Posts by .smokey

    ((Right, so we've plotted up to here. What shall we do next, once the tea party is over? Actually have them fight, ending in a tie/even more sexual tension? Or, do they have a fight, cue sexual tension, and Venus finds them, grabs them both by the ear and sneaks them into her house to sit in a room and make-up (she literally plays therapist for them like they're in need of relationship counselling)))

    Virgo stormed into the apartment, and chose a seat as far away from the demon as he could. It occurred to him, as Venus threatened the demon with the revelation of...some important tidbit of information, one Virgo would have to dig around for later, was that Virgo didn't know the demon's name. Odd. Lots of demons liked to proclaim loudly, and for all to hear, what their names and titles were just to show off. Angels never did such a thing, and Virgo had no titles of importance, if at all.

    Virgo crossed his legs, waited for Venus to go and make "tea," and bared his teeth in the cold imitation of a smile as the demon threatened him with dismemberment. "Oh, don't flatter yourself," Virgo hissed. "You'd have to catch me first, and I'd like to see you try that with whatever hellish wings you wear. Have the flames of hell torched them, or are you too ashamed to show them to a child?"

    As he spoke, Virgo's wings manifested on his back and spread out a little, the feathers all ruffled. An intimidation technique meant for humans, but Virgo used it on just about anyone who pissed him off, which tended to be everyone. His wings, unlike a great deal of other angels', were a stormy grey with an iridescent shimmer of purple and blue and silver, like lightning in the clouds. He bared his throat yet again, a bold gesture, even for him—he knew the feeling of hands or ropes or chains around the column of his neck, but that never stopped him. Compared to everything else, choking was the equivalent of a paper cut.

    The fires of anger roared through Virgo, a trait condemned by his superiors but never beat out of him; angels never beat anyone, but rather disciplined with long, tedious lectures and meditation. Nothing worked for Virgo. All he did was remember the past and run screaming from the room. So here he was, never rising above the rank of guardian angel, and never aspiring to be anything better than borderline-pariah in the eyes of his heavenly brothers.

    "How did you end up in hell?" Virgo murmured, a question both to himself and also to the demon across the table. He leaned over, resting his elbows on the plastic as he narrowed his eyes. A flicker of gold ringed the pupil as Virgo reached out with his mind and brushed against the side of the demon's hoping to catch a glimpse of his name. "What crime did you commit? What sin?"

    Watch out for the scrollie!


    "All good things are wild & free"

    Philip didn't blink as Micah's knives sank one by one into the targets, albeit nowhere lethal. He took note of the way Micah's face flushed, and a gentle smile touched Philip's lips. He ducked his head and glanced down at the knife in his hands. The edge glinted in the line, and he ran it gently over the pad of his thumb without breaking the skin.

    "Philip," he said at last. "District 7."

    Not relevant information, or indeed an answer to a question Micah never asked, but he found it was important to drop a hint: I know the wilderness, the woods in particular. Pick me as your ally. That way, he would feel less pathetic. He wanted to be chosen as someone's team member rather than asking around. People who asked him would be dependent on him, and therefore less likely to stab him and Hana in the back.

    Of course, Philip needed the other tributes to like him, so he held out the last knife to Micah and said, "You sacrifice accuracy for strength. Try again, but keep a gentle grip. And loosen up your shoulders. It's a knife, not a sword. It needs speed and balance, too."

    He spun the knife on the tips of his fingers so the blade rested in his palm, and he held the handle out to Micah. A gesture of good faith, as well as a chance for Micah to prove he was willing to accept someone's advice. Maybe Micah wasn't so bad, after all. Even if he was a Career.

    District 7 | Hunting Knives


    "Push through hell and rise"

    Taahira tended to leave the dining hall earlier than her friends, a small but tight-knit group of Muggleborns like herself who often found themselves subject to torment from the pureblood "elites." Taahira, who never felt like she belonged to begin with, wished they would put an end to it, especially as they grew older and therefore, ideally, more mature. Alas, Taahira continued to endure the smirks and looks thrown her way, and how she wanted to wipe them off their faces.

