Status

Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current That amazing high when you realized how far you've come in improving your writing. It's impossible to describe, but drowns you in a positive glow.
5 likes
12 mos ago
I love being a terrible person by making my PCs' lives miserable, it's art form that never gets old or boring.
2 likes
2 yrs ago
In the end, one man's hell could be another's paradise. Never underestimate the power of perspective.
2 yrs ago
Nightmares fuel my muse, keeping her nice and satisfy...
2 yrs ago
Stupidity can be the most dangerous thing to a person...but damn, does it feel good laughing at it when it's not you.
4 likes

Bio



Personal details I've got enough room to share.


Username.....Fallenreaper
Nicknames....Fallen (preferred), Reaper, Devour of lost souls, etc.
Gender..........Female
Sign...............Libra (true to sign surprisingly)
Occupation....Wandering and exploring the caves of my insane mind
Location.........USA (Lost in the Cornfields!)

Status............Stable.I'm currently staying with my Aunt at her house and looking for a new home, so if I vanish unexpectedly it's because I'm busying moving and found a new place to live.



Active


Click the links (Titles) below to be taken directly to the thread.

Advance RP

Create-A-Hero
Accepting: GM/Co-GM Nitemare Shape, Hound55, & Dedonus


Coruscant Sacked: Aftermath
Accepting: GM/Co-GM Ellri, Sundered Echo, & Fallenreaper


~Chrono Asylum: The Tainted Crest
Spots Open & Contact the GM for Interest: GM/Co-GMs Xodus


⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱
Accepting: GM/Co-GM yoshua171, Celaira, & Assistant GM Tuujaimaa


Casual RP

Samhain Intrigues
Accepting: GM/Co-GM- LadyRunic


Blood Act: Ghosts of the Past
Still Accepting: GM/Co-GMs Fallenreaper, Lucius Cypher, & Rtron


Nation RP

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne
Still Accepting: GM TheDuncanMorgan


Arena RP

None yet.

Arena Stats

1 Wins / 1 Losses / 0 Draws
1100 points

Most Recent Posts


~|Ryria T’Vessi|~


When plans were finalized, Ryria made her up to the roof. Her legs snapped out with purpose and determination to climb each step fluidly. Her hand reached for her rifle, pulling it free and checking its specs. Her hands flew to make minor adjustments until it felt comfortable in her hand. Upon reaching the roof, her eyes took in the setting she had to work with. It held little cover save for the sightly risen walls where she could crouch then carefully take aim at her targets.

She set herself up comfortable on a point where the walls merged, her barrel pointed in to the directions most likely the team would come from. However on a moment’s notice she could easily shift to any of the other four walls should things change. It risked her safety, but it would take a keen sharp-shooter to manage it.

Patiently, the asari laid upon her stomach before staring into the distance for the first signs of movement.

I'm very sorry to Panther, Fallen, and everyone else but I must remove myself from this rp. I've been thinking about quitting for a while due to going through certain things in real life. With my grandfather being ill, with the long wait for his parkson to become much worse, along with personality clashes with others I feel better if I remove myself. I've had a great time being in this rp and was able to gain help improving my writing skills. Thank you all for this amazing experience.


Understandable and no hard feelings here. ^-^


Freya
Ben

Location: Smithy's drug and grocery store, Las Vegas
Time: Evening




From triumph to despair.

An anguished cry of grief and rage escaped Katarina’s lips as she saw Ben collapse from his multiple bullet wounds. She could practically smell the silver in the air, vaporising from the spilled blood of the werewolf as his vitae gushed from the fresh injuries the Hounds had inflicted upon him. Katarina could see them advancing slowly, cautiously… a tactic that would be their undoing - caution in the face of overwhelming force would only lead to total annihilation. Not that the overwhelming force had reached them yet, but Katarina cared little for the mortal obstacles that barred her path to her paramour. She instinctively knew her magic would be too slow to react in time - she lacked an appropriate missile attack that would stun or kill his assailants immediately… but then she had an idea. In less than a second, Katarina took hold in one hand, one of the assault rifles of the fallen Hounds that had met such a terrible, gruesome end, and in the other, tore the armoured vest - and webbing attached - from the Hound that she had *not* torn in half. Following that, Kat, with full force, shoulder-barged her way through the aisles that blocked her path to those hateful fiends, with not even the screeching of twisted metal and crashing of goods as they fell from their shelving masking her bestial roar that accompanied her charge against the Hounds. Far too late did they anticipate such a charge, and before they were able to raise their weapons against this new threat, Katarina was on them. She aimed her charge to knock the first into the latter two to stun them and give her an extra few vital seconds with which to wreak her bloody havoc.

