry if its a bumpy read I wrote more than half of it and then my comp restarted. The draft was not saved. I cried and started over. So yeah.

P.s: also in case it wasn't clear, the gun didn't go off.

code by Ri.a

 

[CupAndCough]

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[/div][div class=statusText]
Location:
Police HQ Foyer / Parking Lot
Tags: JustAki Rui Artificial Angel GuavaJuiceXI Gravitational Force Epiphany
Mentions:

Companions:
Darius (Following Grigori)
Velska (Inside)

[div class=magical]

STAT SCREEN

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「 W I L L 」
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「 A G L」
◈◈◈◈
「 C H R 」
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

[/div]
[/div][/div][div class=title]SALVADORE GRIGORI[/div][div class=text]

Dark pools of strife and hardship met with the visage of s pale hair, strange eyed, woman. She had bumped her small form against him. Barely even a transgression to the imposing creature. No malice, no sensation of intent. But he felt a slight invasion. Perhaps the constancy of memories that ebbed within him he made peace with long ago. He turned away. Filing the experience away for later observations...until.

She smiled at him with a sense of respect and care. Not many did do that, not many did it so immediately either. It unnerved him that his want for catharsis for his empathy emboldened this reaction in his mind.

"Her mother would be very proud of you.". There was a stillness. He could not help, but remember the bloodied snows of his last years as a marine. And within that sense of deja vu, reality snapped back as Darius looked back at him. Standing outside the door way. Looking at him with a sense of idolization, admiration, and dependence. As a son would love a father, he owed his life. His existence onto him. His head swiftly peered back at Velska. Setting down a fire pit and pots from the rucksack she shuffled in with. Her form still growing, still small and minute compared to this world's demands of her. They were naive, young, ignorant--Grigori would always shoulder their burdens, their lives. Empathy was harsh to him many times. For this moment he became resolute. Grigori relfected upon this it served as a reminder that he was gifted this prophethood, and with it he will go forth and shoulder all of humanity, their woes. Their agony. Their struggle. Their loss.

He would lead humanity into it's future: A Messiah Against Both God And Devil, But Liberator For Man.

Funny how a simple pass can reaffirm one's beliefs. He looked towards Stella, and nodded back. Subtle, but it was a thanks none the less.

"Sir?" Darius pulled him back from his ponderings, "You alright?"
"Yes, son." , the low embers of ambition sparked, Grigori's voice reflected a low din of fire, "What do you think of the potential of these ones...?"


Velska fiddled with the camp standards. A pit for fire, and racks for cooking and hanging cookware. Velska had spent her years with Grigori. Her life revolved around training, preparing, education. Grigori was a prophet, he saw far off motions of time. Their ebbs and reverberations in the streams, it was a unique experience being raised by him. Her mother wasn't around as she liked, and to be frank--less in her life than she would ve willing to admit. Grigori was not her biological father, it had not mattered. It could not have, for within she found hope. Something to depend on and find paternal guidance. She had lost a mother, but gained a father. She perhaps would have not survived to see this day or her brother Darius, whom she loved dearly, without the hand he held out for her...

"Woman!"Velska spoke akin to her father somewhat towards Stella. "Assist me." She was curt, if not a bit belying some sort lf shyness from her drmeanor. She wasn't a coward, but she was a fragile girl in a desolate world. Strength in power and perception. Grigori taught her this much.
She had begun taking out napsacks. Three for her family.
"There isn't a lot of stuff to do until your group settles in", The pale girl spoke. Her garb, a soldier's harness and cargo clearly too large for her, rolled up at the arms, "I need fire materials. Could you gather some?". Her voice was naturally ethereal, almost like hush. The forced in which she delivered her orders seemed reminiscent of Grigori's command over Darius. False deepness she protruded from her call. She pointed towards ragged and torn clothes. Victim's wear, worn no longer. Perfect for fires. Grim, but always utilize a resource.

She looked to Erza and Haruka, her false sterness mimicking her father's.
"Boy", she beckoned to Erza, "My father would need some help. Help bring in the barricades, be a useful man."She said curtly, expressing her views upon manhood. Perhaps even Grigori's. It was classical to say the least. Men did heavy work, enduring work--women if they could--she had more experience dealing with the proactive and survivalist father compared to other male influences, it distorted her perception somewhat. Strength and manhood. It wasn't so unclear, but it still told of her childish nature.

