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Fantasy The Mystery of Greyport - IC (Open)

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Lycanious

Lycanious

Junior Member
Roleplay Availability
I am currently recruiting for a roleplay.
Roleplay Type(s)
  1. One on One
  2. Group



Oscar Cecil Corbin.





































  • mood



    Tense, tired
















It was happening again.

There was some small part of Oscar that had wanted to talk about it with someone. As to who that was exactly rarely deviated from the one option it had been for over a century. But the wiry old twit had been poorly as of late, and focused on his latest experiment with such a ferocity of devotion to it that Oscar was reluctant to break any of the being's concentration beyond a sharp reminder for when the sunlight was expected to peek back through the curtains of their shared home.

His roommate, Axel, would solve whatever self-proclaimed problem he was looking into eventually. Probably. Maybe. It was either that or he'd collapse onto the floor after three weeks of no fresh blood coursing through his haunted remains, and Oscar would get a chance to tidy up the damn workstation for once before tossing the man over his shoulder and lugging him over to the nearest Hidden medical specialist to be rejuvenated.

Maybe then, Oscar could bring up the morbid painting he'd just awoken to. Maybe then he could mention that the trembling itch in his hands to fashion more of them had returned, after several decades of believing himself to be finally free of the otherworldly compulsion. He could brainstorm with the man over what he thought it meant. Axel wouldn't have any assured answers. Neither of them ever really did when it came to the odd afflictions they had been born with. But at least Axel would listen.

You could talk to me about it. I could listen. Came a second voice to echo about in his skull. Oscar emitted an audible sigh in response. As usual he didn't try to engage with the voice, even when it projected a sense of disappointment before finally fading back to the deep dark crevices of his mind once more. To respond to it was to acknowledge it, and after a lifetime of trying to masquerade as a relatively stable individual Oscar wasn't about to change the habit any time soon.

As part of that, he had decided to go for a walk. And he'd taken one of the dogs, Cordelia, as a vague excuse for it. It wasn't always that Oscar needed a reason to go outside in the wee hours of the morning. In fact when you were a sleep-deprived werewolf with your equally sleep-adverse vampire for a roommate it was almost expected that at least one of them would be out and about at this time of night. But the excited trotting of the borzoi at his side made him feel like he had some vague purpose for it beyond the poor attempt to bury his worries for a few hours.

Green eyes behind round-rimmed glasses squinted down at the watch upon his wrist. 3:14 am. Few would be outside this late at night. And yet, to the same token, in a city like Greyport it was difficult to ever assume that you were truly on your lonesome. Oscar twitched his head, eyes scanning from side to side and ears pricked, picking up the faint rustle of clothes moving and footsteps in the distance as others passed by on the streets parallel to his own.

He inhaled deeply, inhuman senses alerting him to the corpse-like stench of a vampire in the adjacent alleyway and the smoky scent of what was likely a demon of some description somewhere in the area. Both worth noting. But nothing that leapt out at Oscar as immediately alarming even if his grip did tighten a little on the support cane he held at his side as he passed on by the alleyway. A brief glance was made in its direction. The dim glow of a cigarette and the pale visage of the vampire smoking it met his gaze, but the two merely nodded in greeting at each other before Oscar had passed back out of sight. Oscar wasn't a Grimclaw, and the vampire wasn't a Ravenwood. It was a shared relief for sure.

Instead, the portly man continued his slow amble towards The Literary Brew and Cafe Shop. It was one of the few locations Oscar tended to haunt in his spare time, and the only one that he suspected would be open at this hour without having to deal with the noise of the local pubs or bars. He wasn't entirely sure what the owner's policy on pets was, but he suspected they'd at least be fine with him taking a seat at one of the outdoor tables. He'd see if he could also get Cordelia a few dog biscuits or similar for her to munch on while he drank his cup of tea and pondered what next to do about the latest little incident that he had just created.

Abruptly, Cordelia tensed as they both rounded the corner. Oscar likewise felt a wave of anxiety suddenly prickle at his form, causing the hair at the back of his neck to stand up and his ears to strain. He shifted from pensive concerns to alertness, checking his surroundings once more, before his eyes trailed down to the jittery dog at his side. "What is it?" He asked her, a frown etching onto his features. She turned to him with a look of concern, before her snout pointed itself back towards the cafe. Oscar took a few more tentative steps forward, trying to figure out the source of the sudden unease. Was it coming from the street? Or the building before him?

As he approached the front door, he realised it was the latter. Though the warm lighting of the cafe remained as bright as ever and cast a pleasant aura of warmth against the chill of the early morning, it took Oscar a moment to realise that a few had short-circuited near the window of the cafe. One of them flickered as he neared, casting a split-second glance over upturned tables and the remains of several ceramic cups and saucers shattered upon the floor. In the corner, pressed against the wall, was a large mass crumpled against it.

Shit.

"Shaldrani?!" Oscar hissed, after a cursory scan of the interior of the cafe convinced him that it was otherwise unoccupied. It looked as if the mass had twitched at the sound of his voice, though it was hard to tell in the dimmed lighting. Cordelia skittered ahead as he approached, whimpering, as Oscar hooked the arm of his cane over an arm and started to fish out his phone. It took a moment for him to fumble over the controls, but eventually he remembered how to turn on the torch as he'd been shown and cast it over the debris before him.

"Bloody hell...what happened? Do you need a doctor?" He asked the mass as he shone the light into the eyes of one head, then into the other to check the response. Could a two headed dragon still function with only one head currently conscious? It looked as if the right-hand one was still knocked out. Oscar's light then trailed along to the floor once more, trying to piece together the puzzle of the scene before him before Shaldrani answered him.

Across the floor was a sludgy smear of a viscous fluid. It looked to be black at first, like ink, but when Oscar shone the light of his phone upon it then it took upon an iridescent, glistening hue. His immediate thought was that of a demon's ichor, comparable to the lava-like sludge of the one who ran the bakery across the road or the actual ink that constantly seemed to seep from the fingertips of the local librarian. An attack by one wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. But why would they want to go for a dragon of all beings? One that, Oscar was fairly certain, he had never even seen outside of the premises of 24/7 coffee shop they owned.

Oscar continued to survey his surroundings for a few breaths, finding little else, but noting briefly that a security camera sat in the far corner of the store. Judging from the amount of abandoned utensils and broken ceramics littering the floor there had been others in the shop with Shaldrani that had fled the scene. He could only hope that they'd all been Hidden of some description, otherwise...

A flutter of wings caught his attention, and Oscar turned to glance back towards the entrance door that he'd left propped open. In its frame stood a seemingly ordinary pigeon, head cocked to the side with a curious expression. It was only when he saw the brief glint of glowing, white light flash from said eyes did he register that the animal was a Watcher for the City Watch, just before the bird took to the sky once more.

"You're going to have to shift back to human, if you can." Oscar then grunted. With verbal protest he gripped onto his cane and gingerly eased himself down into a more hunched position, ignoring the ebbing pain in his hip in favour of patting his hand sharply at one of the muzzles of the coffee-coloured dragon before him in the hopes of snapping them into focus. "City Watch is going to be here any minute. And you know they're going to start hounding you on any possible human sightings before they actually give a shit about what happened here."


































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡


Oscar Cecil Corbin​


It was happening again.

There was some small part of Oscar that had wanted to talk about it with someone. As to who that was exactly rarely deviated from the one option it had been for over a century. But the wiry old twit had been poorly as of late, and focused on his latest experiment with such a ferocity of devotion to it that Oscar was reluctant to break any of the being's concentration beyond a sharp reminder for when the sunlight was expected to peek back through the curtains of their shared home.

His roommate, Axel, would solve whatever self-proclaimed problem he was looking into eventually. Probably. Maybe. It was either that or he'd collapse onto the floor after three weeks of no fresh blood coursing through his haunted remains, and Oscar would get a chance to tidy up the damn workstation for once before tossing the man over his shoulder and lugging him over to the nearest Hidden medical specialist to be rejuvenated.

Maybe then, Oscar could bring up the morbid painting he'd just awoken to. Maybe then he could mention that the trembling itch in his hands to fashion more of them had returned, after several decades of believing himself to be finally free of the otherworldly compulsion. He could brainstorm with the man over what he thought it meant. Axel wouldn't have any assured answers. Neither of them ever really did when it came to the odd afflictions they had been born with. But at least Axel would listen.

You could talk to me about it. I could listen. Came a second voice to echo about in his skull. Oscar emitted an audible sigh in response. As usual he didn't try to engage with the voice, even when it projected a sense of disappointment before finally fading back to the deep dark crevices of his mind once more. To respond to it was to acknowledge it, and after a lifetime of trying to masquerade as a relatively stable individual Oscar wasn't about to change the habit any time soon.

