1x1 Turning Fears Into Gold| Lovel + Witchhazel

[*Lovel*]

1x1 between Lovel and Hazel, please do not post unless you are us. Big thanks!

[*Lovel*]

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i. Oliver Howe

ii. Male | he/him iii. Demisexual iv. Son of Phobos v. Worst Fear Generation vi. Fear Domination

vii. Teleportation viii. Nightshade: Kunai, celestial bronze with blue accents
ix. Horus: celestial bronze khopesh that he won in a gamble x. Larkspur: all black poleaxe, transforms into a pen xi.
Hemlock: Kagi-nawa, is worn as a rope bracelet

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─ ❝ danger is real but fear is a choice
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Oliver Is timid when approached with new things, due to being hunted he's now paranoid and doesn't trust easy. He's a nice guy but you'd only know that for sure if you break through his shell. He keeps his weapons on his person at all times in case of any trouble but keeps them in spots that are hidden from the eye. Oliver is still very unaware of the technological advances and prefers to write everything down in a journal he keeps in his coat and will write notes to people all the time.
Background: Oliver's village was in disarray for months. The people were reporting having terrible nightmares. Then rumors spread about people seeing ghoul like figures lingering around Oliver's home and the villagers demanded a trail. The counsel went to gather him but Oliver had already fled. He came across this building later to be known as the Lotus Casino and took refuge. In fear of being hunted he stayed at the casino full well knowing what kind of place it is. He kept up with dialect by listening to all the new people who come in.
Fears: Being hunted
Fatal Flaws: Paranoid and timid

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The only place that fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. ❞ ──

[WitchHazel]

xxxx

xxxx

xxxx
xxxx
xxxxxx❝No risk, no reward.❞
xxxx
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xxx♠ has trouble sitting still for long
xxxxperiodsx♠ stims by tossing a coin
xxx♠ has a very low pain tolerance
xxx♠ spreads rumoursx♠ can be judgy
xxx♠ has a great eye for detailx♠ is a
xxxxterrible artistx♠ quick reflexes
xxx♠ abhorrent driverx♠ always
xxxx"fashionably late"x♠ gets jealous
xxxxeasily
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxLikes
xxx♠ fashionx♠ makeupx♠ drag shows
xxx♠ attentionx♠ makeoversx♠ gambling
xxx♠ gamesx♠ gossipx♠ tea with sugar
xxx♠ flirtingx♠ parlour tricksx♠ Cher
xxx♠ consx♠ shoppingx♠ finger guns
xxx♠ public transportationx♠ electronics
xxx♠ wealthx♠ dramax♠ sass x♠ shortcuts
xxx♠ Halloweenx♠ good foodx♠ sweets
xxx♠ complainingx♠ oil paintings
xxx♠ musicx♠ fancy coffee
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xxx♠ Ambrosius William Fletcher
xxx♠ He/Himx♠ Homosexualx♠ Son of Hadesx♠ Born August 18th
xxx♠ Umbrakinesisx♠ Necromancyx♠ Geokinesisx♠ Dead-Eye Shotx♠ Sleight of Handx♠ Born Gambler
xxx♠ Stygian Iron Bident: gifted to him by his father. The Mist makes it appear as a fancy cane.
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xxxxAmbrose stands at 5' 10", with a lean physique and smooth, rounded features. His skin is a medium
xxxxshade of brown, and he has deep brown eyes that seem to sparkle when the light hits them. He has
xxxxshort, curly hair that is so dark that it's nearly black, always meticulously styled. The only scars he
xxxxhas are a few talon marks on his shoulders, where a harpy attacked him when he was young.
xxxxAmbrose always dresses to impress. He likes rich, velvety colours often paired with black, or even
xxxxblack and white if he's aiming to make a statement. He's a fan of dusters, scarves, gloves, fancy
xxxxhats, and even a bit of makeup or nail polish when the mood takes him. Ambrose generally enjoys
xxxxwearing jewellery, and has both ears pierced with an additional helix piercing on the left.
xxxxSometimes, he dresses in drag under the name Ambrosia.
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxDislikes
xxx♠ black coffeex♠ confrontation
xxx♠ physical labourx♠ shadow travel
xxx♠ boredomx♠ effortx♠ germs
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxFears
xxx♠ clownsx♠ commitmentx♠ losing
xxxxthose he cares aboutx♠ his own
xxxxpowerx♠ being seen as unattractive
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xxxxAmbrose has always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Charismatic and charming, his roguish
xxxxsmile wins over even the darkest of hearts. He is a shameless flirt and enjoys being fawned over,
xxxxespecially by the Aphrodite cabin. Ambrose can be incredibly unreliable and has a tendency to flake
xxxxout when he is needed most, or outright lie to get out of an undesirable situation. He often puts
xxxxhimself first, even if it means throwing someone else under the bus to save his own skin. The only
xxxxtime he will risk his life or reputation is for a close friend; someone he considers family. Otherwise,
xxxxhis loyalties are as changeable as the winds. He isn't necessarily a bad person at heart; he often
xxxxtries his best to do the right thing. Ambrose is vain and prideful, and can be easily manipulated
xxxxusing flattery. Others often see him as a bit of a narcissist - he thinks highly of himself and is
xxxxobsessed with his looks. Some of his tendencies come from deep-rooted insecurities, but he does his
xxxxbest to bury those behind wit and humour. Materialistic and a bit hedonistic, Ambrose likes to have
xxxxa good time. Though he tends to be greedy, Ambrose loves a gamble. His impulsive behaviours can
xxxxland him in trouble more than he'd like to admit.
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxFatal Flaw
xxx♠ Ambrose can never resist a gamble,
xxxxno matter how skewed nor how high
xxxthe stakes.
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[*Lovel*]

