[hr][hr][center][img]https://s9.postimg.org/tznya388f/strange.png[/img][hr][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6C3ND1nitRs[/youtube][hr][@Nallore][@BlueSky44][@FantasyChic][@mnkee][hr][h3][color=#0099cc][b]The Port of Tortuga: April 4th, 1719 - 4:13 PM Local Time[/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr]	Aravis stared at Anastasia blankly. There was no sign of recognition of her friend in Aravis' eyes, even despite the fact that Anastasia was possessing the body of Lady Dywell. She merely nodded curtly, as if that was enough to explain everything that happened. This would perhaps be Anastasia's first indication of the fact that something was deeply wrong. Of course, there was also the nagging feeling that would increase with each minute, as Anastasia's host grew weaker and she felt the Devil's Triangle pull on her a little more with each moment. She'd need to be quick to get all of the bodies - and likely selective in which ones she'd grab. 

	[color=#b5ccf2]"Tu es vraiment un con,"[/color] Alisanne spat, her eyes narrowed. [color=#b5ccf2]"Je ne suis pas morte. Je ne suis pas chez moi. Mais est-ce qu'il faut que je sois morte? Non! Pense! J'ai tué Margot, bien sûr! Ce n'est pas difficile à comprendre!"[/color] She brushed a piece of hair out of her face, as Anastasia's rapid movements had whipped up a decent breeze. Her hands were soaked in blood. Her hair was dripping with blood. It wasn't her blood, however. So much would be clear to Edgard by now. 

	[color=f7976a]"Is someone there?"[/color] Aravis asked, though her tone was disinterested. She was watching Edgard scream in another language at the air. She didn't care if the man was insane or not. She couldn't bring herself to care about much at all. She knew that she should - but she couldn't even feel worried about the fact that she couldn't feel. Nothing could cause her alarm, but nothing could bring her joy as well. [hr][center][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/8toinndFj8EQU/giphy.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][h3][color=#0099cc][b]The Devil's Triangle: April 4th, 1719 - 4:13 PM Local Time[/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr]	Édouard awkwardly shuffled his way to the back of the crowd, eventually positioning himself next to Elissa. He certainly hadn't expected that to happen and given that he didn't understand what was going on - the one mouse faced girl hadn't been kind enough to translate for him as was offered - he was content to just stand there for the moment. It certainly seemed to be the safest option. 

	Septima rolled her eyes, holding up a finger to indicate for Millicent and Sirena to wait a moment. Turning to face the Lord Dywell, she smiled slightly. "Hello, brother," Septima said. "[i]Manete[/i]," she then commanded. The man stiffened instantly, becoming as rigid as a board. Her word was really an incantation, one designed to induce paralysis. Satisfied that he wouldn't be going anywhere, Septima turned back to Millicent and Sirena. She honestly wasn't sure who to deal with first. 

	"I will not allow you to destroy the flask," Septima warned, staring Sirena down. "If you try, I shall turn your soul to dust." From her tone, it was clear that she was more or less figurative. It was a challenge to a duel - the winner receiving the rights to keeping the flask and deciding what to do with it. She then glanced at Millicent, sighing once more with exasperation. "The only one lacking thought is you, child."