"You." She said scornfully to Haruka, she was Grigori's child--observant to a fault--the reflection of Haruka's face with a weapon aimed at her father did not give the best of impressions. Nonetheless they were stuck together. "Darius mentioned that a layour would do good. Check the desk for one. A directory, or whatever."Her speech towards her seemed a bit more....vengeful. But the order was given and much one could do to change her mind. It was for the good of the collective group regardless

"Fuck! I mean really, Grigs, really. The tension was a bit too thick, you honestly think these people won't gun us down halfway through making their base of operations?" Darius exhaled, releasing some pent-up tension that was well beyond his comfort zone. The young adult looked towards his fair haired father. Who plotted a course to the abandoned lot of vehicles. Catching sight of Terra.
"If they did, they would have. They won't. They may not realize why they won't--but they will be forced to confront it. This station, it festering with many an abomination. Desecrations. The pack we came across have no comparison to the creatures deeper in."
"Ah, killing us would be basically a death sentence--They look tired. Most of em have that whiff of fear, trauma, ya'know." Darius replied hushly, his observation was not unnoticed by Grigori. Filling him with a bit of pride.
"You've grown keen.", Grigori assured him as he halted upon a derelict car, "Now--"

"Yeah, yeah. Utilize all resources." Darius repeated his father's hymn he would often recite. As he begun the dismantling process.




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[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait]

[/div][div class=statusText] Location: Haunted AF Locker-room
Tags: Favorite Witch Lekiel |Jams Lakyr |Lulu Paarthurnax |The Greatest State Chise_Robin_ |Jaemin Anise |Blondie BasiliskVeranda
Mentions: Mom?
BGM: Best Friends
[/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
His voice compelled Rhys's gaze to settle on the blond beside him, eyebrows lifting in a muted sort of surprise. Although more likely a bit older than him, Nik didn't strike Rhys as the type to go around issuing commands. It made him realize that perhaps he didn't know as much as he should. His azure orbs made another sweep of the space, paranoia sticking to him like some sort of adhesive on a hot day; uncomfortable and impossible to ignore.

"I thought I heard something...that's all..."

Rhys had heard his name, that much he was certain of, spoken in a voice that reminded him of the socials with old ladies and the piano lessons and the trips to the comic stores and the family dinners that his mother had always pretended to make. It was more unnerving than he would have liked to admit. His mother's voice was never something he willingly hallucinated, nor was it something that he associated with comfort. His mouth felt like cotton.
"Something's off," Nik's voice broke the barrier of his thoughts.
"I noticed..."
The grumble was low in his chest, the reply barely even there as he slowly reached for the gun in his holster.

At first it was nothing but a whisper to the caustic winter air that swept over the room. The sound wound itself around his ears and began to change, like a terrible lullaby. Then from that background of sound that ebbed and flowed just like waves on the moonlit sand, came words. Rhys froze, straining to listen against the deafening silence. It was no language he knew, but it hissed as it spoke forming a jargon that he barely made out over the sound of Nik's rustling.

Her wails feed my soul. I grow strong...as she...grows weak. I gnaw… at her heart… and mind. I feast …on her sinew …and bones. She can see her own ghastly end...and so...can I.
"I don't want to ask the stupid fucking question 'did you hear that', but I'm asking it anyways."
Rhys shot the blond a slight glare, jumping from the unexpected statement. A scowl formed itself across his features, cerulean orbs narrowing at the irritation of being scared so easily. His lips parted, perhaps to tell the asshole off, when the sound of a bag crashing against the floor forced another knee-jerk reaction from him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

He turned towards the huntress with a look that would have petrified anyone else. "Are you trying to-"

Words were cut from him as Reverie's cry rang out from the across the locker room. Rhys was in motion, moving towards her as fast as he possibly could. His knees hit the tiles floor, concern warring with paranoia. Her cry of warning cut off any question of her being okay, brows furrowed as if not really understanding what she meant.

"Emrys, how could you have done this to me?"

Trepidation clung to his bones and picked his skin. The voice was as clear as a bell this time. He couldn't deny it or write it off as sleep deprivation. Rhys stood from Reverie's side, turning around with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

"Mom?"

The woman that stood before him had graying hair pulled neatly into a bun, a pair of glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, but the smile that spread across rubied lips was not the kind of thing he would have attributed to his mother. A low laugh slipped from her lips, guttural and slimy. Unearthly in a way he had never experienced before. He watched in horror her head rotated back, black blood pouring from it's mouth. That thing screeched. Then it lunged.

