Fantasy The Last Judgement

[Cara]

Niylah Blake
​

Location: McGuire AF Base
Interactions: BasiliskVeranda
OOC: I tried to make it cool this time, but I'm too bad at this so feel free to change the background or the colors of the text.
ps: I'm learning ^.^

Niylah didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment afraid that she might say something wrong. So she tried to sleep instead but she couldn’t push the thought of something going wrong off of her head. She thought of a lot of possibilities on how this mission might go wrong that she felt if anything really happens, it will be her fault for thinking too much about it. She shook the feeling as she stood up and took Colby’s diary thinking that she won’t get sleep anyways so why not go back to the locked room.

Arriving there, she placed the diary back and took some time to read the other diaries thinking that maybe someone wrote something about the “monster” or the mission. " I swear to god if this stupid monster is related to vampires in any way I will lose my mind” Niylah mumbled as she flipped through the pages irritated by the thought. And she had the right to... the past year especially was vamps year for her, every house, bunker, or fucking hole she went to was full of vamps and she couldn't stand it anymore. She could swear she killed every vampire on earth. After a long useless search, she found nothing so she decided to look in the duffle bags, now that Anna wasn’t there she could look however she liked as long as she put everything back to its place afterward, she was lucky to find some cool stuff. Niylah was ranking everything she found hoping that she’ll remember where everything is if ever needed, she ranked them as too dumb, who the hell would use that, too personal, and can be handy. she felt bad for the group so she didn’t take anything that was personal, but she didn’t feel bad at all taking all the stuff that could be useful to them. She took 4 Pocketknives, 2 binoculars, 1 Rangefinder, 1 Night Vision Scope, and 2 still working flashlights. they weren’t enough but they were all she could find. 'The group can share' she thought as she opened the last duffle bag, inside the last bag was two glowing sticks and a first aid kit, she took them as well. Now that there was nothing that “can be handy” left to be taken she went out of the room and headed back to their room. She remembered hearing voices in the showers earlier, maybe she would look there first.

She was lucky to find Nik midways, “ don’t worry, I won’t push you to an empty room this time “ she joked approaching. there wasn’t a serious threat inside the base yet, so Niylah found lightning the mood with a joke a good idea. She smiled and started in a calm voice to show that she was not angry or attacking but that she only wished she knew “Look, I know that we only just met. We don’t know anything about each other, and under normal circumstances, you don’t have to trust me or share anything with me. Be it information or anything else. But we are stuck here together as one group and we need to help each other in order to make it out alive. I don’t know the way you guys handle these type of things and clearly, you trust each other with your lives, but I need you to understand that I can not do that yet. I’ve been traveling on my own for a few years now so it is hard for me to plan and think of a whole group but I’m trying to help in every way that I can.” She paused for a little hopping that what she just said would make sense to Nik, she then continued trying to pick the right words “Me finding the room and the diaries, I thought I found something big. If it was only me, I would’ve booked it the second I knew about the disappearings. But I had to deepen the research because I felt responsible for sharing this information with you. And now, I know that I wasted time finding it because Rhys already knew about it. if I knew about it as well, I would’ve focused my search on finding something else…something like useful stuff to help you with the mission out there.” she finished presenting a bag filled with the stuff she found to Nik. Now that she explained her earlier behavior and got this out of her chest she felt much better. Maybe talking to someone wasn't such a bad idea, at least she hoped it wasn’t. She might think about it later when everything was okay, but right now she needed to be fully focused on being useful. “oh and, about the pocketknives, Just please... don’t tell Marcus, don’t show Scout, and hid them… trust on this, if you already have a plan B let the knives be the plan C”

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(http://www.8k-wallpapers.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/Black-white-forest.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #91001b; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #91001b; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #91001b; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #91001b; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:790px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #91001b; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]


[div class=speakeasy2]Niklas Voss Gets Saved, And Likes Knives
LOCATION — McGuire AF Base
BGM — SUNFLOWER BEAN - EASIER SAID
TAGS — The Princess ( Hell0NHighWater ), Allea's Favors Come With A Price, Niylah(ra Croft) ( Cara )
OOC — gimme de wapons [/div]


[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]"Only because you make me this way." There was the playfulness that Nik liked so much. It made his smile grow broad like a swipe of ink, bleeding away as he had more to say on all this. However, in that instant, his deep blue eyes glimmered not unlike a sea of stars. He wondered for half a beat just how all their lives would've been had it not been for the crappocalypse.

Would the pair of them ever have met, specifically? He couldn't say. Olivia had maintained her friendship with the ex-detective, but they'd have undoubtedly lead parallel lives. From what Nik saw of Rhys' nightmare—that of which he hadn't spoken on, waiting instead until the other man decided or didn't decide to speak on it—his was a life still filled with sorrow. He'd have been imprisoned, this Nik knew.

And the blond, sitting beside him, prattling away the strategy they were picking apart, dining on this meal, piecing it back together, and feeling comfort in being this close, and speaking, and listening, and not throwing emotions at each other like bullets...he'd have been married to the best wife in the world.

With a child, a little girl, who he had never had the opportunity to watch grow up.

He imagined she'd have been a little firestorm, quick as a whip, and smart like her mother. Artistic, probably, and surrounded by a family of people who'd have helped raise her to be whatever she wanted to be. Firefighter, Astronaut, Quantum Physicist—endless resources, a blessed life.

The pair of men would've never traveled on this journey. Life is strange like that. Love comes in different ways, and the split paths they'd all have followed wouldn't have joined together, not really. No James, sharing cigarettes, endeared like two best friends almost instantly. No Alaska, a sister not related by blood. No Kayden, someone to protect despite Rhys' intimations to the contrary.

No Ryan, no Reverie, not anyone else. Save for Penny, if she hadn't decided to sweep away like the wind as she had a habit of doing, long ago.

That...would've been a shame.

"I don't have faith in Marcus' posse. That's the whole point in sending people I trust. I didn't expect anyone to like the idea, but it was the only way. Even if I had consulted someone, it still would have ended up the same way. I don't know this area well enough to find other shelter in the storm and at least here there's electricity and working showers." Nik nodded along, knowing that inevitably they'd have come here anyways. Reverie had been so adamant about not having a say in all this, her emotions were a live-wire in his veins even now. Feeling as she had, not wanting to discredit her experience, but knowing it truly had been the only way.

Nik leaned to listen, blond hair already disheveled, and tuning out the chirps and warbles of his fresh brand of hell trying to lure him into a false sense of security. If evil was beautiful then it was easier a pill to swallow. Best to color it in natural hues, in greens and earth, lest he be frightened away like a shadow of Franklin in the face of hell's predatory inclinations.

He was a bit too smart to play that game.

"As for knowing me, you can always ask. I won't hide anything from you."
"I will," Nik said, pausing to sup on the cigarette at this point, blowing smoke away from the other man out of respect so he didn't get a face full of cancer.
"Once we win our little war," his smile belayed his distaste for all this. But it was evaporating slowly, like the weathered rock, except it was more his broiling emotions fettering on the edges. Mottled in the salten sea, breaking apart, because they'd have to go into the frozen beyond. They had no other choice, and so, Niklas Voss begrudgingly accepted it.

As perhaps Reverie eventually accepted their stay here, venom pulsing in her veins, but not clinging in her throat—he hoped.

"You're right. I am too smart for that." There was a look to the other man's face, something like arrogance, pitched onward with a smile. Something innately coquettish and brazen. Niklas wondered if, on some level, this was a calculated game. Not in the way that people misuse those around them—Rhys wasn't the type. But in the way where the other man felt several steps ahead, and that was a form of control.

Rhys did like control. Niklas liked chaos. There's something comforting about knowing life was a series of random events. He'd prefer to know what pieces were being moved around him, always, but he was comfortable with letting go of the reigns.

In that moment, he did.

"You're talking about the little stunt you pulled to get us in." Nik froze for all of a moment, expression like a glass about to tip over the ledge of a tall oak table. Judgement, he half expected it, but the flight of emotions of his possibly most insecure personal feature wasn't to come. There was no judgement here.

A piece of the puzzle that was Emrys "Rhys" Contiello slid into place, and clicked. The blond flicked ash, much to Chantel's eventual chagrin. Nik let the metaphorical rope slide through his fingers and relaxed, shoulders no longer tense. A bird chirped and he side-eyed the manifestation. It shuttered against the corners of his vision.

"I don't believe anyone else does. But no, my gut didn't tell me to say anything. It wouldn't have gone over well either way, so it didn't matter. My only regret is that I ended up hurting you far more than I ever intended." The blond felt the need to explain himself. To paint a little portrait of just how violent his emotions were, spurred on by the affliction competing with the tattoos on his skin. It marred his already scarred forearms, the last name standing in full on his flesh being 'Penny'. He hadn't asked for any of this, none of them had.

But he decided against it, Rhys was still speaking, and it was his turn to shut his mouth and let his token half-smile sit idle.

"Tesoro, four days from tomorrow you and the scouting party will be at the origin point of the storm. One of two things will happen: You'll all be able to go in just fine or it will only be you and Ryan. If we were betting, I'd put all of my fucking money on the first thing. A couple hours after you leave, another group will be following in your footsteps. I've spent a lot of fucking time collecting shit so all the other group has to do is follow the bread crumbs you drop. It will take them a day maybe to catch up at the center of the storm. That's back up and a supplies replenish guaranteed to come your way. A couple hours after they arrive, the rest of us will come out with the RV to pick everyone up. So, knowing that do you really think I'm still the one getting played? I always have a plan, Nik. You've just got to trust me."

"A lot can happen in a day," Niklas offered, leaning back to place his arm around Rhys' shoulders, leaning his head on the other man's nearer one. In a moment of brutal clarity, the blond spoke again. Hesitating, worry crawling up his face like ink in water.

"...I'd be lying if I said I wasn't...fearful," the statement was raw and unabashedly honest, and Nik winced to even give it form, "...but I'll follow your lead. Play the part, and keep the others safe. I just hope I don't..." slip and fall into hell's clutches, die in a ditch, watch someone else die in a ditch, freeze to death, be too stuck in blood-lust mode to save someone—a plethora of worries turned his stomach sour, and he bit his lip as if to keep the rest of his sentence tucked behind his teeth.

"Alright."

"...don't ice me out. I'd like to paint a proper portrait of myself for you, but I'd need to see the meaty bits as well...it's scary. I get it. But that's what love is, you beautiful fucking doofus." The grin that pulled on the other man's face felt like the sun cresting on the edge of a watercolor horizon. Nik had pulled back to look over his features; in that moment the crackle of branches subsided.

Fingers were curled in his shirt, and he was kissed, face traced with a thumb on his jaw, and forehead pressed against the other's. The blond closed his eyes and let a pleased hum and the curl of a smile bloom like rain-starved flora. It felt electric every time, and it stilled him as if the live-wired tether they shared could break apart whatever madness ailed him.

A stillness, one he had looked for, for two whole years. He wondered if she'd be proud of what little glimmer he had found, one he meant to keep until time ended and the earth stood still.

"If that's what you want, then I'll give it to you. Meaty bits and all." The blond chuckled, low in the chest and pulled back. This meal wasn't half bad, after all was said and done. The whitelighter placed a package of cigarettes in his grasp, crumpled but a godsend in the time of now. It was Nik's vice, a nervous habit, his mouth had to be entertained or he'd bite away his lips for just how terrified and anxious he was all the time.

That was the truth about Nik. Behind the smiles, the jokes, the Barbie Girl songs, the playful banter and all the trappings of the violently happy, afflicted hellion. He was always frightened. Of himself, mostly.

"Don't open it now. It's for all the times in the next few days when you hate me for getting you into whatever mess you find yourself in; it's for those nights when you hate just how cold that space is beside you; and it's for the moment you start missing me." The blond raised a brow, pocketing the little gift, and tilted his head to the side.

"...they'll be gone in the span of a few hours, just for that last part," the blond said, eyes softening. The pock-marked holes in his skin were raw-worn, and he didn't quite mind it, because that's what it meant to love.

"Thanks, возлюбленная," he said, a low voice, something feathered and barely there. But immutable, as it seemed it would be a constant sentiment, despite all the piss and vinegar and holy and hellish bullshit.

The pair rose on their feet, Rhys helping the other man up, who probably needed to do some ridiculous stretches already. Whatever the affliction gave him in strength, it didn't leave out the taut tendons and screaming muscles. All the tense emotions had lodged themselves firmly in his jaw, shoulders, and back.

They'd never abate, as long as fight or flight, do or die, assailed him at every passing moment.

"I'm going to go see if I can speak with the others, find me later alright?" A feathered kiss lingered on Nik's cheek, and the blond turned sunny. If only the violence of his emotions, their intensity making him about as stable as a live-wire in a swimming pool, flipping from the waters to electrocute everything its wake, could be positive like this. The other parts...he could've done without. But the glow was nice, even if it almost blistered.

"Count on it," the blond said, feeling foolish as he watched the other man leave, for his lovesick stupidity. Self conscious for all this rage, all this hellfire, the ups, the downs, and everything in between. They were both such a mess, in many ways. But Nik felt he was chaos embodied.

Maybe it was better to keep a steel grip on things, like Rhys tried to do. Nik didn't know the answer there, because maybe there were no real answers to anything, anyways.

⛧⛧⛧​

The blond let out a stream of smoke, it licked the ceiling and curled like the green ivy vines that still threatened him at the edges of his vision. As if just by being there, they were making him a promise. A promise that they'd eventually collect on.

"Enough, I get it," the blond said, talking with his cigarette sweeping through the scene. It broke apart in the smoke and tried to claw back, like a transparency burned away, the frames placed down to make up for the molten plastic.

"God, it might not be so fucking insufferable if I wasn't aware of it," the part-time devil muttered, frustrated, "so kindly fuck off, will you?"

At that moment, Allea sidled at the door, slinking like a cat. Nik imagined she was more like a feline than any of them, not giving trust or affection even willingly. Particular, in the way that self-serving animals often are. But he got along with cats far better than dogs. He understood them well enough.

"Finally losin' your mind, Charmer?" Allea's pet name for him felt half-facetious and half-honest. He could never tell which was which with her, but he didn't bother pressing at that vein. Nik blew smoke into the air and gave her a half-smile.

"Yup," was all he said, before sitting on the bench to rifle through the painting kit, wondering if he had time to make something. Wondering if it'd help him, or if it was all in vain, anyways. If maybe he'd fall fast asleep tonight, and wake up soulless and malignant. This was such a royal pain in the ass.

"I know that look," she said, sauntering over to the blond who looked up at the woman, eyes narrowing. She shot out her hand, deep brown eyes looking over his features, calculating through him, even now. "Let's get your head on straight," the blond opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, "well, as straight as possible," his brows knit up, as if to ask why he was receiving her charity.

The cigarette went back between his teeth and he stretched his hand out. It was like trying to introduce yourself to an apex predator who may or may not tolerate you enough to make contact. Allea just had that way about her. Nik respected her, but it didn't mean he trusted her. He didn't know if she was a new hero to put faith in, or if she'd coil back and bite them if it meant her goals were met.

Goals he didn't understand, and was sure nobody else did, either.

"I ain't doing you no favors," she seemed to read his mind, reminding him that it wasn't out of the goodness of her heart. But the blond did catch some sort of sympathy, like a scant stroke in warm earthy tones across her skin. Barely perceptible, but Nik was observant. She clasped his hand and stepped forward, wrapping an amulet's cord around his wrist, and the stone in his face-down palm.

Her's was pressed below his, and he knew what was to come. Adisa had pulled this sort of magic before, and it had singed through his body like heroin in reverse. No euphoria to be had, it was the exact opposite, in fact.

There hadn't been the skeletal light show like last time however, and after charting out incantations, colored by her accent and seeming reluctance in all this, the pain pitched through his skin. It drew blackness from his veins, pulsing his arteries and chewing at his insides. Burning like black lighting, it was hard not to bite on his own tongue.

The second time around, Nik grit his teeth, his other fist at his side, curling to make half-moon shapes in the flesh of his palm.

"Almost done, cher," His vision turned to black as he screwed his eyes shut. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt like a bitch, like being burned from the inside. Immolated, because hell was so very close, and it wanted him to drown in it. It had gone in deep this time, like all the other times.

Yet this second time around, even if he knew what to expect, it felt...worse. As if the affliction fought her more, or fought to stay within him like a parasite stuck under the skin. Clinging to his blood vessels, curling around bones, he felt like a rubber band about to snap.

When it was over, the tattoos over his shoulder were mottled, as if his skin had shifted its very cells in the sub-dermal layers. The trees in tendriled vines around the meat of his shoulder were blistered, branches broken as if inked that way from the start.

"Fuck," the blond hissed, pulling back his hand as the amulet fell and clattered to the floor. Smoky-black, and filled with venom. "Don't think I'll ever get used to this shit..." Allea furled her paw back, retracting. Her chocolate eyes were cast on him with vague indifference, but there were still gems of light caught. As if she didn't entirely loathe him, and yet, was seeing something beyond the blond.

Something elsewhere, as he had seen the branches, heard the birds. Her glance hovered for a moment, and they were in silence as Nik looked up at her from beneath strong brows.

"Thank—"
"Don't thank me, cher. Thank Emrys," she said, folding her arms across her chest. It seemed like she may have had something more to say, but quickly left. Nik never knew what she was thinking, and he doubted she'd let many, if any of them, know anyways.

Standing, he scooped up the used amulet and felt the weight in his hands. It felt strange to just leave it sitting on the tiled floor, but it wasn't like it was useful anymore. Walking over to one of the lockers, he set it inside, and closed the metal door.

The blond realized he had ground down the cigarette between his teeth, tobacco in his mouth, and winced. Next came spitting in the trash can, sticking his tongue out, and making a general scene of tasting the bitter, stringent dried herbs.

"Fuck me," he groaned, snagging his cup with rum in it to swirl around in his mouth to get the taste out.

The trees no longer spread across his vision, and no birds could be heard. He felt lighter, and realized in that moment just how heavy the affliction felt. It was like liquid metal in the veins, and he had almost broken under it all.

However...green blanched the edge of his vision still, like the remnants of marker on a dry-erase board, not yet scrubbed clean.

He guessed he'd never truly get the taste of hell out of his mouth.

⛧⛧⛧
​

The painting kit underneath his arm, a cup of rum in one hand, and cigarette perched between his fingers, Nik started out from the showers. He had planned on hooking over to wherever Niylah had run off to, to explain more about what was going on.

She had done so much of her own detective work that he thought it was only fair to fill her in, so she didn't feel like it had all been wasted effort.

Instead, she found him in mid stride, which made the blond halt and almost drop the cup in his hand.

"Shit—Hey Ni—"
"Don't worry, I won't push you to an empty room this time," she said with a smile. Niklas gave her one back, something a bit too sharp, but that's just what his face did. Razor-sharp grins, half-smiles. His emotions as plain as the day was long, in etchings weathered by the storm he often found himself in.

“Look, I know that we only just met. We don’t know anything about each other, and under normal circumstances, you don’t have to trust me or share anything with me. Be it information or anything else. But we are stuck here together as one group and we need to help each other in order to make it out alive. I don’t know the way you guys handle these type of things and clearly, you trust each other with your lives, but I need you to understand that I can not do that yet. I’ve been traveling on my own for a few years now so it is hard for me to plan and think of a whole group but I’m trying to help in every way that I can.”

"No one is expecting you to...fully trust us," the blond said with his brows raised. She was trying so very hard, which meant she'd need his full attention. Spotting a sill near eye-level, he placed the cup of rum and painting kit, turning to look over her face as he smoked. He cast it to the side, and took in her words.

"...you've already proven yourself, as far as I'm concerned," he said with a warm smile, something he might have reserved for Olive had she been here. Almost paternal in a way, which was strange for him.

"Me finding the room and the diaries, I thought I found something big. If it was only me, I would’ve booked it the second I knew about the disappearings. But I had to deepen the research because I felt responsible for sharing this information with you. And now, I know that I wasted time finding it because Rhys already knew about it. if I knew about it as well, I would’ve focused my search on finding something else…something like useful stuff to help you with the mission out there.”

"Don't—try not to worry about it. I still think he fucked up by not telling us sooner...but you did good," Nik didn't quite know what to say, because he agreed with her, that she had gone out on a limb to help them. She had stayed and tried to warn them, and that meant something. It was brave, and it was her attempting...to trust in new heroes.

Like he had to, and was still wrestling with, albeit not as violently.

As the young woman started to unearth a bag, Niklas continued, because he felt she deserved some sort of explanation.

"...we're going to get back-up. He explained how he thinks it's going to go down, and we just have to trust him," Nik paused and reached over to grab his cup of rum, taking a small sip. He wasn't apt to get tanked, it wasn't what he was interested in, "I know you're not there yet." The blond was referring to how fresh and green this all was for her.

"But," the part-time devil hesitated for all of a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, "...know that we'll all get out of this alive," Nik sighed and leaned against the wall, flicking ash on the floor like gray snow.

"After the snowstorm has stopped fucking us sideways, we're going...some place safer," the blond flicked ash again and nibbled his lower lip with his teeth. He actually had no idea where they were off to next.

"We just have to have...faith," Nik narrowed his eyes at at his own statement, and cursed under his breath, "...I hate that word. But it is what it fucking is," he stuck the cigarette between his teeth and took smoke into his lungs. He held it for a moment as he watched her pour through her bag. Niylah seemed to always find treasures and secrets.

Like fucking Lara Croft.

Niylah had found no less than the following items, which made Nik wonder if she had a tracker for valuables or some bullshit like that: 4 Pocketknives, 2 binoculars, 1 Rangefinder, 1 Night Vision Scope, and 2 still working flashlights.

“oh and, about the pocketknives, Just please... don’t tell Marcus, don’t show Scout, and hid them… trust on this, if you already have a plan B let the knives be the plan C”

"...hm..." the blond reached his hand into the bag and inspected the knives. His own were pretty well-worn, and he'd have to sharpen them a bit.

