☽ 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ☾ [medieval wolf/vamp 16/18]

[Stargazer3000]

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¹ Deep in the heart of the mountains, guarded by tangled pines and shrouded in a mist cold enough to cut, is a dark castle. Built before memory had a voice, it is the key to a kingdom rich in money, resources, and power.


² The first known inhabitants of the castle
were a powerful race - married to the
night and blessed with everlasting life as
rich as freshly spilt blood. They held the
castle for centuries, ruthlessly eliminating
any threats to their lands, but when the
battle-spilt-blood that soothed their
burning desire for conquest began to cool,
the gaze turned to the citizens of their
kingdom.

Desperate for safety, the citizens sought
out another group of powerful inhabitants
of the land - a people at one with beasts -
and begged them to overthrow
the tyrants. The Wildings took
³ up the charge. Blood was once again
spilled in the name of war, until after
decades of bitter fighting the Undying
fell, losing the castle on a night that
the moon was so full it's light seemed
like that of day.

Feeling that death was too peaceful for the
Undying, they were imprisoned in the
heart of their country, confined to the
darkness that had once been their refuge.
Centuries passed in peace with the
Wildlings on the throne…until someone
went too far into the woods, opened one
too many doors and loosed vengeance
upon the land.

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⁴ At the turn of the seasons, in time for the Harvest Moon, the castle opens its gates for commoners and visiting dignitaries alike. The riches of the kingdom are gathered for days before a banquet is thrown. As the sacred night draws closer, sides must be rallied, fortified, or even made from the mortals of the kingdom - for blood must be paid with blood, and the battle for the castle has just begun.

fd

┌── 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ..───┐

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● alpha
○ beta
● wildling
● wildling
● wildling
● omega

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└──────────┘

┌── ..𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ...──┐

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x

● primary
● secondary
● undying
● undying
● undying
● undying

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└─────────┘

┌── 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 .X───┐

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x

● mortal
● mortal
● mortal
● mortal
● mortal
○ mortal

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┌────────┐

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x
Discussion Thread
Open/Closed

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[Stargazer3000]

x
x

of two paragraphs per
post (~12 sentences).
viii. Check in with
me before picking a role
for your char if there
isn't already one for them
just to make sure there's
no overlap!
────────────────

not a rule, but want to put it here

I will always, always be
down to have more peeps
join, regardless of where
we are or how much has
been written, or what
character slots have been
filled; so if you're really
interested or have any
questions, just PM me -
we'll work something out!

x
x

21 - please keep their
f.c. a reasonable age.
I have no preference
of what kind of face
claim you use!
vi. Stick as closely as
you can to the abilities/
skills of your character
as provided in the
description.
vii. There will be some
combat in this rp, so
check in with the other
RPers involved before
any intense action! If you
want to 'write off' a char,
check in with me
first!
vii. As this is a semi-lit
roleplay, I'd like a min

x
x

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬
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i. Please follow all of
nick + tess' rules here
ii. There's a max of 2
characters per RPer
to start! *I'm always
happy to talk about
adding more later
iii. Send reservations
over PM and have
your form up within
48hrs on the discussion
iv. Discord will be
heavily used, so I
recommend having an
account!
v. No characters under

[Stargazer3000]

┌── 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ..───┐

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✧ 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚 ✧
[active regent]

✧name - sterling
✧age - 28
✧user- ethereal .

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┌── 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ..───┐

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✧ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 ✧
[heir apparent]

✧name
✧age
✧user

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┌── 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ..───┐

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✧ 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✧
[hunter]

✧name - nero
✧age - 24
✧user - star

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✧ 1/6 open ✧

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┌── 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ..───┐

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✧ 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚 ✧
[role]

✧name -river
✧age - 27
✧user - for m

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┌── 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ..───┐

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│Xx
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x

✧ 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✧
[role]

✧name-andrew
✧age - 22
✧user - piri

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┌── 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ..───┐

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│XXXX
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✧ 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✧
[role]