Rhys dove out of the way, his shoulder colliding painfully with the tile as he watched the thing cut through the lockers behind where he had been standing. The metal was mangled as if something had clawed right through it, but the woman was gone.

"What the fuck!?" His voice cracked as he attempted to stand, nursing the pain that throbbed in his shoulder. The fabric of his hoodie was stained red at the shoulder where the wound reopened. "Was that a fuckin' ghost!?" His left leg gave out and he ended up sitting back on the floor, breathing heavily.

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[Gravitational Force]

Ezra:

Ezra turned to the woman who had spoken to him so rudely. He walked up to her, put his hand on her shoulder, and said incredibly calmly.
"Of course. You obviously have some sort of ailment where being polite to people would cause you to drop dead or else I'm sure you would display the epitome of good manners. And whatever malady causes your eyes to see me as a boy means I'd feel bad for insulting you about it."

He turned and walked to begin bringing in the barricades. Just because she was obnoxious didn't mean she didn't know what she was doing. Ezra grinned as he worked, it was good to do some physical activity that didn't involve running for his life or getting food. Or in more than one case destroying a Revenant so he could use the bathroom it had been hiding in. It had been worth it to shit in peace. There had even been toilet paper still in the stalls and he'd helped himself before leaving to move on.

Finding that that it was a bit too heavy, Ezra used his telekinesis to help lift it. If these newcomers had a problem with that they could...actually they scared him more than the rest of the group. Ezra instead strained harder.

CupAndCough

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; max-width:1200px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; background: #fff;
[/class] [class=whut] background: #fff;[/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; width:28%; margin: 0 auto; float:left; padding:10px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speakeasy] letter-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: solid 10px #140033; text-align: center; font-size:10px; background: #fafafa; padding:30px; color: #140033; font-weight:100; [/class] [class=speaks] padding:15px; text-align: left; float:right; width:65%; background: #fff;[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]
“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”[/div]

[div class=handsomedevil]


NIKLAS LIAM VOSS

[div class=speakeasy]LOCATION:xxxx The Po-po station > Locker Room From Hell.

OOC:xxxx Fucking ghosts
TAGS:xxxx Lakyr Lekiel Paarthurnax Anise Chise_Robin_ Hell0NHighWater
BGM:xxxxLADYTRON - GHOSTS MODWHEELMOOD REMIX



[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks] Nik had his hands in countless lockers, flinging items like travel mugs and fucking body sprays into the air, but he couldn't find out where the sound was coming from. Like a babbling brook, it got louder, and it grew incessant like the sounds cicadas make. Rolling and dauntless.

"I thought I heard something...that's all..." Nik made a noise of frustration at this. He knew there was something wrong, something in this room was off and yet the others were not making any attempts yet to figure out if there was a gas leak, some kind of otherworldly danger, or if they'd touched something toxic.

Whatever was happening to the others was also troubling to attach itself to Nik like a parasite, spindling a nightmare from the memories he had. But it came first in waves of words, in glitches, in laughter, in tiny, tiny flecks of sound. Perhaps it was a timid creature, or perhaps it knew he'd be a harder nut to crack, and would need to go slow. Warm him up first, the foreplay of mental anguish had to be just so subtle. Because if flesh was not as real flesh, and the heart's song beat in elaborate fear for the visages of a memory, it was not a real memory.

She was dead. They were all dead. And tormenting him by bringing them back was not going to sway him.

From the dark sliver of a shadow nearest him, he saw the curve of a beautiful ankle slide up to a heaven's brushstroke of a leg. Porcelain white skin with honey-rose undertones, long, a sinful, beautiful shape. Then came the other leg into view, a soft, slow walk, and the shadow fettered over her body, obscuring across her lower half like a jag of a palette knife in burnt umber. Then that shadow slid up like a lover's touch, until it rested right below the curves of her breasts.

At that moment, Alaska's bag dropped in a thunk, she, too was experiencing something he couldn't see. And he was sure the others couldn't see Diana's breathtaking, unnatural visage attempting to coax him into a false sense of security.