Her charge utterly stunned the trio of Hounds that had approached Ben. The first was thrown towards his comrades, a flailing mass of limbs that knocked the others to the floor, their rifles tumbling from their grips. Katarina was closest to the second, and leapt upon him, her fingers like talons, grasping at her prey. The Hound’s body armour was of little defence as Katarina straddled the Hound’s chest, easily batting away his feeble attempts to defend himself. She wrenched the Hound’s head to the side, and sank her fangs into her prize - his exposed neck. She drank deeply, her body flushing with new energy - and knowledge. The rifle in her hand. An M16A2 assault rifle, firing 5.56 NATO. Old US Army stock, but no less effective. The vest would stop much of the kinetic energy - Level III body armour. Good enough to stop most ammunition types in use in the modern day. She could use that information later… Before the others could react, Katarina swung her rifle up and pulled the trigger twice. The staccato bark of the M16A2 shattered the air, Kat’s ears ringing from the din. Her shots found their marks, with almost inhuman accuracy - truly, she had drunk deeply from her prey! The shots she had fired both penetrated the helmet of the Hound that she had not charged - there was no surviving that. The third and final Hound had by now been able to regain his senses somewhat and attempted to lunge for his gun - to no avail. Katarina pulled the trigger twice more. ‘Double tap.’ something in her head said to her as she did so. The technique she had drained from the Hound she had fed upon - the shots impacted the Hound once again twice in the head, penetrating the helmet and no doubt killing the man inside.

Ben ignored the violence that the vampire was enacting upon their attackers, quickly moving to where the werewolf was laying. He didn’t know why things were suddenly on the defensive, nor did he particularly care. He was immune to whatever the bullets were that had made the golem hurt and was shattering through whatever magic the witches had. The bullets that had hit him, after dealing with those men with the riot foam, had only shattered on his now nigh impenetrable skin. He would have to come back here and grab the ammunition and those strange necklaces the men wore. It seemed to protect against the magical attacks of the Fey, and perhaps would do so with the magic of the witches.

Picking up the werewolf, he sprinted towards where Freya was taking cover. The remaining riot foamers were either dead or to far away to stop him, and his body was immune to whatever fire that could be sent against him by the others. He could afford to be reckless. His sister smiled at him as he dropped the golden werewolf nearby. ”See? That wasn’t so hard. Now see if you can’t get whatever their firing and wearing, and then help the witches. They appear to be struggling.”

Ben rolled his eyes in response, looking at the softly growling werewolf. ”Try to bite my sister, and I’ll throw you back out there.”

Benjamin just growled then snorted. As his head laid down, his attention focused on breathing and moving. His adrenaline had died shortly causing the numbness to vanish, every wound burning past the surface. Each time he tried to rise, his
weight brought him back down and more blood oozed from the holes in his flesh.

The next attempt left him weaker than the last one.

Freya shooed her brother. ”Go. I can handle him.” Ben shrugged reluctantly, leaping through the smoke and illusions again. With her brother off on his task, Freya turned back towards the werewolf. ”Hey, easy there. You’re hurt and struggling is only making it worse.” She spoke gently, soothingly, moving carefully closer to the werewolf. ”You need to give yourself time to rest. None of it looks lethal, though I admittedly know nothing about werewolf physiology, so all you need is time to use your considerably powerful healing ability to recover. If you don’t you’re just going to lay there hurt even longer, and no one wants that now, do they? Just be patient for a bit, and then we can start seeing about you walking around yeah? Can’t help anyone if you bleed out on the floor.”