✧name-azalea
✧age - 24
✧user-*Lovel*

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The old legends claimed that they were children of the moon, sworn to protect whatever her silver rays
touched. The old legends are mostly forgotten now, but still the Wildlings remain. Known only to
themselves and the few mortals they entrust with their secrets, the Wildlings posses the ability to
transform into beasts, wolves, at will. Most are born to the pack life, as only a few can live through
the painful process of turning after a bite. They can change at will, though it is incredibly difficult to
resist the lure of shifting during a full moon, and can cause all sorts of discomfort if the call is not heeded.
All of the Wildlings are gifted with slightly elongated lifespans, heightened strength and senses. For
centuries they lived quietly, though they have proven to be steady regents following the defeat of the
Undying. Pack animals by nature they follow a strict hierarchy determined not by blood but by strength
of character.

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[Stargazer3000]

┌──𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .────┐

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✦ 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ✦
[inactive regent]

✧name - oryn
✧age - t.a. 34
✧user - star

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┌──𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .────┐

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✦ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲 ✦
[heir apparent]

✧name - luca
✧age - t.a. 25
✧user - mutan

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┌──𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .────┐

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✧ 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✧
[role]

name - jolie
age -
user-birdwhistle<3

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✦ 0/6 open ✦

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┌──𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .────┐

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✦ 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✦
[role]

✧name - aranei
✧age - t.a 20
✧user-Scorpion

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┌──𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .────┐

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✦ 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✦
[role]

✧name-theofania
✧age- t.a. 30
✧user-Rae'tia

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┌──𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .────┐

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✦ 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✦
[role]

✧name
✧age
✧user-razzberry

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None know when the Undying were made, but the first of their kind are likely older than the kingdom
itself. A secret in plain sight, they ruled with an iron fist and valued power over all else - in truth, the only
beings they considered a threat were each other. The Undying are blessed with heightened strength and
healing, impeccable hearing, and fangs that can elongate at will. They have no need for sleep, or drink,
and though they can consume mortal food it is merely an indulgence. Instead, they draw their strength,
and ceaseless life, from human blood. The Undying are incredibly sensitive to sunlight as it dulls their
abilities and overwhelms their senses, and to open flames. new-turns are especially vulnerable to light,
though due to their rarity, they are usually heavily guarded. Most new-turns are kept entirely in darkness,
chained to the will of their maker and safeguarded until they reach full strength. To make an Undying, a
mortal must be fully exsanguinated, drink their fill of Undying blood, and be buried for a full night - most
do not return from death, but those who do will do whatever they must to not return.

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[Stargazer3000]

┌──𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥─────┐

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✦ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ✦
[foreign noble]

✧name - yvaine
✧age - 24
✧user - star

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┌──𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥─────┐

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✦ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ✦
[role]

✧name - percy
✧age - 24
✧user -piri

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┌──𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥─────┐

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✧ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ✧
[role]

✧name - cypress
✧age - 22
✧user - mutan

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✦ 1/6 open ✦

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✦ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ✦
[role]

✧name
✧age
✧user-razzberry

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┌──𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥─────┐

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x

✦ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ✦
[role]

✧name
✧age
✧user

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┌──𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥─────┐

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x

✦ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ✦
[role]

✧name-everest
✧age - 22
✧user - ethereal .

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Though the land is rich in resources, the true worth of the kingdom lies in its people. The citizens of the
kingdom live in small scattered towns, most within a day's walk of one another. Though none could be
considered royalty, there is a great number of lifestyles within the land from farmers, to traders, to
artists, to educators, and more. A trade economy is utilized by most, though the land is also rich in coin
and opportunity. Many flock to it's borders, and those lucky enough to be born within the kingdom rarely
leave. But for all the prosperity, it is a land seeped in dark legend and stories whispered in reverent tones
around a crackling fire. Once the sun goes down, any who aren't safe in their homes, nestled beneath the
covers, are not often seen again. Ritual and custom are of utmost importance, for outside the walls of
the small towns, the wilds await. There is a certain inherent bravery in mortals, especially those who
know that as they stare deep into the dark spaces between the pines something stares back.