''Ye......I.....ahm...Yes''. Alaska replied to his question, and Nik's dark blue gaze fixated on her for a flicker of a moment.
"Whatever you're seeing, don't trust it...Alaska," he tried to get her to focus on him instead, but it wasn't doing a lick of good, he felt. She had slumped onto a bench, seemingly harrowed by whatever was befalling her, now. But he felt cornered here. Especially with the creature moving towards him, demanding his attention, trying to imprison him against the far corner of the wall. Slow. Languid. Enticing. Steps.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Rhys spat out, startled by just her bag dropping. Nik was slowly backing up from his own tormentor, but his deep blue eyes searched Rhys' face incredulously. Would Nik be the one to maintain focus, to wield control, to keep his wits about him in this unyielding scene of several confused people, jumping at fucking noises? He grumbled, something Rhys would've done in a similar situation, had he not been startling about.

The creature moved towards Nik closer, deliberately sensual, trying to ease its way into the comfort of the familiar and the comely. He heard the beautiful woman with the thick accent from earlier, now known to him as Reverie, call out this thing by name. Bell Witch. As she was being deluged, the fear and pain within her was palpable, Nik tried to step forward, but he was being boxed in. Nik hadn't himself run into anything like this before, but the Witch in Queens had told him a bit about the sort.

It was a parasite.

"Mom?"
"For fucks sake—" The visage before him put her finger to her lips to halt his attempts at aiding anyone at the moment, and he stopped, standing perfectly still.

He'd know that form anywhere, he saw it in his dreams, and nightmares, and in his waking, walking life. His own little ghost, his own stress-induced hallucination, his own way of coping with it all. Her form a flicker over the people he now kept dear, reminding him to care. To always care. He realized now, that she couldn't have been a specter. Not in the skipping and the flittering. It was just his mind, in fractured grooves, trying to keep him away from the Left Hand Path.

The mind is an amazing thing. And it does amazing things to keep the shell around it alive, and the soul—if souls really did exist—stuck squarely in its mortal coil.

He heard the crinkling of what sounded like paper, and small chimes in the wind, and again, the phrases: Misses, Mister, Voss. Her form sparkled not unlike dew on a spider's ornate web, those little bits of light catching, and white, satin fabric appearing as if in living smoke, slowly, to bring a dress over her skin. It was slung over her shoulder, half of her chest clearly bare, one shoulder free and kissed with a sun that had no possibility of glowing inside of a fucking locker room. She was like a goddess.

He stared, and he didn't look away, because she was a thing that stole his breath. Even in this illusion. Lips blood-red, eyes deep and longing, a feline brow, pink cheeks, long rolls of dark brown curls. Beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire lifetime.

She held out her hands, palms facing her, her head hung low. The tattoos on her fingers moving as she flexed them, and stared at him underneath her feline brow. She struck an inhuman smile, twisted, and pressed her own hands against her chest. And then, she tore herself. Blood pooling down her dress, blotting like ink in water.

And underneath the skin and bleeding viscera, were flames. And the flames licked her arms, toiling up her face in blisters, and then traveled to weave as a spider's web—out of thin air—a clutched form. A sickly little thing, pre-formed, inhuman, unnatural. She held a charred too young thing in her arms, its mouth making small murmurs of a baby's cry, her hands on it, fire in her veins and her eyes.

At that moment, he heard a crash, Rhys cry out, and a display of lockers were flayed open like sharp fangs through a stick of butter. He was fine, thank Go—

"Mister, and Misses, Voss. I now pronounce you, man and wife...you may kiss the bride..." she said from beautiful lips, twisting her head to nestle to the smoking, fired, wriggling hunk of flesh in her arms. One of her hands dipped away from holding it and she dug her fingers into her cheek, twisting away skin, ripping through to her temple, pulling her eye socket clean through. But she still stared at him, the gaze never leaving.

"There's a problem here." Nik said from behind the cigarette he was still nursing, the smoke cascading over her form as her feet became as flame, her skin crackling, peeling, and boils forming on that once lovely flesh. The smoke—the real smoke—bit into her illusion, his tormentor sliced in its very real, very cancerous fumes, as if in a glitch.

As if in reality betraying lies.

"I was going to take her last name," he said with a smile, a sweet smile, something simple. The visage's eyes burned wild, and it tore the pestilent fetal castoff apart in its hands, blood flowing over its fire-crackled limbs, lurching at him on legs that started to wither into ash, her mouth snarled, gashes of her fingers having torn all the way up into her eyesocket. It keened at him, peeling a scream, its bones rattled.

It was trying its best to send him into turmoil, and it wasn't succeeding, so it grew impatient.