These were a bit better for now, but not quite as strong. Too small to do any puncturing damage to inner organs, but if he got to an artery—if...losing blood would down any of the foes they may or may not be meeting in the foreseeable future—he could use them.

The blond let a grin spread over his features, something a bit sadistic, and probably something Niylah wouldn't quite understand.

"I won't, Scout's honor," Nik said with a sharp laugh,"...you're kind of a little genius, aren't you?" the blond let his laughter edge to a cackle, but it died as he went to take another sip of rum.

Cigarette perched between lithe fingers, he pulled smoke into his mouth and let it stream from his nose.

"I'll take three for the vanguard," he said after a few moments, "you keep one," he pulled one from the bag and flipped it in his grasp, blade facing his way. He waited for her to take the handle and conceal it, as he rounded beside the young woman. He left the rum cup behind, but snagged the painting kit.

Chantel could flip her fucking burgers over the mess, he didn't give a shit anymore. He was done being the merry maid from hell.

"Let's stash this for now, I'll bring it along tomorrow," Nik said as the pair began to walk. His cigarette started to dwindle, but he was intent on making the most of it.

"...thanks, Niylah Croft," the part-time devil gave the young woman a cheeky smile, "I have a feeling you're going to be saving all our asses, one of these days."

"Might even outlive us all," Nik's laughter was like music, no longer colored by hell's grasp around his throat from underneath his skin. He was more himself than he felt he'd been in days.

He was probably right.
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[Lakyr]

[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: McGuire AF Base
Tags: Hell0NHighWater [/div][/div][div class=title]James[/div][div class=text]James had hoped to see Rhys as he wandered the halls, but that didn't mean he had expected to see him. No, he had expected Rhys to be talking to somebody else, or doing something else. But James had questions, so it was a welcome surprise as he did see him. The questions were still plastered across James' face as he walked towards Rhys, they were still troubling him but now he was determined to get answers. He just wanted answers. He felt left out, not having a plan wasn't really new to him, he was used to it, in the apocalypse you had to roll with the punches, but this time there was a plan he just wasn't part of it. And nobody had asked his opinion. It had only been days since they arrived but was it too much to ask to be informed about something like this? And why the heck did he have to stay behind?

"James..." James came to a stop in front of Rhys and looked slightly up the taller man. He didn't, at first, notice the remorse in Rhys' voice, features, and posture.
"Rhys, wha-" The tone of James' voice sounded a bit too reproachful, luckily he was quickly cut off by Rhys. "Listen, I know you're probably angry with me." James shifted his gaze to the ground and scratched the side of his neck. "But I just wanted to say that...they'll be okay out there. I know that everyone probably thinks I'm not the most trustworthy person right now, but I acted in the best interest of the group." He looked back up at Rhys, still scratching his neck, his mouth twisted as if he couldn't decide between a slight scowl or a half smile. He wasn't angry at Rhys, how could he be without knowing the whole story? He was just confused and felt left out, and that annoyed him, and maybe he had been a little pissed too, but not angry.

"Okay, Rhys, I'm not an-" He had taken a second to make up his mind before talking and again, Rhys talked before he had finished. But James was happy to stop and listen first, because Rhys was forthcoming right now so James would let him say what he had to first and then react accordingly, instead of spewing out what had been on his mind. "I was thinking about cracking open that bottle of rum Alaska gave me. If you wanted to ask some questions I'm more than willing to answer, lord knows I've got the fuckin' time." James looked back down again and crossed his arms, now smirking, as no part of him was truly upset anymore at this moment. In thoughts, he went back to the haunted fucking hotel, even though the times immediately before and after hadn't been great, the dinner was a solely pleasant memory. Everything before and after would always be terrible in the crapocalypse, but that couldn't take away the good moments this small, weird family had. "I could start off by saying I'm sorry. This is a bit of a mess, but believe me when I say no one in going in there alone. If you don't want to talk now, I can fill you in tomorrow." He slowly turned his gaze back up at Rhys, the smirk has disappeared again. "Hell, yes I want to talk, I sure as fuck got some questions." He couldn't keep his serious voice up for long and the smirk was breaking through his expression again before he had finished his sentence too. "But let's make sure Kayden won't see us, cause some rum sounds great too and no one wants another hostage disaster." The smirk turned into a full on smile and James looked over his shoulder and turned around slightly. "We should find somewhere to sit down, and I also need a cup or something so ..."

It didn't take long for them to find somewhere where they could talk. James sat down at the table leaning back in his chair at first, watching Rhys for a few seconds, then he leaned forward putting his hands on his upper legs. "So, first things first..." another smile crawled up his face, "fill me up." He placed the cup on the table and let it slide over to Rhys. "If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm not angry with you." James took the cup now filled with rum back. "But if there's a plan, and I hope you've got more than I've been told already, I'd really love to know about it and be part of it." He raised the cup, smiled at Rhys and took a sip. He hadn't drunk any alcohol at the haunted hotel, so this was the first for him in quite some time and the taste and burn made him grimace at first, pressing eyes together turning his face to the ground for a moment, but he smiled through it, shook his head and looked back at Rhys. "So what's the plan, all of it? Do we really trust these people? Why keep me here? What in the hell do you think is out there? Why didn't you tell us?! Didn't it occur to you to maybe ask the hunters in your group, if this might be a monster problem?!" James was just rambling on, letting all the questions out, without realizing that he was getting louder and probably did seem kind of angry at that moment. "Fuck. Sorry, I ... it's just hard to understand any of this right now. It seems like you're sending them to their - at least very well possible - deaths. I don't think you'd do that but, fuck does it sound like it." [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; 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: #000000; 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]

 

[Cara]

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Niylah Blake
​

​

Location: McGuire AF Base
Interactions: BasiliskVeranda
OOC: Big thanks to Alteras who I "stole" the coding from... I suppose I should be mentioning that XD XD


Nik was very nice and he made sure to listen to Niylah carefully. "No one is expecting you to...fully trust us...you've already proven yourself, as far as I'm concerned," he said as Niylah was explaining. She knew that they didn't expect her to do anything, but she wanted to. As much as she thought that getting close to people would only get them killed and she hurt and broken-hearted, she also believed that she needed someone to talk to, to trust. and she felt safe with this group, that they were the type that would have her back.

"...Don't—try not to worry about it. I still think he fucked up by not telling us sooner...but you did good," he said when she got to the Rhys part “...we're going to get back-up. He explained how he thinks it's going to go down, and we just have to trust him, I know you're not there yet. But...know that we'll all get out of this alive After the snowstorm has stopped fucking us sideways, we're going...someplace safer,"

Nik continued as she was taking out the stuff of her bag “ you can't promise that” she noted with a smile. Niylah wanted him to know that she knew how hard it was to find a safe place. danger will always be one step ahead and she wanted him to know that it was okay. "We just have to have...faith...I hate that word. But it is what it fucking is," with that, he took another breath of smoke, and it made Niylah woulder what did they like about cigarettes? but she said nothing as she presented the items to him.

“oh and, about the pocketknives, Just please... don’t tell Marcus, don’t show Scout, and hid them … trust me on this, if you already have a plan B let the knives be the plan C” she told him and he laughed giving her a scout honor to which, she smiled in approval. She just couldn't take the thought of something going wrong off of her mind and being the person that she was she wanted the group to be prepared for anything and everything tomorrow … the items she presented Nik weren't that helpful on a battlefield. But they were good for scouting at least.

"...you're kind of a little genius, aren't you?" she laughed at his statement "I wouldn't say genius, no. paranoid though, I am very much" she said with a laugh. Niylah knew that she had this problem ever since she started traveling with Maya. She was overprotective, thinking about everything, planning for anything, and always finding something that might go wrong … sadly she didn't see Maya’s death coming. She shook the thought as Nik pulled one of the knives out of the bag "I'll take three for the vanguard, you keep one," he said presenting it to her. Niylah always kept a small knife on her in case anything went wrong but the knife that Nik presented her was a bit bigger and better so she temporary accepted it

“ I have a small knife on me, but I can keep this for now if you don’t need it for the mission.” she explained pulling the other knife and showing it to him “ like I said, paranoid” she joked..

"Let's stash this, for now, I'll bring it along tomorrow...thanks, Niylah Croft, I have a feeling you're going to be saving all our asses, one of these days…Might even outlive us all " he laughed as they started walking.

“that might be because you trust easily” she joked laughing then remembering her situation … she only knew them for what? four - five days now. She literally partied with them the night she met them and started traveling with them the next day, and here she was talking about trust! She turned to Nik thinking that he might think that as well “before you say or think anything, my situation is totally different” she said.

And yes her situation with the group was different. They welcomed her without pointing a gun to her head at least, and they called her a badass and Niylah Croft. She liked being a badass Croft.


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[Hell0NHighWater]

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Emrys Contiello

[div class=miniBox][div class="miniText mini1"] [div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]McGuire AF Base[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Interactions[/div][div class=barText] James + Anyone listening in[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]OOC[/div][div class=barText]Sorry it took so long Jams[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]BGM[/div][div class=barText]Pieces of the people we love [/div][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=bigBox][div class=bigScroll] "Hell, yes I want to talk, I sure as fuck got some questions." The corner of his brow twitched, amusement bleeding past whatever self-wallowing expression he had been displaying earlier. A hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck, head moving slightly to nod.

"But let's make sure Kayden won't see us, cause some rum sounds great too and no one wants another hostage disaster." There was a harsh breath of air that flew out of his nostrils, bright azure irises glimmering at the slightly younger male. Most of the escapades at the hotel were blurry to him at best. However, he did recall something about Kayden standing on the table and shouting so he could only assume...that was what the hunter was referencing. But had that really been a disaster? Rhys furrowed his brows a bit, trying to recall anything besides slurred voices, wandering hands, and jovial jokes. Whatever the incident was, Rhys decided to let that train of thought halt in favor of paying more attention to James as he spoke.

"We should find somewhere to sit down, and I also need a cup or something so ..."
"Yeah, no problem. Let's go." He smirked a bit, slipping a hand into his pocket as he lead the way down the hallway. He paused at the room the group had been sharing to grab the bottle of rum Alaska has gifted him. Then they were off walking again, finding their way into the mostly abandoned rec center. Rhys sat himself across from James at a card table, placing the bottle between them.

"So, first things first..." Rhys watched the smile crawl across his friend's face, "fill me up." He wasn't exactly sure where the hunter had been hiding the glasses, but he didn't bother to ask. The blessed stopped the sliding glass with two fingers, a smile of his own forming on his lips.
"Yes, Sir." He chuckled a little, pouring a bit of the rum into the glass before handing it back. Rhys was starting to relax, coming to the realization that James didn't seem to be as angry with him as some of the others had been.

"If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm not angry with you." There was a bit of a dead chuckle that left him, raising his own cup to his lips to take a swig, "Glad you told me. I wouldn't have figured that one out." He was being cheeky, but the teasing expression on his features faded as James continued.

"But if there's a plan, and I hope you've got more than I've been told already, I'd really love to know about it and be part of it." Rhys tilted his head to the side a bit, a half nod, accompanied by mute contemplation as he watched the amber liquor swirl in his glass.

"So what's the plan, all of it? Do we really trust these people? Why keep me here? What in the hell do you think is out there? Why didn't you tell us?! Didn't it occur to you to maybe ask the hunters in your group, if this might be a monster problem?!" Rhys paused, the edge of the glass pressing against his lower lip. Those were a lot of questions, granted that he had kind of expected them. At least it felt less of an interrogation and more like a conversation between two friends. He could deal with that at least. Rhys wasn't sure he could stand another intense session of being grilled for answers, not that Nik had really grilled him, but it was close enough at first to make his anxiety spike.

"Fuck. Sorry, I ... it's just hard to understand any of this right now. It seems like you're sending them to their - at least very well possible - deaths. I don't think you'd do that but, fuck does it sound like it."
"I know it looks that way. That's the point." Rhys sighed a bit, placing his cup on the table. He stared at James for a moment, attempting to come up with the best way to phrase what he was about to say. "There aren't many people I trust, James. I think we've all learned that trust is a difficult thing to give in this world." Rhys paused, gaze focused on the rum. He took another sip before turning his attention back to the hunter, "But I've come to trust our group...most of us anyway." Allea's face entered his mind and he scowled for a second before shaking his head, "I respect Marcus, as a leader. He does what he can for his people, but he lacks...a fucking brain."

He sighed, using his free hand to rub his jaw in thought. There was a beard growing in, he hated the feeling, and for the third or fourth time that day he mentally reminded himself to shave. "I've poured through his reports. I've mapped every scouting mission he ever sent out, and I came to the conclusion that there were holes in his logic. More holes than swiss fucking cheese." Rhys leaned back in his seat, lips hitching into a bit of a smirk. The look that crossed his face was akin to that of someone who was just about to win at a game of chess and the opponent was completely oblivious. "I'm sending a team. Not one of ours with one of theirs. A team. And about an hour after they leave I'm sending another one. You aren't staying here, you'll be going with the second group. I haven't told Marcus about this, because I sure as fuck don't trust them that much. But I think there's something....evil beyond these doors. I can feel it." His attention shifted to his hands, fingers flexing slightly before he looked up again.

"And what would you have said? As a hunter? You don't know what's out there and neither do I. But I know it isn't good. Kayden and Ryan have the same training you and Alaska have. Penny can heal better than I can, and Nik can...stab things." He winced a bit at how that sounded, waving a hand a bit in dismissal as if to say 'you know what I mean'. "Allea is the only one I'm not too sure about. She's sort of a wild card. But having a witch on the team is useful enough. If it turns out that the reports were correct and Scott wasn't lying, then Nik and Ryan go in together. No one goes anywhere alone. The second group is an insurance policy. I've instructed Penny to leave a trail for you guys to follow and...if everything goes according to plan then the first group will have support just in case."

Another drink. Another pause. "Alaska and I will give it a couple days before driving out to pick everyone up." There was a moment where a bit of worry morphed across his features. With all of the confidence that he seemed to project, he was terrified that something would go wrong. He cared about everyone in their makeshift family and that frightened him. If something happened and he couldn't be there...it would kill him, but he needed to have faith that everything would somehow work out. No one was helpless, they had survived this long without him needing to be a white knight. He sighed again before downing the rest of his drink and pouring another one. He topped off James' glass in the process, wondering for the thousandth time if he had really made the right call. But it had been the only way, no matter if the group thought otherwise...this was a fight Rhys couldn't involve himself in. He was already so far gone...there was nothing a talisman could do for him at this point. The curse that withered inside him ate away at his soul without mercy. Nothing could really be done about it. Eventually it would take him completely and he'd have no choice but to accept the divine hand that had been offered to him. He couldn't ignore it forever.

He managed a smile, a bit shaky around the edges but still real. "We've come this far; The airport was ages ago, the police station, that house, the hotel, the raiders, all of it. We'll make it out of this like how we make it out of everything: together."

He downed the rest of his second glass, knowing that come hell or high water they'd be in this shitty game until the end.


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[Lekiel]

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Reverie Lowiezka​

LOCATION — Rec room... so public! What if someone else is listening in?
INTERACTIONS — Rhys. James.
MENTIONS — Nik. (Hope this makes up for the absence :<)
BGM — It's too late
DESC. — Hair unfettered, Black dress, tights, black heeled ankle boots.[/div][div class=sidedetails2][/div]

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❖ ❖​

Of course she had to hear about it, this latest harebrained concoction of a scheme that spelled disaster in universal language, from someone else. Of course, she had semi-delibrately taken herself away from the more public spaces such that the message of the convene probably did not reach her ears. Nonetheless, it was clear even from an outsider's point of view that while their erstwhile leaders had come to a sketchy consensus, there were a select few - most notably of the 'newcomer' group - who appeared to have swallowed the abrupt announcement as if it were a nasty surprise. Like a grouchy toddler force-fed horridly bitter medicine. Of course, the significance of the discordance might be lost on the elder woman, but it certainly didn't slip pass the white witch. Nevermind that she had been left out again, it appears that even the bunk-buddy was caught unawares. That in itself was surprising. And so when the Contiello chose to speak of his own faith in them, she all but thought of forcing a rusted ironbar up his nose to smell the bitter irony of it all.

In fact, she probably would have, if not for the fact that she had stayed behind to speak with Rida a little longer than to just hear what she missed. There were many things to consider. Questions half answered. Peculiarities that had only just begun to be outlined, but still obscured by the fog of unwitting ignorance. There was much on our dear white witch's mind, so much so that even after trying to occupy her thoughts with various tasks, she still found herself roaming the compound rather aimlessly. Until the chance sound of familiar voices susurrating through the moaning gale from an open window at the rec center caught her attention. Thus she paused in the shadows of the doorway, just out of sight.

They spoke of many things. Stuff that proved to her their errant leader was both not and as moronic as he made himself out to be. But she'd heard enough to spark an inchoate cloud of mixed emotions that dulled her umbrage at the ex-detective's narrow sighted insolence. Withal, it did not stop them from bubbling with an effervescence within her heart seeking immediate release. Reverie stepped through the doorway with a wilfulness to be noticed, not caring that she'd be perceived as eavesdropping; because that was what it came to anyway right?

Hazel eyes raked back and forth between the two men narrowed with an intensity that kindled in her irises. Her passions roiled in her chest as she forced herself to take even breaths, unaware that her fists were clenched knuckle-white at her sides. Should she scream one long syllable of incoherence at them? Spit a spear-tipped edge of spiteful venom as she was oft to do? Afterall, why did she care? And if she did, then she only had herself to blame for choosing to end her sojourn didn't she? And what made her do so willingly? She had not the slightest inkling. What drew her in and insisted for her to plant her feet where they walked? And as hard as she tried to abnegate her expectations, why did a small part of her insist she hold them, of all others, to a higher regard? Why do so at all when even before the world shattered, she'd learned that to hope is to despair? A muscle twitched at her hardened jawline and the woman appeared both as if she might breakdown and scream her vehemence at the same time. Finally...

"Trust... trust is nothing without principles..." Her gaze stopped shifting to hold Rhys' eyes in her own. Her head tilted to one side. A shuddering breath. Eyes cast down then back up again. "Everyone... thinks they are saving the world... doing it for the greater good... until they realize that half the world is burning, or damned to living hell. At least..." She had to swallow for a moment, to breathe, otherwise it would choke her. She'd never felt like this in a long time. "At least tell me--" tell us... "--so I can be there, standing with you... and not find out when I feel the flames beneath my feet." She took a step forward with a breath, one fist raised upwards as if she might do something. Strangle him, spell a curse, claw his eyes out... anything but dropping listlessly back to her side. But that was what it did.

"-For good or for worse... this is what keeps us human..." She felt deflated. Worn. A band stretched taut for far too long. She had to. It was the only way she kept herself alive alone. Now, and for a long time, though she'd only just realized, she wasn't anymore. Reverie stood there, feeling like she was stark naked even with the clothes on her for she had laid herself bare. The cracks that had begun weeks ago bit deep. And though she herself feared for what she might find buried inside, she couldn't have been more wrong. About herself. The blue-eyed boy with blonde hair had made sure of that, unknowingly to the both of them.

"I-I'm coming along too..." Her voice sounded small, like that terrified girl just barely out of adolescence all those years ago. Only it wasn't all that long, in the grander scale of things. But that didn't stop it from being felt like a different lifetime.

Don't... leave me behind.

She realized her eyes were too wide, almost as if she were pleading. Cast her gaze away less they betray her inner workings. She'd linger for a moment, in case they would say something. Otherwise, she'd just turn and slip away out the door into the frozen nighttime.

[/div][/div][/div]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

Location: McGuire AF Base
mentions: Rhys is just trying to help poeple! Hell0NHighWater Lakyr James asks all the good questions! Lekiel Reverie started showing emotions!!!
OOC: Alaska needs to rest...seriously she's going mad with worry and is about to shut down.

Alaska Roberts​

Tired coffee brown eyes stared at the ceiling for half an hour or so, in complete silence. The base sounded too quiet that night and the air felt suffocating. Was it because she knew the next morning held loss again?

No. She got used to it. No matter how many times they'd reunite, she'd have to say goodbye all over again. Her stomach turned, she sat up and took a deep breath before leaving the room.

The base's corridors felt somewhat longer now as she floated an inch above the ground, going slowly through the narrow corridors. Her hair was down, the frizzy ends sticking outwards. If someone were to see her, they would think a ghost was passing by, a fragment of a person...

As she floated there, so peaceful and serene, Alaska's mind hovered around a thought she'd been having for quite sometime now. She wondered what it would feel like not to exist.... She didn't think about suicide....No, hell already claimed this place a long time ago, there was no point in dying anymore. But the thought of seizing to exist, to be forgotten, without causing the people she loved the pain of loss... To un-meet the people she knew to avoid losing them...

Voices coming from the rec room dragged her out of her trance. Her feet slowly reached the ground, and she tip toed to the half closed door.
"I'm sending a team. Not one of ours with one of theirs. A team. And about an hour after they leave I'm sending another one. You aren't staying here, you'll be going with the second group. I haven't told Marcus about this, because I sure as fuck don't trust them that much. But I think there's something....evil beyond these doors. I can feel it."

The palm of her hand rested on the door as she listened to Rhys' plan. Yes, it would be a good ides to send in a back up team, especially after hearing the fact that only one person had been coming back from those so called missions. Alaska gently pushed the door open, and closed it behind her to stop any unwanted eavesdroppers.

"And what would you have said? As a hunter? You don't know what's out there and neither do I. But I know it isn't good. Kayden and Ryan have the same training you and Alaska have. Penny can heal better than I can, and Nik can...stab things. Allea is the only one I'm not too sure about. She's sort of a wild card. But having a witch on the team is useful enough. If it turns out that the reports were correct and Scott wasn't lying, then Nik and Ryan go in together. No one goes anywhere alone. The second group is an insurance policy. I've instructed Penny to leave a trail for you guys to follow and...if everything goes according to plan then the first group will have support just in case."