As part of that, he had decided to go for a walk. And he'd taken one of the dogs, Cordelia, as a vague excuse for it. It wasn't always that Oscar needed a reason to go outside in the wee hours of the morning. In fact when you were a sleep-deprived werewolf with your equally sleep-adverse vampire for a roommate it was almost expected that at least one of them would be out and about at this time of night. But the excited trotting of the borzoi at his side made him feel like he had some vague purpose for it beyond the poor attempt to bury his worries for a few hours.

Green eyes behind round-rimmed glasses squinted down at the watch upon his wrist. 3:14 am. Few would be outside this late at night. And yet, to the same token, in a city like Greyport it was difficult to ever assume that you were truly on your lonesome. Oscar twitched his head, eyes scanning from side to side and ears pricked, picking up the faint rustle of clothes moving and footsteps in the distance as others passed by on the streets parallel to his own.

He inhaled deeply, inhuman senses alerting him to the corpse-like stench of a vampire in the adjacent alleyway and the smoky scent of what was likely a demon of some description somewhere in the area. Both worth noting. But nothing that leapt out at Oscar as immediately alarming even if his grip did tighten a little on the support cane he held at his side as he passed on by the alleyway. A brief glance was made in its direction. The dim glow of a cigarette and the pale visage of the vampire smoking it met his gaze, but the two merely nodded in greeting at each other before Oscar had passed back out of sight. Oscar wasn't a Grimclaw, and the vampire wasn't a Ravenwood. It was a shared relief for sure.

Instead, the portly man continued his slow amble towards The Literary Brew and Cafe Shop. It was one of the few locations Oscar tended to haunt in his spare time, and the only one that he suspected would be open at this hour without having to deal with the noise of the local pubs or bars. He wasn't entirely sure what the owner's policy on pets was, but he suspected they'd at least be fine with him taking a seat at one of the outdoor tables. He'd see if he could also get Cordelia a few dog biscuits or similar for her to munch on while he drank his cup of tea and pondered what next to do about the latest little incident that he had just created.

Abruptly, Cordelia tensed as they both rounded the corner. Oscar likewise felt a wave of anxiety suddenly prickle at his form, causing the hair at the back of his neck to stand up and his ears to strain. He shifted from pensive concerns to alertness, checking his surroundings once more, before his eyes trailed down to the jittery dog at his side. "What is it?" He asked her, a frown etching onto his features. She turned to him with a look of concern, before her snout pointed itself back towards the cafe. Oscar took a few more tentative steps forward, trying to figure out the source of the sudden unease. Was it coming from the street? Or the building before him?

As he approached the front door, he realised it was the latter. Though the warm lighting of the cafe remained as bright as ever and cast a pleasant aura of warmth against the chill of the early morning, it took Oscar a moment to realise that a few had short-circuited near the window of the cafe. One of them flickered as he neared, casting a split-second glance over upturned tables and the remains of several ceramic cups and saucers shattered upon the floor. In the corner, pressed against the wall, was a large mass crumpled against it.

Shit.

"Shaldrani?!" Oscar hissed, after a cursory scan of the interior of the cafe convinced him that it was otherwise unoccupied. It looked as if the mass had twitched at the sound of his voice, though it was hard to tell in the dimmed lighting. Cordelia skittered ahead as he approached, whimpering, as Oscar hooked the arm of his cane over an arm and started to fish out his phone. It took a moment for him to fumble over the controls, but eventually he remembered how to turn on the torch as he'd been shown and cast it over the debris before him.

"Bloody hell...what happened? Do you need a doctor?" He asked the mass as he shone the light into the eyes of one head, then into the other to check the response. Could a two headed dragon still function with only one head currently conscious? It looked as if the right-hand one was still knocked out. Oscar's light then trailed along to the floor once more, trying to piece together the puzzle of the scene before him before Shaldrani answered him.

Across the floor was a sludgy smear of a viscous fluid. It looked to be black at first, like ink, but when Oscar shone the light of his phone upon it then it took upon an iridescent, glistening hue. His immediate thought was that of a demon's ichor, comparable to the lava-like sludge of the one who ran the bakery across the road or the actual ink that constantly seemed to seep from the fingertips of the local librarian. An attack by one wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. But why would they want to go for a dragon of all beings? One that, Oscar was fairly certain, he had never even seen outside of the premises of 24/7 coffee shop they owned.

Oscar continued to survey his surroundings for a few breaths, finding little else, but noting briefly that a security camera sat in the far corner of the store. Judging from the amount of abandoned utensils and broken ceramics littering the floor there had been others in the shop with Shaldrani that had fled the scene. He could only hope that they'd all been Hidden of some description, otherwise...

A flutter of wings caught his attention, and Oscar turned to glance back towards the entrance door that he'd left propped open. In its frame stood a seemingly ordinary pigeon, head cocked to the side with a curious expression. It was only when he saw the brief glint of glowing, white light flash from said eyes did he register that the animal was a Watcher for the City Watch, just before the bird took to the sky once more.

"You're going to have to shift back to human, if you can." Oscar then grunted. With verbal protest he gripped onto his cane and gingerly eased himself down into a more hunched position, ignoring the ebbing pain in his hip in favour of patting his hand sharply at one of the muzzles of the coffee-coloured dragon before him in the hopes of snapping them into focus. "City Watch is going to be here any minute. And you know they're going to start hounding you on any possible human sightings before they actually give a shit about what happened here."​
 
Last edited:











"Holy…shit…"












a state of confusion










terrified










What just happened?










healthy, pulse elevated

















Virgil Cerullo



he/him







now playing












  • h






(click link!)







Virgil hadn’t been able to sleep all night. He’s not sure what it was, but he’d felt some sort of odd restlessness for a few hours now. Many thoughts played in his head- from trivial thoughts about what he wanted to cook for dinner the next day, to how he felt he didn’t have any direction in life. All of it collected at the bottom like the poorly-mixed instant espresso he found himself drinking most mornings. So he decided to do what he did most nights- take a long, long walk to tire himself out. It had been midnight when he started walking, but no matter how long or how far he walked, he didn’t seem to fall tired. At some point, he managed to pass by a welcome sign into the next town. He didn’t bother to read it.
Now, he wanders around the streets of this town he managed to wander into, and one thing he does notice is how the vibe is completely different from the one he just moved to last week. It seems almost darker somehow- more gray- and he has the overwhelmingly increasing feeling that he’s being watched.
He takes note, as he wanders, of a rather stout man with glasses and a dog wandering the streets as well. Virgil’s eyebrow arches, and he has to stop himself from approaching the man and asking what he was doing up this late. Well- what am I doing up this late? Instead, he softly follows. Perhaps there would be a bench where he could rest nearby- while his mind is no longer tired, his feet are screaming for him to take a rest.
Ugh. What is this fucking feeling?
He then looks up from the ground as the dog up ahead starts to grow restless out of the corner of his eye. A feeling of concern washes over him- he knew animals had the weirdest of sixth senses- and he hangs back as the man and his dog approach some sort of a cafe. Virgil is grateful that he put in new contacts before his walk- because upon peering ahead, he notices quite a bit of disarray inside. Quietly, he approaches, and peers into the window.
The man he’d been following seems to be calling as he enters the building, and Virgil’s eyes track just where he seems to be going. And when his eyes get there, his jaw drops.
What….. What the ever-loving fresh fuck is that?!





♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡



Virgil hadn’t been able to sleep all night. He’s not sure what it was, but he’d felt some sort of odd restlessness for a few hours now. Many thoughts played in his head- from trivial thoughts about what he wanted to cook for dinner the next day, to how he felt he didn’t have any direction in life. All of it collected at the bottom like the poorly-mixed instant espresso he found himself drinking most mornings. So he decided to do what he did most nights- take a long, long walk to tire himself out. It had been midnight when he started walking, but no matter how long or how far he walked, he didn’t seem to fall tired. At some point, he managed to pass by a welcome sign into the next town. He didn’t bother to read it.
Now, he wanders around the streets of this town he managed to wander into, and one thing he does notice is how the vibe is completely different from the one he just moved to last week. It seems almost darker somehow- more gray- and he has the overwhelmingly increasing feeling that he’s being watched.
He takes note, as he wanders, of a rather stout man with glasses and a dog wandering the streets as well. Virgil’s eyebrow arches, and he has to stop himself from approaching the man and asking what he was doing up this late. Well- what am I doing up this late? Instead, he softly follows. Perhaps there would be a bench where he could rest nearby- while his mind is no longer tired, his feet are screaming for him to take a rest.
Ugh. What is this fucking feeling?
He then looks up from the ground as the dog up ahead starts to grow restless out of the corner of his eye. A feeling of concern washes over him- he knew animals had the weirdest of sixth senses- and he hangs back as the man and his dog approach some sort of a cafe. Virgil is grateful that he put in new contacts before his walk- because upon peering ahead, he notices quite a bit of disarray inside. Quietly, he approaches, and peers into the window.
The man he’d been following seems to be calling as he enters the building, and Virgil’s eyes track just where he seems to be going. And when his eyes get there, his jaw drops.
What….. What the ever-loving fresh fuck is that?!
 