At Freya’s touch, Benjamin shuddered. His blood coated her fingers nearest the wounds causing him to whimper in pain, his sound more akin to a scared domestic canine than a proud wolf. Gradually his body managed to still,some of his side pressed upon her knees, as his peripheral vision caught sight of her.

A deep, injured voice echoed in her head. A sense of youth and strength mingled with worry and instinctive need. A need to protect his pack, his family.

‘Can't heal or move. Something’s wrong. Pack needs to survive. Pack is life.’

”Well that’s great, but if you die because you won’t give yourself time, then the pack isn’t going to survive either. So I suggest you stop thrashing.”

Benjamin started to ease his struggles. His body fell back to the ground and settled down, the pack’s survival enough to make him listen.

Katarina, meanwhile, had been focusing on the rest of the thugs that were attacking them. She was able to make out several dark shadows through the insipid smoke clouds that hung around the area, remnants from the smoke grenades that had been the hallmark of the beginning of the attack. She raised her weapon to open fire, but hesitated. She didn’t know who they were or whether they were friendly - they could have been the witch, or the Frenchwoman, for all she knew. This moment of uncertainty cost her dearly - whilst she was attempting to identify one of the figures, another raised their weapon and fired two shots. The first missed, ricocheting off a nearby metal aisle and generating a veritable shower of silver fragmentation that bounced around all over the place, several striking Katarina and burning holes through the leather jacket she was wearing, burrowing into her flesh. The second struck her in the left thigh dead-on. She screamed in agony and dropped to one knee as the blessed silver burned and charred her unholy flesh, a torrent of blood erupting from the wound and staining her jeans as it did so. She was now also aware of searing pains in her face, as rivulets of blood dripped down her neck and into the lining of her jacket. Had she been shot in the face? Surely not... Even as the silver tried to do its work, Katarina’s undead constitution rejected such a metal, ejecting it with some black sorcerous force, such that the silvered tip fell to the floor, smoking as it reacted with the remains of Katarina’s blood. Gritting her teeth, Kat returned fire, striking the Hound twice in the chest, dropping him to the ground. She knew that his armour had likely taken the brunt of the round impacts, but it was the best she could have done given her situation.

She looked over at Freya, and her stricken love, Ben. Immediately, all thoughts of retreat, or withdrawal, or anything other than heated anger were erased from Kat’s mind. They had hurt him, no, crippled him, and she was going to kill every last one of the bastards who had done so. [i][color=921111]Fight for him, Kat. If nobody else, fight for him.[/i][/color] She gave another roar of rage as she got back to her feet, ignoring the searing, stabbing pain in her thigh as she did so. At the same time, she strapped on the armoured vest she had been carrying. It wouldn’t protect her from much, but it would do the trick - the ammunition was more important. Kat switched over her M16A2 to fully automatic fire - single shots wouldn’t be sufficient in such close quarters. She spotted another figure in the mists and smoke, and instinctively pulled the trigger, a burst of fire spraying across the figure, complete with individual clouds of blood droplets. The figure crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. [i][color=921111]Scheisse, that was a civilian! Ach, well, collateral damage. Acceptable casualties.[/i][/color] She looked back over towards Freya and Ben, and shouted over to them. ”Get him to safety! I’ll hold these untermenschen off as long as I can!” She noticed the Frenchwoman opening a portal off to the side - an escape route! Pointing to it, Kat nodded to Freya. “Over there! Go!”

Ben reappeared, carrying a few clips and two necklaces from their, now dead, assailants. He was even bloodier and his clothing had even more bullet holes in them. ”This was all I was able to get. The witches are making a portal to bail, and we’re leaving with them.” He handed his sister the stolen loot, and picked up the werewolf. ”Come on, kid. Lets go and see if those witches can’t fix whatever’s wrong with you.”

Freya herself was busily putting up the clips and the necklaces, standing to follow her brother. ”The vampire is gonna cover our retreat, so I suggest we start leaving now.” Her brother reached over, and pulled her to his side. ”Stay right here while we move. I don’t want you getting shot.” She rolled her eyes, but obeyed, moving with him as Ben slowly made his way over to the portal.