Rhys' azure orbs gazed straight into James' emerald eyes. They were sitting at a table, drinking rum and discussing strategy. Their leader sounded like he had faith in his plan, even though his body language was a little.....agitated.
Reverie stood across from her, her eyes fixated on the two as they exchanged information. At that moment, it felt like war was upon them.

''"Trust... trust is nothing without principles..." The difference in the white witch's voice didn't go unnoticed by the hunter who now leaned back on the wall. She lifted her eyes up, studying the other woman's expression, looking from her to Rhys without issuing any comment. "Everyone... thinks they are saving the world... doing it for the greater good... until they realize that half the world is burning, or damned to living hell. At least...At least tell me, so I can be there, standing with you... and not find out when I feel the flames beneath my feet.''

Something caught up in her throat as she listened, bringing the tip of her thumb closer to her mouth, biting hard to stop herself from saying anything there. Had the half angel not explained three minutes earlier that they'd go together to collect the other two groups she'd demand to go along as well. She had to trust him though.... He was their only shot at surviving this -for as long as possible that is- but what if.......What if they went out there, and collected bodies instead of their friends? What if she had to live Leraje's nightmare all over again, what if they were greeted with blood, and empty looking eyes gazing at nothing instead of hugging the people they loved?

Her eyes traveled to James, a compassionate look, and a bitter smile. Her fingers fiddled with the wooden feather around her neck. Apathy takes you a long way in a crapocalyps, she'd been like this for almost two years, till she met these people. After meeting them, it was like going on a roller coaster. but...she wasn't feeling like herself lately, one day happy, another sad, scared, relieved, excited, depressed.. ''Fuck'' she muttered under her breath. ''It's like.....we can't get a fucking break!.'' A nervous scoff followed ''Whatever we do.....no matter how many problems we solve, turn around and a pile of more shit is waiting for us.'' her eyebrows formed a knot over her eyes, she didn't like going on rants.

Walking slowly towards the table, she poured herself a cup of rum ''To hell.. To the apocalypse... and to alcoholism! '' after making her toast she downed the rum instantly, exhaling loudly as she gently set the cup down. ''I know you trust Marcus, but I really hope they don't screw us over big bro'' she wanted to ease things up, to tell them that everything was going to be ok, to lighten the mood, instead, she ranted in the most frustrating manner. Frowning, she took a seat.

 

[Kaas]

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[class=Notes]
//The background image//
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[class=Notes]
//the image in the cirlce and the border//
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[class=Notes]
//Below is the purple box and the content meant for tags//
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BGM: Dream Sweet in Sea Major - ミラクルミュージカル


Interacting: Hell0NHighWater


Located: AF Base


Mentioned:

code by @AgWordSmith

[class=Notes]
//the transparent with background and the border and below is the text//
// Colours: Green - #99E40F Blue - #52EDDD //
[/class]

The breeze outside gently swirled, picking up loose debris in its path and giving it a new home somewhere along the way. Gentle as a mother's hand guiding her child. But quickly, the wind gathered itself into a group, discussing louder and louder where it should go next with itself until it burst out into a howling riot. It screeched and scratched the exterior Air Force base, begging to be let in. Only a madman would let the gale inside.




Then a door was swung open.




A silhouette stood amongst the howls and screams as the piercing cold rushed in to greet the inhabitants. Three gusts of wind blew in with hell at their heels Two steps, shoes clicking across the floor. One slam of the doors. And a low chuckle, one that slithered through the Air Force base and reaching any ears that might be open. Those that knew it could realize it immediately. Those that hadn't surely would be filled with a primal sense of unease. The lingering wariness of the dark that one had long since outgrown the fear but never were certain that Boogeyman wasn't waiting in the sidelines for them.




As the cold wind winded through the corridors and vents, it became long tendrils of mist that slowly and bewilderingly transformed into white serpents. They hissed and nipped at one another, hundreds of thin strands fighting to be on top. Restlessness grew amongst their ranks and it wasn't long until the feeding frenzy began. One swallowed another, only to be made a meal for it's larger brothers. Quickly the numbers of serpents fell until only one remained. The titan glided across the floor, smelling and hunting. It smelt death, the dead giveaway of its prey




It emerged from seemingly nowhere behind its target. A predator so refined as itself could never be heard. It coiled up into a ring of death, awaiting its prime moment. It struck in a flash. A streak of white death. But as suddenly as it moved it burst into a plume of icy air. As the water crystallized and fell to the ground in a twirling dance, a silhouette stood in the snowfall. It brushed off the icy debris and smilled as it's cane tapped the ground.

"I believe some introductions are in order, Allea"​

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/453f8319cbc44803e5e031dff889e54f/tumblr_nc8l7vbRvb1renu7bo1_1280.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #91001b; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #91001b; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #91001b; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #91001b; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:790px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #91001b; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]


[div class=speakeasy2]Niklas Voss Is Kind Of Adorable
LOCATION — McGuire AF Base
BGM — MARS ARGO - LIMOUSINE MACHINE
TAGS — Niylah(ra Croft) ( Cara ),
MENTIONS — Holy Fuck He's Back ( Kaas )
OOC — SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG OMG. I also want to do a Frankie but I kind of don't know what to do with her even though Anise sent over some snippets I think. Can I put Frankle on ice until she gotta do her part? [/div]


[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]
“You can't promise that,” Niylah had said as she unearthed the treasures of war and victory from her bag. Nik...really wanted to be able to make that promise, but the sentence he had offered her felt as weighted as the smoke that came from his mouth in lines of gray.

No one could make that promise, no one.

Safer days were pages in a picture book, illustrations lined in ink. Nik mulled his lower lip and cast a gaze off to the side, thinking on the story of it all. The tapestry that kept looming itself by Fate's hand; it never ended. There was no finish to each pull of red thread, to blood, to black and blue—not for their little family.

Fate kept needling all of them, and threaded them together in masses, so when one burned the rest were set aflame. There was only the promise that this would all end badly, but Niklas Voss, in his current state of far-less-afflicted-than-earlier...would remain optimistic.

If only in smile and gait, like the warm sun he aimed to be, when everything else was frost and soulless.

Safety was as fake as a counterfeit Vermeer, but Nik was a very skilled artist.

Maybe this was why Niklas had had such a hard time swallowing the pill that inevitably Reverie had torn her teeth on. The threads of the tapestry had puppeted them all, but he didn't like being puppeted, even for his own benefit. Especially not by someone he loved.

His scout's honor for Niylah's plea had made her smile, which was what he enjoyed doing most. Far more than ripping flesh apart, her smile was like the lemon yellow sun he felt a fondness for.

Able now to sit back a bit, the throngs of war and lust's heady heat tapering down to a slight inkling in the back of his mind, he knew he enjoyed joy more than destruction.

And in knowing this, he understood like someone with perfect pitch understands a symphony; he'd have to guard it. Her's, and his, and everyone else's. Even if hell ate up his veins like acid. This was his real job, this was why he was here.

"...you're kind of a little genius, aren't you?" Niylah gave him a laugh in turn, and Nik looked like a man who had been untouched by hell. That solid smile, perhaps on the face of someone who had just seen a blockbuster comedy. The shrug of the shoulders, cigarette between his teeth; maybe he had just left a concert.

All was right with the world, because this was what he could do, when everything was so very wrong with it all.

"I wouldn't say genius, no. paranoid though, I am very much."
"You have good reason to be fucking paranoid," he said with a deep chuckle, mulling his cigarette between his teeth. Deep blue eyes scanned the young woman's face, and the blond offered her his token half-smile.

"Everything out here's trying to fucking kill us, as far as I'm concerned," he continued after flicking ash on the floor, because he wanted Chantel to suffer some small slight, despite being told to play nice.

"If it's not trying to kill us," he continued, "...it's trying to steal our souls or some other bullshit." He gave a brief pause, deep blue gaze traveling over her face, for something. Something he couldn't quite place. Maybe he just wanted more sunny smiles until he had to go and play the beneficial quasi-demonic uber-villain...out in the cold, freezing his nuts off.

"I'd say your way is better than me and my hopeless fucking optimism or reckless murder-lust" he ended his warming observations with a gentle smile. Niklas' genial disposition wouldn't linger for long, it was like the smoke in the air.

In a way, he was trying to make the most of it.

Make the most of it, before his threads were torn apart and he was dyed black and red again, mired in dark waters up to his temples. Wrists embroidered in blood, a smile like a razor's edge, and the longing.

A constant, gnawing longing, as if he hungered for every emotion on the menu, and the only way to get more of them was to rip them out of peoples' bodies.

He had to savor small painted moments like these, or else they'd be gone, drenched in water. Slicked off the canvas as though they never even existed in the first place. replaced with a celluloid frame from a horror film.

“I have a small knife on me, but I can keep this for now if you don’t need it for the mission.” She was prepared, and that...struck something in him. Paternal, maybe. With his mind much clearer now, he was reminiscing.

This was how he'd have wanted his daughter to have been. Prepared, smart, always ready. He couldn't quite place why he was feeling like this, except that perhaps his human threads were trying to weave back together. A moment of reprieve, and he became like a father or a brother.

Until it was all doused in blood and oil again.

He smiled. Simple, as if nothing could phase him. As if an undead mouth-breathing neco-shitfucker could've wheeled through the door adjacent, and he'd have simply waved. This wouldn't last for very long. He knew it. He had to savor it.

“...like I said, paranoid.”
"Like I said, genius." He hoped whatever small respite he could give, a smile or a laugh, or something warm and motherfucking normal, was enough. Something to hold onto, maybe, when the future would probably not only be shit. But it'd be frozen shit. Frosted fucking shit.

Niklas wasn't looking forward to this mission, not in the least bit.

“that might be because you trust easily.” Niklas had begun to walk beside her, an almost lazy gait, as if he could prevent having to go to sleep and wake up to a blizzard up his junk and lord knows what else breathing frosted death in his ear. But this made him pause.

"I've...been trying to trust in new heroes," he said in a soft voice, hardly confidant. Trust was so very difficult, but he wanted to give it freely. To let people open up all his wounds and start pulling things out. Hoping one of them would put him back together after all was said and done.

Being a little genius after all, Niylah seemed to be able to read a lot from very little information. Like studying the landscape for the right shade of pink, when everyone else would just see green.

That fact disquieted him. There was a part of himself that was the wrong shade of inhuman, and he hated it.

“before you say or think anything, my situation is totally different.” Niklas chuckled and walked onwards once more, the bag over his shoulder, to stash away as he meandered them both back to the barracks.

"...is it?" he said with mild sarcasm doppling the words, cigarette stuck comically between his teeth, "I'm just fuckin' with you."

"To be honest," he started up, stashing the bag in a vent on the far side of the barracks near his bed. He moved the frame in front of it, which wouldn't even have been much of a feat had Ezra and his skinny string-bean arms been doing the lifting.

He missed that little baby-wipes-obsessed weirdo, if he was being upfront about it. Even the stone-faced Grigori was missed. Even the wanton, wayward, whimsical witch, Stella, was missed. Haruka—

Niklas swallowed his thoughts back. Pain begot pain for him, pain meant a worsening of his already precarious condition. Best to forget about the loss, lest he lose himself in the process.

With a screech, the bed was placed firmly. He was surprised angel boy and himself had managed to barely fit on the bloody thing. The mental picture made him let out a short, small laugh. They really were a pair of idiots.

Rearing up, he dusted his hands off on his pants and turned, the cigarette twisting in the air as he flicked ash once more.

"...you also probably trust easily. Too easily," he said, not a hint of foreboding coloring his words. Just resolute honestly. Niklas checked to see that she was following his reasoning with a quick glance.

"All of us here are a shade of somethin'," he said, straightening the bed, as if it was all he could do not to move forward. Usher them onwards towards the night that would come, and the bloody frost-bitten mission of the morrow. He fucking didn't want to go, that was the brutal truth of it.

And he didn't want anyone else to go, either.

"...each day we change. Get stranger, sadder, angrier—different," Nik said, finally sitting on the bed. He ran his fingers through his messy blond hair and let out a sigh. He felt old in this moment. Old, and calm, and trying to be happy. Today had been...rough.

As had every other day.

There were bright spots, but they were always mangled and smashed up between bullshit he didn't think anyone should have to deal with. Be it death, demons, or drama from misunderstandings.

"I'd say we're a solid group," the blond part-time devil reasoned , stretching his arms into the air to crack his back as he often did. Supine, stupid barely-yoga bullshit Diana had gotten him into. He thanked her for it, always.

"But we have our demons. As I'm sure you do too."

"It's just a matter of knowing which demon to trust," Niklas said, offering Niylah a quirked half-smile. He was planning on falling onto the bed to take a well-deserved fucking nap after the emotional roller coaster of today. It was draining. Even moreso now that he wasn't amped up on afflicted-adrenaline.

But a sound pierced the air like a bullet, and kept him from relaxing. Nik cocked his head to the side to hear it more keenly.

A chuckle, deep. It vibrated to the core, something inhuman. A feeling too, pervasive and familiar.

A chuckle that somehow had hit through everything, pinging as if carried through the miasma of reality...it kept him in thrall.

"...you hear that?" Nik wiped his hand over his mouth, the cigarette idling and casting ash from the other set of fingers. He thought for half a moment, then his dark brows pitched upwards. Disbelief washed over him in salten pigments.

Ashy around the eyes, because this was impossible, his mouth articulated his nervousness.

A paleness of the features, because he didn't know what this all meant, and the not-knowings irritated him most of all.

Fear for the fraction of a moment, because Adisa had been something powerful and complicated. Power and complication could either be a boon, or it could tear tapestries apart.

Then, a small spot of sunny joy. Lemon yellow, because he knew who the laugh came from, and he knew they were a friend.

Perhaps Niklas was, indeed, too trusting.

"...guess we're going to have more than just a little back-up," Nik reasoned, before finally flopping back onto the bed with a plop. He would've almost looked serene if not for the dawning realization sweeping over his features that, despite whatever planning his peanut-butter obsessed ex-detective had done, tomorrow could still mean the end for him.

For any of them.

Always.

And this new change, the return of someone, that was another variable to consider.

Niklas stretched, winding to rest his head on his hand, elbow to the bed, sucking on his teeth as he contemplated if he could even take a nap at this point.

He reasoned that he couldn't.

"...do you ever wonder what this all means?" he asked, finally, after nursing his cigarette once more and casting his gaze upwards. To this ceiling, as if asking the heaven he didn't believe in but now knew existed 'why'.

Then to the floor, as if asking the hell below that he knew had existed and once wanted very badly to be a part of...'why'.

Then to the face of the young woman who was probably bored to death of him already, a muted 'why' because he was getting existential which he knew irritated some people. But Niklas was an irritating man sometimes, and possibly often.

"...what the point of all this hellish shit is?" it was partly rhetorical, but honestly exploratory. Nik chewed his lip. If she spoke he'd listen. If she left, he wouldn't blame her. And if she did indeed, leave, he'd curl himself under the sheets when it was probably far too early to be sleeping.

As if in rest, he could escape the tomorrow. But inevitably...there'd be dreams.

Dreams that were sometimes more horrific than what awaited any of them.

Horrific...and perfect.

[/div][/div]
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[Hell0NHighWater]

xxxx

Location: McGuire AF Base

OOC: It's been a while...

Interactions: "New" Witch Kaas

BGM: Consideration

ALLEA

Her brows pulled together, lips pressed into a thin line. Assertive footsteps faltered, deep honey brown irises shifting to stare at the space beside her. From an outsiders perspective it might have looked as if she were having a glaring contest with the cement wall.

"Cher, I ain't got no damn clue what you're sayin'. I ain't too well versed in whatever jargon yer spewin'."

A harsh breath flew past her lips, hand lifting to pinch the bridge of her nose. She froze for a second, noting her own posture with a scowl. The more she tried to avoid these specters, the more they seemed to follow her. Her gaze flickered back to the space beside her, attempting to keep a straight face. Allea had had many years of practice looking at the forms of the dead, but some...never really stopped making her stomach curl. It wasn't like the spirit had the option to change how they presented themselves, but that didn't mean that there weren't a host of things she would rather unsee.
With another slight grimace, she opted to ignore whatever it was she was being told.

She didn't want to play the messenger. It rarely worked out well and all it did was anger the entity.
Allea was already surrounded by pissed off ghosts with unfinished business, she didn't want any more lurking around.

Sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor, echoing down the corridor, as the only notification of her presence. Allea had been hoping to find Reverie, the fellow witch might have had something useful in the way of healing salves however she had been bombarded by some nonsensical spirit with a thick accent. It had apparently not taken him long to realize she could see him, let alone hear him, and now she just wished he would shut up. It was almost as bad as Mordecai, though if she had been dead and stuck here with no one to talk to she might be ramblin' as well.

Then she had run into Emrys in the hallway.

The man hadn't really stuck a chord with her and first impressions lead her to believe that he was a bit of a dick. What Charmer saw in him, she couldn't say. He was a pretty face, sure, but beyond that he was about as appealing as soaked socks.

When he had asked for the favor, it had taken her by surprise. The opportunity, though, was far too great to pass up. There were few things that could easily kill an afflicted, well at least one that had more than empty space between the ears. Her gut told her there was something magical involved and the sudden appearance of a full fledged arctic winter lead her to believe sorcery was at work. She couldn't say what kind or by who, but there were few people in the world with that kind of power.

She'd take any sort of lead she could get.

Her price, as far as Emrys was concerned, was a free ticket to the scouting mission. She would have gone anyway, even if he hadn't said she could because who was he to tell her what to do? She was her own damn woman and no man was about to dictate her actions. She could care less about this group anyway. Nothing more than stepping stones to her ultimate goal.

There was the sound of a lock clicking, the heave of a door as it was flung open, and a gust of wind that caught her right in the face.
The corners of her mouth twisted into a frown, arms folding over her chest as she watched the intruder mosey on in. For a military base, the security here somehow seemed far laxer than it should have been. And to think Charmer had to schmooze his way in. Something hard, metal, tapped at the tiled floor. The nose rang in her ears, pulling the focus of her attention onto the silhouette that defined itself as a man. Allea could feel the power that radiated off of him. She could smell that uncanny hint of spice and dust and far too otherworldly for him to be simply human.

Allea knew what he was the moment their gazes locked.

"I believe some introductions are in order, Allea"
"Why don'tcha start then? Crazy lookin'...these fellas be makin' me all beer and skittles. What kinda company ya keepin' lil lady?"

Her gaze flickered to the cowboy, perturbed that he had decided to manifest after the stunt he had pulled earlier. He was lucky she didn't banish his soul from the realm of the living. Allea shifted her attention back to the stranger, expression somewhere in the mix of curious and irritated, "Sure, Cher, let's start with how ya know my name."

She took a step forward, refusing to break eye contact. A slight hum slipped past her lips, head tilting a bit to the side, "Then I think ya better tell me who you are and what you're doin' here before this gets nasty."
Allea arched a brow, staring him down for a moment to make sure that her not so subtle threat was received before she continued, "I jus' cleaned the blood off these shoes, an' I'd prefer to keep them clean a bit longer."

Her hand rose, fingers curling in the air as the door swung shut behind him. Completely blocking the frozen winds from sneaking inside, she fastened a thin smile across her lips.

 

[Lakyr]

[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: McGuire AF Base
Tags: Hell0NHighWater
Chise_Robin_ Lekiel [/div][/div][div class=title]James[/div][div class=text]"I know it looks that way. That's the point." James leaned back, looking at the rum in his hand. So there was more to this, obviously there was, but James couldn't see the whole picture yet, not with so many missing pieces. So he kept listening. He took a sip of rum when Rhys started talking about trust, it was something James was ready to give way too easily in this mess of world.

"But I've come to trust our group...most of us anyway." James looked up at Rhys, smiling. "And we've come to trust you." At least James did, though he couldn't speak for everybody in their not so little group.

"I respect Marcus, as a leader. He does what he can for his people, but he lacks...a fucking brain." James chuckled but it left a bittersweet taste when he thought back to the situation earlier in the cafeteria. "I've poured through his reports. I've mapped every scouting mission he ever sent out, and I came to the conclusion that there were holes in his logic. More holes than swiss fucking cheese." Shaking his head James sat up straight. "How have you been so busy these last couple of days whilst all of us just enjoyed having a better place to stay for once? How ... how did you even get access to all of Marcus' reports and shit this fast?" His voice was genuinely impressed. That sure sounded like a lot of work, but that was why Rhys was the leader of this group.

"I'm sending a team. Not one of ours with one of theirs. A team. And about an hour after they leave I'm sending another one. You aren't staying here, you'll be going with the second group. I haven't told Marcus about this, because I sure as fuck don't trust them that much. But I think there's something....evil beyond these doors. I can feel it." This was good, it was what James wanted to hear because the worst thing would have been to sit in this fucking base and do nothing whilst others were out there fighting. Staying back just really wasn't his thing. He downed the remainder of his rum and filled the cup again right away. He might've missed those things, things like alcohol and cigarettes, more than he had realized through the apocalyptic time he had had none of them.

"And what would you have said? As a hunter? You don't know what's out there and neither do I. But I know it isn't good. Kayden and Ryan have the same training you and Alaska have. Penny can heal better than I can, and Nik can...stab things." James placed the cup on the table with a sigh. "That's not what I meant ... I just - we all could've had important information."

"Allea is the only one I'm not too sure about. She's sort of a wild card. But having a witch on the team is useful enough. If it turns out that the reports were correct and Scott wasn't lying, then Nik and Ryan go in together. No one goes anywhere alone. The second group is an insurance policy. I've instructed Penny to leave a trail for you guys to follow and...if everything goes according to plan then the first group will have support just in case." A pause, a few moments of quiet. James drank and pondered all the new information. It sounded like a good plan, or at least like the best they could do without more information. For all they knew, they could still all die there, cause they had no idea what dangers they would face, but that was always a possibility in this world, this plan sounded like it would give them the best chances to deal with whatever.