Nik stepped away, as his speed was not matched by very many, not a ghost, surely. The smoke of the cigarette around his frame looking not unlike the figure of a woman's, in glimpses and shivers of a hip and thigh. Who could say for certain a friendly spirit wasn't helping him? Who could say for certain it wasn't all just in his mind?

The creature burst and twisted directly into a bench adjacent him, rending the wood into blistered splinters and cracking it through the center with a loud snap. Then, it was gone.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah it's a fuckin' ghost. How the fuck do we kill it, Rev?" He shouted at the woman, brandishing his other blade to hold both in his hands, a pissed off look playing on his face. Anger rolled in his veins and he grit his teeth around that dwindling cigarette.

"I'm not into seeing dead fiances, so can we just..."
[/div][/div]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”[/div][/div]

[/div]

 

[Rui]

STELLA:

Location: Station
Mentions: CupAndCough
——————————————
She nodded in return to the big man, taken for a moment by him before the whining voice of a petulant little shi-...

...A child.

There was a reason she and Christian had never reproduced. Minus the obvious of her not wanting to have another potential witch in the house.

She was practically a baby herself, she didn’t need to have more around.

Her eyes snapped to the brat presuming to command her, and her red eye seemed to glitter.
Velska would feel a sharp pain in the back of her neck, like a bee sting, only for a moment. A bitter taste of Stella’s discontentment.

“Of course.” She chirped, although somewhere hidden in her sweet tones was a teaspoon of malice.

She disappeared for a moment, then returned, arms full of smashed chairs, papers, etc., and a much happier expression on her face.

“There you are, little miss. Fire material.”

She arranged the objects she’d collected into a heap, and prepped the fire for lighting. She knelt down before it, and flicked her fingers together beside a paper. The spark generated caught, and slowly, the flames enveloped the paper, soon catching onto the wood.

Stella gave another cheerful smile.

“Anything else, Velska?”

She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, addressing the girl by her name, which she had not yet freely given, as if only to say
‘Fuck off.’

This version was less inappropriate to say to a child,

And a hell of a lot creepier.​

 

[Paarthurnax]

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[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Oof
Tags: None
Mentions: Hell0NHighWater [/div][div class=name]Luíza[/div]