    Taahira left the hall in a bit of a hurry, wanting to get to the library, find a book, and drown her troubles in the written word. Instead, she almost walked into a fellow Ravenclaw: Roy, his name was, and a Quidditch player if Taahira remembered correctly. Not her cup of tea, although she did like to watch. He was talking to a Weasley, if the red hair was any indicator, and she did her best to smile at both of them despite her internalized panic at interrupting a conversation.

    "H-Hi," she managed to stammer out. "Sorry. I was just on my way...out." She realized how pathetic that sounded, and pink dusted her cheeks as she decided, what the hell. Time to make some friends outside her little clique. "I'm Taahira. It's nice to meet you."

    Majestic uoyevoli..

    Ravenclaw | 6th Year | Wand | Patronus


    "History was not made by those who did nothing"

    Mathias waved his friends goodbye as he sauntered out of the dining hall, a smile on his lips. He tucked his wand back into the sleeve of his robes and ran his fingers through his hair. Another excellent meal, as always, although he had to admit, nothing could beat a meal back at home, whether it be Windsor Castle of Buckingham Palace. Even if the meals here were made by house elves, and therefore had a touch of magic.

    Mathias swept out of the dining hall and made a beeline for the suit of armour where Kat was waiting. His smile widened as he approached his sister, and he yanked her into a hug before she could say another word. He squeezed tight—Mathias wasn't big on hugs until his loved ones were involved—and let go with the biggest smile he could muster.

    "Hi, you," he said. "Dinner was great, actually, but it can't beat home." He winked, as though he had just imparted a great secret. "Ready for our walk? I want to get close to the forest before the sun goes down."

    Even though the school banned first-years, and discouraged others, from entering the Forbidden Forest, but Mathias knew they could walk along the edge without being yelled at. Plus, Mathias wanted to get a walk in before his schoolwork piled higher than his head. As a seventh year, life got busy fast, and with Quidditch as well, Mathias knew he had to spend as much time with Kat as possible before then.


    Hufflepuff | 7th Year | Wand | Patronus

    ANDUIN WRYNN High King of the Alliance

    ((Also, I feel like Anduin and Wrathion both indirectly talk about their feelings for each other as they worry about the other person, so that's where Riley and Xyra get the idea))

    Anduin yanked his hood back over his head as he hurried through the Mage Quarter with no real destination in mind. Just away, he supposed as he rounded a corner, grateful for the empty streets so early in the morning. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him, their king, in such a state of confusion and disarray. They would question his leadership, his sanity, maybe believe it was too much and try to have him overthrown. What if they—

    Anduin's foot caught on seemingly thin air, he stumbled...and slammed right into someone walking in the other direction. Anduin yelped and spun away from without an ounce of grace, stumbling back against a nearby wall. His eyes widened when he saw who, exactly, he had run into.

    "Xyradel," he blurted out and straightened, wiping panic off his face as easily as rain washed dust from a window pane. "I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

    Watch out for the scrollie!

    RILEY OSWALD Worgen Outlaw Rogue

    ((No worries. I'll just kick it off with Riley coming up to him))

    Riley trotted over the bridge with Xyra, but afterwards skirted the edge of the Mage District, aiming for the arch over a flight of stairs. Riley descended them, gazing out at Lion's Rest with a quiet sigh. The wind off the sea brushed against her nose, and she stopped to take in the serenity. Pandaria would be exactly like this, she mused as she rested a paw on the daggers at her waist.

    Another, different smell washed over Riley as she drew nearer to the tomb, and she spun around to find its source. Dark, foreboding, with just a hint of loneliness. Riley's gaze landed upon a figure seated on the stairs, and she grinned. She padded across to the stairs where Wrathion sat, her smile widening.