Rowan Maplewood.





































  • mood



    Shopping for ingredients
















Even in the wee hours of the morning, the Stormwatch Docks always had at least a little hustle and bustle of people sitting out by the shoreline or crawling through the various pubs and bars that lined across it. Hidden and human alike would often make the best of Greyport City's unusual trends in opening hours, even with the threat of an approach storm looming overhead from the sea beside them.

Various salespersons had set up a temporary shop along the wooden piers that jutted out into the sea, their wares ranging from fresh catches of fish of the night before, to carefully curated collections of shells from walks along the beach, to assorted junk that had likely been fished out of the ocean mere moments before setting up store. Such a sight was not an unusual one by any means, but news of the Stormbringer crew's arrival certainly brought out a larger crowd than was typical of the usual midnight lurkers of the area.

A short figure dressed in a simple, black jumper and purple pants poised pensively near the stairs leading up to the piers, hand clenched to their chin deep in thought as they perused the items being presented to them. The man opposite of them was starting to look increasingly agitated with their presence, arms crossed and his foot beginning to tap in an impatient rhythm.

"Are you sure there's absolutely nothing you can use here?" He asked, a huff of irritation following the question. "I'm sure we could find something."

An unconvinced hum emitted from the figure still inspecting his wares. They glanced up to meet his gaze, briefly running a delicately-manicured and painted set of nails through a wild tuft of sapphire-hued hair before shaking their head in response. "Sorry, Dimos. It's just I don't think any of these are *actually* the plants that you have them listed as."

"You could buy this, it's wolfsbane. You use a lot of that, right?"

"This is sea lavender."

"Yeah, yeah. That's what the werewolves call it but."

Rowan gave him a look over the top of their glasses, eventually sighing and shaking their head. "I think I'll pass this time. You're lucky I haven't made you pay for damages to my cauldrons."

"I told you before, I don't know how the Hemlock got mixed in with the Yarrow-"

"Have a good night, Dimos." Sighed the witch, to which her partner in conversation gave a defeated roll of the shoulders before turning to the next approaching person that had grabbed his attention. Rowan shook their head in response, but continued their slow wander up the stairs in search of the next stall to vie for their interest. A faint air of frustration was perhaps evident beneath the façade of cool indifference as they sauntered along the pier. Supplies had been delayed in shipping, again, for their store. It would be full moon tomorrow, the height of Rowan's potion crafting powers, and they'd have a mere third of the ingredients that they wanted to utilise on the night at best.

Coming to the docks was so far proving to have been a fruitless endeavour, and eventually Rowan sighed and instead turned to slump against a bit of wooden railing that snaked along the side facing out towards the ocean. Dark eyes drifted out towards the ocean, following the line of sight of many others that had lined up along the shore to watch the grand silhouette of the rapidly approaching ship of the Stormbringer Smugglers. Even to the humans, the ship's regularly scheduled arrivals was something of a novelty to witness. Though Rowan suspected that many of them simply assumed it was a part of the city's history that had kept up a tradition of visiting for hundreds of years. Even the more squeaky-clean, law abiding citizens of the Hidden population seemed to be blissfully unaware of the lucrative, yet shady dealings and offers the famed pirate ship tended to bring ashore.

Case in point, a demon of some vague familiarity and a clear purpose for being there had joined them along the pier. Rowan glanced aside, watching as the gaunt being drew a long cigarette holder from the inner pocket of their suit jacket and proceeded to engulf a pointy, ink-stained nail in a halo of flames in order to light it. They then leaned forward, posing in a manner that Rowan was entirely convinced was performative less so than their natural stance as they started to breath small curls of smoke into the air. An air of unease settled into their features, honey-hued eyes focused intently on the rapidly approaching ship.

"You know, I think this is the first time I've seen you outside of the library Vaz." Mused Rowan, as they wrinkled their nose and waved away a few wisps of smoke that had wafted over to them. The taller being's chin tilted, slightly, tired eyes drifting momentarily from The Stormbringer to acknowledge the witch beside them.

"I have important business to conduct." Vaz sniffed, after some pause for thought.

"Where's your 'business partner' then?"

"Busy." Replied the demon, the faint frown upon their face deepening as their eyes drifted back to watching the Stormbringer ship as it now started to pull in to the docks. Their voice held a tone laced with enough irritability that Rowan decided to take the hint and stop asking them questions, instead easing away from the wooden railing to approach and wait for the newly-arrived ship to secure itself to the side of the docks.

Upon approach, Rowan was greeted by a well-toned woman in an eyepatch who leapt down from the edge of the ship and started to fasten some rope around a large pole beside them. She gave only a faint grunt of acknowledgement of Rowan's presence until the witch spoke to her, which at least prompted a momentarily twitch of her head towards them.

"Oh, s'you. If you're looking for herbs and shit we got a bunch of 'em in the back." The woman declared, jabbing a thumb behind her at the ship as people started to both wander aboard or step down onto the pier from it with items in tow. Rowan opened their mouth, ready to thank her, only for an abrupt bout of commotion on the ship to interrupt the pair of them.

Something small, and swift, had darted out from the crowd of people while they had conversed and leapt up an impressive height onto the deck of the ship. It was hard for Rowan to discern what exactly it was at first, spying only a quick flutter of a dark cloak and a strange, chittering sound that had followed the movement. Immediately several crew members looked up from their work and surged towards the sudden new presence, making a grab for it in the same way one would try to contain an escaped dog that had gotten loose. Said creature was fast, though, swerving and darting around them as it seemingly made a beeline for something that had grabbed its attention.

Within moments the creature had snatched what looked to be a small item wrapped in cloth into its mouth from the mess of the cargo, a victorious chittering sound following it. Before Rowan had time to guess what said object might of been, a set of large, moth-like wings suddenly flared out from either side of the cloak. The creature launched into the air with them, nearly clearing the ship entirely, if not for one of the crew members managing to latch his hand around the bottom edge of the wing and yank it downwards in an attempt to ground the creature once more.

Muffled cries of pain issued from the creature, but it remained undeterred as it squirmed and kicked at the hand holding onto it until, finally, it pulled away from its would-be captor and landed on the wooden planks of the pier with a loud thud. Wings flared once more, beating rapidly, but a now sizable chunk missing from one of them prevented the creature from being airborne again.

For a split second the creature turned, and Rowan saw a pair of gleaming, red, pupil-less eyes gawking over the ship from behind the cloak. If they didn't know any better, they'd say that it almost looked stunned, for just a second. As if questioning what had just happened. It was quick to move once more however as someone else decided to lunge for it, a muffled screech escaping it before it started to scramble forward once more on all-fours. Or, perhaps, all-sixes would be a more accurate description. Rowan could swear they could see six limbs in total scuttling out from the mess as the creature started to flee on foot back towards the city.

"......Well. That sucks, for you." Rowan eventually hummed, their attention slowly drifting back towards the pirate beside her with a quirked eyebrow once the shock had worn off enough to do-so. "You uh, going to help get it back?" She then wondered, to which Aster snorted and waved her hand in a dismissive manner.

"Nah, ain't my shit. Ain't my job." She grunted in response. "And I got some people I'm supposed to be meeting here in a bit." The pirate waved their hand towards several people that had now started to hurry after the strange creature down the path that lead back towards the city. "Besides, I give the bloody thing ten minutes tops before either me crew gets 'em or City Watch does."

A singular eye flickered back towards the small crowd of people lingering beside the pair, until the woman placed her fingers to her lips and emitted a sharp whistle to snap their attentions in her direction once more. "Alright! Enough gawking at some performance escape artist, aye? Whose here to sell some shit before the sun comes up?"

































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡


Rowan Maplewood​

Even in the wee hours of the morning, the Stormwatch Docks always had at least a little hustle and bustle of people sitting out by the shoreline or crawling through the various pubs and bars that lined across it. Hidden and human alike would often make the best of Greyport City's unusual trends in opening hours, even with the threat of an approach storm looming overhead from the sea beside them.

Various salespersons had set up a temporary shop along the wooden piers that jutted out into the sea, their wares ranging from fresh catches of fish of the night before, to carefully curated collections of shells from walks along the beach, to assorted junk that had likely been fished out of the ocean mere moments before setting up store. Such a sight was not an unusual one by any means, but news of the Stormbringer crew's arrival certainly brought out a larger crowd than was typical of the usual midnight lurkers of the area.