Katarina kept glancing over at the Dovers, and the stricken Ben, as she watched for any targets that showed themselves. A tactical withdrawal was in order - the Hounds had evidently retreated somewhat after the golem had enacted its own rampage against them in defence of the witches, and possibly as a result of their own rising casualties. Perhaps Katarina’s usage of their own weaponry against them had also played a role - maybe they weren’t used to vampires with assault rifles? She made this a mental note for the future; always carry a gun of some kind when out and about on the streets of modern America, for you never knew who was opposed to metas and who wasn’t. Thirst simply wouldn’t cut it (no pun intended) in the modern world as a weapon - she needed a gun. Perhaps she’d simply take this one. Out of the corner of her eyes as she limped towards the portal, she spotted a Hound struggling to his feet, clearly in pain. The same man that she had shot earlier and whose body armour had evidently taken most of the impact. Wouldn’t make that mistake again. She raised her rifle and pulled the trigger twice, the now-familiar bark of the M16 ringing in her ears as the gun let loose. She struck the Hound in the head, a cloud of red and odd pink chunks flying into the air, but she was unable to admire her results for long, for she came under a hail of gunfire in return, though much of it was inaccurate. Yet the old adage rang true once more - sling enough shit at a wall and some of it will stick. Kat saw the shot too late, and tried to throw herself out of the way, but her reflexes, as fast as they were, were insufficient to dodge a bullet travelling faster than the speed of sound. It impacted along her left side, the silver metal tearing open another gash in her skin as it tore across the surface. The pain from her wounds was almost unbearable, the smell of her own blood filling her nose and fogging her mind.

She dragged herself back to her feet and over to Ben’s clothes - rifling through his jeans, Kat saw several possessions that seemed important - a small card bearing his likeness, his ‘phone’ which she had seen him using earlier, and his wallet, which no doubt was very important to him. She stole a glance over at the portal, and then back to the Hounds’ direction. She reloaded, her movements slowing from the silver affecting her bloodstream, and her perception slowly dulling - the thick white smoke clouds were persistent to say the least. My god… hurry up… I can’t keep going much longer… Not that she would admit it in front of Ben. He was all that mattered to her… and until he was safe, she would fight. She didn’t really know why, but… she didn’t care.

Ben finally reached the portal, throwing the injured werewolf through without a second’s hesitation. Freya turned back to the vampire and shouted, ”Vampire! We’re leaving!” Then jumped through herself, Ben followed suit. He personally wouldn’t have even bothered warning the woman, but that’s why Freya was the one who handled diplomacy.

Finally! It was time to beat a hasty retreat. Katarina dragged herself back to her feet and looked over to the portal, just in time to see the larger of the Dover twins throw - yes, throw - Ben through the portal’s gate. Kat seethed with rage - how dare this whelp, this animal, treat her injured love in such a derisive and uncaring manner?! He was critically wounded, and this brute simply saw fit to throw him about like a doll?! No matter. That would wait for later. Kat limped as fast as she could over to the portal’s entrance, and with a last burst of gunfire, she dove through, just as a return fusillade peppered her last location...
@Fallenreaper

A bit of both. A friend of mine asked me to join and I was just wondering if you guys wouldn’t mind letting me in. I’m guessing since the OoC isn’t too active, you have a discord group?


The rp is always open for new players and yes, we have a discord group. I'll pm you the link here shortly. I don't know if it's in the OP, and I haven't really cleaned that up.
Lidda, Office




Lidda’s head tilted when Alaira reached her point. Automatically the teacher’s eyebrow raised in question, noting the strange request and examined Alaira. She inwardly was trying to determine the reason behind the request. While many students had a streak of vanity, she wasn't expecting to see it or find it practiced by Alaira of all people. This took her by surprise completely. The Amazonian female was often very proud of her gained trophies and evidence of her survival. Even when Lidda had seen her younger students offer to cosmetically heal them time to time.