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Oliver Howe

∙Male∙Son of Phobos

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Oliver was sitting in a meadow, the field swishing back and forth to a rhythm he didn't know. He could faintly smell lavender in the breeze. It was peaceful, until it wasn't . Then suddenly the sky went from a bright baby blue to a dull gray, the meadow stopped swishing and stood eerily still. Oliver stood, hand instinctually going to Hemlock which was seemingly missing in his time of need. He could feel his chest and throat tightening and his stomach sinking. The sensations grew until the smell of gunpowder hit his nose and the sound of men shouting in the distance. The hairs on his neck stood as the shouts were getting louder, at some point the shouts turned into loud frantic beeping.

Oliver sat straight up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. The beeping continued, he let out some slurs before smashing his palm into the alarm clock. The staff probably put the loud ringtone on to get back at him in some way. He felt like today would be an interesting day, that was always his first true gamble of the day. Oliver swung his feet around the side and stretched side to side. He took his sweet time going to the bathroom, he took a quick look in the mirror. His curls were glued to his forehead with sweat and he had dark circles forming under his eyes. He let out a soft sigh before taking a shower.

He made his way down the stairs to the gambling area and to his normal spot. Oliver set his book and pen down at the table before planting his butt in the seat. A drink, virgin Shirley temple, was brought to him in record time. The staff member giving him a small glance before rushing off. Oliver didn't mind the woman's rush, he preferred them not to linger anyway. He scanned the room looking at all the new comers, fears popping in and out of his mind.

[WitchHazel]

Ambrose Fletcher
|He/Him|Son of Hades|

Don't kill me don't kill me don't kill me don't - The double doors slammed behind Ambrose with a loud bang, jolting him out of his frenzied panic. His chest heaved with the effort of running, his mahogany skin drenched in sweat. "What in the blazes -" the words barely had time to push through his lips before he was overwhelmed. A dazzling array of colours, a tumult of noises, and lights that seemed just a bit too bright accosted his senses. He stumbled away from the casino doors, marveling at the spectacle of it all. People were everywhere - many wearing clothing styles he'd never seen before. But most seemed too absorbed in their games to give mind to a scrawny young teenager covered in dirt and blood.

Most except for one. Before he knew what was happening, a chipper young woman had pressed a plastic rectangle into his hand and steered him towards a table, informing him that there were bathing and resting accommodations upstairs. The thought crossed Ambrose's mind that he could really use a bath, but it was soon quelled by the questions accosting his consciousness. "One second, I'm being chased by bloomin' bird-women, and the next... where the hell am I?" His head spun. I need to sit down.

Still reeling from his recent brush with death, Ambrose flopped into a seat beside a boy who looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. The smiling woman came back and asked him if he wanted anything, so he requested a glass of water. A low groan escaped him as she walked away. "No no no no, this can't be happening," he mumbled. "This is all just a bloody dream, and I'll wake up back in England, Mum will be alive and everything will be right as rain." And now I'm talking to myself. Everyone here's going to think I'm a loon. Why is this happening to me?