A short figure dressed in a simple, black jumper and purple pants poised pensively near the stairs leading up to the piers, hand clenched to their chin deep in thought as they perused the items being presented to them. The man opposite of them was starting to look increasingly agitated with their presence, arms crossed and his foot beginning to tap in an impatient rhythm.

"Are you sure there's absolutely nothing you can use here?" He asked, a huff of irritation following the question. "I'm sure we could find something."

An unconvinced hum emitted from the figure still inspecting his wares. They glanced up to meet his gaze, briefly running a delicately-manicured and painted set of nails through a wild tuft of sapphire-hued hair before shaking their head in response. "Sorry, Dimos. It's just I don't think any of these are *actually* the plants that you have them listed as."

"You could buy this, it's wolfsbane. You use a lot of that, right?"

"This is sea lavender."

"Yeah, yeah. That's what the werewolves call it but."

Rowan gave him a look over the top of their glasses, eventually sighing and shaking their head. "I think I'll pass this time. You're lucky I haven't made you pay for damages to my cauldrons."

"I told you before, I don't know how the Hemlock got mixed in with the Yarrow-"

"Have a good night, Dimos." Sighed the witch, to which her partner in conversation gave a defeated roll of the shoulders before turning to the next approaching person that had grabbed his attention. Rowan shook their head in response, but continued their slow wander up the stairs in search of the next stall to vie for their interest. A faint air of frustration was perhaps evident beneath the façade of cool indifference as they sauntered along the pier. Supplies had been delayed in shipping, again, for their store. It would be full moon tomorrow, the height of Rowan's potion crafting powers, and they'd have a mere third of the ingredients that they wanted to utilise on the night at best.

Coming to the docks was so far proving to have been a fruitless endeavour, and eventually Rowan sighed and instead turned to slump against a bit of wooden railing that snaked along the side facing out towards the ocean. Dark eyes drifted out towards the ocean, following the line of sight of many others that had lined up along the shore to watch the grand silhouette of the rapidly approaching ship of the Stormbringer Smugglers. Even to the humans, the ship's regularly scheduled arrivals was something of a novelty to witness. Though Rowan suspected that many of them simply assumed it was a part of the city's history that had kept up a tradition of visiting for hundreds of years. Even the more squeaky-clean, law abiding citizens of the Hidden population seemed to be blissfully unaware of the lucrative, yet shady dealings and offers the famed pirate ship tended to bring ashore.

Case in point, a demon of some vague familiarity and a clear purpose for being there had joined them along the pier. Rowan glanced aside, watching as the gaunt being drew a long cigarette holder from the inner pocket of their suit jacket and proceeded to engulf a pointy, ink-stained nail in a halo of flames in order to light it. They then leaned forward, posing in a manner that Rowan was entirely convinced was performative less so than their natural stance as they started to breath small curls of smoke into the air. An air of unease settled into their features, honey-hued eyes focused intently on the rapidly approaching ship.

"You know, I think this is the first time I've seen you outside of the library Vaz." Mused Rowan, as they wrinkled their nose and waved away a few wisps of smoke that had wafted over to them. The taller being's chin tilted, slightly, tired eyes drifting momentarily from The Stormbringer to acknowledge the witch beside them.

"I have important business to conduct." Vaz sniffed, after some pause for thought.

"Where's your 'business partner' then?"

"Busy." Replied the demon, the faint frown upon their face deepening as their eyes drifted back to watching the Stormbringer ship as it now started to pull in to the docks. Their voice held a tone laced with enough irritability that Rowan decided to take the hint and stop asking them questions, instead easing away from the wooden railing to approach and wait for the newly-arrived ship to secure itself to the side of the docks.

Upon approach, Rowan was greeted by a well-toned woman in an eyepatch who leapt down from the edge of the ship and started to fasten some rope around a large pole beside them. She gave only a faint grunt of acknowledgement of Rowan's presence until the witch spoke to her, which at least prompted a momentarily twitch of her head towards them.

"Oh, s'you. If you're looking for herbs and shit we got a bunch of 'em in the back." The woman declared, jabbing a thumb behind her at the ship as people started to both wander aboard or step down onto the pier from it with items in tow. Rowan opened their mouth, ready to thank her, only for an abrupt bout of commotion on the ship to interrupt the pair of them.

Something small, and swift, had darted out from the crowd of people while they had conversed and leapt up an impressive height onto the deck of the ship. It was hard for Rowan to discern what exactly it was at first, spying only a quick flutter of a dark cloak and a strange, chittering sound that had followed the movement. Immediately several crew members looked up from their work and surged towards the sudden new presence, making a grab for it in the same way one would try to contain an escaped dog that had gotten loose. Said creature was fast, though, swerving and darting around them as it seemingly made a beeline for something that had grabbed its attention.

Within moments the creature had snatched what looked to be a small item wrapped in cloth into its mouth from the mess of the cargo, a victorious chittering sound following it. Before Rowan had time to guess what said object might of been, a set of large, moth-like wings suddenly flared out from either side of the cloak. The creature launched into the air with them, nearly clearing the ship entirely, if not for one of the crew members managing to latch his hand around the bottom edge of the wing and yank it downwards in an attempt to ground the creature once more.

Muffled cries of pain issued from the creature, but it remained undeterred as it squirmed and kicked at the hand holding onto it until, finally, it pulled away from its would-be captor and landed on the wooden planks of the pier with a loud thud. Wings flared once more, beating rapidly, but a now sizable chunk missing from one of them prevented the creature from being airborne again.

For a split second the creature turned, and Rowan saw a pair of gleaming, red, pupil-less eyes gawking over the ship from behind the cloak. If they didn't know any better, they'd say that it almost looked stunned, for just a second. As if questioning what had just happened. It was quick to move once more however as someone else decided to lunge for it, a muffled screech escaping it before it started to scramble forward once more on all-fours. Or, perhaps, all-sixes would be a more accurate description. Rowan could swear they could see six limbs in total scuttling out from the mess as the creature started to flee on foot back towards the city.

"......Well. That sucks, for you." Rowan eventually hummed, their attention slowly drifting back towards the pirate beside her with a quirked eyebrow once the shock had worn off enough to do-so. "You uh, going to help get it back?" She then wondered, to which Aster snorted and waved her hand in a dismissive manner.

"Nah, ain't my shit. Ain't my job." She grunted in response. "And I got some people I'm supposed to be meeting here in a bit." The pirate waved their hand towards several people that had now started to hurry after the strange creature down the path that lead back towards the city. "Besides, I give the bloody thing ten minutes tops before either me crew gets 'em or City Watch does."

A singular eye flickered back towards the small crowd of people lingering beside the pair, until the woman placed her fingers to her lips and emitted a sharp whistle to snap their attentions in her direction once more. "Alright! Enough gawking at some performance escape artist, aye? Whose here to sell some shit before the sun comes up?"​
 
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The Dragon
Shaldrani
Never underestimate a good cup of coffee.
Greyport City was as 'normal' as a city full of supernatural and mythical entities could be. Which is to say... not really 'normal' by human definition. However, today should have just been the usual ordeal. Their shop was a quiet haven, regardless of the time of day or night. It beckoned to and welcomed Hidden patrons, offering them an escape from prying eyes. As if to reassure them, Shaldrani's gaze flickered towards one of the glyphs that made up their shop's wards. So faintly etched into the walls were they, one had to know of the glyphs' presence to find them. But then, that was just your standard ward commonly used within the city to keep humans from truly noticing anything of the magical variety within the ward's boundaries.

And Shaldrani liked to rely more on her being a dragon to help deter any trouble being started between Hidden patrons in her shop.

Ceramic clinked together as a mug was settled upon its matching saucer, faint curls of steam drifting upward and bringing with it the earthy scent of a mushroom and coffee bean blend.
"Here you are, Nomira."
Shaldrani rested the saucer and mug on the small, round, table as they spoke. Briefly, they glanced at the individual sitting in the accompanying seat, brown hair flowing past her shoulders like stormy waves. Nomira, a nymph who had been displaced from her original forest and thus fled to Grayport for refuge, looked up at Shaldrani with a weary smile, blue eyes tinged at the outer rims with moisture and redness. Gingerly, Shaldrani rested a hand upon her arm before turning away to tend to the few other patrons who were waiting for their own drinks or browsing the bookshelves against the walls.

They turned their gaze upon the individual at one of the bookshelves, momentarily studying the vampire. Nothing of note came to Shaldrani's senses. But then, the dragon was never truly the best at understanding auras, regardless of if it belonged to a human or a Hidden. They just knew what differing kinds of beings smelt like. Admittedly, it was a form of knowledge that the dragon envied Hiddens with aura-reading abilities for having. So, to make up for it, Shaldrani made do with their coffees and teas.