    "Ain't you a chipper-looking one?" Riley laughed and shook her head. "We beat N'Zoth, you know. You don't need to look so despondent." And smell so sad, Riley added, but only to herself.

    Watch out for the scrollie!

    AMY WOLF Queen of the Riptide

    Most of the guild, Amy noted as they disembarked from the ship, did not like the cold. Amy found she didn't care. She wore appropriate clothes, like any sane person would, but the chill of the sea lived in her bones as the cold of ice lived in Erik's. Amy wore the bare minimum, hoping she wouldn't come to regret it as she trudged after her guild onto the port.

    On either side of Amy, other guild ships pulled into the harbour. Such a large group for one quest. Amy wondered how many people would die; it was inevitable, after all. Amy didn't dare search for Lamia Scale; the thought of seeing anyone in that guild, for the most part, made her sick. If any of them approached her, Amy couldn't promise she would hold back her rage and cast them into the sea.

    "Hi, everyone!" broke through the haze of Amy's thoughts, and she lifted her head to spy a familiar face racing through the cold towards Fairy Tail. A rare smile spread across Amy's face, and waved at Cleo through the light snowfall.

    "Hey, you," Amy said, shoving past a couple Fairy Tail wizards to meet with her friend. "I'm glad you're here. How've you been?"

    Sanctuaryforall1 Cleo

    Sea God Slayer | Fairy Tail (S-Class) | Click here for more details

    RIVER The Scribe From The Stars

    River trotted down the gangplank cursing the weather. He hated snow, and rain, and anything that got him wet. He wore a thick, if stylish, winter coat and looked to all the world like he wanted to be anywhere else. Preferably somewhere warm, like a beach far, far away from here. River shuddered as his feet sank into the snow; he prayed his boots would last the duration of the trip.

    "I hate this," River grumbled as he plowed through the snow, coming up beside Kazuma and Ferrara. "Please, tell me we're within a minute of the inn."

    He wrapped his coat tighter around him and glanced down at Ferrara. He flashed her the biggest, friendliest smile he could muster despite his attitude and laid a glove-clad hand on top of her head. "You doing all right, there, Ferrara? How was the ship?" He knew for a fact that Lorcan, and the other Dragon Slayers, had had their heads in buckets the whole way over. It made River glad he wasn't a Dragon Slayer, despite their awesome power; he never got motion sick, and the thought of being endlessly queasy on journeys made him sad. Imagine all the beautiful scenery the Dragon Slayers must miss.

    Gold! Kazuma Sanctuaryforall1 Ferrara

    Rune Magic — Testament | Fairy Tail | Click here for more details

    DRAVEN MARSEILLE Servant of Nightmares

    Draven sat cross-legged on the rooftop of a building overlooking the docks, watching guilds by the dozen pour into town. One of his illusionary ears twitched in annoyance, and Kongulo snickered.

    "Look at all our new playthings," she purred. Draven ignored her, letting Reidi and Mareritt rant about all the horrible things they longed to do. Burn the city to the ground, consume every mind with monstrosities, turn them all into slaves. For once, they weren't arguing, which gave Draven enough clarity to examine the terrain.

    All of these faces, all of them enemies or rivals or former opponents. Draven laced his fingers in his lap. His power radiated off him like a black plague, but the absolute amalgamation of magical energy flowing into town masked him with ease. He would need not fear arrest. Not when many guilds employed wizards of darkness, or even employed him. Except Fairy Tail and Sabertooth. Those two wouldn't dare, and Draven sneered down at the line of Fairy Tail wizards passing beneath his building. He could crush them all like ants if he so desired, and perhaps he would, if they were here to find Rytingur. Rytingur belonged to Draven, and rightfully so. Any attempts at slaying her would end in fairy blood decorating Iceberg in every direction.