Uncertain what to make of this development, her eye shifted to the unwrapped hand. Casually her torso rose higher on her chair then slid in between her paperwork, careful not to disturb it, with her paw-like hands pawing for her to examine the limb. When Alaira allowed it, she gently turned it over and over in her grip. Her narrow eyes carefully examined the flaws in its mending. It was functionable, but clearly covered in keloid scar tissue thanks to the ill care taken afterwards. This made Lidda frown more as she paused, her eyes flickered up to Alaira’s description of herself.

“Cosmetics usually come after repairing vital veins, muscles and tissue. Pointless to ‘look pretty’ if you don’t survive to enjoy it, don’t you agree? These shouldn’t be too hard to fix through I have a few questions for you,” Lidda asked, her figure bend back toward her desk. Her right paw managed to open the drawer then ruffle through it. Her words, however, continued.

“First off… why? You’ve never asked for cosmetic applications before, usually pretty proud of your survival scars. Second what after applications did you apply afterwards?” Her eyes were distracted by her search, unable to see Alaira’s reaction to her oddity of questions, “Some of Sam’s herbal salves are designed for skin health, especially to discourage build up of useless scar tissue. Finally, how do you feel about minor changes to your appearance? The novice class could use a volunteer and worse that will happen, you’ll have pink hair, purple eyes or something cosmetically odd for a few hours. That would be your payment.”
Hello.


Hello, interested in joining or just popping in to make new friends? ^-^
@everyone, a PSA:

I'm dropping out of this RP, mainly because I've lost all my interest in it over the past 2 months. As it stands, @Forett is the only one affected by this really, and I'm sorry. You can keep Erin as an NPC and do as you wish with her.

Bye, and I hope the rest of you keep having fun ^.^


Alright Ves, it was nice playing with you when I got the chance. See you around.
BLOOD STAINED MEMORIES Part 2


Location: Lost Haven-Maine, Apartment Complex
Time: 7 am Morning (Day 3 in Lost Haven)



A single bar of sunlight traced Racheli’s naked skin. It glided up her exposed hip, over the curve of the ribs and past her chest before coming to rest across her eyes. Her lids scrunched as she flipped away. Her face pressed to the silken pillowcase just to shut it out as she gave a muffled groan. Short strands of hair clustered at one side and tickled at her nose, arousing her hazy mind to stir from her laziness.

Racheli finally gave in. Disgruntled, she pushed upright and smacked her pillow for her disrupted sleep. Her legs curled under her sitting posture as she hung her head, trying to collect herself. After a few moments, she pressed both feet to the carpet then stood up.

Instinctive Racheli dragged herself to the kitchen-slash-dining area. Thankfully no one but her was within the apartment or they might've gotten flashed. Comfortable in her own skin, she began to search around the apartment drawers for a few essentials to make a hot cup of coffee. It took her a good half an hour to finally round everything up then set it on the counter. When she popped open the coffee container, it finally dawned on her…

She was using both hands. Her eyes widened and stared at the newly formed arm, testing the fingers by flexing them. Slowly into a fist then straightened out once more. Each time on command like nothing ever happened.

“What the fuck?” she uttered, completely confused.

“It would've happened sooner if you had listened to me.”

Her head snapped over her shoulder, a glare washed away her shock.

“What the hell do you want?” Racheli snarled while her figure jerked around and leaned against the counter edge with her ass.

“Are you going to start that again?”

The virus countered, his vision stood firm and stiffly in place. She merely continued to scowl at him drawing a sigh from the illusion. His fingers pressed and pinched his nose bridge firmly, trying to relieve the tension building within him.

“You seem to keep forgetting I'm trying to teach you about your abilities, not hinder you.”

Irritation settled into his words, but Rach didn't care. She twisted her back to him as she began to wrap up making her coffee, placing the pitcher underneath the spout to catch the brew. The distraction was more needed than the coffee right now. Taking a moment to stretch her upper half, she decided to finally seek clothes for the day. She couldn't walk around naked and restlessness was creeping up on her.