"Alaska and I will give it a couple days before driving out to pick everyone up."
"So what could go wrong, right? We send everybody we can in to fight together and have the best two candidates as getaway drivers, sounds good to me. Just, promise me one thing ..." James paused to down the rest of rum in his cup again. "no races this time, alright?"

"We've come this far; The airport was ages ago, the police station, that house, the hotel, the raiders, all of it. We'll make it out of this like how we make it out of everything: together." They had gone through a lot together, and not all the memories were bright but they always made it through. Well, most of them did. "If anybody can make it out of this it's us."

James filled his cup again and then he leaned back in his chair. He had noticed Reverie but his mind was everywhere but in the present right now. He was thinking about the coming day and the "mission" ahead. But his mind was also lost in memories of all kinds, of good and bad times, memories from since the apocalypse but also from before. Everything from before felt so far away but so close at the same time.

Alaska's toast was what got him back into the real world and he raised his cup response. "To alcoholism!" He followed suit with downing the rum and then put the cup aside. "And to hell with the apocalypse." James smiled as he looked at Alaska. It was a simple smile; warm, genuine.
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[Dear Mrs. Psycho]

Amara Blackwood

Mentions: Nik, Rhys and Marcus
Interactions: Elijah and Chantel
OCC: Amara's first post in forever and a cliffhanger XD

After witnessing the ruckus about dirty laundry, Amara wasted a little more time people watching, as she finished her breakfast. She has a while before she was due in to report for her scouting assignments for the day, which were honestly a bit of a drag, but nonetheless, it was what they considered her skills were needed best and it was what had to be done to remain in the compound.

Realizing the time was approaching closer to when she had to make her appearance known to Scott, she gathered what little motivation she had to get up, making mental note on a trashcan and dish return that was the closest to the door she needed to make her exit at. Making it there, however, never happened. Upon dumping her tray, and dropping off her plate, she felt a firm grip suddenly on her arm, preventing her from going any farther. Following the dainty fingers, she discovered the hand and it's will belonged to Chantel.

"Where do you think you are going?" the taller female spoke.

"Do you mind? You're going to leave a mark and I don't appreciate it, unless it is sexual," Amara retorted, ignoring the other female's inquiry.

"Gross," Chantel replied, with a rather look of disgust. "I asked a question," she added, sternly.

"Good for you, knowing your proper sentence structures." Clearly, Amara wasn't being serious, but rather pissing the other off, but and adding to it by doing a little quiet applause. "But, to answer your silly question. Scouting duties. Why?"

"Marcus has a an announcement to make."

"Hm. Pass."

"It involves everyone."

"Well, in that case, I guess.......no."

"It's mandatory, and it requires the presence to those involved, so I suggest, you stay and wait for the rest of your crew to join us." Chantel was serious now. Even her eyebrows were raised, clearly done with the young witch.

"Fine."

With that, Amara left Chantel behind and found her seat back at the table her brother and herself were sitting, waiting for the so called big announcement.

Not long after, Elijah came through the door. She waved her older brother down, which to no surprise, he obeyed, sitting with her. The two sat in silence, Amara pondering over what this whole thing was about now, most likely something to do with the new group arrival and what was to be done with the tension between everyone, but that was an unsure ordeal, which would only be answered after the wait.

"There you are! I was beginnin' to think you ran off! Didn't take ya for a slippery motherfucker, Rice." Marcus spoke loudly, causing Amara to perk up her ears. She guessed now was the time, since Marcus was up and the rest of the group was here. By the looks of it though, they were more a part of this then they all thought, so she ushered Elijah up and closer to the scene that was before them.

'What do you want now? Someone to feed you grapes while others sing songs and massage your sore shoulders? Someone to lay a red carpet on the ground for you to step on? How exactly do these people tolerate you?" Penny responded, which alone put a smirk on Amara's lips. It faded, though, when Rhys retorted on his own and the announcement continued, with words from Rhys, Marcus, Scott, and Chantel.

"Pretty boy and I have been working on something for the past couple of weeks that will benefit all of us."

"The storm outside isn't natural. I'm sure you've all noticed---"

"The real fuckin' issue is that there ain't---"

"There isn't a way to get into the center of the storm. Scott had been trying to find a way for almost a year now and the furthest they've gotten was when the party had at least one afflicted member."

"So it isn't a stretch to think that whatever's behind this is of demonic origin."

The problem...is that they die before they can report back. So there isn't much information on what's out there---"

"So then pretty boy suggested a mission. We don't have any more people to spare, none that are afflicted anyway."

"I helped with the list...it...seemed like the best solution."

"Roight, well first things first, I'll only be takin' a small group out. There's too many of the nasties to take a whole bloody parade. So: Ryan, Nik, Penny, Elijah, and Kayden. I'll be takin' you lot out at dawn, be sure to get a good nights rest 'cuz you'll be needin' it."

With that, the announcement was over, and for once, Amara can say she was in utter shock, well shock mixed with some other strong emotions, like horror and anger. She couldn't believe that after everything that happened lately and what they all have been through as a group, Rhys would work with Marcus and sent their people out to their deaths. Yes, she saw that it did pain him to be up there and say it, but it wasn't like there was a gun to his head about it.

Nik's look had provided a little comfort. It was a promise that he would look after her older brother and to make sure nothing happened to him. However, with the task at hand and the look of things, even Nik would have to know that the task was impossible. Yet, instead of being rude, she accepted the promise, closing the slight gap between her lips and nodded in return, before walking away, wanting to reach somewhere as far away from the cafeteria as possible.

It wasn't as surprise to her that she heard footprints following behind her, Elijah was the type to choose family over arguing, so of course, he was going to chase her to do his big brotherly things. To him, her being upset, especially over news like this, was priority to make her feel better.

When she stopped in a small indoor like courtyard, she sat down on a nearby bench, doing her best not to cry or be overly upset. But, when she looked up at Elijah, her eyes showed him that she was afraid and very upset. Eli couldn't resist sitting immediately next to her and bring her in to a crushing embrace, holding her there.

"I know," he kept whispering repeatedly, as he brushed his fingers through her long, brown hair.

"Elijah, why? Why does fate hate us?" she questioned, he voiced cracked from the tears she was fighting back, though a few managed to get through, falling onto the hunter's shoulder.

"I don't know, but I promise. I'll come back," she heard him answer.

"I don't see how. You're walking to certain death, so unless you plan on coming back as a ghost, stuck by you're unfinished business." Rambling on, miserably.

"Look," he said, as he ran his arms from around her to her shoulder, proceeding to push her back, gently, to get her to focus on his face. "I get it. I do. But, you're my sister, so I have to come back. Okay? There is no way you would listen to me as a ghost. I will find a way," he explained, as she took note of the sternness in his voice, clearly trying his best here and here she was being a little brat.

"Okay," she answered him, even though she still wasn't quite convinced, but she was going to make her brother happy and say so anyway, just to give him that win. "I just wish there was a way to guarantee it."

"Pure will just isn't enough for you isn't it?" He smirked, joking a bit on his comment.

"I don't think will was the only factor in those hero stories we were told as kids." She let the joke go over her head and answered honestly.

"Nope."

"Thought so," she finished, as she let them fall into silence. Her mind didn't drop the matter though, as she relaxed against her brother's shoulder. She wanted something to even the odds for everyone against whatever this was. She was selfish, but for good reasons. She would think, that's what the rest of them would want. It was when, he mind drifted to her hero statement, that he got the idea she needed.

"I got it," she breathed out, as she perked up with a gasp at the sudden epiphany.

"What?"

"Well, you might not like it," she answered, breathing in through her teeth.

"Just go on...."

"What about reversing the spell that binds your magic and provents you from using it?" she proposed. She was nervous. Her face got all scrunched up and her tone went from sudden-epiphany excitement to please-don't-hurt-me quiet. It was something neither hadn't discussed since it came out. Only because Elijah made it cleat not to and right now, she was afraid of what he was going to say or do.

code by apolla

 

[Dear Mrs. Psycho]

Location: McGuire AF Base
Interacting With: Free for Anyone
Mentions: Rhys, Nik, Penny, and Marcus
OCC: Part 2 lol....Also treating Namri like an NPC until he finds out she is dead.

When Marcus's people came up to Elijah to tell him of the important announcement, he was just chilling with Namri. The two were getting really close, meeting in secret to really get to know each other without the others, including his sister, getting in the way with instigating. When others would come up, they would play it off like they were talking about something else, then each other. However, Elijah was beginning to think it was getting to that time where they should take the next step and make it official by asking her and then telling the others. To him, it would truly be one of the good things to come out of this apocalypse.

Figuring the announcement was going to be an update on their situation, like the weather, they two decided to part was after he pecked her on the cheek. Events between them were still a secret, so it was best if they didn't walk into the cafeteria together. It seemed a little too blunt.

Entering the cafeteria once again, he was surprised Amara hadn't moved on from there, seeing her waving him down to sit with her, which to no surprise, he did. The two didn't talk much, while they sat and waited for the announcement. Elijah, himself, was proposing idea to himself on why this was such a big deal and what it could be for. Why it involved everyone and not just a meeting between leaders?

All questions were soon answered, when Marcus finally got up and greeted Rhys very loudly, practically insulting him in the process, which Elijah wasn't a fan of. After a few comments from the other and Rhys calming the others down enough to get everyone to listen, the announcement continued, which Rhys, Marcus, Chantel and Scott, all putting their input in explaining what was going on and how they plan on moving forward. The shock came when Scott announced the names of the people going on the first mission, everyone was a part of the their group.

Upon hearing the news, the looks on the faces the others told what everyone was thinking. They were betrayed, more importantly, they were betrayed by someone they deemed a friend, someone they respected and thought had their backs. Amara's was just shock, anger and horror. It was because his name was on that list.

Elijah didn't know how to feel about his name being there. It could be because one of two things; they trusted him that much, or they thought he was that expendable. Yet, if he was that expendable, then why were people like Nik and Penny on that list, those are two of the handful of people that Rhys seems to care for the most, which puts it in perspective that Rhys made this list based on trust, which would give Elijah a bit of pride to be signed up for this. Either way, he was just glad his little sister wasn't going. Yes, he was afraid he would say good bye to her for good, even though Nik made a silent promise to bring him back home, it wasn't certain. Seeing he didn't know what he would do if he lost Amara, he was glad that she is able to have a chance to live on.

While the others went to chase Nik and Rhys, for obvious reasons, Elijah followed Amara, whom choose a different path. Rushing after her, which was fairly easy with his long legs, he was determined to catch up to comfort her while she was upset, or at least bring her to terms on their leader's decision so they could make the most of what they had left.

Amara finally stopped, in what looked like an indoor courtyard, and sat on a nearby bench. It was when she looked at him with those fear-filled sad eyes, he immediately sat down next to her, pulled her into a crushing hug, held her and stroked his fingers through her long hair, while repeatedly whispering 'I know' to her.

"Elijah, why? Why does fate hate us?" she questioned. He heard her voice cracked from the tears she was fighting off, though judging by she slight wetness on the shoulder part of his sleeve, it was a losing battle. That mixed with those words, it stung to hear, but it was a question that he had found himself often asking over the years.....for all of them.

"I don't know, but I promise. I'll come back," he did his best to answer, though he wasn't sure how he was going to keep that promise.

"I don't see how. You're walking to certain death, so unless you plan on coming back as a ghost, stuck by you're unfinished business," he heard her rambled on. He knew that she knew that he didn't know how to keep that promise. It was, as she said, a walk to certain death from what Marcus and crew were saying.

"Look," he said, as he ran his arms from around her to her shoulder, proceeding to push her back, gently, to get her to focus on his face. He was desperate at this point, running out of things to say. Cheering up Amara this time proved a bit challenging. "I get it. I do. But, you're my sister, so I have to come back. Okay? There is no way you would listen to me as a ghost. I will find a way," he explained, sternly.

"Okay," she answered him. He smiled, glad to have the win. "I just wish there was a way to guarantee it."

"Pure will just isn't enough for you isn't it?" He smirked with the tease.

"I don't think will was the only factor in those hero stories we were told as kids."

"Nope."

"Thought so," she finished. With that, they feel into a silence, and Amara feel against his shoulder again, while he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, just sitting there in silence. Elijah thought of nothing, expect the memories he was able to have with his baby sister. Times like this where they sat in silence and just enjoying the other's company.

"I got it," she gasped out, sending Elijah into a slight jump, from the sudden movement.

"What?"

"Well, you might not like it," she answered, breathing in through her teeth.

"Just go on...." he told her, though he truly was afraid to hear what she was going to say. She was clever, but sometimes her ideas are a little out there.

"What about reversing the spell that binds your magic and provents you from using it?" He could tell she was nervous, by the face scrunching and the nervous tone. Elijah told her about the spell and what he did, year ago when she was pushing him to answer why he refused to do a spell he was better at when they were kids to get out of harm's way and out of town. Eventually, he caved from annoyance and told her, but he made It clear, without actual words, that day that it was it, and there was no way he would willingly reverse it, or further discuss the situation. Clearly, it didn't last forever.

"Amara...." he started, trying to find the words to tell her no. "I can't," he added, there was no way he would. He didn't believe in it anymore.

"Elijah, please?" She was pleading. "It would give you a better chance." He knew that. He understood that's why she was here bring it up, but he couldn't. He blamed magic for what happened to her all those years ago, while she blamed the users that did so. To him, magic was the reason their family tortured her. They were afraid of other magic, and out of fear they used magic to fix it. The root of the problem was magic.

"I know, but I just can't," he replied, simply.

"That's it? You just can't?" Her voice rose, while she got up, spun and then looked around. Her face had a look of disbelief. "You'd rather continue your hatred for the craft, then to lessen your odds of leaving me behind?"

"Its not like that, Amara, " Elijah added, the tone in his voice was on the edge, like he wanted it to stop.

"Really?" She said with a smug look on her face.

"Yes."

"You realize I could just reverse it myself-" She was trying to be smart, but was quickly cut off.

"Won't work. Can't guarantee that I will use us, plus you wouldn't."

"Elijah."

"Enough Amara, I'm not reversing the spell. I don't want it back. If you can find another way, perfect, but I'm not using magic again." With that, he finished, got up and walked away, leaving her behind. He wasn't going to continue arguing, so he was just going to leave her to cool off and check on her later. Right now, he just wanted to focus on something else.

That was just what he did. About an hour later, he was in the shared sleeping space, packing. Well, practically throwing shit in a large, black duffel bag. Clothes, weapons, first aid crap, and even a hunting book he has from his old teacher, it contains creatures, what they do, how to kill them, and others need to know stuff. He wasn't sure what they would encounter on their travels and it was best to be prepared.

Still avoiding Amara, he figured next he would find the rest of the crew and catch up on details or whatever. Maybe they were more successful on Nik and Rhys then he was with his own sister. He walked around, looking in different room and offices, until he heard one of many voices he was he was looking for.

''To hell.. To the apocalypse... and to alcoholism! '' Alaska. He couldn't help but smile. Alaska, he came to learn was a bit of a goofball sometimes. He was glad, they needed someone like her to lighten the mood sometimes.

Walking into the room, e looked around, practically the whole crew was here. "What's this? A going away drinking party and I wasn't invited. For shame." Clearly joking, as he let out a chuckle. With that, he grabbed a glass of rum himself, and too started drinking.

original code by apolla

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=Container][div class=profilepic][/div][div class=contentContainer]

Emrys Contiello

[div class=miniBox][div class="miniText mini1"] [div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]McGuire AF Base[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Interactions[/div][div class=barText] James + Reverie + Alaska + Elijah + (Group 1)[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]OOC[/div][div class=barText]Sorry it took so long, this cold is killing me[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]BGM[/div][div class=barText]One [/div][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=bigBox][div class=bigScroll] "How have you been so busy these last couple of days whilst all of us just enjoyed having a better place to stay for once? How ... how did you even get access to all of Marcus' reports and shit this fast?"

His shoulders rose and fell in a half felt shrug, cerulean irises lifting to look over the edge of his glass at the hunter. The rum was harsh as it made contact with his taste buds, but the warm burn it left behind was more than pleasing. "When we first arrived here, Marcus and I had a little chat," he paused for a moment, tongue darting out to quickly swipe at his bottom lip, "He told me that we could stay in exchange for helping out around the place. And he clued me in about why the weather has been so severe, or at least he clued me in on what his group believed about it..." Rhys trailed off, his free hand waving a bit dismissively as if to say that was all old news at this point. "I always keep myself busy, it's...comforting to know that I can still find ways to help people," He snorted a bit to himself, as if the notion itself of noble intentions were a laughable idea, "I think we all know I'm not the one with the silver tongue. But I have my own ways of...persuasion."

Intimidation.

"So what could go wrong, right? We send everybody we can in to fight together and have the best two candidates as getaway drivers, sounds good to me. Just, promise me one thing ...no races this time, alright?"
That shouldn't have made him chuckle as much as it did. "No races, I promise." It wasn't a hard promise to make, he didn't really think they'd have much time to race especially with an RV. He just hoped that Harry had fixed up the cars, last thing he wanted was to get stranded in the middle of no where. Which...could have been anywhere really.

"If anybody can make it out of this it's us."
A smile tugged at his lips, rotating the glass in his right hand, "I truly hope so."

Footsteps harrowed the arrival of the white witch, her hazel gaze molten and piercing as she made her presence known. The blessed leaned back in his seat a bit more, analyzing her features for a moment. "Trust... trust is nothing without principles..."

His gaze followed her as she approached, expression passive, listening, but intense in the severe way that only Rhys could manage to pull off. In another life, he would have been well suited to his family's business. He was inclined to agree with her point, nodding his head slightly as if to mutely state that fact. However, he didn't truly believe that. Principles were flimsy, they fluctuated far too much to be reliable and varied depending on the person. In his mind there had been no violation of principles. He made the only call he saw as the smoothest course of action, knowing the hostilities, knowing the anger, but it had been blown too far out of proportion. He kept secrets because sometimes the group was better off not knowing. Ignorance is bliss. Trust, was more like a leap of faith. Taking what you knew about a person, their morals, principles, what have you, and placing your faith in their abilities. His fingers twirled the glass in his hand, brain firing off at a million miles an hour.
"Everyone... thinks they are saving the world... doing it for the greater good... until they realize that half the world is burning, or damned to living hell. At least..."

"I realized that this world was beyond saving before the world even ended." His lips twisted into a bit of a sneer, memories flickering in the forefront of his mind from a twisted projector screen, "When you've seen people...women, men, children, butchered in their own homes you begin to lose faith that what you are doing is really for the greater good. You begin to realize that, no matter how many cases you solve, no matter how many of those animals you put behind bars, the world is still damned to be a living hell.

He brought the glass up to his lips once more, downing the rest of the contents in his glass, "I don't intend on saving the world, Reverie. But I do intend on making sure those I care for survive. I will do anything to ensure that protection."

She paused and he took a moment to process. His brows pulled together, lips flattening into a harsh line, while his focus remained solely on her. Though, at this point he was fairly aware of the fact that Alaska had strolled in after her. The huntress had undergone some sort of change back in that prison, he had meant to speak with her about it. But the feeling he got from her seemed a bit...out of his depth. Much like the feeling he got from Reverie or Allea or Amara; women with power far beyond his realm of understanding. "At least tell me----so I can be there, standing with you... and not find out when I feel the flames beneath my feet." Rhys gave her a slow nod, not really sure how to verbally respond for a moment. He was so used to making the decisions that sometimes he forgot that he didn't need to make all of them alone.

"-For good or for worse... this is what keeps us human..."

His fingers stilled against the rim of his glass, gaze trained on the empty glass and lips hitched into a hint of a smile. Expression frozen. It was what kept most people human. But he hadn't felt human in a long time.

"I-I'm coming along too..."

"I'm counting on it. I'd be stupid to send a team without your skill set and I think that...Nik would enjoy the company." The smile he gave her said that he was counting on her to keep him safe. He was almost positive that the witch would've done it anyway, even if he hadn't implied. Everyone loved the hell-bound artist with his sharp smiles and watercolor words. Rhys envied that charisma in his other half, but accepted his lack of social grace as a personal incompetence.

''Fuck,'' the uttered curse drew his attention faster than a jar of peanut butter. He hadn't expected Alaska's hissed word nor had he expected the outburst that immediately followed, ''It's like.....we can't get a fucking break! Whatever we do.....no matter how many problems we solve, turn around and a pile of more shit is waiting for us.'' He snorted softly into his glass, fixing Alaska with a look that held a mixture of amusement and pity. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there wouldn't be any breaks. Not for anyone in this group, not while he was still in it. While he didn't completely understand this so called 'war' he was being pushed toward, subconsciously he knew that his reluctance for it would only bring misery. Logic dictated that he release the threads of his own human conscious, accept the calling of fate, and in so doing so save everyone he cared for. Perhaps if he hadn't found something to protect, found the family he had always wanted, friends, love, then he might have let go sooner. He was, however, a stubborn man and he would make sure heaven knew it.

''To hell.. To the apocalypse... and to alcoholism! '' He watched the female hunter take a glass and down it without hesitation. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit in approval, reaching out to pour some more rum into his own glass before offering to pour one for Reverie. ''I know you trust Marcus, but I really hope they don't screw us over big bro.'' Rhys huffed a sigh, shaking a finger at her, "I trust that Marcus will screw us six ways to Sunday if he had the opportunity and means, Snowfall. But don't get temporary allegiance confused with blind trust. Trust would insinuate that I would allow Nik or Ryan to caper off into the tundra by themselves."

"To alcoholism!" Rhys turned his gaze toward James, raising his glass slightly in toast, "And to hell with the apocalypse." That earned a chuckle, the older male shaking his head just a bit as he took another sip.

"What's this? A going away drinking party and I wasn't invited. For shame."