    Open for interaction

    Take Over: Old God | No guild | Click here for more details

    EKO APANTAKU Guildmaster of Sabertooth

    Eko stood on the prow of the ship, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched Fairy Tail disembark. Sabertooth's ship had arrived after them, and everyone was still rushing about, gathering their belongings. Eko hadn't packed much; he wasn't a hoarder, so he spent his time eyeing Fairy Tail and wondering where his friend-turned-rival had wandered off to. A little smirk tugged at his lips when he remembered Lorcan's notorious motion sickness.

    "Oh, the poor thing," Eko murmured to empty air. "What a shame."

    He meant none of what he said, of course, and went back to admiring Iceberg and the other ships. He had to admit, some of them boasted some grand sails or gorgeous masts, but Sabertooth's was the most practical. Any and all pirates stupid enough to attack would never get close; with cannons and magic at their disposal, who stood a chance?

    Open for interaction

    Anti-Energy & Animal Eyes | Sabertooth (GM) | Click here for more details


    ANDUIN WRYNN High King of the Alliance

    ((For the purpose of the encounters, maybe Xyra could stop by the DH area in the Mage District, which is why she runs into Anduin?))

    The Light nudged Anduin's eyes open with a whisper, an observation it had made while Anduin knelt before the tomb, keeping silent vigil over his father's grave. Anduin pulled back the hood of his cloak, morning sunlight catching his hair and painting it gold. Void corruption, but too faint and too dormant to be a threat. Anduin needed only to glance over his shoulder once to spy Wrathion watching from the edge of Lion's Rest, almost as though he didn't dare set foot upon sacred ground, for fear of corrupting it.

    Anduin watched Wrathion, unabashed despite the tumultuous storm of feelings running rampant through his heart. He swallowed hard and finally averted his gaze, hanging his head almost in shame as he went back to silently asking his father for advice he would never receive. No one remained that Anduin could confide in. Genn was too hellbent on destroying the Horde to pay attention, Anduin had no idea how to find Mathias, and Turalyon...well, Anduin doubted Turalyon would approve of a romantic relationship with a dragon, of all things, and a Void-corrupted one to boot.

    "What do I do?" Anduin asked the wind, and all he got was a chill as it blew off the sea and into his face.

    Anduin jumped to his feet, yanked his hood back over his head and fled Lion's Rest as best he could without running. He avoided Wrathion like the plague, choosing a path that took him up into the Mage Quarter and away from everyone else.

    Watch out for the scrollie!

    RILEY OSWALD Worgen Outlaw Rogue

    Riley finally stopped talking as they stepped into the Trade District and were halfway to the tunnel leading out towards the canals when Riley stopped dead. She scratched behind her ear and smiled at Xyra almost sheepishly, an impressive feat for a wolf on two legs.

    "Hey, Cookie," she said, patting Xyra between the horns. "Do you mind if I stop at Lion's Rest? I want to pay my respects to King Varian. He was...a good friend, actually, and I want to say a quick thank you and all that. I barely got the time during the Legion invasion, and then the Fourth War."

    Riley wasn't normally the sombre type, but it was true. She owed Varian that much, at least, to thank him, and maybe also tell King Anduin that she and Xyra would be leaving; the king did love asking them, among other heroes, to carry out various tasks to help Azeroth heal, but they deserved a break. Anduin would agree. The king was nothing if not reasonable.

    "Feel free to go explore or buy something or scout out ships," Riley said, bumping her nose against Xyra's forehead. "I'll meet you at the docks."

    She skipped off with a smile and a wave, singing to herself "Ahoy, ahoy, sweet daughter of the sea. Ahoy, this child be mine."

    Watch out for the scrollie!

    ((I love how we've already got some sexual tension going. It's too good. I also never write this much, but my muse for this is sky-high))

    Virgo straightened even more than usual, baring his throat to the demon without fear of repercussions. Unlike mere mortals, it took a great deal to slay an angel, or a demon. It happened, if only because the two polar opposites were evenly matched, but Virgo took the chance. The demon in front of him, with the child on his shoulders, clearly had a soft spot for them. If he wanted to kill Virgo, he would not do it with a child as an audience.