The dragon was speaking with the vampire when something in Shaldrani's lair shifted without their permission. Their pupils contracted in response, their eyes becoming more reptilian, to the sense of unease that rushed through their shop like a wave. Shaldrani hardly even noticed the lights burning out, their form melting away as skin yielded to thick brown scales.
"Who dares--"
A figure--the cloaked individual they'd brought a coffee to sometime prior--rushed at them before they finished speaking. They felt claws and teeth strike against their scales, no doubt searching for any weaknesses.

One of Shaldrani's heads snaked back, maw parting slightly as the air began to thicken, the scent of sulfur growing. A draconic melody rose from the throat of their first head, their second head snapping down upon the cloaked assailant. Fangs pierced flesh, viscous liquid coating their tongue as it poured out from their mouth. In an instant, Shaldrani threw the figure across their shop, hissing as the assailant managed to rip out scales in the process.

Shaldrani barely heard someone swear as they finished their spell, hazel runes flashing into brief existence before their maw. Except, an eruption burst from the center of their shop, the shockwave of misfired magic rushing out like tsunami waves to slam Shaldrani into the bookshelves. Wood cracked, ceramic shattered, and a sharp ringing clogged up their sensitive ears.

The dragon couldn't sort up from down, their vision halved and refusing to focus. Was someone talking? One head refused to move, the other rolling sideways in response to Oscar. Gradually, his warbled voice confined itself into something more coherent, words eventually registering to Shaldrani's thoughts. With a hiss, she lifted first one, then the next head, vision dragging along until everything was finally a single scene before her.

"City Watch is going to be here any minute,"
Oscar said, his hand lifting away from their maw as their heads moved.
"And you know they're going to start hounding you on any possible human sightings before they actually give a shit about what happened here."


"City--"
A groan left both of Shaldrani's maws as they groggily rose from the ground.
"City Watch... Of course..."
Books and splintered wood clattered to the ground as their tail slapped against the wall, drawing their attention to the wreckage of their shop. A grimace flickered across their scaled features.

"Fuck!"
Mid-shift, Shaldrani turned sharply towards the exclamation, spotting the dark-haired witch scrambling over a toppled table.
"Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't realize what your intention was going to be!"
The witch hurried to dust off her clothes, standing a chair upon its feet a moment after.

She was talking about the magical backlash, Shaldrani realized. Human guise back in place once more, the dragon frowned at Azalea. Then, they shook their head, a hum faintly rising within their throat.
"It matters not, now. Are you--"
Shaldrani inhaled sharply, pupils contracting, and quickly glanced out towards the shop entrance. Their lip twitched into a stiff, thin, line. A human was staring at them, mouth agape and eyes wide. Faintly, Shaldrani leaned towards Azalea and Oscar.
"Do either of you know memory spells?"
they muttered. Though, they didn't wait long enough for either individual to answer.

The dragon surged towards the human, clawed hands snagging his coat before he could flee and pulling him into the coffee shop. In another swift motion, they slammed the door shut behind him, releasing him once he was swung into position between Shaldrani, Oscar, and Azalea. A faint rumble rose from her chest.
"You are somewhere you do not belong, Little Mortal..."

Code By Nano


Greyport City was as 'normal' as a city full of supernatural and mythical entities could be. Which is to say... not really 'normal' by human definition. However, today should have just been the usual ordeal. Their shop was a quiet haven, regardless of the time of day or night. It beckoned to and welcomed Hidden patrons, offering them an escape from prying eyes. As if to reassure them, Shaldrani's gaze flickered towards one of the glyphs that made up their shop's wards. So faintly etched into the walls were they, one had to know of the glyphs' presence to find them. But then, that was just your standard ward commonly used within the city to keep humans from truly noticing anything of the magical variety within the ward's boundaries.

And Shaldrani liked to rely more on her being a dragon to help deter any trouble being started between Hidden patrons in her shop.

Ceramic clinked together as a mug was settled upon its matching saucer, faint curls of steam drifting upward and bringing with it the earthy scent of a mushroom and coffee bean blend. "Here you are, Nomira." Shaldrani rested the saucer and mug on the small, round, table as they spoke. Briefly, they glanced at the individual sitting in the accompanying seat, brown hair flowing past her shoulders like stormy waves. Nomira, a nymph who had been displaced from her original forest and thus fled to Grayport for refuge, looked up at Shaldrani with a weary smile, blue eyes tinged at the outer rims with moisture and redness. Gingerly, Shaldrani rested a hand upon her arm before turning away to tend to the few other patrons who were waiting for their own drinks or browsing the bookshelves against the walls.

They turned their gaze upon the individual at one of the bookshelves, momentarily studying the vampire. Nothing of note came to Shaldrani's senses. But then, the dragon was never truly the best at understanding auras, regardless of if it belonged to a human or a Hidden. They just knew what differing kinds of beings smelt like. Admittedly, it was a form of knowledge that the dragon envied Hiddens with aura-reading abilities for having. So, to make up for it, Shaldrani made do with their coffees and teas.

The dragon was speaking with the vampire when something in Shaldrani's lair shifted without their permission. Their pupils contracted in response, their eyes becoming more reptilian, to the sense of unease that rushed through their shop like a wave. Shaldrani hardly even noticed the lights burning out, their form melting away as skin yielded to thick brown scales. "Who dares--" A figure--the cloaked individual they'd brought a coffee to sometime prior--rushed at them before they finished speaking. They felt claws and teeth strike against their scales, no doubt searching for any weaknesses.

One of Shaldrani's heads snaked back, maw parting slightly as the air began to thicken, the scent of sulfur growing. A draconic melody rose from the throat of their first head, their second head snapping down upon the cloaked assailant. Fangs pierced flesh, viscous liquid coating their tongue as it poured out from their mouth. In an instant, Shaldrani threw the figure across their shop, hissing as the assailant managed to rip out scales in the process.

Shaldrani barely heard someone swear as they finished their spell, hazel runes flashing into brief existence before their maw. Except, an eruption burst from the center of their shop, the shockwave of misfired magic rushing out like tsunami waves to slam Shaldrani into the bookshelves. Wood cracked, ceramic shattered, and a sharp ringing clogged up their sensitive ears.

The dragon couldn't sort up from down, their vision halved and refusing to focus. Was someone talking? One head refused to move, the other rolling sideways in response to Oscar. Gradually, his warbled voice confined itself into something more coherent, words eventually registering to Shaldrani's thoughts. With a hiss, she lifted first one, then the next head, vision dragging along until everything was finally a single scene before her.

"City Watch is going to be here any minute," Oscar said, his hand lifting away from their maw as their heads moved. "And you know they're going to start hounding you on any possible human sightings before they actually give a shit about what happened here."

"City--" A groan left both of Shaldrani's maws as they groggily rose from the ground. "City Watch... Of course..." Books and splintered wood clattered to the ground as their tail slapped against the wall, drawing their attention to the wreckage of their shop. A grimace flickered across their scaled features.

"Fuck!" Mid-shift, Shaldrani turned sharply towards the exclamation, spotting the dark-haired witch scrambling over a toppled table. "Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't realize what your intention was going to be!" The witch hurried to dust off her clothes, standing a chair upon its feet a moment after.

She was talking about the magical backlash, Shaldrani realized. Human guise back in place once more, the dragon frowned at Azalea. Then, they shook their head, a hum faintly rising within their throat. "It matters not, now. Are you--" Shaldrani inhaled sharply, pupils contracting, and quickly glanced out towards the shop entrance. Their lip twitched into a stiff, thin, line. A human was staring at them, mouth agape and eyes wide. Faintly, Shaldrani leaned towards Azalea and Oscar. "Do either of you know memory spells?" they muttered. Though, they didn't wait long enough for either individual to answer.

The dragon surged towards the human, clawed hands snagging his coat before he could flee and pulling him into the coffee shop. In another swift motion, they slammed the door shut behind him, releasing him once he was swung into position between Shaldrani, Oscar, and Azalea. A faint rumble rose from her chest. "You are somewhere you do not belong, Little Mortal..."
 
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Oscar Cecil Corbin.










































































  • mood






    Tense, tired


































Faint relief was evident as the dragon before him stirred. Oscar wouldn't exactly have described them to be close in any sense of the term. Very few people were, in Oscar's eyes. But he'd none the less grown fond of a quiet place to spend his frequent sleep-deprived nights, and he certainly didn't wish any harm on someone who, as far as he was aware, did little else other than brew coffee for everyone and occasionally dispense ancient wisdoms upon anyone that looked like they needed it. Oscar gripped onto his cane as Shaldrani started to pick themselves up, grimacing in a moment of reluctance.