Rhys' gaze shifted towards yet another voice, head tilting to the side in slight amusement, "To be fair, no one here was invited except for James." He chuckled, pouring Elijah a glass before gesturing for the hunter to join them at the table. "But it's been a while since any of us have been able to do something like this." He gave the small group a bit of a smile. Rhys would have liked to say more, to reassure all of them that everything was going to be alright. But he didn't. Because he didn't know. All he could do was sit, drink, keep them company, and hope that this wouldn't be the last time he saw any of them.

✝ ✝ ✝​

He'd have been a liar if he said he slept at all that night. After the little pow-wow had ended, he spent the better part of the night making sure everything was prepared for tomorrow. He wasn't sure how many times he had asked Harry if the cars had enough gas, but the southerner looked about ready to hit him with a wrench if he asked him again. Rhys didn't usually fret, but he didn't usually do things like this to begin with. His thumb rubbed against the stone in his pocket religiously, azure orbs glaring out into the white landscape. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, hovering just far enough from the door so that the chill didn't hit him directly in the face. He was the only one standing there without some sort of jacket and to be honest he had been far too frazzled to remember to grab one.

"Got everything?"

A question he had surly asked Penny four times in the span of an hour. He tapped his foot against the floor a bit anxiously, looking almost like he had had twelve cups of coffee recently. He probably had.

"Relax, Rice, they're all gonna be fine." His gaze flickered over to Marcus, lips pressed into a flat line. He didn't respond to that, didn't feel the need to, because a piece of him knew they would be. He was just worried. Perhaps more worried than he should have been. Scott strode over, swinging his pack over his shoulder and giving the two men a transparent smile, "Ay, we'll be bloody fine 'n all that. Don't worry, mate---" Scott barely finished his last syllable before the detective was yanking him over. His azure orbs glowed with a mixture of blue hues, the tattoos on his neck emitting a faint white glow, "They better be. If I find out that any of them got hurt, I swear to God himself I'll make you suffer."

Scott blinked, staring at his fellow blessed like the man was off his rockers. Marcus pried Rhys away, glaring at the taller man before turning to shake Scott's hand and wish him luck.

Rhys took a deep breath to calm himself, moving his attention off of Scott and towards Reverie, "Do you have everything you need?" Again, another question he had probably asked all of them far too many times. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned slightly, brow raising as he took in Allea's face. "Ya need to take a breath, cher, they'll be alright."

He huffed, nodding slightly as he ran his fingers through his hair. The necromancer was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He was only stressing himself out more than he needed to be. Rhys gave Elijah a smile, patting the hunter on the shoulder as he passed. His gaze settled on Kayden, standing there for a moment before he grabbed the kid and pulled him into a hug. "I know you're mad at me, but be safe alright? I believe in you, Kay, I know you're more than capable of handling yourself." Rhys let go with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood.

When he finally circled back around, he stopped in front of the red clad devil. He wasn't sure what to say for a moment. Even Ryan had gotten a 'good luck' out of him, but now it was like he had nothing else to say. His lips parted and closed, struggling to from words of any kind. This was the first time that they were going to be apart for longer than the handful of days the raiders had kept them. It was a bit weird, knowing that he wouldn't see Niklas every morning. He had grown so comfortable with that bit of routine that he had almost forgotten what it was like to go without it.

"Don't get yourself dead, alright?" He offered a slight smile, shifting a bit uncertainly.

"Right, well let's move out yeah? It's goin' to be a long walk."

Rhys glanced over Nik's shoulder as Scott began to lead everyone out the front door. His cobalt gaze slid back to the blond, stepping up to press his lips to the other man's forehead, "I love you." He pulled away with a bit of a lopsided smile, "Go kick some ass." Rhys swallowed past the lump in his throat as he watched the first group walk out of the airbase and into the frozen tundra.


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[Cara]

[class=header] margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; background-image: url(https://www.casilinanews.it/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/cielo-stellato-via-lattea.jpg); border: solid 2px white; border-radius: 40px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=text] position: relative; width: 100%; height: 100%; overflow-X: hidden; color: #FFFFFF; background-color: rgb(0,0,0,0.7); [/class] [class name=text state=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [div class=header] [div class=text]

Niylah Blake
​

​

Location: McGuire AF Base
Interactions: BasiliskVeranda
OOC: Big thanks to Alteras who I "stole" the coding from... again


"You have good reason to be fucking paranoid, Everything out here's trying to fucking kill us, as far as I'm concerned, If it's not trying to kill us...it's trying to steal our souls or some other bullshit. I'd say your way is better than me and my hopeless fucking optimism or reckless murder-lust " Nik told her when she mentioned being paranoid. She could feel the -we've had enough, when will this stop?- in his sentence "your optimism isn't hopeless, we can't lose faith now, can we? We came a very long way to give up, and I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Let them try and steal our souls, we won't give up without a fight." she said in return... a part of her didn't believe what she just said, the light at the end of the tunnel could be fire as far as she knew. But she wouldn't give up… not yet.

"I've...been trying to trust in new heroes” he said as they continued walking. Niylah didn't believe that heroes even exist anymore. but she chose not to comment on that “before you say or think anything, my situation is totally different.” she said remembering her situation and Nik chuckled"...is it?" he said and she laughed "it is, it is" she replied sitting down on one of the beds as they arrived at the room and watching him hide the bag behind his bed "I'm just fuckin' with you. To be honest...you also probably trust easily. Too easily, All of us here are a shade of somethin'...each day we change. Get stranger, sadder, angrier—different, I'd say we're a solid group, But we have our demons. As I'm sure you do too. It's just a matter of knowing which demon to trust," he said with a weak smile, as he sat down on his bed as well. he was right. she did have demons inside her, demons if let out can cause a lot of damage. Demons that did cause damage before. but they will not get out again anytime soon, not if she can help it. shaking the thought away. “ judging from the party and the secret Santa, I believe I trusted the right demons. Though I must admit …” Niylah was about to say that she didn't trust them at first but Nik stopped her suddenly "...you hear that?" and it only took her two seconds to pull out her knife and stand up in a defense position, cursing herself for letting her guard down. Nik's face changed completely for a second and she couldn't read it “hear what?” she looked at the door "...guess we're going to have more than just a little back-up," he said falling to the bed. Niylah relaxed with these words" Are you out of your mind! you shouldn't scare me like that" she said putting back her knife and not knowing what was all that about."...do you ever wonder what this all means?...what the point of all this hellish shit is?" he said looking at her she sat back down " yes I do… But I never seem to find an answer" she said looking back at the door for a second "...Well, I guess I wish you good luck then tomorrow. Try and make it back safe" she stood up and went for the door before looking back at him again "and keep your eyes out for an empty cottage that looks safe or something... that is if there is any. you never know, we might need it" she gave him a smile and went out. he needed all the rest he could have, they all did. Her next mission was a long hot bath. she still thought that the mission was very dangerous and that trusting Marcus was a mistake but the decision has been made so now what's left is to take care of each other and to look for more useful stuff. Other locked rooms might contain more than a couple of knives and binoculars… she shivered remembering the look on Nik's face. What on earth did he hear?


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[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/453f8319cbc44803e5e031dff889e54f/tumblr_nc8l7vbRvb1renu7bo1_1280.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #023c7e; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #023c7e; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #023c7e; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:1300px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]


[div class=speakeasy2]Niklas Voss Is A Big Sap
LOCATION — McGuire AF Base
BGM — PHANTOGRAM - FALL IN LOVE
TAGS — Niylah(ra Croft) ( Cara ), everybody (going off on a trip, gotta hug the fam) Dear Mrs. Psycho , Lakyr , Lekiel , BELIAL. , Chise_Robin_ , Anise
OOC — Let's get this party started. Time to yeet the fucking night king. If I missed anyone my bad, I gotta go do works now. Sorry for takin so long![/div]


[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]
"Your optimism isn't hopeless, we can't lose faith now, can we? We came a very long way to give up, and I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Let them try and steal our souls, we won't give up without a fight."

All Nik could think, during most of their conversation, was just how strong she truly was. Niylah had this unique quality that sparked pride in him, despite only knowing her for a very short period of time. Something in the way she handled words, herself, and the obstacles in her path, reminded him of the time before.

Or, rather, she reminded him of a possibility. One golden, shimmering strand of fate that had been cut from the tapestry of his life. One he couldn't quite put away in his mind, despite all his intentions to the contrary.

She reminded him of who he hoped his daughter would've turned out to be. Smart, scrappy, resourceful. Those were all slim words to paint someone who was immutable against hardship, but it was all he had at the moment. Words of the mind very rarely did justice to what humans could feel.

That was why they spent so much time making things to represent what was in the hearts of men and women alike. Phrases weren't enough.

"...do you ever wonder what this all means?...what the point of all this hellish shit is?"
" yes I do… But I never seem to find an answer"

Niklas flicked a soft smile Niylah's way, a slow brushstroke in peach, with the flash of white teeth.

"Neither do I," he said with exasperation lacing the underpinning of his syllables, like the oil beneath pigments on canvas. It'd slip a bit, sometimes. That type of frustration and fear, mingled in colors stronger than he could hold, would blossom violently if left alone.

Stronger than he should have felt, and so it bloomed. All this demonic nonsense had turned him up to eleven on the scale of the human condition.

Even now, when Allea had so 'kindly' helped him take the edge off with a stupid magical stone. Hopelessness crept in, even now, when the sunny yellow smile lingered. Yet, he still scraped the blackness with a palette knife, to let the warmth in. Without it, he felt the world would be far less manageable.

It seemed that Niylah hadn't heard the voice echoing. For a moment, this disquieted him in the way that bones ache in the rain, for some. He stretched on the bed and nestled his face against the covers. Maybe he was simply going mad, madder than he had been going since the crappocalypse shit into his life.

He reasoned it didn't really matter. They were all a little mad, anyways.

"...Well, I guess I wish you good luck then tomorrow. Try and make it back safe" Nik let his token half-grin spindle on his face as it was apt to do. Every tornado of an emotion could be read just from that mouth. An etching he wore, in a series of panels, that spelled out what the words couldn't.

This offering was one of gratitude, for someone wishing him well. Someone he didn't know well enough, that was new, that owed him nothing, but was more than willing to help their little family of survivors.

"Thanks, Niylah Croft," Nik punctuated his sentence by sitting up and stretching, "I'll try not to get my ass killed, or anyone else's, for that matter."

"and keep your eyes out for an empty cottage that looks safe or something... that is if there is any. you never know, we might need it"

"I'll keep an eye out. It's a fucking blizzard out there..." he paused, cracking his back with a wince, "...let's hope we don't freeze to death. I don't want to become a meat popsicle."

"And I'm far too pretty to die," Niklas said with a self-satisfied snort. He was joking. Well, only half joking.

When she left, Nik collapsed to the bed with an ungraceful drop. Head to pillow, covers pulled up around himself like he was trying to shut the world out. He needed all the rest he could get, because the next stop in his journey was going to take an unholy toll on him. He was sure of it.

And not in the way he struggled to admit he liked, what with the knives cutting paint smears, making the world a nightmarish wonderland of his own design. No, it was something worse than that.

It was literal hell, frozen over.

⛧⛧⛧​

The shy birch trees were like slim thighs whittling up to razors in the sky. Niklas stood to look at all of them, near the sleepy retreat of Diana's warm winter cottage.

Her family had been rich in the way that food can be rich, that is to say, it had a merit for how it had been created. Far before he had made any amount of wealth at all, he had been as thin as these trees. Hungry for something he didn't understand, as he was now standing in a field of birch, razor-smiled and yet still not understanding.

He felt like he had been somewhere else, but couldn't place it, as a red cardinal darted across the skys of Maine and dripped flush blood over the pale expanse.

Her face was blurry in her deep indigo parka, he squinted to capture it, but the more he stared, the more she looked like a thumb print smudged on glass.

"Di, your parents are coming back soon, they'll probably wonder where we fucked off to..." he started up, and she said something he couldn't hear. It was like every time when he heard and didn't understand, the fog of cigarette smoke making cotton of words.

Niklas rounded a reclusive hollow in the knot of the earth, nearly stepping in it. He wrapped his arms around himself to keep the warmth in his bones, and shivered as he lurched away.

There was something bigger than them both, he reasoned, as he stared up at the gray-white sky. The atmosphere was usually so very beautiful; downy whites in the winter, hot cider near a warm fire, ice fishing.

He had been very good at fishing, he remembered. A natural talent for snaring writhing aquatic life, her father had been angry about it. Niklas hadn't even tried, and he brought back bass in bushels.

Now the air felt heavy, and the sky streaked red as though the pastel yellow sun had broken apart like a fruit.

He jerked a glance towards Diana who opened what he imagined to be a mouth, again and again, as if she had so much to say.

Deep blue eyes squinted through the birch, coming up through pines, and he suffered to light up his cigarette. That ball of red at the end mimicked the colors the sky made, and he shivered again.

"I can't hear you...can you belt it, babe?" he grew nearer and the smear-woman tried again. He sucked his teeth and snow fell over her in a drift from a whip of wind. It crackled the air loud enough he could feel it on his skin.

Something didn't make sense.

The pines and birches were there, the cottage with its welcoming fireplace venting smoke like his cigarette vented through his mouth, she stood in her parka, the cardinal flickered, the sun was turning red.

"Di," he started, but soon her mouth opened in a deep black cavern, and flowers with thick, meaty petals fell from it. Magnolias, the lush texture like flesh, and lotus bulbs, and flashes of red for poppies.

"...the fuck?" he asked, stepping back, eyes wild, cigarette in clenched teeth. He grew colder.

From a rounded distance he heard sobbing, something beyond a cluster of pines. The greenery seemed huddled together for warmth. He sought the pines and stepped back from this creature puking flowers all over the snow.

Niklas couldn't look at them. They looked like flesh if he stared long enough, and he didn't like it.

Now at the pines, he realized the tears were from a man, sitting in a t-shirt and standard jeans, on a rock, against the cold. He couldn't make out all his features, but as he trailed his eyes over the man who seemed unaffected by the snow, they came into focus.

The shell of an ear, cast in light from the red sunned sky. The curve of a strong jawline, to chiseled cheekbones, a beauty mark resting like a map's marker.

Nik's gut warmed and his body reacted before his eyes could. Something that shot up the spine as well, curling on the poppy flowers of his hips. It ran up to his heart and surged the blood raw.

He didn't understand. The coat he wore didn't need to be held onto so tightly.

"...why are you crying?" he asked the man who came into view, in living color. Still not cold, still crying, but peeking behind the fingers shielding his eyes, now. Looking as if one eye were giving deceitful tears, while the other was clasped behind his palm. Nik felt the unseen one was weeping something real.

"I'm not, and I won't."

"I...don't understand," the blond said, feeling like he had said the same phrase over and over again forever, and ever. The pines shuttered, and an impossibly black sparrow flicked itself near a branch to peer down with beady black eyes at the pair.

Nik stepped forward, crunching over snow and crackling the ice. Pretty soon the figure sitting on the rock was further away, and the blond ground his teeth around his cigarette. He lurched forward, arms out, gloved hands casting forward as if to chop the air.

Balancing on ice and snow, as if on a frozen pond. He looked down and realized he was, indeed, standing on thick ice.

The trees around them were nowhere to be found, and they were on the great pond by the cottage.

The man sat on his stone like Atlas, and Nik tried to slide his way to him.

"...why won't you?"

"It is not for the judged to ask the judge," the man said, his features in full view, and Niklas felt that maybe his beauty was like dying. He scuffled forward, slipping on the ice yet regaining his footing.

The sky was red with blood, impossibly black sparrows sat in the air as if suspended on invisible branches, staring at them both.

The blond lost his cigarette as he tried to edge forward; the expanse grew between them.

"...who the fuck are you?" Niklas decided to kneel, because being taller meant having a greater chance of stumbling. He went to his knees and slid forward. A practical movement to gain distance without cracking his head on the frozen pond.

"Not a who," the man said, clasping his hands between his legs, sitting as men do when they feel confidence swell, but it seemed like paper. Like a drawing of it, because whatever was behind it didn't have any weight.

"...you don't belong here, and I think you've fucked all this up," Nik said as he managed to get nearer the man, finally, kneeling and looking at his face.

"Myself, or him?"

"You. I don't like it. I'll make the birds peck your eyes out if you if you keep this up," Niklas said, eyeing the perched sparrows suspended; they turned their heads as if to agree. They were his and he could use them.

The red sky was his and he would use it.

"I'd like to swallow his fear, but that means you need to leave," Nik said, and the man tilted his head like the birds did.

"A glutton, then?"

"Yes, a glutton. But he belongs to me, and I told you already," Nik looked up at the man, who looked down at him like he could see through the part-time devil, "I will carve you out with wings, and beaks, talons and bone. So fucking go already."

Silence, then the man twisted his hands in Niklas' hair to pull his head back.

"Holding tight enough to bruise, blondie?"

"Means I'm alive. Means something can't take me, if I'm already taken," the blond said as his head was wrenched back further. A smile graced his face like a razor's edge.

"I'd appreciate not having to gut you to see him again," he said as he swallowed to get the air into his lungs, "because he doesn't belong to you."

Whatever this thing was, it lived somewhere else, Nik reasoned.

"I will embrace him, and bring him from the path of perdition."

"So will I," Nik argued, as his head was torn back too far and he clasped the hand in his hair. He didn't have any leverage, but he didn't really need it, anyways.

The laws of physics or the human body didn't work here.

"You will cause only grief."
"To you, maybe. You can go fuck," the hand tore back more, and Nik dug his fingernails into it, twisting the wrist above him to snap it like a branch, "yourself."

"It doesn't work like tha—"

"Why not?" he asked, not understanding why this space wouldn't bend to his will if it bent to the wills of others who didn't belong here on the frozen earth of his mind movies.

"Because you are a pawn, and not a bishop," the thing said, and the blond stood on sure feet, the hand having fallen away. He looked over the man's face, and as he rose up, the frozen pond became grassy.

Like it had been painted into shards of green, spreading like ink on water.

The red sky gave way to something deep blue, and it looked like the ocean. Nik looked up to see the waves crash over weathered stones, but the stones stood strong against them.

The ground was green with grass, and sun came from somewhere, and music hit his ears. The birds were replaced with colorful things in so many hues, in oils and acrylics.

A cardinal flittered across his field of vision, and they were still in the forest, but it was spring. Early spring, he guessed, as snow still clung in branches.

"How...are you doing this?"

"It's my dream, isn't it?" Nik asked, the thing talking through Rhys' immaterial body hitching across the scenery. As if it wasn't really there, but had clawed through his mind like a projection, to pull something from him.

"I can paint it however I want. Now, kindly fuck off," he said, lighting a cigarette that happened to appear between his teeth.
"I'm not ready to join you degenerates in hell."

"...how did you know?"

"I may be impulsive, but I'm not a moron. And you'll never convince me he isn't able to be saved, you unfashionable fuckwhistle," Nik said behind smoke.

When he flicked ash, his eyes shot open.

It had all just been a terrible, beautiful nightmare.

Heat clung to his body, as if he had been taken by a fever. Nik patted the other side of the bed with a flat palm, realizing his other half was nowhere to be found.

Carefully, he crept from his sheets to sitting, like a bottom-feeder stuck on the glass.

Sweat fell from his brow, and he placed his head in his hands. Fingers pushing over his temples to reach into his hair, threading through as his heart beat a mile a minute.

He narrowed his eyes and cast them around the room. No birds, no branches, no forest, no trees, no colors, no Atlas and no smeared ghost-dead-once-fiance.

Shaking, for fear of the coming day, or for fear that the demon who had penetrated his dream would come back, or for fear that...perhaps it had been right...Nik inhaled.

A deep, ragged breath. Like the wind whipping through his lungs, or around slim, naked birch trees. But his resolve was sound. As sound as his will to bend reality to his own making.

As sound as the willpower he had to bite back at a hell that wanted him more than he wanted a cigarette at this moment.

Which was saying a lot.

Scrambling for his package of cigarettes, Nik sat on the edge of the bed. The darkness of early, early morning cloaked him. A small cast-off light made the smoke, now hanging around him in the air, seem like the dull mist of a gray New England morning.

Whatever it was, no matter the force, heaven or hell or otherwise, he wouldn't let this one go.

He wouldn't let any of them go.

No one could stop him.

⛧⛧⛧​

Nik had arrived to where the others were, clad in his cardinal red coat, with the bag Niylah had given him on his shoulder. When he had been questioned about it by Declan, who still seemed enamored even now that he had stopped employing his trump card, he just said it was supplies.

They needed food for their journey, he had brought that. Despite him being somewhat of an old man, where his back was concerned, he'd carry this burden. And the burden of weapons, that Niylah had given him. Niklas was good at carrying burdens.

Often a martyr of his own making, another bag didn't seem like that big of a deal.

His hair was swept up in a wind tunnel, hay-colored and never behaving. He wasn't tired, despite the nightmare and difficulty falling to sleep afterwards. But he was annoyed.

Declan took that irritation and quickly fled from Nik's line of sight. The threat he had laid in the hallway, swung Elliot's way just a day earlier, was a truth the simple man was smart enough to recognize.

"Got everything?" Rhys was mothering over Penny, pressing at her like an overbearing older relative. Trying to make sure his plan went without a hitch. But there was always a catch, he reasoned. Niklas hefted the bag on his shoulder, squared his gloves on his fingers, and pulled at the knit cap Frankie had made for him.

The scarf she had also made was wrapped around the lower half of his face. Large, knit tightly to keep the cold out. She had made things to keep the others warm, too. But she was shy about it. Standing now, holding bundles in her arms, red-faced and peering behind a doorframe.

After his nightmare, he had gone to see her. Surprisingly, or not, Frankenstein had a stash of weed, and she had let him have some to help him sleep. Frankie hadn't spoken much, but he noticed that the weed made her calmer. Less prone to turning red like a tomato.