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[Stargazer3000]

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐨
tagged azalea | mentioned sterling, drew| location forest, castle pastry pantry
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The sun was setting and the woods seemed to hold their breath in anticipation. Pines more ancient than memory towered over a browning underbrush speckled with shocks of bright red berries, their gnarled roots tangled in a rough embrace over the forest floor. A silvery mist chased the last lingering rays of light from the sky, replacing their glowing warmth with a damp, heavy chill that clung to the trees in a silent promise of the long night that lay ahead.

On the forest floor a lone figure fled the oncoming darkness, their feet swift and certain as they flew over roots and rocks, silent save for the stirring of air in their passing. Behind them a green hunting cloak billowed like a war banner, its verdant hues lost in gathering shadows - or perhaps stained by the prey flung over the hunter’s back. As forest gave way to fields and clinging mists were beaten back by the warm glow of torches the figure pressed on, undeterred by the sudden bustling groups of servants and workers that spotted the castle grounds. Nero, after all, was running woefully short on time.

The kitchen courtyard, normally full of crates and smoked meats but little else was now crammed with bodies pushing to and fro, arms ladened with steaming plates being rushed out the servant’s entrance piled high with delicacies that gleamed under torchlight. Nero might have burned his fingers slightly as he plucked a roasted beet off one plate - earning a quick slap on his shoulder by the appalled looking serving girl, his only response being a devilishly wide grin - but he never deterred from his path, his destination now in view.

If the kitchen courtyard had seemed like an anthill full of busy workers, the kitchen itself was a freshy kicked beehive. It took Nero no less than three tries to enter the sweltering room without getting run over by a sous chef, or stabbed by an overworked cook, though as soon as he did the smell of rich spices burned his nose and made his eyes water.

“Ronan!” Nero bellowed, voice only slightly muffled by the collar of his cloak that he drew up to block his nose, “Ronan, if I die here in this kitchen, I swear I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days!” The hunter continued to push his way deeper into the mass of bodies and noise, heavy scents and sounds battering his senses, distracting him enough that had rough hands not pulled him to the left at the exact moment they did, he likely would have been clobbered with a rolling pin.

Before Nero stood a stout man, red as a freshly plucked tomato, and hands still fisted in the young wolf’s shirt. Ronan had been the head cook for as long as memory served, and had any other person demanded fresh rabbit a mere four hours ago, Nero might have laughed and suggested they ask for something more reasonable, like perhaps unicorn. But for Ronan? He’d have caught a unicorn.

A proud grin split Nero’s face as he hoisted two fresh hares off his back and held them aloft. Striking the pose of a conquering hero, he opened his mouth to proclaim his glory - but was cut short as the rabbits were plucked from his grasp and he was bundled out of the kitchen with all the grace of a toddler being shooed away. Mock outrage painted the young wolf’s features as he wheeled around just in time to see Ronan’s shiny bald head disappearing back into the fray of swarming cooks.

“A thank you would be nice!” Nero hollered after him. A freshly baked roll pelted him in the face, thrown by a passing sous chef using swears Nero hadn’t even thought of before.

“That’ll do.”

Mission completed and with more than enough time before the castle gates were opened, Nero pressed his back against the wall, idly watching the organized chaos unfurl before him as he ripped the roll into small pieces. On any other night he’d be off to track down Sterling, eager to regale the man with stories of the forest and the hunt of the day. But with the festival fast approaching even Nero knew that his tales could wait - not that the alpha would ever ignore him, but if that immaculately timed feast was delayed because of a story about a squirrel, not even Sterling could protect him from the wrath of the cooks. Maybe instead he’d track down Drew and together they’d test out the casks of freshly purchased ale to make sure they weren't poisoned - or something equally as tragic.

As he chewed the last of his roll, lost in thought, a sharp stinging sensation on his cheek caused Nero to reflexively raise his hand to the source of the irritation, drawing it back to see the tips of his fingers smeared with a deep crimson. Perhaps he hadn’t been as lucky in the kitchen as he’d originally thought, or maybe it was one of countless injuries that he picked up on his daily hunts.