Kneeling down wasn't so bad, it was the having to get back up again that always played havoc with his hip. The professor's teeth grit as he gingerly eased back up into a standing position, managing to stifle the wince of pain that would sometimes follow in favour of a muttering of indistinguishable, grouchy approximations of words under breath. Beside him Cordelia released a whimpering, whining sound in response. "I'm fine, quit worrying." He told her, despite knowing full well the dog had no idea what he was saying to her and only continued to gawk up at him with a concerned expression.

Once back on his feet, his gaze shifted to a being he was less familiar with. An eyebrow raised at the exchange, and for a brief moment Oscar wondered if the entire fiasco that had occurred was somehow her fault. Again he glanced back towards the dragon, at first trying to match her injuries to the state of the interior, but instead observing as she shifted back to a more humanoid form. For the briefest second he felt a pang of envy for how seamless the transformation seemed. Shapeshifting for Oscar was always something of an ordeal for him, exhausting and painful, and liable to turn every full moon night into a miserable experience for him as a result.

A cold, wet snout of a certain borzoi poking into the palm of his hand distracted him from the thought, and Oscar sighed in favour of reaching over to scratch a little behind Cordelia's ear. "Are you injured?" He asked Azalea as she approached, though he'd already concluded that she was fine. "I can't heal anyone for shit, but I think there's a Hidden-friendly hospital nearby if-"

Someone else is watching. Human.

The voice in his skull noticed it seemingly at the same time as Shaldrani did, though she was far quicker to react. Oscar flinched as the dragon in disguise slipped past him, making a grab for the human's coat and dragging him into the store before Oscar could scarcely comprehend what was happening. "Oh for the love of- young man what the hell are you doing out here this late?" He grunted as the taller individual was then practically shoved before them. A pudgy hand raised to tap his glasses back properly onto Oscar's face, his gaze briefly regarding the face of the new arrival before he rolled his eyes from the realisation. "Mr. Cerullo. Don't you have an exam tomorrow?" Lectured the professor, taking hold of his cane and prodding him sharply in the chest with the edge of it's curved handle.

Oscar then shook his head, a huff of frustration sounding, before he hobbled a few steps towards the window and peered outside of it to see if there were any other eye witnesses currently gawking over at them, human or otherwise. Poor bastard. From what Oscar had heard the memory wipes performed by City Watch were effective but tended to leave the target with a splitting headache, sluggishness, and a sense of nausea for a few hours afterwards. An easy way to blame the lack of memory on some form of intoxication and a wild night, sure, but certainly not an effect he'd wish upon anyone. He made a mental note to check whether the man did, in fact, have any exams on for his course tomorrow, and see if he could try to excuse him in some way that seemed believable.

At least at a glance, it didn't look like any more humans had seen Shaldrani's true form. Or at least, none that were dumb enough to stand around gawking long enough for said dragon to round them up. Shoulders slouched in response and his head rolled back in irritable thought. Not a sign of relief, as such. Merely a sign he was processing the situation and playing out a few possibilities in his mind before he turned back to face the rest of the group.

"Memory spells, did you say? No. Only magic I know is- well. It's. It's not really magic. But it's not relevant, regardless." Grumbled Oscar as he eased away from the window once more, now using his cane to upturn bits of debris around the coffee shop in search of any further clues as to what happened. "You were attacked, I take it?" He asked Shaldrani, a frown etched onto his face. "Who the bloody hell would have it out for you now?" Briefly, his head flicked back towards the street, a suspicious squint aimed over at the What's the Scoop? ice cream parlour that sat directly across from the coffee shop. "I'd assume sending thugs to rough you up isn't quite the unicorn's style..."

It wasn't a conflict Oscar was too privy to, in the sense that he had no idea why the two disliked each other so much. But the rivalry between Shaldrani and the unicorn that ran the place opposite was nonetheless a rather infamous one in this area of the city that he had picked up on at some point. Still, Eirlys seemed far more likely to be the sort to just stand in her store window and glare over at Shaldrani during her opening hours, making passive aggressive comments about the outdated saucers Shaldrani used or her tacky interior decoration. Or at least, that's what Eirlys had done the last time Oscar decided to order a dessert there. And yet she wondered why she always had the fewer customers.

It was then that he remembered Virgil's presence, and snapped his attention abruptly back towards him with a scowl. "Alright, Cerullo, just take a seat over there and try not to make a problem for us." He then sighed, gesturing over to one of the chairs that had survived the ordeal and was still propped up against the wall. "There's going to be some people that'll show up any minute now that'll sort you out over there."





































































cry for love






백현




















♡coded by uxie♡



Oscar Cecil Corbin​


Faint relief was evident as the dragon before him stirred. Oscar wouldn't exactly have described them to be close in any sense of the term. Very few people were, in Oscar's eyes. But he'd none the less grown fond of a quiet place to spend his frequent sleep-deprived nights, and he certainly didn't wish any harm on someone who, as far as he was aware, did little else other than brew coffee for everyone and occasionally dispense ancient wisdoms upon anyone that looked like they needed it. Oscar gripped onto his cane as Shaldrani started to pick themselves up, grimacing in a moment of reluctance.

Kneeling down wasn't so bad, it was the having to get back up again that always played havoc with his hip. The professor's teeth grit as he gingerly eased back up into a standing position, managing to stifle the wince of pain that would sometimes follow in favour of a muttering of indistinguishable, grouchy approximations of words under breath. Beside him Cordelia released a whimpering, whining sound in response. "I'm fine, quit worrying." He told her, despite knowing full well the dog had no idea what he was saying to her and only continued to gawk up at him with a concerned expression.

Once back on his feet, his gaze shifted to a being he was less familiar with. An eyebrow raised at the exchange, and for a brief moment Oscar wondered if the entire fiasco that had occurred was somehow her fault. Again he glanced back towards the dragon, at first trying to match her injuries to the state of the interior, but instead observing as she shifted back to a more humanoid form. For the briefest second he felt a pang of envy for how seamless the transformation seemed. Shapeshifting for Oscar was always something of an ordeal for him, exhausting and painful, and liable to turn every full moon night into a miserable experience for him as a result.

A cold, wet snout of a certain borzoi poking into the palm of his hand distracted him from the thought, and Oscar sighed in favour of reaching over to scratch a little behind Cordelia's ear. "Are you injured?" He asked Azalea as she approached, though he'd already concluded that she was fine. "I can't heal anyone for shit, but I think there's a Hidden-friendly hospital nearby if-"

Someone else is watching. Human.

The voice in his skull noticed it seemingly at the same time as Shaldrani did, though she was far quicker to react. Oscar flinched as the dragon in disguise slipped past him, making a grab for the human's coat and dragging him into the store before Oscar could scarcely comprehend what was happening. "Oh for the love of- young man what the hell are you doing out here this late?" He grunted as the taller individual was then practically shoved before them. A pudgy hand raised to tap his glasses back properly onto Oscar's face, his gaze briefly regarding the face of the new arrival before he rolled his eyes from the realisation. "Mr. Cerullo. Don't you have an exam tomorrow?" Lectured the professor, taking hold of his cane and prodding him sharply in the chest with the edge of it's curved handle.

Oscar then shook his head, a huff of frustration sounding, before he hobbled a few steps towards the window and peered outside of it to see if there were any other eye witnesses currently gawking over at them, human or otherwise. Poor bastard. From what Oscar had heard the memory wipes performed by City Watch were effective but tended to leave the target with a splitting headache, sluggishness, and a sense of nausea for a few hours afterwards. An easy way to blame the lack of memory on some form of intoxication and a wild night, sure, but certainly not an effect he'd wish upon anyone. He made a mental note to check whether the man did, in fact, have any exams on for his course tomorrow, and see if he could try to excuse him in some way that seemed believable.

At least at a glance, it didn't look like any more humans had seen Shaldrani's true form. Or at least, none that were dumb enough to stand around gawking long enough for said dragon to round them up. Shoulders slouched in response and his head rolled back in irritable thought. Not a sign of relief, as such. Merely a sign he was processing the situation and playing out a few possibilities in his mind before he turned back to face the rest of the group.

"Memory spells, did you say? No. Only magic I know is- well. It's. It's not really magic. But it's not relevant, regardless." Grumbled Oscar as he eased away from the window once more, now using his cane to upturn bits of debris around the coffee shop in search of any further clues as to what happened. "You were attacked, I take it?" He asked Shaldrani, a frown etched onto his face. "Who the bloody hell would have it out for you now?" Briefly, his head flicked back towards the street, a suspicious squint aimed over at the What's the Scoop? ice cream parlour that sat directly across from the coffee shop. "I'd assume sending thugs to rough you up isn't quite the unicorn's style..."