She had given him a red knit beanie, which painted him years younger than he looked. Like some goofy college student, on the way to school orientation, or something.

Except orientation was a frosty hellscape where he'd undoubtedly have to fight stuff and keep himself—and everyone else—from turning into a popsicle.

"Relax, Rice, they're all gonna be fine," said Marcus, whose words bristled up his spine. Nik rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated groan. Assholes who were stupid were absolutely the worst.

"Ay, we'll be bloody fine 'n all that. Don't worry, mate---" Nik didn't trust this one. In fact, he trusted...none of them. Save for Harry, and Frankie. And to some lesser extent, Declan, because he was far too simple to pull any bullshit.

"They better be. If I find out that any of them got hurt, I swear to God himself I'll make you suffer."
"...or you could just make them suffer anyways," Nik offered from the safety of his gigantic, dark umber scarf. He wouldn't have been heard, but he felt good saying it. Elliot most of all, he hoped he would fall down a laundry chute. He might have to make that happen, he thought.

Nik watched as Rhys reassured his 'troops', gnawing at his lower lip as he gazed at the exchange. This was going to be an absolute nightmare. Rhys couldn't plan for everything. There were too many variables.

Something would inevitably go very, very wrong.

Niklas stalked up to James with long strides, letting the bag roll off of his shoulder onto the floor. He wrapped his friend, more like a brother now, in a tight embrace.

"Keep everyone safe. Especially my State. I'm counting on you," he said, patting the other man's back before giving him a small smile.

Harry got a salute from the blond, but as the two hadn't spoke very much, he felt too awkward to ask the same of him.

"Hey, Niylah Croft," Nik said, jerking his head her way. He didn't have to say anything more to her, his phrase and glance said it all: keep yourself safe. And perhaps, it also said: if shit goes sideways, be smart about it.

Which he was sure she would be, being a little genius and all.

Franklin took it upon herself to be very, very brave, and pattered his way. She seemed frazzled, almost as frazzled as Rhys. She held up her tiny paw, and in her hand was a silver container. Sardines.

"M...payin' ya back n' all that, don-doncha knows...knows it," she suffered to blurt out, then placed the sardine can in his hand before scurrying behind a door again, to peek beyond it.

Nik quirked a grin, and pocketed the sardines. If they didn't end up eating them, he'd be able to clock some asshole in the head...no.

He had horrible aim, he'd surely knock Penny out even if she was two miles away. That amusing idea fled on fleet feet.

"Thanks, Frankenfurter," he shouted to her, once again reclaiming his bag to swing over his shoulder. She turned as red as a beet and made a disgruntled noise, not unlike a forest creature.

Allea received a short, sharp glance. He didn't know where her loyalties lied, but she at least tolerated him. And had helped him, probably despite what she wanted. He wanted to ask her to keep Rhys safe. Because if anyone could specifically do that, he knew she could.

But, Nik also knew she didn't like the ex-detective.

With that, his gaze flickered on her features, before he rounded to give Kayden a fist-bump.

"We've got this," Niklas said, beyond his scarf. Despite Kayden being a hunter, he still worried. He would always worry about Kayden, always. At least here he could keep track of him...

Alaska received a hug not unlike James, but Nik didn't let his bag slip. Scott was glaring at him at this point, because he was taking too long wishing everyone goodbye.

He pressed his forehead to his State's, and hummed a phrase under his breath.

"Shoot these fucks if they try something," was what he said, before pulling away. 'They' being the denizens of the airforce base, who were not 'their' people.

Raking his eyes over to Amara, Niklas stood nearer her and gave her a reserved nod. He couldn't...promise what he had. He couldn't promise, like he had with his look last time, to keep Elijah safe.

But he'd damn well try like fuck. Family meant so much, especially now, when the world had all but ended.

When the ex-detective rounded his way, Nik met his piercing cyan gaze with his own indigo one. The bag's strap in his grasp tightened, as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

They shouldn't be doing this, he felt. But it was the only way to make sure they'd be able to get to their next destination.

But...why were they on this journey, anyways? And would they ever find a place to rest, for good? A place to settle down?

He said everything he was feeling in that moment with his eyes. Spelled out in shades of blue and sunlight, blond lashes framing the dark stormy sky. His mouth twisted in a mute grin, outlining still how unhappy he was about all this. Especially with Penny along for the ride.

Images of carrying her busted body away from their last brush with death rang clearly in his mind. Ryan had also been gravely injured. Would there ever be a moment when they weren't in mortal fucking peril?

Niklas stood perfectly still, as if the air around him was trying to crush him to death.

"Don't get yourself dead, alright?"
"You know me, princess..." Nik said, too muffled behind his scarf. The part-time devil pulled it down so he could speak more clearly.

"I'm more likely to make other things dead. You worry too much," Niklas said, trying to make Rhys feel better about all this. Which was possibly impossible. Obviously the other man was anxious. This entire endeavor still felt...too variable to be safe.

It didn't feel safe.

But they could do nothing of it now. All he could personally do was make sure the others didn't get killed. They'd have to rely on each other, as they many times before. And he'd have to make sure he didn't create a wave of destruction for no fucking reason, which would probably be harder than keeping the others alive.

If he was being honest about it, that'd be the tricky part. Once he got into the flow of it, bodies dropped. What bodies would drop, he couldn't be certain. They were walking out into the absolute unknown.

Which unnerved him.

"Right, well let's move out yeah? It's goin' to be a long walk." Nik grumbled as Scott spoke, turning to raise a brow at Rhys, as if to ask: 'we're really going to do this?'

His smile then flickered, as if to say: 'well, fuck. alright.'

The ex-detective stepped forward to place a kiss on his forehead, and Nik's eyes closed in warmth. Like the sun dipping beyond the horizon, slowly. He let a pleasant sigh escape his lips. More of this, less frozen fuckery, he thought. Less running, less hiding, less killing. More of this, always.

"I love you."
"I love you too, princess," he said, voice lighter than he had meant it to be. Fear had crept in, though he did his best to bite it back. He replaced it with a smile. He owed Rhys that much. He owed all of them that much. It was his job, to make the others smile, when he could.

"Go kick some ass."
"Always," the blond part-time devil said, stealing a kiss hard enough to bruise, before rounded after Scott who was now yet again mildly disgruntled that this was taking so long.

"Alright, kids. Let's get this party started," the part-time devil said, with conviction in his words. Beyond it all, was fear. But sometimes, Niklas Liam Voss was an impeccable actor. This was one of those times.

He looked over Ryan, Kayden, Penny, Reverie and Elijah with the intensity of a lightning bolt striking dark waters. His expression crackled, his grin quirked.

With that, they were off.
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[/div]

 

[Dear Mrs. Psycho]

Amara Blackwood

Mentions: Nik, Rhys, and everyone else leaving
Interactions: Elijah and Nik (sorta, counting a nod as an interaction)

The young blood witch stared at her brother's exit with utter disbelief. Never had her brother ever storm out on her or be so outraged, but they both needed time to coo, off and think. It would do nothing, or worse, make matter worse if she followed and continued to press on the situation, so she sat there on the hard wooden bench, with her head in her hands, letting her mind wander. Even to the darkest of places.

A few mental breakdowns later, or about just as many hours, still afraid of losing Elijah, it was imperative that she had to leave to get some rest to make time to be there for the scout's departure, which was very early in the morning. She be damned if she missed it.

Following the familiar pathways, she made her way back to the cafeteria and the to the sleeping dorms. Upon arrival, most of the others were gone, not that it bothered her much. She just changed into more comfortable clothes for sleeping; black cotton pajama shorts and a black tank, before climbing into bed and fell asleep. However, it wasn't as peaceful, as her fears took over her mind, making situations of the worst out of the mission to come.

The next morning, when Amara woke up, pretty much everyone was gone again, or still, just never came back, she wouldn't know. Not taking her chances, she rushed off her cot and in almost no time, she changed into the simplest pieces of clothing she could find; jeans shorts and a dark graphic tee. Her feet made soft thumping noises as she ran with no shoes, having had purposely forgot them, not that she liked wearing shoes anyway. Cutting time by putting her hair in a high ponytail on the way, she was focused on getting there before Elijah and the other left. No matter how much pain saying goodbye would be, she had to face the music and let it happen. It would kill Amara, if she left this on an argument she would regret, especially if she found out something had happened to him.

Bursting through the door, she shouted her older brother's name to grab his attention, as she kept running, not stopping until Elijah had caught her, taking a few steps back to gain some balance back. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, and they stood like that for a long moment, taking a second, though Amara had to admit, she stared daggers at Rhys in that time, having been still out of the loop on what was really happening.

"I'm sorry," the young witch apologized, as she pulled away, turning her attention to the floor.

"It's okay, but I should be the one to be sorry," she heard him start off softly, as she felt his hand lift up her face. "You were just trying to help and I just was blinded by my hatred and took it out on you, when I shouldn't have. It's not your fault for me hating magic. I appreciate the thought and help, but it's juts not a path I'm willing to take." A pause. "I'm sorry Amara, but what you see in it, is not longer what I see and I'm afraid there is nothing that will probably ever change that."

"I understand," she replied, her voice only a few steps from a whisper.

"C'mere," the older sibling, said, pulling the younger one into a hug, much less desperately needed as the last. "I'm gonna miss you, just don't do anything stupid," she heard Elijah add, as well as felt the weight of his chin on the top of her head.

Once again the two parted, Elijah left to say goodbye to the rest of the gang that was staying, including Rhys. It was just in time for Nik to make his rounds, who gazed his eyes in her direction with a nod. It spoke more words than the last one. It told her no promises can be made for Elijah's safe return, which she understood. However, she also understood that if anything can be helped to safe him, or the other, than it will be done. He was going to desert any one of them, or leave them for dead if anything could be done about it.

She took the rest of her last moments as a complete group to send a silent goodbye to those leaving. She gave each, Ryan, Hayden, Penny, and Reverie, a nod with a softened look that expressed her sadness, but also hoped that they would all come back. As for anything other than that, she wasn't sure what she should do. Amara never had to say goodbye to people she cared about before, so she had no experience to give them a proper send off, but she knew it was something.

"Alright kids. Let's get this party started." Nik's voice boomed throughout the area, making everyone's departure official. Every member of the departing party followed Nik, as the rest watched, slowly disappearing as the distance took them away.

code by apolla

Location: McGuire AF Base
Interacting With: Amara, Rhys, and Allea.
Mentions: Rhys, Nik, Penny, and Marcus
OCC: Namri is still just an NPC (Might be the last time mentioned until he finds out of her death.)

The night finished off after a lot of drinking, catching Elijah up on the details, and some various other discussion, with a joke or two here and there. It was a good ease for a depressing tomorrow and a dim future.

Eventually the party had to come to a close, each having to get some rest for the upcoming tomorrow. Elijah and the others, walked back to the shared sleeping bay, each finding their own bed. The male took a moment to look at Amara's bed, complete with the young witch sleeping. His face softened. It was probably wrong of him to walk out on her. Even if a line was crossed, he should've stayed and talk it out. Now he might pay the price by not really giving a real goodbye. He may be mad at him for a long time or forever.

Shoving his thought behind, though it was a little hard with the alcohol influence, he stripped out his jeans and t-shirt, switching to just gray sweat pants and climbed into bed. When he fell asleep, he didn't dream much, not that he wanted to anyway. There was no many variable his subconscious could work into his imagination.

The next morning, when he woke, Amara was still asleep, while the others were getting ready for the day ahead. He joined them in preparation, starting with showering and changing, which concluded of dark jeans and a blank blue T-shirt. After adding shoes and socks to his look, he grabbed his bags and walked to the garage where the vehicles they were taking awaited them.

Before they left, Elijah was helping load the vehicles, as well as make sure they had everything. It was a bit of unfamiliar territory they were heading to, so he wanted to be sure most situations they could encounter, they had the materials to do so.

"ELIJAH!" An all too familiar voice screamed his name, taking him off his focus, and turned him around. There was his sister, full sprint, heading towards him. It quickly became clear, the shorter female was not going to stop, so he held out his arms to stop her from going past. With the collide, he had to take a few tiny steps back, as he was taking aback but they force, but he didn't care. He was getting to say goodbye to his little sister. Someone he thought would hold a grudge for storming out.

"I'm sorry," Amara said, though her face was facing the ground, a clear sign of regret from her.

"It's okay, but I should be the one to be sorry," Elijah started, lifting her face. He couldn't let her have full blame,especially when it was really all on him. "You were just trying to help and I just was blinded by my hatred and took it out on you, when I shouldn't have. It's not your fault for me hating magic. I appreciate the thought and help, but it's juts not a path I'm willing to take." He paused, taking a second to breathe. "I'm sorry Amara, but what you see in it, is not longer what I see and I'm afraid there is nothing that will probably ever change that."

"I understand," she replied, though it was clear she was still sad about it, when she was just whispering.

"C'mere," he said, pulling his younger sister into a hug. "I'm gonna miss you, just don't do anything stupid," he said, resting his chin on the top of her head.

The hug lasted a for another long moment, before they pulled away. Elijah still had a couple of people he wished to say something, before they had to leave.

First was Rhys. Their leader. Someone everyone looked to make the right decisions. Who accepted everyone that made their way into the group. And right now, probably the only person confirmed that Amara might have a grudge on. He wasn't going to let her think that he didn't see the daggers she was staring at Rhys when they first hugged today.

"Hey man," Elijah started, wanting to get the quick talk in before Nik got all the spotlight from him. "Good luck on things here. Don't worry about Amara, she'll get over it eventually." Though there was a chance, she wasn't. "Just if you see her with a voodoo doll that looks like you, I would get Allea involved," he added as a joke. "But hey, don't worry about Nik, while he is taking care of the rest of us, we'll make sure he gets taken care of too. Death by Angry Man is not how I want to go out," he chuckled. Another joke, but it still laid a serious message. With that, he patted Rhys on the back and moved onto his next goodbye.

"Namri," he called out. The next person was the woman he grew to love more than the rest. He didn't care if others would see, or that they were no longer hiding in secret. He was going to openly say goodbye to her, admitting he loved her, as he said goodbye. He held her when she cried, and kissed her to try to take away those tears. He was going to miss her almost most of all. He was sad to leave her behind, but like Amara, it was the fact they were safe here, that he kept in the back of his mind, so he wouldn't feel so bad.

With one last kiss and hung goodbye (literally), he started heading back to the prepped vehicles. Only stopping by for one last person. Allea.

"Allea," he beckoned as he walked up to the other witch before it was time to go. "I want to ask you a favor," he started, a little on edge, since from what he seen of the witch, he wasn't sure if she would be willing. "Can you watch out for Amara? I know, you guys aren't the best of friends. And I'm not asking to babysit. She doesn't need a babysitter. I just want to be sure that someone will make sure she doesn't do something she'll regret. You can stop her better than the others can, and relate more to her, I feel. I don't know. If you could, I'd appreciate it," he rambled on.

"Alright kids. Let's get this party started." That was Nik. It was time to go. He said a quick farewell to Allea, and jogged off to catch with the others. Following them out and away.

original code by apolla

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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FOR THE PLAYERS:

• As this is a planned assault, characters are welcome to bring any items they may find useful in preparation. (Hand grenades, homemade explosives, magical talismans, etc.)
• Any major injuries, character death, possessions, infections, or other major plot devices must be approved by an admin first.

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BIG UpdateAlright, let's see if I can CPR this bad boy to life.

So we're going to do a big skip. Everyone is at the Lich Fortress, so here's what happened:

The group split, found out they could all go into the fortress and that Scott guy was just a lying asshole. Group 2 arrived shortly after, partnered up with Group 1, and headed into the Monolith leaving Rhys, Adisa, and Alaska back at base.

UNFORTUNATELY, Mcguire AF base came under attack by the reanimated corpses controlled by the ice king. The Three barely made it out alive, but the rest of the people living at the base weren't so lucky. The Trio then made their way to the Monolith, both groups were already inside so they can either go after them or wait by the cars.

Now that we've fast forwarded a bit, here's what's happening:

→ the gates
Rhys, Alaska, Adisa

It comes climbing down the wall of the monolith, jagged claws tearing up stone and ice as it descends. The group is faced with a monster they never thought they'd ever encounter, a Beelzask.​

→ the well of souls
Amara, Ryan, & Kayden

A gaping chasm sits in the center of the monolith’s first level, twisted and tormented souls spiraling upwards through the center of the tower. The moment human life enter its presence, those haunted souls begin to possess the bones littering the ground, raising up an army to stop their passage through.​

At the base of the stairway leading to the next level, a larger monster begins to take shape. A demonic entity, dragging the bones of long dead corpses with the souls of the damned burning in a hollow rib cage, destroy it.​

→ the labyrinth
James & Frankie

The top of the first winding stairwell is marked by cobwebs hanging thick and heavy, a twisting mess of broken stone walls and bodies imprisoned by white silk. The cause of it is a massive eight-legged creature that works through the shadows, waiting to claim more victims.​

The moment the nest is disturbed, the dried husks of old corpses reanimate themselves, reaching out to try and pull anyone passing by into the same webs they’ve been caught in, and devour them.​

→ the cursed halls
Penny, Niylah, & Elijah

The next set of stairs leading up lets out into a long hallway, doors shut to either side, and the Lich’s queen standing in the way. An ancient vampiress who’s been just as twisted by her lord’s powers, capable of wielding dark blood magics, either hers, or those she feeds on.​

The two monsters they find themselves facing were once long dead heroes that thought they could destroy the Lich claiming dominion over the monolith. Now they are bound to his queen’s will.​

→ the throne room
Allea, Nik, Reverie, & Harry

Almost to the throne room, they are stopped by the appearance of three black robed figures guarding the final set of stairs, their eyes just as dark and blackened.​

The moment they pass through the doorway into that last inner sanctum, the doors slam shut behind them. The Lich might sit on the throne before them, but two reanimated golems still stand in their way.​

All that’s left before them is the king on his throne, an ancient Lich whose eyes glow blue, spirit twisted into something demonic thanks to his own dark magics. Destroy the Lich.​

If you haven't posted for the 'split' feel free to start in whatever section below, have fun with it. The areas and character names are a suggestion if you want to be in the well of souls or if everyone just wants to get to the throne room let me know. I would like to get this fight out of the way as quickly as possible because there are cooler things that I have planned. I'll post an Allea soon to help restart. Also, you don't have to code your posts if you don't want to. It's perfectly fine to just write out words
No need to get fancy with it if you don't want to.

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[Chise_Robin_]

Location: McGuire AF Base
interacting: Hell0NHighWater
mentions: Nik, James, Declan, Billie, February, March
OOC: all the drama

Alaska Roberts​

The toasted sugar taste from last night's rum still hung under her tongue when she'd opened her eyes. Did they drink all of it? I wonder. Practically dragging herself from the makeshift bed she made her way out of the room. She did promise to see them off after all.

''Shoot these fucks if they try something" She smiled as he pressed his forehead against hers, thinking that he didn't need to tell her twice. The intention to shoot someone, and the anger she still had about all of this boiled inside of her veins. Watching, as they slowly got out of the door and into the freezing storm, one by one, into an unknown fate made her stomach ache, especially when her worried eyes caught James' emerald orbs. A knot formed in her throat, she wanted to say something, but gave up at the last moment. Instead, she gave him a bittersweet smile as the door closed again, five hours after the first group had left, emphasizing the warmth of the base compared to the outside storm.

*****************************************************************************************************​

The young hunter was in her room, busy lighting her last remaining cigarette when voices started rising, sounds of things smashing the ground, cries of the few children that lived at the base. For a while, she stood still. Listening, frozen with shock. They were found....What if the others were just as unlucky?

The half lit cigarette was thrown to the ground with a curse as she left the room, the gun she'd acquired at the old police station ready to shoot in her hand.
''What the fuck? Revenants?'' Hundreds of corpses flooded the halls of the air base. Slow, undead creatures, walking towards people, vomiting on them, strangling them. It was like something out of a low budgeted horror movie. If only these movies knew how disgusting these corpses smelled like.

''Worse... They're.. practically zomb.....] Elliot's sentence was cut short as a frozen corpse exploded, covering him in maggots and slime till he collapsed to the ground.

''BILLIE! BILIIE WHERE ARE YOU?'' Declan's frantic voice reached Alaska's ears before she was able to react to Elliot's demise. She turned around and started running towards the direction of his shouting, shooting through the corpses which unsurprisingly were unharmed. It still slowed them down though.

''NO!'' he was on his knees, staring with empty eyes at the corpse of a four year old girl. She lay peacefully on the ground in the middle of the hall, her messy brown hair covering a part of her face, and if it wasn't for the pool of blood underneath her, one would have mistaken her serene features to be of someone asleep.

''Declan! She's gone. We have to go! shit. Get up!'' Putting two bullets into one corpse's head, and realizing that she needed to find more ammo, Alaska now approached the man who had zero intention of getting up. Before another corpse was able to touch him, the young hunter sent an arrow that pierced through the center of it's forehead, right between the eyes. ''Get the fuck up. Your'e not dying here'' She was able to get him up, and they barely made it through the door before eight more corpses launched towards the pair.

Declan didn't even put a fight as they strangled him, and when Alaska was finally able to get rid of the four corpses surrounding her, the young man was already dead.

Filled with rage, she walked through air base, failing to rescue most....no, she wasn't able to save anybody, and when her eyes fell on the corpses of a mother clutching her infant daughter close to her chest, both limb and lifeless, she'd had enough.


Shallow breath, heart beating too fast, about to leap out of her chest. As she walked, corpses flew out of her way, and occasionally, when she'd look at a corpse coming her way, it's head would spin, ringing it's neck, and drop to the ground. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and though she didn't understand anything about this power, even though it drained her, the only thing she knew right then, was that she wanted every single one of these bastards destroyed.