“That settles that,” he murmured to no one in particular, pushing off the wall and making his way back into the fray of workers. Weaving through them like a salmon swimming upstream, the pastry pantry took an appalling long time to reach, but it was more than worth it when his gaze fell on the tumbling red waves of hair standing out starkly against the pale crusts of uncooked pies and desserts.

“It’s smart to hide out here,” he chuckled, slipping the door shut behind him with a soft click while unlatching his cloak with the other, ready to be rid of the heavy layer. Nero crossed the cramped room until he was an arm-length away from Azalea, a sheepish smile slipping on his face as he gestured noncommittally at his cheek. “I’d say that you should see the other guy but there’s a good chance that ‘the other guy’ is an overworked cook. Or a tree.”

[Stargazer3000]

𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐧
tagged | mentioned undying| location city, castle gates
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A quiet sigh broke the heavy stillness of the room, but it was shortly cut off, muffled as Oryn pressed his hand over the mouth of the highborn woman like a vice. The woman made no other sounds after that, though her chest heaved up and down rhythmically like the pounding of waves against the shore.

In the soft light of dusk they stood still enough to be statues - with his arms encircling her waist holding her back to him and his head bent to the juncture of shoulder and throat they might have been mistaken for a display of amorous courtship. But the trickle of red that stained the front of her otherwise immaculate bodice and the sickly sweet metallic scent that lingered in the air told a far different tale, an ancient legend made flesh. The Undying.

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The lengthening shadows of the richly decorated hallway were swallowed by the encompassing darkness of night when Oryn at last emerged from the room, his gaze dark and sated. A glinting bracelet dangled from his fingertips, and he lifted it to catch the flickering torch light that invaded the home from the street. Small spots of red flecked the jewels, and Oryn rubbed them away deftly before slipping the bracelet into the folds of his cloak.

Like a beam of moonlight made flesh he cut silently through the shadow, making his way swiftly through the house and out onto the street, a bustling contrast to the solemn stillness of home. It had rained recently, and the wide roads had been churned to a mud under the feet of the common folk, moving in droves away from the town center. A cart passed every now and then, overflowing with ruddy faced humans, wide beaming smiles plastered on their faces in a garish display of frivolity.

Chatter filled the night air as Oryn slipped into the procession, following the flow of the people away from the walls of the city and up, up, up through the hills and towering pines. The path had changed in the centuries that had been stolen from him, and the rage at the realization turned his core molten. He did not even know the roads of his own kingdom.

It was not the first time since their liberation a little over a month ago that he’d been faced with the cutting reminder of how low his people had fallen. They’d spent the weeks growing their strength, nights punctuated by blessedly fresh air and enough red to stain his hands for days. But for all the glory of their reveling, they had been forced to steal clothes and shelter where they could, and though they had taken only the best, it paled in comparison to the lives they were owed. Desire for that life burned in him, one of the twin flames that sustained him in the darkness of the cavern, keeping him sane through the centuries. Desire and rage..

By now the castle loomed into view, silhouetted against the silver of a rising moon, and Oryn felt his blood sing. Homecoming was its own vicious joy, a promise on the cusp of fruition, and even if the roads were unknown to him, every stone of this castle was his, etched into his very marrow. How many centuries had he spent picturing its soaring towers, walking its corridors in his mind even as his body lay bound in darkness?

Once spiked, horrid things made from the twisted metal of their fallen foes - a warning of bloodshed to any who entered - the gates were now a simple wrought iron punctuated by metallic foliage. As they rose into view below the castle, the walking procession slowed to a trickle, coalescing in a mass of pressing bodies pooling at the closed entrance. With no desire to be cloistered in with the small folk, Oryn stepped off the muddy path, entrenching himself underneath the shadowed arms of the pines.

While entering in a group would be far from conspicuous given the hoards of mortals set to be streaming onto the castle grounds, Oryn had decided that his people could return to their castle however they pleased under guises of their choosing. Though this festival was unfamiliar, the fortuitous opportunity to enter the castle undetected, and with the cover of night on their side, spoke of destiny.