    All sorts of terrible things welled to Virgo's lips, scathing remarks and burning insults ready to be unleashed upon the demon's ears. Angels didn't normally swear, but Virgo had seen enough shit that he didn't care. A light pink dusted his cheeks as the demon spat out a great deal of things that Virgo never wanted to hear again; the thought of submitting to anyone, willingly or not, brought back Virgo's nightmares. He would rather die than relive them at the hands of anyone at all.

    It was unfortunate Virgo never got the chance to speak. Instead, Venus punched him in the crotch. He winced, his hips twitching backwards away from the blow, but his face remained unchanged, and no sound escaped him. Virgo smirked at the demon, if only because he had at least held his composure better than he, but Venus' idea of a plan wiped the smirk right off his face.

    For the second time that day, Virgo wasn't given a chance to speak before Venus was pulling him along, her hand warm and soft in his. He stumbled at first, taken aback by Venus' spirit, and kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ground as Venus led the way back towards the building where she lived with the old man.

    A cool breeze brushed against Virgo's face as a car zoomed past, and Virgo used the rev of its engine to spit out his answer at long last. "She'll see me for a guardian and a hero," Virgo growled, eyes flashing as he glared at the demon. "I can't say the same for you. You're a demon. Your kind murder children for sport. When I kill you, I will leave your pieces scattered about the world, and no one will even try to piece you back together."

    Venus caught the last bit of Virgo's rage-fuelled speech, and she squeezed his hand. "Be nice!" she scolded before rounding on the demon. "You, too! No more talking until we get back to my home."

    Virgo snapped his mouth shut and settled for giving the demon the most contemptuous look he could muster. He had the last word. If that wasn't a victory, Virgo didn't know what was.

    Watch out for the scrollie!

    Virgo perched on the edge of the building, his wings folded tight against his body as the hustle and bustle of the city assaulted his senses. He winced at every blaring car horn, every shout, every song of shattering glass. Nothing about the city made Virgo happy. The whole place tugged at the doorknob of a door Virgo did not wish to a open. A door that leaked nightmares and darkness and things best forgotten. Virgo hunched over, crouched down into a ball with his toes sticking out over the lip of the roof.

    A shiver ran down Virgo's spine, and he zeroed in on his charge: little Venus, who needed a guardian angel more so than anyone Virgo had ever guarded. With no parents save one old man, Venus had it rough. Virgo quite liked her; she had spirit. She was like Virgo, before his spirit was taken from him and ripped to shreds. Even now, so long after, the pain still blazed through him. He could be alive, perhaps, in some senior home, instead of lying in an unmarked grave somewhere in the forests of Poland.

    Virgo watched a middle-aged man with a foreboding aura approach Venus. If Virgo had hackles, they would have risen, and he shifted on the rooftop, eyes narrowed. His wings spread, the cold wind tugging at them as they manifested in top form. He waited, but the man made no move to attack. Still, Virgo wasn't about to leave her to be kidnapped. Not like him. Never like him.

    Venus continued speaking to the man, all the while kicking a stone out onto the road. She trotted after it. The screech of car tires sent Virgo tearing off the building like a bird of prey. He dove through empty air, wind whistling in his ears as he banked sharply and came to a running halt, his momentum carrying him right into the man reeking of brimstone and cigarette ash. Demon. Virgo's entire body rebelled, but he could not let go as he shoved the demon—and Venus, to some extent—away from the car already screaming down the road.

    A snarl tugged at Virgo's lips as liquid poison fell from the demons lips. Virgo had indeed ended up on his knees, and he let go of the demon with a low growl so uncharacteristic of his kind. He stepped back, shoulders hunched and glared daggers at the demon with Venus, his charge, on his shoulders like it was no big deal.