It wasn't a conflict Oscar was too privy to, in the sense that he had no idea why the two disliked each other so much. But the rivalry between Shaldrani and the unicorn that ran the place opposite was nonetheless a rather infamous one in this area of the city that he had picked up on at some point. Still, Eirlys seemed far more likely to be the sort to just stand in her store window and glare over at Shaldrani during her opening hours, making passive aggressive comments about the outdated saucers Shaldrani used or her tacky interior decoration. Or at least, that's what Eirlys had done the last time Oscar decided to order a dessert there. And yet she wondered why she always had the fewer customers.

It was then that he remembered Virgil's presence, and snapped his attention abruptly back towards him with a scowl. "Alright, Cerullo, just take a seat over there and try not to make a problem for us." He then sighed, gesturing over to one of the chairs that had survived the ordeal and was still propped up against the wall. "There's going to be some people that'll show up any minute now that'll sort you out over there."
​
​
 
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"Holy…shit…"












a state of confusion










terrified










What just happened?










healthy, pulse elevated

















Virgil Cerullo



he/him







now playing












  • h






(click link!)







He had not been there for very long to process what was happening before he found himself being grabbed by the coat and practically flung into the middle of the room between the dragon, his professor, and one or two others. “Whoa, what the fu–”
"You are somewhere you do not belong, Little Mortal..." Growls a rather intimidating woman that looks him in the eye. Seriously, am I dreaming? What did I do to piss her off? Did I hit the sketchy part of town…? He thinks he started to hallucinate from lack of sleep.
“I-I have no clue what’s– I-I was just out for a walk, and ended up here, and– and—-” His chest grows tight. He heard Dr. Corbin scolding him about an exam the next day, and as he has trouble breathing he adds, “couldn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep–” His hand moves to his chest as he starts to breathe in and out. “S-Sort me out? What do you mean sort me out I-I didn’t do anything wrong–”

Virgil finds himself slumping in the nearby chair as he gets dizzy from the panicked breaths, and soon passes out.





♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡














"Yay! She’s here!"












She’s home! She’s home!










quite happy










thinking about what to make Aster for breakfast










healthy, happy

















Saphielle Ianpeiros



she/her







now playing












  • h






(click link!)







“Aye Finn, just stay close to me and we’ll be fine,” Saphielle hums as she gently leads him towards the pier. “Remember, Mummy probably has a lot of work to do when she’s on land. We may not see her for a moment or two, but she’s very likely safe.” She then ruffles his hair.
Something flits past her at a quick speed, and she immediately scoops finn into her arms as a couple crew members rush past her. “Gods! Watch out, you lot,” she scolds as she picks up her speed and makes her way towards the docks. “Bloody hells, I have precious cargo of my own here.” Saphielle then softly grumbles under her breath.
The two approach a small crowd- in front of which she saw the exact person she was looking for. Her free hand raises and waves, although her ears tuck back as she hears the sharp whistle.
“Oi oi! Welcome back!”





♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡
 
T

he cool air hit just right—sharp, clean, untouched by the filth of the waking world. It wrapped around Bohdana like an old lover, familiar and welcome. It was late, very late, and that suited her just fine. The streets lay hollow, abandoned by the human swarm, leaving only her silhouette gliding through the quiet, her boots tapping a rhythm against the pavement.

The night was hers, free from prying eyes and cloying small talk. Yet beneath her usual ease, something gnawed at her—a slow, creeping unease. Ines had asked her to meet at a café. Odd. Rare. And at this hour? Suspicious. Her mind flickered through possibilities. Work-related?
Wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe the raven eggs she’d been planting around the office as a long, meticulous con to make Ines believe Corvindrel lay eggs. No. Too soon. They wouldn’t have caught on yet. Still, her instincts sharpened, shifting into passive threat assessment.

Turning the corner, she lifted her gaze to the sign.
“Literary Brew and Café Shop… how charming. Except—”
her eyes narrowed—the neon flickered, shorting out in erratic bursts. Then she caught the scene inside. Tables overturned. Chairs askew. Glass glinting from some unseen impact.
“Unless they’ve decided ‘post-apocalyptic chic’ is the new theme, something tells me this isn’t just bad management,”
she muttered. And then it clicked. Ines was in there. Had to be.

A bolt of adrenaline shot through her, years of instinct taking over. Her hand was on her firearm before she had the chance to second-guess. The department-issued piece, a gift so graciously bestowed upon her, sat snug beneath her coat, and her fingers ghosted over the clip, ready to draw. She moved for the door—when something shot past her, a cloaked figure, moving like smoke. Gone before she could lock eyes with it. Not her problem. Not yet.

Bohdana slipped inside, her gaze sweeping over the scene. A hunched man with a cane. A two-headed dragon. Shadows pooling in the wrong places. Whatever happened here, the Watch would be on its way soon. She didn’t have time to play detective. Her voice cut through the air, sharper than she intended.
“Ines? Where are you, dear?”
There was a slight falter at the end. A crack in the ice. She hated that.


Beyond the toppled appliances and splintered furniture, a groan in affirmation emerged in answer.
"If you could.."
She started, cut short by muffled gibberish before resurfacing.
"Give me a hand, Boh."
Her voice called out somewhere beneath the barricade of fractured tables and overturned chairs as if a cyclone had torn through the establishment and swept everything into a devastating heap. One of which sat rather unceremoniously above the bemused witch. Clawed hands grasped at the wayward surfaces and split chunks of oak.

A blasted, rīpārius spell was always a hit-or-miss, always a gamble. Ines grimaced, almost wishing the wave of furniture had simply buried her outright rather than leaving her stranded like this. At the moment, the young witch hovered in an awkward limbo near the center of the wreckage, two-thirds of her body swallowed by tiles as if she were a phantom. Wading amidst semi-permeable ground and looking every bit as dignified as one could while losing a fight with the floorboards.

Though gratefully, despite the arcanic whiplash, Ines was barren of injuries, save a few splinters and a minor erosion of her pride, especially upon Boh walking in on such a display. This shouldn't have been difficult. It wouldn't have been, really, but every latchable surface either fell away or slipped from grasp.

crack
The table leg she'd hung onto snapped under her weight.

With a quick gulp of air, her head momentarily vanished beneath the floor before she resurfaced the next moment with a furious stab of her talons into the timber at her adjacent.

"Boh!"
she snapped, impatience lacing her voice.


Hearing Ines’s voice was like a thread pulling Boh back from the edge, something solid in the haze of chaos. The tension in her shoulders unwound—just a little—before she was moving, following the sound with sharp, instinctive purpose. Then, she saw it. A shifting, writhing mass, Ines’s form slipping in and out of the floor like water refusing to hold its shape.

Boh didn’t hesitate. She shoved aside tables and chairs with no regard for grace, her breath short between each push.
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,”
she grunted, muscles straining against furniture not built for urgency. She wasn’t the strongest—not built for brute force, but for slipping through the cracks, for twisting and weaving through life. This? This was a fight against resistance, and it was damn near testing her patience.

But she got into position, crouching low, jet-black eyes locked on the floor, waiting for that moment—waiting for that brief glimpse of deep brown skin breaking through the surface. And the second she saw it, she moved. Boh’s hands clasped Ines’s with a grip that left no room for uncertainty. She braced, grounding herself, her thighs burning as she anchored her weight.
“Ya know,”
she bit out through clenched teeth,
“next time… I’m picking the damn spot.”
And with that, she yanked. Boh committed to the pull, knowing full well the momentum would send her straight to the floor. And she was fine with that.

With a small thud, Boh hit the ground, the cool floor pressing into her back—Ines, warm and solid, landing right on top of her. The weight was grounding, familiar in a way Boh didn’t bother analyzing. Instead, she just looked up, breath steadying as she took in the sight above her.
Ines’s hair had fallen loose from its usual pristine arrangement, dark strands framing her face. The dim light cast deep shadows along her sharp features. A smirk curled on her lips, though it held no bite—just the lingering relief that she didn’t have to claw Ines out of something worse.

“Well, look at that. Still breathing. And here I was, already planning a dramatic eulogy.”
Her voice was laced with sarcasm, but the warmth in her tone betrayed her. The last of the tension bled from her body. Ines was here. That was all that mattered.

If she never had to feel like she was wading through a blackhole again, it would be too soon. Far too jarring was it to realize once more that the ground could hold her weight—or this case, the slim figure of Bohdana that softened her plummet. Not exactly how she expected this to go but.. it wasn't a complete drag of her morning.

Against her will, Boh's sharp simper and jibing one-liner pressed a scoff out of Ines, too humored than she'd like to admit.
"Spare me."
She sighed. Ines refrained from falling lost within those dark midnight skies of hers, twinkling with more cunning and allure than there were craters on the moon.

Allowing nature to refute her mass and gravitate her to a stand. Her fingers drew a small glowing sigil before her as her eyes appraised the shipwreck that’d become of the cafe. The quick spell had been made to lift Boh from the ground as well, only for the ghastly force of aid to yield her figure back to the floorboards at the sudden severance of magic.