[*Lovel*]

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Oliver Howe

∙Male∙Son of Phobos

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Oliver was drawing a deep water scene when he started drawing a clown within the scene. He glanced up from his notepad to see a boy around his age, well his physical age at least, start to sit next to him. A clown flashed through his mind, before he could think about it his hand went to the boys back and started rubbing. Confusion swept across his face before he withdrew, heart pounding. "You're in the lotus casino.... where all your gambling dreams come true. If you're into that sort of thing." Oliver said sarcasm dripping through.

Oliver sighed shutting his notepad then looking the boy over. He was filthy, blood and dirt caked on him. Flashbacks entered his mind of when he first entered the casino an ache bloomed in his chest. He stood up facing the boy "Come on, I'll take care of you. Let's get you washed up and in some new clothes." Oliver grabbed his book shoving it in his pocket before he extended his hand to the boy. He didn't know what had come over him, he never interacted with the guests before but something was different about this one.

He glanced at his outstretched hand quickly before his eyes looked at the boy again. "No one will bother you as long as you are with me." Oliver said blatantly. Something like that would sound cocky coming out of anyone else's mouth but Oliver said it so matter of factly that it could only be taken as truth. 'What if my hand is sweaty and gross? What am I thinking this kid is covered in who knows what.'"You said something about a bird woman and is that your own blood?" he was both curious and fighting his instinct to retract the offer and mind his own business.

[WitchHazel]

Ambrose Fletcher
|He/Him|Son of Hades|

Ambrose jumped as the sudden sensation of touch sent shivers down his spine. A bird-woman's ragged talon, raking across my back - But the talons didn't dig in. Instead, the warmth of comfort bloomed in his chest, flowering out through his pounding veins until the roots touched his brain. A hand on my back. A human hand. He peered over at the other boy, finally feeling the adrenaline start to drain from his system. It seems my savior is charming enough, he reasoned. Cute, even. Though that might be the daring escape from a near-death situation talking.

"Lotus Casino..." the words felt heavy on his tongue. "I do love a good gamble." He took the boy's outstretched hand, though his own still shook. Bollux. I hope he doesn't mind the sweat. Not to mention the grime of travel or the fresh blood staining most of his garments. "The blood is... mine, yeah. Got in a bit of a row with some blokes outside."

Ambrose couldn't remember the last time he'd been properly taken care of. After his mother died, he'd had to do some unscrupulous things to find passage overseas. And what a grueling journey that had been. The idea of having someone, anyone to tend to his needs after everything he'd been through was enough to melt his heart. Even if that person was around his age, and a veritable stranger. "Bloody hell, where are my manners? The name's Ambrose Fletcher. And about the bird-women... you can forget I said anything." Most of the people on the street had looked at him as if he were mad when he'd begged them to save him from the bird-women. Why would this boy be any different?

[*Lovel*]

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Oliver Howe

∙Male∙Son of Phobos

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[size=75]When the boy grabbed his hand he could feel the grime and slight stickiness from the blood. Internally Oliver cringed at the feeling. He wasn’t much for touch to begin with and the grime was just another added layer to the feeling of uncomfort. He ignored the initial reaction hoping it didn’t reflect on his face. Soon the uncomfort was forgotten once the boy had mentioned the blood was his own. Worry washed over him as his brows furrowed.

Oliver started leading them towards his room slowly, he didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want the boy to get injured further under his supervision or if he just genuinely enjoyed his company. They were a few steps from his room when the boy finally introduced himself. Ambrose, nice name. Oliver had been avoiding the boys eyes before but he looked at them now. They were warm and inviting with a hint of mischief in them. A smile threatened the corners of his mouth.

Oliver cleared his throat before opening the door to his room. ”I’m Oliver” he said almost too softly. He lead Ambrose over to the bed and sat him down gently. ”I believe you, I have seen my fair share of monsters myself.” he didn’t feel like elaborating on the statement. He made his way to the bathroom to gather the first aid kit. Oliver placed the kit next to Ambrose and clicked it open. He paused as his eyes landed on a cloth inside. It was various shades of brown now. He forgot he had put the cloth in there since he’d hardly used the kit. A flashback of the woman wrapping his wounds came and gone in a moment that lasted too long for Oliver’s comfort.