When her now crimson red eyes met Rhys' Azure orbs, the flying corpses fell limbless to the ground, as her heart beat gradually slowed to normal. Someone was alive.....one of her family members was alive, no....Two.
Her eyes traveled between the two in a mixture of relief and pain. ''They're all dead.... We have to get the fuck out of here.''

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

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[div class=whut][div class=biggie]
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[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — the labyrinth
TAGS — Lakyr (Jamosa!)
BGM — Metric - Now or Never Now
OOC — let's see if I can remember how to write Frankle
[/div]

[/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=tops]

Franklin "Frankie" Austin Hibbard

[/div]
[div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]Franklin hadn't anticipated any of what had come to pass. She had taken a chance on this place, taken a chance on these people, taken a chance on connecting with others, and taken a chance on peace. But she was reminded again by the violence, by the cold and the pain, by the labyrinth she now found herself in, by the loss of life that had fallen all around her, that Frankie could never truly find a lasting moment of 'chill'. No matter how hard she clung to it with her tiny, sticky little fingers, she'd be left to let the yarn run out when all was said and done.

Veering around a corner, with her earthy green scarves piled around her neck like a soft shield, she raised her trusty shotgun. The girl had a firm grip, and firm resolve, ears primed like the tiny woodland creature she was to suss out anything that would come at her. Proud of herself for being able to get this far on her small limbs, with her goofy personality, and her complete inability to communicate like a functional adult.

So many had died. They had just kicked the damn bucket. So many that were stronger than she was, taller than she was, more powerful than the little fire-haired hellion who smacked squirrel jerky between her teeth like she didn't know what her face was doing. Fluster and bluster, little Frankie Hibbard, shy away like a red-faced fern in blooming colors whenever anyone says anything at all.

But here in her element, heart clocking a forcibly calmed tempo, bright crystal-blue eyes opened as wide as the expanse of sky she once called the ceiling of her home, senses as taut as a deerling's under threat of a predator; Franklin wasn't fern-red and stucker-stopped. Franklin was a hunter in natural colors.

The messy red hair of war was hastily bound in tangled yarn, her fingerless gloves were thread barren claws, her steps were light and calculated. They had to be smart steps, 'cause when she came to the top of the stairs there'd been a sticky net of webbing, and she knew what lived in dew-stained white nets like this. Never had she seen one so large, and never had she ever wanted to traipse on through, but it was the only path she had.

"Y-y'all hearin' thats? S'chitter chatterin'...don't spell nothing good, don't I know's it..." she said under her breath, looking back at the young man who she had only recently met. She was not yet comfortable with him, it took a long time for the woodland critter to stop turning as red as a tomato and fluster about, but she had had to become pretty darn comfortable pretty darn fast.

Everything had happened so quickly, Franks didn't have a choice in the matter. It was either run away and make off in her mustard-colored hatchback, knowing the storm wouldn't let up and she'd drive herself into a ditch and freeze her tits off, or help deal with the problem at hand. Being brave and decisive around problems was no big deal, even considering the problems she was staring at right now. She nestled into the scarves around her neck, obscuring her mouth, trying to keep the heat in. Bright blue eyes flicked like the chirps of birdsong over webbing encased corpses. This was a problem she felt she could handle.

Being brave around nasties wasn't hard, but being brave 'round people...was.

She held her breath for a moment, looking like she might yet bolt from the man who she had found herself with. He wasn't the one who gave her sardines, and he wasn't the one who had fallen on his face—twice as bashful as she was, it seemed. Those, those she could at least smile for, with her gap-toothed grin. Talk for. Share things with. Easier, easily, and this one, this was a new person to let in, and yet she didn' have no time fer her own brand of bashful.

Frankie made herself brave.

"Yaw...gon' need...more warm'in n' that doncha know...gon' freeze like'a popsicle," she said beneath her scarves, propping her shotgun against her thigh to unravel one of the green scarves from her neck. She hesitantly raised the scarf above her head, as though he were a boar about to snap at her at any moment, but steeled herself. Gingerly, her tiny fingers wrapped the scarf around his shoulders and she stepped back to snatch her shotgun once again.

"Wha—whatch'a m-make of 'em?" she asked, shotgun back in her grasp, stepping forward with the lightest of steps. There were what looked to be people swatched all up in webbing, amongst the silken-covered, desecrated stone walls and pillars.

"Feels like we done fell inna' TV movie, doncha' know..." then, Frankle began to babble like a brook, as she tended to do when too nervous but unable to hide, "...mebbe gon' get eat by sum big sonnovabitch with too many gawdamm arms," she said, ending on a goofy laugh that hitched on like a dying motor.

Her grunting laughter was chopped in half like a piece of twisted kindling; a loud scuttle cascaded around them, loud enough to send her nerves on fire. Frankie pumped her shotgun, the telltale metallic latching sound hitching loud, all sounds amplified in this cold wasteland of stone and web.

Somethin' big was making its best efforts not to be heard over the sound of the two human heartbeats bleating in their chests. She really hoped she'd never have to find out just what it was, but Franklin wasn't a stupid girl, despite how hard it was for her to communicate. Something would come for them, she knew it, as it had come for the poor tied up bastards hanging around like decaying party balloons all around them.

".....uh.."

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[Lakyr]

[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: The Labyrinth
Tags: BasiliskVeranda [/div][/div][div class=title]James[/div][div class=text]What a plan. Running through the cold, a damned blizzard, freezing their fucking ass off, until they arrived at some giant monolith? And then killing everything inside that monolith, because it's presumably the cause of the blizzard and also just maybe super powerful. But it was the best they could do. Probably. And James had tried to be as optimistic as he could as always but it just got harder by the hour. So he kept telling himself that all would be great and tried to think about later, when it all was over and everybody was fine.

And that worked pretty well until he rounded the corner at the end of the first stairwell in the monolith and saw ... thick white spider web covering the walls and everything that could be seen, really. "fuck..." the word left him as a sigh, no louder than a whisper, but it embodied all the thoughts and feelings he had at that moment. The fact that he'd never seen something like this didn't make it any better, he knew how to fight things he'd seen before but this was new. He tried convincing himself that it would just be millions of small harmless spiders but then he saw the shapes interwoven with the net. They looked like silken human sacks, once people and now part of this twisted place.

"Y-y'all hearin' thats? S'chitter chatterin'...don't spell nothing good, don't I know's it..." The female voice pulled James out of his thoughts again. He looked over at the redhead for a second and then focused on the room beyond the staircase. Yes, he heard it, something moving around hidden in the darkness. But it was a very faint sound, James was kinda impressed that she'd heard it. "Yeah, I hear it too, nothing good." His gaze was still rummaging through the shadows and he held his pistol ready, but there was nothing he could see.

For a moment before he moved he shivered in the freezing cold and hated himself for not being properly prepared. Then, he stepped forward, ever so slowly, blade in one and gun in the other hand. He had sharpened his machete the night before, which might be helpful if they had to cut away any parts of the web, he just hoped it wouldn't get stuck. Underprepared, that seemed to be quite his thing, he was only carrying his own stuff, his own weapons. More ammo than before, that was true, but he had taken nothing else from the airbase. He had seen Ryan earlier, looking like he tried to take as much of their armory with him as he could comfortably carry.

"Yaw...gon' need...more warm'in n' that doncha know...gon' freeze like'a popsicle," James stopped again as she spoke after he'd barely made it two steps forward. He turned to the side to look at her and was surprised as she, awkwardly, put a scarf around his neck. It was a welcome surprise. He wrapped the scarf a little tighter and moved it until it felt like it sat just right. "Thanks," a simple word but honest and accompanied by a warm smile. The scarf didn't immediately make the cold go away, but it definitely was nicer than without one. James was always easy to trust people, but he didn't know her at all basically. And they were depending on each other, they needed trust right now, or it would be hard to make it out. The small gift already gave James a better feeling.

"Wha—whatch'a m-make of 'em?"
"The poor bastards that came here before us," he said matter-of-factly as they both walked onwards carefully. "We could take a closer look at one of them, might find something out." His voice slowly trailed off as James already forgot about this idea himself. True, it wasn't completely stupid, but it just didn't seem like there would be a lot to uncover, so they crept on.

James smiled throughout the time as she nervously babbled on. It was weirdly comforting and just nice to listen to. Pure. He couldn't help but also chuckle, shortly, as she ended her talking doing so. "Let's try not to get e-" A loud scuttle echoing around them cut them both off. Suddenly, they were silent. Tense. James tried to make out where the sound came from, but it was hard to tell, and he couldn't see far into the blackness behind the webs anyway.

He turned after the noise and made a few steps backward. With the third step, something solid touched his back, the first shock was almost instantly washed away with the realization that it was just one of the bodies hanging in the webs. But then, he heard it move and he would have cursed if he had the time to do so before he was grabbed at one shoulder and pulled back with considerable strength. Instinctively he lashed out at the thing behind him with his machete and he hit it, but the even the sharp blade got caught by the and slowed by the silken webs covering the body. Its other arm took hold of him and pulled stronger and James literally felt the foul and stinky head looming over his shoulder. But he fought back and wasn't weak either, he managed to pull away a little and free his arm enough from the hold to put his gun right at the undead's head. He had but a millisecond to prepare himself for the bang right next to his ear and he went half deaf for some moments after the shot. He stumbled free, turned around and saw that it was still moving, so he slashed at it until it went slack in the webbing.

After that James looked around frantically, these bodies were everywhere around them! Were they all going to attack them? Were the closer ones already moving in to take a hold of them?[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; 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: #000000; 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]

 

[Lekiel]

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[div class=sidedetails]

Reverie Lowiezka​

LOCATION — Throne of the Undying Winter King
INTERACTIONS — How to be a daytime reverie again
MENTIONS — BasiliskVeranda Dear Mrs. Psycho BELIAL. Anise
BGM — It's too late
DESC. — Low loose ponytail, black dress, brown scarf, tights, black heeled ankle boots.[/div][div class=sidedetails2][/div]

[div class=bye]
[/div][/div][div class=witchtalk]

❖ ❖​

"One dzay Anielica..." Expectant as always...

Warm bracing winds. A meadow carpeted by polka dots of purple thistle bushes and clusters of cream-white meadowsweets, perfuming the crisp sunny air. The endless sky, a flawless expanse of Capri blue, with not a single smudge of cottony white. Oh how she longed for the days to be longer, and the nights shorter. A cherished period of the year as it was often chilly, much too cold to be laying languidly on a picnic mat under the cover of a large oak tree. Shafts of sunlight scintillated through the gaps of the leafy greens above, falling on her face in warm patches. A soft hand caressed the locks of brown hair away from her eyes, and she repositioned her head slightly though it was to get a ray of light out of her sight. A delicate stalk of milk-white flower clusters twirled in mid-air, just about a foot above her frowning brows, rapt with concentration. One hand lay carelessly out to the side, absently pulling at blades of grass. The other was resting on her stomach, fingers flexing a slow dance in tandem with the floating floweret as if it were an upturned critter.

"Zhey do nawt like me Mama..." Her frown deepened, "Ivon says weetches brink bad luck."

"Ivon dos not underrstand who vee are, Anielica... people are afrait vhen zhey not underrstand." The countess' shadow loomed over her daughter for a moment as she bent to place a peck on her daughter's forehead.

"But I don't tink I'm eeven a weetch Mama..." The floating meadowsweet had started wobbling precariously, before it flopped down to lightly smack Anielica across her face. "Zat vos deeficult!" She declared, letting out a sigh and making no move to remove the stalk.

"Aaah! Jak nie jak tak Anielica! Joo held it for twenty sekens zis time... Zats a beeg improvement!" Sophia reached down and pinched the stem between two fingers, lightly tickling Anielica's nose causing her to let out a playful giggle as she batted the flower away. Both mother and daughter then engaged in a playful tousle of tickling and squirming before the little brunette exclaimed her surrender. She lay on her side head resting on her mother's lap, breathing heavily with her cheeks flushed highlighting a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose.
TL: How can you not (do this)

"But I vont to be like you, Mama... I seen your speells--"

"Joo are like me Anielica... in fakt, joo are better!"

"How-? But--"

"Wite witches are beloved of ze land, my love... Our power comes from our home, verever eet may be." There was a distinct change in inflection in her mother's voice. Sophia spoke lovingly as always, but this time there was a hint of sadness or perhaps regret. As if she wanted to say more, with all her heart, but something held her back. It caused the girl to turn over to look up at her mother in wonder. But she only saw her bright blue eyes, smiling as she always remembered them.

"Anielica..."

"Yes Mama?" Curious... her lips weren't moving. Yet her mother was still staring at her with unblinking orbs.

"Anielica..." Her mother repeated, like a voice inside her head. Her gaze was unwavering, though her skin seemed to take on an ephemeral sheen... as if she were fading.

"Yes Mama... What's going on!?" She heard the fear in her voice. She tried to reach up to clutch at Sophia, but her hands wouldn't move.

"Remember Anielica..." "Wake up Revie..."

"Wait! Mama..? Where're you goink!?"

"Wake up..." What's going on here...

"Reverie."

Brown eyes shot open. Breath caught in her throat. Pounding in her eyes. Splitting headache, somewhere at the back of her skull. Vision blurry... slowly... slowly... Her lips were cracked and parched. Taste of iron in her palate. Blood. One side of her face ached. It stung, as if scalded raw. Vision... yes, she could see again. Dust. Gray ridges of a stony ground. A faint crystalline shimmer. Ice. She lay on her side, right side of her face pressed into cold ice. No wonder the numbness hurt. She willed her hand to move, though everything ached. Fears about immobile limbs allayed. A shuddering breath, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Something cold and hard pressed against her back. The wall. She leaned back against it, thankful for the support. Eyes closed, trying to recall past the pounding headache.

The jeep had stormed through the blizzard earlier that morning... or was it yesterday? How long was she out? She was with the others... Nik, Ryan... Kayden? Penny was there too wasn't she? Another... what was his name? Elijah... yes... more from the base. People she didn't care about... except that one... guy... a Blessed. A blessed liar. They had called him, when the group found out there was nothing preventing them from approaching the Monolith. Her memories were starting to get sketchy. She knew that she wasn't particularly surprised... nor impressed. Lying seemed to be the theme lately, or at least, hiding truths. She was over it. The worse was to be expected especially from the airbase scumbags.

A sharp stab at the back of her skull cause Reverie to hiss a sharp intake of breath. Pausing for a moment as she gathered herself.

God, her head hurt...

A sudden alarm went off in her head and her eyes shot open once more. Her equipment! Her bag! All her preparations. Her hands flew over her coat, checking pockets, patting herself down. Finally, they closed over the worn fabrics of her trusty backpack by her side. Dragging the zipper, she peered inside. Vials and satchels of alchemical solutions and reagents clinked cheerily. A glass or two had broken, but most had remained fine, wrapped carefully in scraps of protective cloth. They'd lasted through her mad dash for survival. She could scarcely remember it. They'd been attacked. Swamped. Overwhelmed. She couldn't remember by what. There were undead. Larger things. Dark and demonic. The group was split. She ran further into the Monolith. It was like an iced-over castle. Dark stone with faintly gothic architecture, though she hadn't the time to pause and admire the aesthetics. Most had been iced over, like a shimmering magical popsicle; of demonic origins. A tainted popsicle.

Reverie looked down at her fingers, bruised and aching, stains of dried blood clinging under her nails. She remembered flinging the animated corpses against the icy walls. Crushing their skulls in. But something had caught her from behind, and the last thing she remembered was being thrown across the way, tumbling across the ground until she crashed through some thin ice. Then she'd woken up here. Nonetheless... Her, magic... it was never like this before... Never this powerful... Something had changed within her. Or at least, she'd found something. And it had changed her. The events of the past week, her freshly dreamed dream... She could feel her... Finally acknowledge her. Living inside, a kindling of purest fire, tied to her soul.

One day Anielica... What had her mother seen in her? The White Witch of the ancient Białowieża Forest.

She wondered what it truly meant. Still did. But she wouldn't find out by just sitting around and waiting to be shredded by some passing hellspawn. Giving herself a final once over, and making sure nothing was broken, nothing important at least, Reverie stood up with a muffled groan. Her knees nearly buckled, numb and prickly from lying in an awkward position but she quickly steadied herself against the wall.

She cast her gaze about. The room was obviously unfamiliar. Though it appeared more refined than the place they had entered from. Flickering light came in through a crack in what was probably a doorway. It was meager, but enough for her to tell that she'd probably tumbled from the dark void in the ceiling somewhere, and landed in this unmarked room. She didn't really want to find out what was in there with her and so she tread silently towards the door. Pressing her ear against the dark heavy portal, she listened for any disturbance.

Nothing.

Taking a few short calming breaths, she flexed her fingers. Readying herself for anything that would want to eat her heart out, she pushed on the door and stepped out into the hallway.

"What. The. Hell..."

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[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/453f8319cbc44803e5e031dff889e54f/tumblr_nc8l7vbRvb1renu7bo1_1280.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #023c7e; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #023c7e; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #023c7e; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:1550px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]


[div class=speakeasy2]Niklas Voss Is A Meat Popsicle
LOCATION — Motherfucking Snowland Bullshit McCastle Crap (near the throne room)
BGM — Britta Phillips - Drive
TAGS — BELIAL. , Lekiel , Hell0NHighWater
OOC — did reverie split off or did they all fall (?) LMK and I can edit. I just won't get out a post if I don't just write it now lmao[/div]

[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]
Niklas Liam Voss was still very unhappy about being flung into the great snowy beyond. He had been asked to trust in a plan he hadn't understood, he had made peace with it, but being outside in the frigid air for a time did little to thaw the ache of chill that had overcome him prior. He was decidedly lucky that a diminutive red-head had graced him with countless scarfs, a mustard-colored beanie, and was also lucky that he ran hot in most temperatures. However, he was not a fan of being a meat popsicle. He was not a fan of splitting up from his little group of survivors-turned-family. He was also not a fan of trudging forward towards a destination he didn't know, while a stormy tempest raged.

Spontaneous to a fault, at times erratic, at times making quite questionable and very violent decisions, this was not a time where he embraced those aspects of his person. Instead, he had cast through snow and maggot-infested creatures, wound through labyrinthian hellscapes, and come out the other side deeply unenthused. All he wanted was some hot chocolate and a backrub, preferably from a mostly naked ex-detective, in a nicely heated room, with his favorite music playing merrily on a vinyl record.

Maybe with some of Franklin's weed offering even more of an escape from what bullshit the crappocalypse had thrown him; mellowing the worst of times, and replacing them with the best of times. Watercolored visages spread out in pigments over his peripherals, the music would be a lulling lush landscape in scrapes through the air, and the dreamy smile of the man he loved would mark the oil painting of his beautiful face. Perfect.

But now, with the beanie lodged as far down around his face as possible, and Frankie's scarves acting as some sort of strange container for his brooding, petulant thoughts, that seemed like a dream so far removed it was almost comical. Almost.

Before all this, the airbase had fallen. If Niklas hated one thing, truly hated it, it was maggots. Bugs that infested the skin, blistering from the orifices of these undead, was enough to make his skin crawl. Fighting them had been fine enough, but they didn't quite stay down unless you managed to chop their heads clean off. Which warranted filth on his shoes and God knows where else. Niklas was very good at killing things, but things that were already dead weren't as fun to kill. Especially when they vomited up one of his personal revoltions.

For someone who enjoyed the company of blood, and had a sickening inner desire spurred on by affliction to craft harrowingly decadent and disgusting pieces of art from the bodies he could cleave easily with his pair of blades, one would think he wouldn't mind the small carrions of death. But he did, because they ate away at the skin, which in some grotesque place in his mind was a sort of canvas. In oils and pigments. Perfect.

But now decidedly far less afflicted than before, with Allea carrying out Rhys' plea and undoubtedly being owed a favor for it, that thrumming hot-blooded desire was little more than an ask for a pleasant sensation. Not the cold, not the spiderwebs he had fallen into earlier, not the maggot-vomiting bastardly undead, and certainly not the black-robed figures who marked their passage into an inner domicile.

Harry, Reverie, and Allea had accompanied him. A kindly, relatively simple man that reminded him of sage colors and long days doing manual labor. A white witch who kept her heart walled up, reeling at any perceived slight because she couldn't have control over it—which he didn't blame her for. He knew where it all came from, and he was possibly the only one here that did. And Allea, someone who kept calling him 'charmer', had powers he didn't understand, and seemed to be only in it for herself...and yet had helped them almost every step of the way.

These were the people who had come with him. He knew them less than any of the others, they knew him less than any of the others, but he knew he could count on both Allea and Reverie to both get their own asses out of dodge. The blond sneezed beneath his scarves and burrowed his head in deeper, using careful, lithe fingers to pull the gift up near his deep blue eyes. Knowing a person meant you knew how they'd act.

Perhaps this was why Rhys' earlier plans had pissed him off so much. Because he thought he'd veer left, when he jagged right and left the blond stumbling. Niklas Voss tended to ruminate, but now was not the time for rumination. Now was the time to face whatever bullshit was in front of him, deal with it, and get back to someplace fucking warmer than all this.

⛧⛧⛧
​

Earlier, Reverie had fallen through thin ice. Nik had to make a judgement call whether to throw himself down to the bottom where she now lie, possibly injured or worse, or stalk forward to greet whatever bullshit would befall him. It was a difficult decision. He had stood there staring at the void beyond, and had called out her name loudly, but had heard nothing in return.

A pang of guilt soured his expression beyond the scarves. But then some seedy frozen corpses had flung themselves at him, and he was stabbing at rotten flesh as maggots fell on his clothes. It made his skin crawl, he almost puked along with their bug-barfing antics, but he had taken them out. Taken them out, and was now standing shlicking them off of his body with his gloves, dry heaving as he did so.

"Abso-fucking-lutely disgusting," he hissed, sneakers crushing some of them with a wet, loud squish. Another dry heave, and he was staring at the corpses as some of them began to struggle to their feet.