[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
Since encountering these people, minutes had passed like the snap of a finger, the prophet quietly weaving herself in between groups as if a spectre, gathering information – and names. Following the group now, she wondered if she could remember everyone’s names and faces despite having not been properly introduced to many of them.
How meek and mellow you are now. The hunter wasn’t so insidious as it spoke, the voice in her head instead calmly remarking on Luiza’s near-caboose position in the group Rhys has assembled to secure the locker rooms.
“Hardly.” She kept her voice low, flicking her dark eyes nervously at the people around her, hoping they wouldn’t notice the mad prophet’s whispers. Even as she said it though, she knew the voice was right.
Luiza shouldered through everyone with a broad smile, her sword glinting briefly at her side as she flipped it into itself in one fluid motion, holstering it in its familiar place on her hip. She put her hands on her hips, grinning at Rhys.
“Let’s kill some of these assholes.”
Luiza shook herself out of the thought, a mere glimpse at what she would have done had she still been a hunter. She’d been courageous and cocky once, but now found that with every day that passed, her old self retreated farther and farther into herself. What she wasn’t sure of, however, was if who she was now was a person or just a shell of Luiza. Shell or not though, she’d been asked along on this “adventure” to the locker rooms, and despite the overwhelming anxiety that now flooded through her, there was also a trace of the fire in her veins she’d once had. Subconsciously, Luiza rubbed where her hunter’s mark was, biting her lip as she tried to ease the trembles that had worked their way into her once-steady fingertips.
As they entered the locker room, Luiza’s skin pricked, and despite having been long lost in her memories, she found herself waking up. It was a sort of catharsis, the chilly air piquing the interest of the never-silent voice in her head.
Looks dangerous.
Before she could stop herself, Luiza let out a quiet snort at the comment. Duh. The place was a mess, though the school locker rooms Luiza had attended in her youth rivaled the chaos that was alluded to here. Initially, nothing seemed off, though everyone was on edge. As most everyone spread out, Luiza stayed in place, observing the others carefully.
Good. In an unusual fashion, the voice praised her for her wariness. While she had no doubt that no one here was relaxed, Luiza had little interest in sifting through everything. Slowly though, Luiza recognized little things that seemed peculiar. Pauses in the rummaging and wandering, odd glances and brief remarks. Something was definitely up, though she couldn’t quite place her finger on it.
“Something’s off.” Nik’s voice echoed her own thoughts, and Luiza tilted her head in contemplation. There was a time she’d jump headfirst into the situation, hungry to find some monster lying in wait. Instead, only her dark eyes shadowed him as he moved, lips pursed as she assessed his behavior. As he investigated, Luiza let her gaze flick briefly towards a few others, who seemed utterly lost.
Lost?
"I don't want to ask the stupid fucking question 'did you hear that', but I'm asking it anyways." Again Nik spoke, this time answered moments later with a cacophony of words. In a split second, everything was becoming a shit show. Even now, Luiza could feel something peeling at the edges of her steadfast resolve.
Unsure of the right move, Luiza took a step forward before her attention was drawn to… her. Furrowing her brow, she shuffled towards the other Luiza, who’s back was turned to her. As she walked around herself, she saw a man on his knees in front of her, blood and tears staining his rugged face. It was a face Luiza might have forgotten if she’d never became a prophet. She’d found him laying in an alleyway begging for help, his breaths shallow as he clung to life with every fiber in his body. She remembered pulling the tattered jacket from his shoulders, finding a gory chunk ripped from his chest, shards of bone exposed as the man bled out. She’d killed the revenant that had bit him, of course, but obviously a little too late. She remembered him crying softly as she propped him up on his knees, weakly groaning as he pulled a wallet from his pocket and nudged it towards her.
But most of all, Luiza remembered how little she felt as she put her pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. And now standing in front of her doppelgänger, the thought made her sick. Mentally drawing back, she watched as claws erupted from pseudo-Luiza’s chest, ripping the Luiza-suit in half as some other being emerged. Mouth agape in horror, she realized it was just another version of herself, this time a kind she’d started to imagine the voice in her head as. It had her hair, her figure, but instead wore torn, bloodied clothing, it’s facial structure resembling both monster and human simultaneously. Thick discolored saliva dripped from its mouth as it gurgled, turning its face towards the man, who now shook in fear. Screaming, Luiza could only watch as the creature wound its long clawed hands around the man’s head, tips beginning to sink into his skull as it leaked blood, the creature laughing – Luiza’s laugh - as it did so.
“Don’t kill me!” He wailed, “Please I have a wife and kids!” Memories fluttered around her brain, this time of the wallet and its contents. It had been mostly empty aside from the man’s driver’s license and a picture of he and his family tucked neatly in with a minuscule amount of cash. Now the screams of his family began to chorus in with the man’s too, as monster Luiza drained the life from him. This wasn't her, right? But like a snake the thoughts wound into her head. It was her. It had always been her. Luiza was no less of a monster than the creatures she killed - except that it was their nature, and not hers. She'd always taken sick pleasure in killing, and now monster Luiza hissed that perhaps she enjoyed killing this man just as much as every monster she' ever killed. Luiza's knees started to buckle as she fell onto her knees, looking at her hands, which now appeared red and bloodstained.
Oh fuck off. Clarity. No matter how poorly she thought of the voice inside her head, Luiza took a huge gasp of air as it spoke, her vision swimming a bit as she tried to focus on reality, and not the apparition any longer.
Taking a deep breath, Luiza picked herself up from the floor, throwing a contemptuous smirk at the monster Luiza, who’s face was now etched with annoyance, she turned towards the others who had broken free from the spell, frantically patting her body in search of her ever-vengeful blade. She caught a glimpse of some rapidly moving form, senses lasered in on the thing.
What the fuck was it?
"What the fuck!?" Rhys’s voice broke through Luiza’s thoughts as she watched him reel from the blow he’d taken to his shoulder. That had to have hurt. "Was that a fuckin' ghost!?"
He’d sat back down on the floor after an attempt to get up, gasping for air.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah it's a fuckin' ghost. How the fuck do we kill it, Rev?" Nik replied to Rhys, then shouting to a girl that Luiza couldn’t quite remember the name of. "I'm not into seeing dead fiances, so can we just..."