Last evening Oryn had sent his people on their way to do whatever they needed to prepare for the task at hand - tonight, he had decided, was for seeking out their enemy, for finding the wolves among the sheep.

As the minutes trickled on, the energy of the gathered crowd ballooned, a cresting peak of excitement as palpable as the heavy fog that had settled over the castle grounds. Still more people continued to arrive, each more jovial than the last, though Oryn made no move to seek out his companions among the masses. They would not fail him.

Even now, as he stood statue still, gaze fixed on the still closed gate, bound to open any moment, Oryn could almost feel the press of their presence, cool jems gleaming against the ruddy filth of the mortals. If they chose to join him he would welcome their presence, but for the moment he savored the sickly sweet taste that lingered on his tongue from earlier that evening, and - as he had done for centuries before - waited.

[Stargazer3000]

𝐲𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞
tagged everly | mentioned | location meadow, castle gates
─────────────────────────────

It didn’t matter that she had poured a small fortune into the carriage, that the interior was plush enough to rival the clouds themselves. Nothing, it seemed, would stop her head from smacking against the back wall as they passed over yet another crater-sized divot in the road.

Yvaine’s hands remained folded in her lap even as her body swayed with the motion of the carriage, the whites of her gloves looking like doves that had nestled into the rose red folds of her silken dress. Her lips pressed into a firm line, taut as the laces that criss-crossed her bodice, as she endeavored to sit straighter, to tighten her core, to do anything to avoid another jarring smack to the back of her head. No less than twenty seconds later her efforts failed.

And to think her day had begun so promisingly.

Yvaine had taken up residence in the palace a few weeks past, her arrival timed perfectly to coincide with a local festival. Most of her days were filled with activities befitting a visiting noble; court appearances and garden games, hours spent in a parlor and regaling the ladies of court with tales of her travels. It made her want to weep.

Today, however, was gloriously free from such theatrics, as all attentions had turned instead to the festivities. Yvaine had slipped away amidst the commotion, entreating her driver to take her to a wide meadow that she had spotted on their initial approach to the palace, the need for open space singing in her veins. With a carriage packed full of books, and painting supplies, a hastily packed picnic, and even a stolen bottle of port, the promise of the day seemed endless.

In truth, the morning had been pleasant, but the storm clouds had rolled in on furious winds, quick enough that Yvaine barely had enough time to rush back to the waiting carriage before the deluge was released. Waterlogged and woefully unprepared, the return trip back towards the palace was an exercise in patience and pain.

Thankfully, years in court had prepared her exactly for such undertakings.

As the hours passed it became increasingly evident that in addition to not having time to change into a gown more befitting of the festivities, Yvaine might miss the banquet altogether. And so her mood soured, the bitter taste of frustration settling in her mouth as she was jostled about the damp cabin. Even when the storm lifted and their pace increased, irritation stayed firmly rooted in the petulant tilt of her mouth, and in the darkening of her eyes.

That last lingering rays of sunset had long since slipped from the sky when the castle rose into view. A crowd of people swarmed in front of the gate, making entrance all but impossible. The richly embroidered carriage curtains remained tightly closed against the wooden slats of her windows - there was no need to display herself in such a disheveled state. Still…Yvaine ached to fling open the carriage door and let herself be swallowed by increasingly frenzied crowd, anything to get out of her increasingly stuffy confinement - if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel it, the erratic eb and flow of common folk chatter crashing in waves against the sides of the carriage.

And then, in the span of a heartbeat, all the chatter fell away, replaced by a singular voice. Yvaine didn’t need to make out the words to understand the message - the time had come. The hiss of metal on metal confirmed her suspicions as she heard, rather than saw, the gate opening. The rush of the crowd to enter the palace grounds came a moment later, and Yvaine was forced to raise her voice to be heard over the fray, her command to wait nearly being lost amongst the cacophony.

Once the rush slowed to a trickle, Yvaine felt the carriage give a lurch as it began to slowly roll forward, no doubt joining a procession line towards the palace gates. Curiosity at last got the better of her, as she pulled the richly embroidered curtain to the side, peering out the carved window for a glimpse of the revelry beginning.