"Fuck me," was all he said, before making that executive decision...to leave her. Leave Reverie to her own devices. If they took down whatever was causing all this bullshit, then maybe the maggot-zombies would fall, and it wouldn't be so cold he could feel his bones screaming. He also didn't have time to play hero, and nor was he a hero. Niklas Liam Voss was a useful villain, and yet their merry band of survivors had deemed him worth championing, saving, and caring about...for the most part.

He knew what he was. Maybe in some way, he had lied to all of them. Or, more likely, he didn't give himself enough credit for truly being a good man beyond all the bloodlust and immature antics.

Now rushing forward, shoes still squelching and him doing his damnedest to awkwardly scrape them upon the ruddy stone floor and spectacularly failing at it, he was greeted by a doorway...and black-robed figures. He looked back and caught Allea from the corner of his eye. Maybe Harry was just two steps away. Maybe he had gone to find Reverie. Maybe he had been nommed on by some bastard with bug-breath.

Whatever the case, Nik was here now, and the black-robed figures seemed to eye him with mild amusement. They were at a set of stairs, probably to where they needed to be, judging by the band of merry motherfuckers and their dead, black eyes boring into him. Almost as though they were looking through his very soul. One cracked a wry smile, and the blond unsheathed his daggers with a daunted sigh.

He guessed what they saw was nothing good.

"A pawn, and not a bisho—" that ended with a dagger through the eye, and the black-robed figure had dropped like a stone. Nik wiped the blood off on his coat, and the other figures seemed to part like the sea for him, and whoever had managed to trail behind. It was as though whatever lived here wanted an audience. Or perhaps some amusement. Niklas didn't bother thinking about what lived above these stairs, because to think on it would do him absolutely no good at all.

He had to take things as they came, or he'd lose his mind obsessing about the 'what ifs', and 'what the fucks'.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You fuckers keep saying that, yet I'm still here, kicking ass and taking names." Heavy shoes carried him up the steps, which he trudged without a modicum of poise or cautious, deliberate quiet. What controlled this place knew they were here; Nik wasn't daft or naive enough to think it didn't.

"Hurry your asses up. I have a date with a heavenly body after all this is said and done, and a blunt waiting for me in Frankie's back pocket." He wasn't lying. Even now the red-haired woodland creature had it stashed in her jeans as she stalked around a web-covered labyrinth.

And surely if angel boy and himself made it out of this alive, they'd be pawing at each other in record time. This warranted an obnoxious, low, hitching laugh to escape from his lips. Mind in the gutter, because anything else would require him to think on darker, less fun things. Like possibly dying because of whatever was above them, or perhaps what may or may not have been following them.

When death was around every corner, the best things to focus on were beautiful. There wasn't a lot of beauty in the crappocalypse, but there were at least glimmers of it. In singing Rocky Horror tunes with his Stateswoman. In grinding Kayden's skull with his knuckles in the worst noogie ever. Of spending time smoking with James, and having full-force hugs. In sitting with Niylah and having an existential clusterfuck of a conversation. Even in having carried Penny's body away from more bullshit they had had to drudge through; he had felt accomplished in being the hero for all of 15 minutes or so.

But Niklas, Niklas was not a hero. He was a useful villain, and currently becoming a meat popsicle. At least, that's what he thought, anyways. But soon, he would be. He only hoped, in the small expanse of time he let himself brood, the stone walls around him crackling in cold as he took more heavy, obviously annoyed steps, that him being a hero meant others surviving this shitshow.

It would really fucking suck to be the last man standing. He was afraid of it.

Afraid, of being left behind. Of being alone with himself...the one thing he hated more than maggots, by a long shot.
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[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://i.redd.it/o6cwkyrbyvy01.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; background-attachment: fixed; padding:30px; [/class] [class=perty] background: #f6f3ea; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #342427; flex: 1; font-weight:400; border: 1px dotted #d68b5e; font-size:13px; [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 40%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #f6f3ea; padding: 10px; width:auto; [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px dotted #d68b5e; outline: 1px solid #fbf4f9; background-color: #fefefb; color: #3d1d22; line-height:1.7; letter-spacing: 1px; font-weight:400; padding:30px; max-height:700px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; border: 1px solid #024e4f; outline: 1px solid #fbf4f9; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#fbf4f9;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] background: #fefefb; text-align: left; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #342427; border: 1px dotted #d68b5e; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:800; background-color: #f6f3ea; clear:both; color: #c33a15; border: 1px dotted #d68b5e; box-sizing: border-box; font-size:26px; word-spacing:3px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:15px; width:100%; [/class] [class name=perty maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class]
[div class=whut][div class=biggie]
[div class=perty]

[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — the labyrinth
TAGS — Lakyr (Jamosa!)
BGM — Alanis Morisette - Hand in my Pocket
OOC — Trying to get us through quickly enough, please take as much time in this room as you want, and if the exit leads to like...more bullshit, go for it. Just don't wanna linger too long in spiderland thx lol
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[div class=speaks][div class=tops]

Franklin "Frankie" Austin Hibbard

[/div]
[div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]The red-haired bumpkin patted her back pocket, as if she were thinkin' 'bout ganking what she had promised to the man who had given her the sardines. It would surely go a long way to keeping her brains chilled, as chilled as her skin was. But it also slowed her reaction time, and a hyped-up-adrenaline-amped-Frankie could work far more explosive-bullet-magic than a mellow-yellow woodland critter. She wrinkled her nose and grasped the holt of her shotgun, flipping it back so it rested, butt-up at her shoulder.

Was she scared? Sure, she was terrified, but there wasn' much ta' do 'bout it 'cept barge on through and blow things apart. Whatever those 'things' might be, she didn't take the time to think on 'em. Mostly 'cause her nerves were so fried she could do little else than peer around at the spiderwebs and continuously wrinkle her nose. Spiders were things to smash with her steel-toed boots. Grinding them, they ain't never done nothing good unless they kept the mosquitos out. And they definitely weren't gonna' be doing that for the pair of 'em, nope.

"Yeah, I hear it too, nothing good," the man she didn't know too well had said, and she made a small huff like an irate squirrel.

"Yaw, we gonna' have'ta put on thems listnin' ears, doncha know...got some creepy crawlies done fuckin 'round," was all she managed to say before going deathly quiet. The red-haired girl squinted, narrowing her eyes, priming her ears to hear the smallest of sounds. Then she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath from her lungs, slow like the rolling mists in the morning comin' in over green, damp grass. In and out, eyes shut gentle-like, hearing.

Franklin was a hunter. Not in the same way that the man beside her was a hunter, which she didn't know about, but in the kind that shot big game and stalked her prey for hours. Frankie may have looked like a pissy half-pint squirrel with her head dipped in rust, but the girl did know her way about obliterating her targets. And catchin' em. Stalkin' em.

That's where she came from. She had come from some place in all that, and had become more than a tiny thing with tiny hands and a big old heart. The girl she liked, some pieces of shit had done her in. A bad time, a bad way; it had been a very remote, small village where everyone had known everything 'bout everybody. And when she had found out, she had blown a hole in the boys who had done it, and stalked the worst one for hours through the tall, thin, razor-edged pines.

Took him back to the village and hung him up like a warning. Little miss Frankie didn't fuck around.

And now, she clearly wasn't fucking around either, testing the air like a waterglider tested the water on its spindly little legs. Trying to hear for something horrible, so she could blast it and then try to get out of this webby trap.

"Thanks," the man she knew was called Jim...James, somethin', had said when she wrapped him up with one of her scarves.

"A-ain't nothin', Jimmy. Doncha' worry none. If ya' freeze then the n-nasties getcha'." This she said with closed eyes, which then shot open like the taut crack of a crystal-blue whip. She heard it, like a skitter-scatter. It was testing somethin', scritchy legs somewhere, and a lotta' them. They'd have to be careful.

"The poor bastards that came here before us. We could take a closer look at one of them, might find something out." Franklin scrunched her little nose up at this. She didn't wanna' be pokin' no dead thing. Pokin' dead things made ya' dead, and as awkward as she was, she wasn't dumb enough to be sticking weird dead things caught up in nasty webs with the butt-end of her shotgun.

Or her fingers for that matter. She shook her head, as if to say 'naw'. Which is exactly what she meant, but without the words to say it.

"S'comin', innit?" she asked out loud when the louder sound speckled her ears like a warning, hefting her shotgun, positioning so the kickback wouldn't leave her staggered. She was still small, and this was a bit of a feat, but Frankie knew her body. She knew her gun like an extension of her body. She knew her hands, and her limbs, and she knew what she could do, no matter how little she was.

As her back was turned from James, she hadn't noticed him getting ganked, but she had heard it almost instantly. She twisted in place as if on a spoke and reared up her gun, but he was already carving himself away, and a shot wouldn't sent shrapnel all up in his business.

"Aw, goddamn it..." she said, looking over the nasty that was clawing at him, tangling him all up. This was something she really didn't wanna' deal with, because she was goofy enough to know she'd also fall somewheres and get caught like a flopping fish in a net.

Seemingly able to take care of himself, Frankie still rushed forward and tried to pry James free with her tiny hands. Scraping like little claws, to help him get himself untangled. The shot he put was a great play, and the little munchkin was impressed.

"Y'all gon' be deaf a bit," with that, she let her crystal-blue gaze travel around the room. The bastards were moving, and Franklin didn't want to stick around to find out just how they had come back to life. All of this was beyond her. She didn't understand a lick of it, and nor did she think she needed to. In that moment, Frankie grabbed James' hand and flung him forwards. She was fast, fast on little feet, hitching around as maggoty, webbed bodies started prying themselves off the cobweb-covered walls.

"We gotta' git!" she spat, and hitched around a corner like she knew just where she was going. She kept her ears open, and heard the rustling sounds, using them to guide her to where not to go. She would be very wrong about this, not accounting for the fact that whatever was in this webby trap was smart enough to trick her. Bugs weren't smart, usually.

With her boots clopping on the sticky floors, she jerked the man behind her along with her, and then suddenly stopped. Frankie held up her little fist, and then made a flat hand. The skittering sound was all around them, and they were in a large room with thicker webs than they'd seen so far.

There was apparently a door at the far end, covered in webbing, but as it was most likely their way out...it would be guarded. Ain't no leaving until the nasty got its fill. Well, she hoped it was their way out. For all she knew it lead deeper into the labyrinth, or possibly at a dead end.

Who could say in this funhouse made of dead-shit, spider-shit, trussed up like a botched ball of yarn? She certainly couldn't.

Feeling like a trapped woodland creature, Frankin grit her teeth and jerked her hand away from dragging the poor man behind her. Just as she raised her shotgun, she saw a looming shape rear towards her. With gnashy appendages, a grit and spittle dripping maw, and long legs encased in black shell; it was a behemoth. Looked like a black widow on steroids, and it was none too happy with the pair of them running around.

The walls shifted, and bodies began to spill out, each clawing towards them slowly, dragging with nails on the sticky floor to wriggle themselves out of the webbing...and towards their prey.

"I don' fucked up," she growled, aiming her shotgun and sending a deafening blast that kissed shrapnel across the room. The ginormous spider looming over their head let out a scream louder than her shotgun ever could be, and she winced.

"M-make a path! There! GIT!" she roared to the man behind her, and set up another shot right at the thing's abdomen. They were squishy there, this she knew, and its guts started to pour as it loomed over her. It took a swipe and she nearly fell, but righted herself like the pro she was. She didn't have time to be falling, and getting stuck on the floor would spell her doom.

A crawling nasty grabbed her boot and she slammed her shoe down on its head, brain matter and sick splintering across the floor. She pumped her shotgun again; 3 shells per go. She'd cover James as best she could. As more web-covered nasties reached for her, she kicked as best she could and let out another shotgun blast, shattering a good lot of them with cast-off. It smelled worse than hacked-up fish left to rot in the summer sun.

"I h-hate the 'pocalypse!" she cried, stomping more of the disgusting creatures with her loud, sturdy boots. This was going to be hell in a handbasket.

But they'd have to make it out. They had to. Their lives depended on it.


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[Hell0NHighWater]

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He had found himself a place of retaliative solitude--to sit, think, reorganize and reevaluate all of the decisions he had made over the last month or so. Some hadn't been good, but he liked to believe that everything he had done had been in the interest of survival. So many people looked to him now. In a way he should have felt comforted that people seemed to listen and look to him for guidance. However, there would always be a part of him that thought he didn't deserve such a pedestal. It was the part of him that remembered the Emrys Contiello from two years prior: a young detective, a murderer, a man without holy poison coursing through his veins, a man who had never known death so personally. The lids of his eyes fell shut, his chest rose and deflated. It would be a lie to say this moment had completely relaxed him, but he no longer felt the intense need to scream. He had sent out the second group a mere handful of hours ago. Harry had assured him --in the round about sort of way-- that everyone would be fine. Even James had made the optimistic quip which had most likely been more for Alaska's peace of mind than his. Come morning, the harsh winters would erode away and they could all continue on their merry way. That was their hope, prayer even. The only thing anyone could do now was to have faith. His eyes opened, bricks of azure staring vacantly off toward the ceiling.
Faith.
That word had lost meaning to him a long time ago. The ceramic tile was stained in browns and yellows from years of water damage. It created an intricate but circularly simple design that reminded him of coffee stained paper. The chair groaned as it came off its front two legs and voiced another creak of protest as Rhys leaned back further. He found himself lost in a tangent of thought, balancing on a wooden chair that looked as if it could very well collapse under him at any second. He went to close his eyes again hoping to clear all of the thoughts from his mind, perhaps in pursuit of a nap, when a scream pierced through his synthetic sanctuary.

He was up faster than a spooked animal darting for cover. Rhys' left hand flew to his holster, lifting the strap, and pulled the gun free in a motion so automatic he almost didn't even notice he had done it. The weapon was raised before the wooden chair clattered to the ground. More screams echoed from rooms away. A cry cut short. His pulse lept. Boots thudded against the linoleum, dull and punctuated and all together too loud. Rhys was barely past the door frame when gunshots began to accent the chaos. Words were garbled in, fragments of pain and loss and suffering. Rhys stood stationary in the hall, staring towards the noise but not moving. Couldn't move. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anxiety that caused his muscles to tremble, but it had gripped him tight enough to render him immobile. At least for a moment----but all it took was a moment.

A wave of pain suddenly washed over him; it was exquisite, and debilitating even for a man who frequently found himself wounded in one way or another. Adrenaline surged just as his back slammed into the adjacent wall. His lungs deflated. His head spun. His wrist flicked up. Finger pulled the trigger. The gunshot was loud enough to make his ears ring, his bleary gaze finally managing to focus on the mangled corpse that fell to the tile like discarded trash. Wincing, Rhys gingerly pressed a couple of fingers to his side and frowned at the crimson that dyed his flesh. It took another second for that to register and a second more before he was actually moving around the twitching pile of limbs. He didn't know what was happening, but he could...feel the evil crowding in on him. It was suffocating. As if someone had pumped the room full of thick black smoke and told him to breathe without a mask.

"You're not dying here!"

His trajectory switched on the drop of a dime, moving towards the voices he recognized ---the only one he could pick apart in the chaos. Rhys would never forgive himself if he allowed Alaska to die. He had no doubt that she could handle herself fine, but there was something here...something wrong that wrenched his gut. Teeth clenched so tight a muscle in his jaw pulsed, ignoring the burn that began to eat away at his side. Rhys took a sharp turn around a corner, skidding to a stop as a body came flying inches from his person.

"Holy Mary-Mother of Fuck!"

His finger placed just a bit too much pressure on the trigger, sending off a round into the offending corpse that had nearly left him wishing he had another pair of pants. Rhys' gaze snapped towards the sound of foot steps, shoulders sagging just a bit in relief as the younger huntress entered his line of sight. ''They're all dead.... We have to get the fuck out of here.'' His lips parted, unsure of what to say to that. It hadn't even been that long since he had last seen Marcus and Chantel, but now they were all dead? Rhys shook his head slightly, forcing his gaze away from the crimson rims of his friend's irises. Perhaps if his mind hadn't been struggling to make sense of what was happening he would have voiced his question about her eye color. But, so much had happened in the blink of an eye...he should really have been used to the abruptness of change by now. Something wiggled across the floor, flecks of doughy white nestled within bits of mangled flesh, feverishly squirming into hunks of gore that painted the floor around them. The nausea suddenly clawed at his throat, and he tried to force down the bile, but it was too late. Chunks of partially digested food spewed out of his coughing, choking mouth. His stomach kept on contracting violently and forcing everything up and out. His face was white and dripping bile, sweat, and tears. He lurched forward, swaying for a second as he tried to keep himself upright. The pungent stench invaded his nostrils and he heaved even though there was nothing left to go. It took him longer than he would have liked to admit to stand back up again and face her.

"Sorry...I...the bugs...."

Rhys winced and shifted awkwardly, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth. He realized now wasn't the time to be apologizing about a natural reaction, but at the same time he hadn't vomited over a corpse since his first case in the homicide unit. It was a personal embarrassment, not that he thought Alaska would understand why. "Yeah, we should...probably leave."
From down the hall something slid against the tile, squeaking in the way that flesh would squeak against a hard surface. It was a sound that made him think of a giant severed arm pulling itself across a floor, riddled with maggots, clumps of fresh blood under fingernails that were peeled back---
His body lurched again, threatening to dry heave at the mental picture. He wanted out. He wanted out this instant.
Rhys didn't say anything as he moved, clasping Alaska's wrist as he lead the way back towards the hanger the cars had been kept in. He was trying not to look around, only pausing long enough to put down a corpse that lumbered in their path.

✝ ✝ ✝​

His throat still felt sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and the taste of vomit still lingered. He had one hand clasped on the wheel and another curled around the burning wound in his side, wishing for a drink of water. Rhys wasn't sure how long they had been driving at this point. Harry had put the Cadillac in the lower bay of the RV earlier that day and Rhys was beyond grateful for that forward thinking. Which, in all honesty, was something he never expected from the southerner.

"Snowfall, would you do me a solid? See if there's any water in one of those cabinets?" Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part that someone would have at least been a mother hen enough to start squirreling away supplies. Even if there wasn't water....maybe Kayden had hidden the alcohol in one of those compartments. Anything would do really, just so long as he could get this repulsive after taste out of his mouth. His breath probably didn't smell all that wonderful either. He muffled a groan, watching the whirlwind of white funnel around them. It was hard to tell if he was driving on road anymore. The whole RV jostled every couple of seconds, hitting what he hoped were bumps and not frozen corpses riddled with maggots---
"Stop thinking about it....you fuckin' masochist." He grunted to himself, half turning in his seat to search the glove compartment. Which...didn't yield much besides a couple of junk papers. A frustrated sigh bubbled out of his throat, returning his attention back to whatever direction he was driving. He didn't know exactly where the Monolith was. Allea had given Harry some sort of charm to track her location, which he gathered seemed to be the same way she had tracked down that raider camp. Rhys wasn't clear on the details. No one explained it to him and he hadn't really thought to ask. But did they have a handy dandy pathfinder? Nope. If he had been smarter he might have asked Reverie for one, but she seemed....less than enthused with him at the moment. There was a presence that nudged at his leg followed by a sharp whine. Rhys took his eyes off the road for a split second, looking at the German Shepard that leaned his entire body weight onto his right leg.

"Don't worry, buddy, they're fine." He wasn't sure if he was saying it for his own benefit or the dog's. More than likely it was his own. He needed them all to be okay, he'd never forgive himself if they weren't. If Nik wasn't...It was Rhys' own hubris that put them all in danger to begin with. If he hadn't been so set on splitting everyone up then he might not have this weight on his shoulders. Looking back though, was there any other way to have handled it? What was done was done and he would have to bare the consequences of his actions. He made a vow to himself then, that he wouldn't make any decisions without consulting the rest of the group first. It would be messy at times, but...that's what families did; they did things together.

Woofus cocked his head to the side, emulating another whine that sounded more disbelieving than he would have liked, "Hey, don't give me that attitude. I'm trying my fucking best here."
Woofus snorted.
His hand tightened around the steering wheel slightly, "What? You got a problem?"
There was a low rumble before Woofus let out a loud bark. The corner of Rhys' mouth cracked into a weary smile, "Oh yeah? That it huh? Well if you don't like it how about you drive?" He gave the dog a quick glance, watching as the canine pulled himself up into the passengers seat. He pawed at the window before turning back to Rhys, panting. The brunet snorted, fiddling with the air vents in between looking at the white sheet of air ahead of them. It was like driving through a cloud, zero visibility, just an endless blanket of white snow. "It's too cold to roll the window down, bud."

Rhys turned, grimacing against the burn in his side as he tried to see where Alaska had gone off to, "Snowfall, did you have any luck finding---FUCK!!"

He had seconds to slam on the breaks, the RV skidded, the back end fishtailing as he tried desperately to keep the vehicle from tipping. Tires screeched, the smell of burning rubber enveloped the air. His heart flung itself into his throat, jaw clenched as his body locked into place. Then everything stopped. Rhys took a sharp breath, ignoring the ache in his side as he did so, slowly detaching himself from the steering wheel. Putting the RV into park, he let out another ragged breath before taking a look at Woofus. The dog had nuzzled himself under the glove compartment, thankfully unhurt. His ice blue eyes cut to the outline of the jeep he had almost rammed into. The irritation he felt about someone's poor choice of parking vanished as soon as he realized where they had stopped. Leaning forward, Rhys stared up at the ominous shadow that cut through the blinding gales of snow. The monolith.
It was a lot taller than he thought it would be. It also felt...evil. That same sort of black cloud evil that had threatened to choke him at McGuire, the same sort of evil that held him and his friends hostage in that nightmare house. It attracted him like a magnet, an opposite to whatever force he held within himself. Rhys was slow to stand, but quicker to turn towards the back of the vehicle, "Alaska? Are you alright?"

He flashed her a mutely apologetic smile, "We, uh, made it." [/div][/div] [div class="tabimg basicstabpic"] [div class="home basicshome"]RHYS[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]