    "Why I am here," Virgo growled, his wings fading out of sight as he straightened up, "is none of your business, demon spawn." He kept pure, unfiltered venom out of his voice; best not scare off Venus. He swallowed hard and looked up at Venus, forcing the black anger out of his face for something all angels could do: pure kindness.

    "Are you all right?" he asked Venus. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

    It was times like these that Virgo wished he hadn't been born in 1917, where the average height of men was shorter than the men of now. He was nowhere near as tall as the demon; his chin tipped back a little just so he could look him in the eye.

    Watch out for the scrollie!


    "All good things are wild & free"

    ((It is very much not trash at all))

    Philip kept a careful eye on Hana, even through his peripheral, as throwing knives bored her and she wandered off to archery. He stayed behind, knowing full-well that even if all the tributes were older than her, they wouldn't be able to resist how adorable and sociable Hana was. Unless one of them proved to be a complete and total bitch. Philip would never hear the end of it from her if she got into a verbal shouting match with someone else.

    Three knives flew from Philip's hands in quick succession, throws made without second thought. They struck the intended target in their intended locations: head, chest and groin. Philip paid no heed to the last one; he'd seen the damage done to a Peacekeeper who thought jumping over a knife aimed at the thigh was a brilliant idea. Everyone often underestimated the long-limbed, quiet guy from District 7, who hardly seemed like any competition. Oh, how wrong they were.

    The arrival of the Career gave Philip a heart attack. He whipped round, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he slammed a mask of indifference down over his features. He rolled one shoulder, fiddling with the knife in one hand. Did he accept a compliment from a Career, of all people? Part of Philip found it to be condescending, but he would need allies in the arena. If Hana died because he had no friends to help him protect her...

    "Thank you," Philip mumbled and threw the last of the knives, striking two targets off to the side between their hypothetical ribs. "I take it you want a go?" He waved towards the rack of throwing knives, where a half-dozen remained. Philip still had one tucked into the belt around his waist, and he slipped it out with the ease of a practiced knife thrower, something many Peacekeepers knew and did well never to forget.

    "What's your name?" Philip asked, keeping his voice light and casual and pretending he didn't give a damn about Micah Glace, the District 1 male and a deadly swordsman, judging by the state of the mannequin where the other Careers were.

    District 7 | Hunting Knives

    ((Hey, no worries. I feel like this site is kinda dying out, so here's my name: astralwrath#3345 (with all the discord fiasco going on, I don't want to get evicted. Also, if we have to, we can move this thread onto discord just in case). Also, ehehehehehehehe I can't for the life of me remember what out plot with the witch hanging was, so a reminder would be super appreciated))

    Virgo could have slapped himself. Why didn't he offer to help Cillian stand, or get on his horse for that matter? He tightened his jaw, an imperceptible motion that no one ever noticed because no one knew Virgo well enough to notice all his ticks and tells. Instead, Virgo busied himself with his saddlebags and pretended he didn't notice Cillian struggle a little to climb into his saddle. What use was he, an all-powerful mage who couldn't even heal a simple bruise? He ducked his head a little lower, letting the fringe of his hair mask his eyes from view.

    "Off we go, then," Virgo said and urged Indigo into a walk. He did check on Cillian over his shoulder as they started down the path, but not for long. Gods, would this be awkward the whole way to the village? The thought made Virgo shudder. He didn't want to be stuck in silence, wrestling with his thoughts. He needed a topic of conversation, and fast.

    "Tell me a bit more about yourself," Virgo blurted out not half a minute into their journey. "Your life before the demon. What was it like?"

    Normal, probably. Virgo's heart twinged at the thought. He could have had a normal life if he hadn't gotten clever and erased his name from the entirety of history.

    Watch out for the scrollie!

    Icarus and Venus are both amazing, and I love them (also, teach me how to make a mood board. I've always wondered how). Anyways, Virgo is on the first post and ready to go, so would you like to start or shall I?

    Watch out for the scrollie!

    Voila! uzumati.

    Form is up! Here's my big fat WIP as I look for a faceclaim