"Apologies."
Ines was quick to retrieve Boh from the ground, not bothering to explain why, as the answer sat right before them. Without kindness, Ines took the corvindrel's shoulders, lying upon the guise of dusting her figure free of debris and dust as she whispered,
No."
She stated simply, hoping to nip the bud of every idea that was brewing in that devious head of hers. She tossed a glance toward the handful of Hidden, none appearing too injured to require immediate assistance. Not to mention, their initiative in detaining the little nuisance; obviously led far too astray by curiosity.
Good, less work for her.

Freeing herself from the rubble, she stepped toward the door, eyeing the barren streets with a frown before pivoting a sole in her wake.
"Did you get a good look at him, Dana?"


Bohdana took a moment, watching Ines as if she were the only thing in the room worth observing. Every movement, every flicker of reaction—measured, precise, infuriatingly controlled. It was what she admired most. Most people met her wit with irritation or indulgent banter, but not Ines. No, she knew Boh, saw through the veneer and into the tangle of contradictions beneath. And still, she kept looking. An unsolvable puzzle. And yet, she never stopped trying.

The scoff was just another piece. Another fraction of the picture Boh was assembling.
The spell that sent her airborne was nothing new—Boh had long accepted that she was destined to be flung, lifted, tossed. If anything, it was part of her personal theme, and she met it with pride. She moved with the momentum, making a spectacle of it, landing light on her feet before running a hand through her hair, strands slipping between her fingers like silk. A small reset. A moment to reorient.

Ines, of course, shook off the metaphorical dust with her usual detached grace, already shifting into work mode. Classic. Boh couldn’t help but let a slow, knowing smirk curl at the corner of her lips, her brow raising just enough to be insufferable. It wasn’t mockery—nothing about it was insincere. Admiration, and something more. "Spare me."

The words left Ines' lips, crisp and dismissive, but Boh heard something else beneath them. A reaction so subtle, so effortlessly refined, that no one else would have caught it. But Boh did.
As Ines moved, so did she. It was instinctual—of course she would follow suit, mirroring the detective’s motions, her fingers absently grazing her thigh as a grounding gesture before her brain clicked into assessment mode. The room. The overturned furniture. The dragon—injured. And then, the man checking on the drake.

More Hidden.

The coast was mostly clear, save for the wreckage and the lingering sense of something unseen. Boh’s lips parted, tongue already poised to push another quip before movement snapped her attention to the side. A human. He had seen too much. Boh barely had time to react before the drake took care of it, moving in and shutting him down—shock stole his consciousness before she even had to make a call. Her fingers, already ghosting over her firearm, slowly released their tension. She wouldn’t have hesitated to put the man down, but this? This was the better outcome. Especially with Ines watching.

Boh exhaled through her nose, slow and indulgent, before flashing Ines a grin, eyes gleaming with something deliciously entertained.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t get a good look—was a little busy making sure you didn’t die. My bad. Dear.”
Her gaze flicked across the room, sharp and playful.
“Best I got was a weird shadow—apologies for not spontaneously developing night vision.”
She finished.

Then, her voice dipped, low and rich with amusement.
“my next best guess? A shady figure who, shockingly, doesn’t want us to solve this. Riveting.”
Excitement dripped from her words like honey.

Every breath and phrase of Boh's that strummed her ears slowed the world around her. Every exhale, click of her tongue, even obnoxious snicker that pursed Boh’s lips blanketed Ines' perception in a cozy haze. Blurring the background, muffling the stuffy white-noise of others and their trivial figures. While the scattered furniture, marks of footfalls, and possible egresses sharpened in contrast. The crime scene opened before her like a deck of solitaire yet to be solved, and one voice anchored it to being.

The lycan was certainly correct, City Watch would be here any moment, and no doubt—probing for answers. The twitch along her brow offered a gesture of thought toward the vexing concept thwarting her calculating headspace. But she offered Boh no more than the glazed-over arc of her gaze at her quip, the lax thread of eye contact suiting her only form of acknowledgement. There was a slight narrowing of her brows, absorbing the sentence like a machine parsing data, airing a silent scrutiny working to dub how literal she should take the corvindril's words. That was a joke, surely; Bohdana hadn't any means to obtain night vision, this was true. Though it was hardly certain Ines would have lost her life to such a miscalculation of spell-use. A jab to her capability and a deflection of blame. That tracked.

"Only you would let a man flee a crime scene and think not to detain him."
She retorted, her stare ambled back to the scene.
"I regret to inform you, but leaving me 'to die' for a few moments to work efficiently would've given us an upper hand; because as it stands, we're now starting with..."
Scarlet hues flickered across the space, searching, inspecting, something, anything.
"Little....very, very little."
While the woman's unproductive annotation continued, Ines' hands dispensed themselves of the leather garments, now soiled by the floor she touched. Disgust pressed her lips to a thin line as she muttered a phrase and yanked. Like a layer of onion, she split the pair of gloves, revealing a fresh manifestation beneath, as she promptly raised a bottle to spritz them with disinfectant..
"Yes.. indubitably."
Ines dryly concurred, sliding the slender mits, now gleaming pristine back over her knuckles.
"Think you can inquire the group without prompting complications, or shall we switch and you search the cafe instead?"
A mostly rhetorical question, Ines preferred the analysis side of their work, as the ever-brooding anti-social that she was. Still, she tended to leave such routes of priority open-ended, if only out of courtesy. She didn't want Boh to clock her as too controlling, after all.


Boh lifted a brow, her smirk creeping up like a slow burn. With an exaggerated shrug, she let the blame roll off her shoulders, effortless as ever.
“Oh, forgive me—I didn’t realize we were chasing down Olympic sprinters now. Next time, I’ll trip him with my overwhelming disappointment.”
The words dripped with mock regret, but beneath the theatrics, she knew Ines had a point.
She hadn’t spared much thought for the fleeing figure. Not because she couldn’t—she could have drawn her gun, could have reacted faster, but… he had moved too fast. Even for her. And in that split-second, ensuring Ines was unharmed had been the more calculated choice. Besides, why skip to the dessert? This café? This mess? This was the whole meal, and she had every intention of savoring it.

Boh sighed, long and indulgent, arms crossing as she swept a languid glance across the ruined space.
“Oh, my love, but that’s the best part—”
Her voice lilted with faux lament, her fingers trailing up to cradle her cheek, elbow propped on the opposite arm.
“Nothing kills a good puzzle like someone handing you the answers. Where’s the artistry? The suspense? The challenge?”
Her gaze flicked toward the witch, methodically cleaning their hands—something almost ritualistic about it. Boh had never quite understood that kind of precision, but she respected it. Then, a wicked gleam sparked in her eyes as she turned back to Ines.
“Oh no, no—talking to the locals is my favorite part. You can handle all that tedious, backbreaking work while I indulge in a little good old-fashioned conversation. Maybe even flash a smile, charm a few secrets out of them—purely for the investigation, of course.”
Her hand fluttered dismissively before she pivoted on her heel, already making her way toward the others, posture relaxed, movements deliberate.

Her steps were measured, the kind that made people uncertain whether she was about to put them at ease or completely unravel them. Open in posture, unreadable in intent. She crouched down beside the older man and the dragon without hesitation, eyes skimming over the unconscious human.
“Much better this way—less whining, fewer stupid questions.”
Her nose wrinkled slightly as if she’d just caught a whiff of something truly offensive. Maybe she had. Her gaze flicked over the human like he was roadkill left in the sun too long before she straightened, retrieving something from her pocket. A badge. Or at least, something resembling one.

She flashed it in the laziest, most half-assed manner possible—just enough for them to register the idea of authority before tucking it away again.
“PD. This kind of mess?”
A smirk curled at the edge of her lips.
“Very much our area of expertise. And believe it or not, we’re way less invasive than the Watch.”
Her onyx eyes danced between them, head tilting with something almost catlike—curious, but with an edge of predatory amusement.
“So, how about it? Care to answer a few questions, or should I start taking notes on your guilty expressions instead?”


Her gaze dropped to the blood on the floor. Then to the drake’s brown scales. Then—ah. The faint crimson staining the edges of their mouth. Boh’s smirk sharpened.
“Not yours, I’m assuming? Unless dragons have taken up the habit of biting their own tongues—though, given the company, I wouldn’t rule it out.”


In hindsight, the investigator’s partner trudged along the scene, blue nitrile gloves snapping tight over her wrists as she approached the corner of the establishment. Gaze locked on the security lens perched just beneath the ceiling.
“Please, everyone lies.”
“You are so endlessly skeptical.”
location:
Literary Brew and Cafe Shop
interactions:
Boh: Shaldrani, Oscar, Virgil
 
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