Faces danced by outside the cabin, a carousel of joy and anticipation painting the stranger’s expressions in the flickering torchlight. Rich colors swam in and out of her vision as most were dressed in their finery, heavy velvets and cottons fighting back the oncoming chill of autumn. And then, like finding her favorite dessert nestled amongst rows of pastries, a familiar face caught Yvaine’s attention.

Everly was sweetness incarnite, the golden torchlight making the soft girl glow, and for the hundredth time since her arrival in the castle Yvaine cursed whatever gods had trapped such a gem in a low station. And then Yvaine cursed herself - boredom was her constant companion, and the only sport she could indulge in whilst under the leering eyes of court was silent contempt. It was irritating, then, that she could find nothing in the other girl to resent. Perhaps she was getting rusty.

For the second time that evening, Yvaine called out to her carriage driver, a quick command to slow the carriage and beckon to the woman lingering by the gates - with any luck the sigil on her carriage would be recognized and at long last her day might begin to improve.

[Rae'tia]

⚜Theofania⏵wc: ~859
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⋆ ★ tagged; open ｜ mentions; Oryn｜ loc; Castle Gates ★ ⋆

indentationStreaks and flashes of light disturbed her otherwise peaceful world. Her mind palace was ever-changing and evolving, unlike her own body. But the storm had been prevalent ever since she and the others had been imprisoned by those foul-smelling dogs. No amount of time spent consuming mortal blood would calm the storm either. That said, she hoped that she'd be able to clear the storm from her mind with a little help. Pulling out her new tarot deck, she started out easily, with a very late daily reading. Like always the first card always told of the mental state, what was on the mind and what they were thinking about a lot today. Pulling her long blue flora dress over her legs, she sat down under a strong looking tree to begin her reading.

indentationThe first shimmering card that Theofania pulled out was the Queen on Pentacles - Reversed, which wasn't the best card, but it honestly wasn't the worst. At the very least her hand was telling the truth today, so far. She had been thinking about work and the struggle to catch up with everything that's happened. Mentally pushing that aside she removed a second card - which was about the emotional side of things - from the deck, and her lips quirked upwards ever so slightly as the Seven of Pentacles came up in a right-side-up position was revealed. Hard work, perseverance, and diligence were defiantly something that she'd been feeling for the past few weeks. Moving on she pulled out a third and final card, which spoke of her tasks for the day.

indentationThis was not the surprise that she was expecting today. Having drawn The Empress card, which spoke of motherhood, fertility and nature, gave her pause. Flummoxed at what the card was telling her, the lone undying shook her head and returned her card to the deck. She had no idea what the cards from the daily reading were trying to convey, but she wasn't sure she liked it too much. In hopes to get more information, Nia started mixing the deck. After what felt like hours of mixing she set the deck down and once again set out to work.

indentationThe first card was blunt, the Nine of Swords defiantly represented her current situation, anxiety, hopelessness, and nightmares. She grimaced as she set it aside, and then pulled the second card, which told of what actions she - or they - can or could take to address the situation. The two wands weren't really unexpected, and she honestly would have been more startled if they hadn't shown up, as they spoke of planning, making plans, and discovery. Which in this case would probably be a mix of spying and obviously making plans. Putting the second card aside she paused as she turned her pale blue gaze to the deck. The third and final card was probably going to surprise her just as much as the last attempt was.

indentationChewing on her lower lip briefly, she carefully grabbed the last card, and slowly looked at it. Her jaw dropped, confounded by what she saw, the Six of Pentacles. This didn't fit in with the plan, she thought with bewilderment. But maybe it's the long-term outcome and not the short-term? She thought semi-hopefully, as she placed the card back in its place in the deck. Disturbed Fania started to pack up, returning the two other cards back to her deck, before placing the deck in her small satchel.