“Yeah I’m not into this shit myself.” Luiza piped up, brandishing her sword. There was no way in hell she wanted to share that she’d killed innocent people in the name of monster hunting, and she definitely wanted to kill the damn thing before it wove its corrupt tendrils back into her brain. If she started seeing things again, she wasn’t sure if she could count on the annoying inner voice to intervene again.
[/div][/div]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

ALASKA ​

location: Creepy locker room
mentions: Nik BasiliskVeranda , Rhys Hell0NHighWater , Epiphany Rui Paarthurnax
BGM:

''"Jesus fucking Christ! Are you trying to-"

"I thought I heard something...that's all..."

''Whatever you're seeing don't trust it Alaska!''​

Their voices were floating in the air, but her eyes were fixated on the figure that now hovered too close to her face, the palm of his hand almost touching her cheek. Alaska's connection to reality was almost completely severed, she could feel the others near her, she could understand that the creature was hunting them all. Was it one creature? Was it one ghost?
''Focus on me Ally cat!'' His voice came ever so soft, the kind look in his possessed black eyes haunting her very existence. She studied his features, pain throbbing in her heart as she realized she hadn't forgotten how he looked yet.

Rhys was now out the door running to Reverie who collapsed screaming the name Bell Witch that's what the creature was after all. Alaska had studied about those in the academy, about their ways and haunting......Did she want it to stop though?

The blond figure who stood in front of her now took a couple of steps back, opened his mouth only to have a figure of smoke leave his body. The ghost had black eyes, resembling the demon's. Her brother lay on the ground......dead....with his half smile....

The doors of the lockers flung open, the quasi devil followed Rhys and the new prophet, their voices echoing in the young hunter's mind, subsiding.... fading away. The ghost's features changed with every ticking second, head spinning in a circle, face changing from her brother's to her fathers' to the demon she feared the most. All of them had something to say to her, all of which were words she anticipated, all the blame she secretly tortured herself with. That's how she knew it was all in her head.

She needed to hear these things, to remind herself of what's gone, of the mistakes she'd made, of what's to come. She needed to keep this pain close to her heart, in order to protect the people she met not too long ago. In a way, she was grateful to the ghost of the dead witch, a sense of calmness spreading across her face, her eyebrows un-knotted, her features relaxed, and she looked with complete apathy at the figure which lingered in the air. Ice cold honey colored eyes stared daringly into the very essence of the witch who now took the shape of the black eyed demon, a smug smirk spread across her lips, and she now stood up with arms behind her back, facing the witch, daring...

The bell witch's features changed again, now revealing extremely long matted black hair and mad yellow eyes, a hand reached to Alaska's neck, the touch burning her, nails digging into her skin, she felt the fire against the freezing cold air ,but stood still , taking the pain in, eyes locked on the yellow pair of mad eyes, welcoming the pain....with no hint of fear... instead, shone acceptance. Maybe it was time she thought.....Maybe it wasn't worth it to live anymore. Amongst all the creatures in this fucked up world maybe it was this witch who was supposed to kill her. She stood eyeing the quatervois in front of her, does she fight? does she surrender? But no......Death would come to claim her soul eventually...Now wasn't the time to give in

''What's keeping you here?'' the hunter's voice came almost pitying. She thought of Stella's impassive childish, lovable nature, of Reverie's friendly outspoken fearless personality, of Emma's kindness and acceptance. Was that creature the thing they'd turn to should they die at the hands of one of those God forsaken monsters? Fuck the apocalypse

You wanna be inside my head? Go ahead

Alaska's dagger was out of her pocket within a fraction of a second cutting through the smoke who now screeched in a deafening manner, it felt like something out of a horror movie, those cheap, low budgeted fake horror movies one would laugh at with popcorn and soda...
Yellow eyes lingered on the hunter before the figure disappeared leaving a hand shaped nasty red burn on her neck. She walked out of the room, to where the others stood over Reverie's collapsed body, hearing their frantic voices but not paying much attention, the look in her eyes was completely empty.

Blood oozed out of Rhys's shoulder, it was a wonder he could still stand with that much blood lose. Nik was frantic, spitting curses in a tone of anger she never expected to see from him. '' I'm not into seeing dead fiances so can we just.......'' his voice trailed off earning a frown from the young huntress. This fucking bitch toyed with their minds.....enjoying it. Alaska touched her burning neck lightly, reminding herself that what happened was a hundred percent real, she sneaked a look at the muscly prophet who now took out her sword, a completely pissed off look on her face.
: ''However we do it...Let's get it over with'' the hunter's voice came an octave lower than it normally is. Alaska's features remained emotionless, her dagger still clutched in her hands, her brother's image never leaving her mind.