Oliver blinked before shoving the cloth aside and grabbing a fresh bandage roll. He brushed a damp towel on the boys hands first. ”Tell me what happened.” Oliver wanted to know more about what he had went through. As twisted as it may be it gave him a feeling of comfort that he wasn’t quite alone anymore. ”Where else?” he asked hoping the answer wasn’t too bad.

[WitchHazel]

Ambrose Fletcher
|He/Him|Son of Hades|

"Oh - okay, we're movin' now. Brilliant." Ambrose allowed himself to be led away from the chaos of the casino, up to a surprisingly nice room. Never thought lodgings in a casino would be comfortable. Introductions were exchanged, and Ambrose couldn't help but smile. "Oliver, eh? Cute." Ambrose you absolute buffoon! At least wait until you aren't a bleeding mess to start flirting. As he brushed aside his inner voice, his legs detected something soft beneath them. A quick glance down revealed that he was sitting on a bed. When did I even get up here?

It was of no matter. Oliver's next statement had his head swimming. He's seen monsters before? Is he mad? Or are we the only ones here who don't belong in a loony bin? "Monsters." He echoed the other boy's word for them. "Yeah, sounds about right. Can't think of what else those bird-women would be. Is wishing for highly realistic Halloween costumes out of the question?" His poor attempt at humour did little to disguise the panic ballooning in his chest.

Soon enough, a wet cloth had been dragged across his hands, and questions were being tossed his way. "What happened? I was minding my own business, and then I got attacked by bleedin' bird-women, is what!" A nervous laugh bubbled up from his throat. I"I just - first, they kill my mum, and then I'm in the city, and then there's this pasty bastard in my dreams claimin' to be my dad! But he's not my dad, 'cause my dad died in the war, an' - an' he gives me this - this - thing -" he gestured to the bident propped up against the bed "- and I wake up and it's just lyin' there next to me! An' this pasty fella, right, he tells me to find some place called 'Camp Half-Blood' out here in the States, so I stow aboard a cargo ship, I do, and it's awful, what with the ocean doing it's best to kill me, but I get here - only to be chased by bloody 'monsters' halfway across the country! Bloke didn't even tell me where this camp is! This country's bloody huge! How am I supposed to find anything here if I don't know what it is? And then today, the bird-women attacked me, and I ran in here to get away, and I... met... you." Ambrose's rant slowed to a stop as he pointed to Oliver; the whirring gears of his mind finally catching up with his mouth. "A near-stranger. Who I've just blurted my entire life story to. You must... you must think I'm a loony."

[*Lovel*]

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Oliver Howe

∙Male∙Son of Phobos

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Oliver's cheeks bloomed with a dusty shade of pink. He's never been complimented before in his years. He was normally a mere afterthought if that, in fact he was generally avoided. Oliver figured the compliment would be the thing that would make him write Ambrose off and turn him back into his recklus self but instead a laughter as bright as chimes escaped him. He didn't know that he could even make a sound like that.

Before Oliver could overthink the situation, Ambrose in his flurry of an explanation mentioned something that caught his focus. "Camp half blood" he said deep in thought as he looked to the bident as if noticing it for the first time. He'd heard of the camp before, they kept sending goat people to recruit him. They would give a whole speech about god's and goddesses, something about Phobos being his dad. He had always declined their offers telling them to bite it, if they wanted to keep him safe why did it take them so long to reach out to begin with? Now they waited until this boy, Ambrose, got hurt. He could feel burning within him, figures of small clowns and bird like women materialized then quickly vanished.

Oliver hoped Ambrose didn't see, hoped that if Ambrose did he'd just forget about it. A breath he didn't realize he was holding escaped him once Ambrose mentioned something about being looney. Oliver finished up the bandaging putting the roll away and closing the kit with a soft click. "You aren't looney, if you are looney then I am too. Over the last few... Years I've had these... People come to the casino speaking about this Camp Half Blood telling me they could keep me safe that I'm the son of a Greek god." Oliver paused, he'd read up on the Greek gods and goddesses since the second visit from a goat person he thought now might be called a saytr. "I think..." He looked at the bident once more before his eyes made their way back to Ambrose. "I think your dad maybe Hades." Oliver felt like he just dropped a bomb, or was it called a mic drop, he could never keep up with all the lingo changes.