indentationThe noise of the world around her returned as her focus turned outward and she pushed herself up off the ground, from her seat below an old tree near the castle. The Festivals Opening night was today, and while she wasn't exactly looking forward to attending in any capacity, she knew there was at least one way for her to blend in with the festivities. Looks like I'm doing things the old-fashioned way tonight. Not that she minded using her deck for this purpose, though it felt more like a performance than it did all those years ago. But then she'd always preferred giving readings to her own kind, and while doing so for mortals was mildly amusing, the smell of the mutts would ultimately ruin her mood. Until it was time to get back to the castle, she decided that she'd wander for a time.

indentationIt wasn't like Oryn or any other the others needed her for something right? So until she was required, Theofania would spend her time slowly making her way to the castle. It was an imposing thing, but unfortunately for her not that far away; or at least it didn't seem like it. Out of the pot and into the fire. Pulling her dark blue hooded shawl tighter over her body, Nia walked towards her destiny. Looking through the thin but dark black veil she watched as mortals passed her by, not realizing that there was a monster among them.

indentationMore than one kind of monster, she mused, as a small smile tore at her skin. Humming softly an old song that her own mother had once sung to her, she made her way towards the castle gates. "Wake up the beast, Bury the bones, Enjoy the feast, Take all control, When you give me your soul." Nia muttered in a sing-songy voice.

[*Lovel*]

Azalea Barlowe
❝hold me deep beneath your waves❞
gender; female age; 24 Race; wildling sexuality; Demisexual
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mentions; x tagged; Nero

indentationAzalea had an unusually early morning, she made it out to the gardens just before the sun decided to make its entrance. The dew on the leaves glistening as the soft rays hit in just the right way. She ran her hand through the flowers as she walked nimbly through the garden stopping once she came across her favorite flowers, baby’s breath, she crouched down and softly plucked a small bundle off and tucked it behind her ear. If only the gardeners knew, she’d be in for a lecture that’s for sure, it was almost like the flowers were an extension of them and doing anything to the flowers reflected on the gardeners. She loved the meaning behind the dainty flowers. They symbolized a certain innocence, purity even, that she wished she still held. Azalea ran her finger over her small tattoo before rubbing her hands on her pants and standing tall once more.

Aze made her way back out of the flowers with a small sneeze onto the dirt path making her way towards the castle. While walking she passed the maze pausing a moment and gave it a glance, she always hated the maze. It looked like the shrubbery would eat you alive the moment you didn’t give it attention. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge, she shook her head lightly and continued her way. After a bit of a walk, she made it to the heavy doors that would let her make way inside. She pulled the door open with little effort and the rush of noise hit her ears.

The team of workers ranging from service aides to cooks were bustling around like busy worker bees. Azalea weaved her way elegantly through the crowd, making sure to not bump into any of them. She almost made it through when she grazed the arm of a young man carrying a basket of flaky bakery goodies. Some of the goods tumbled to the floor – this made her heart ache a bit – Azalea looked at the fallen heavenly treats then to the young man. His face was twisted and red with either anger or embarrassment, Aze couldn’t distinguish, but before he could utter a word and chew her out, she took the basket from him. “Let me, It’s the least I can do.” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before tipping her head ever so slightly and making way to the pastry pantry.

Once she got to the pantry, she set the basket down. Although she planned on leaving right after the sweet and yeasty smells engulfed her senses and her stomach let out an embarrassing growl. “No one will miss just one” she convinced herself and picked up a delicious looking strawberry cream cheese danish. Azalea took one bite before she heard a voice, she jumped slightly almost losing her prize. She turned seeing the brunette hunter just inside the doorway. If looks could kill he’d be six feet in the ground. “Nero Leloup you utter-"she didn’t finish the sentence, such an obscene word should never be muttered by a lady. “You’re lucky you are my second favorite.” She teased before shoving the rest of the pantry in her mouth with a lopsided grin.

“From the looks of it they won, Ronan I presume?” Azalea stifled a laugh as she closed the gap between her and Nero. She rubbed her finger across the small wound “want me to give you some cream for it?” she took his disregarded cloak in her arms. “I still haven’t gotten to my duties yet. Maybe we could switch for a day, although I think my patients would leave worse off then they had arrived if I left you in charge of medic duties.” She gave Nero a sly smile before pulling him to the door of the pantry.