Padding past the virus’ hologram, she reached the bedroom closet to find it fully stocked. Various clothes, from casual to see-through, were all neatly lined up across a single bar. Rach frowned then flopped a pair of ripped jeans, a tank top and button up shirt upon the disheveled bed top. She quickly grabbed some brand new panties and bra to place underneath. While she hadn't much issue, fun even, going commando, she wasn't in the mood. When fully dressed, she headed back to the bathroom for her old pants. Her hand dug around for her wallet. Upon finding it, Rach placed it in her back pocket alongside the cell Midas gave her. She then headed back to the kitchen. Her fingers gave her hair a single brush to it untangled and flatten her cowlicks down.

By now coffee permeated throughout the apartment. It was a welcoming and familiar scent causing Racheli to swoop in for a cup. As she listened to the bubbling liquid fill the cup’s bottom, the doorbell rang causing her to frown. Placing her desires on hold, she shifted and moved to answer it. The moment her hand opened the door, she found no one in the corridor. Just the newspaper with a morbid headline staring her in the face.

LOCAL BUSINESSMAN ARRESTED FOR BRUTAL MURDER OF HIS WIFE OF TEN YEARS


Her eyes tightened in curiosity as she leaned down, her right hand reached out to snatch it up. A small, pink envelope dropped from the center onto the floor causing her to pause in surprise. The woman stared at the innocent looking thing with high suspicion. Her greener than blue eyes stormed down one end then the other, seeing no one. Biting her lip, Rach quickly bent over and snatched up the letter. She twisted on heel heading back inside.

The door clicked behind her as she tossed the papers onto the table. She would look at them when she was damn good and ready, but not before. Her hand reached for the coffee to soothe her nerves. A few small blowing breaths before she sipped it, letting the warmth seep into her fibers. After a moment or two, her attention drifted back to the newspaper and the unexpected letter. There was only one explanation: Midas was fucking with her.

Snorting at the thought, she strolled back to the table and flopped into a chair. Her arm grabbed the pink envelope to see if there was a return address, but the only thing was written on it. Racheli Lorna Desdemona. A dreadful sensation erupted within her middle, her expression twisted into dislike. Cautiously she tore open the letter’s top as she slid out a card.

Her eyebrow raised in question at the birthday card as she flipped it open, the message revealed inside: I’m sorry I missed your Birthdays, but Daddy hoped your wishes came true. Racheli dropped the card. The chair squealed when her abrupt stand sent it backward, her eyes widened in shock and fear.

“What the fuck?!?” she uttered under her breath.

This couldn’t be possible, there was no way he was alive. She watched him die. Her heart thumped in her chest, the beat echoed through her ribs and rippled through her veins. Any breath she tried to expel got stuck in her throat where it tried to suffocate her. On impulse, her hands ripped the thin into pieces before she threw it into the trash. Her feet flew across the floor toward the exit, snatching a jacket along the way, before slamming it shut.
Time
Arc 2, Day 1-Night
Location
One Night in Hell (Nightclub section), Entertainment District in Ominar




After Afua departed, her path wove itself back to her residence. When her hand reached out and twisted the knob, it was shoved open on her way inside. The hinge gave a loud screech as the rust resisted the movement. Her mind flinched at the sound penetrating her ears. She ignored the painful throbbing, then snapped it shut behind her. Her heavy sounds betrayed her causing seven eyes to jerk into her direction instantly, followed by needy meows and scrambling paws.

Seven felines, all in various stages of autolysis stages, pressed themselves near her ankles. Each one had traces of taxidermy along their sides where internal organs had been removed in order to prolong their ‘life’. It was a new method Afua had been trying to develop, shifting from the softer and more moist variety to drier ones using a variation of freeze drying more commonly used. It still required tweaks because the creatures’ flexibly suffered. She couldn’t help but noted a few of the cats’ tails hung to one side, often bent at odd and unnatural angles. Afua’s affection remained strong.

She bent down at her knees as she tenderly stroked their rough fur. Her fingers ruffled along the hard, bony spines drawing a dry rattle from their throats. When a few moment passed, she rose upright then proceeded to closet. She needed to pick something lovely out for Masha’s official opening later tonight.

Through it was an important night, she wanted to blend in. It was best if there was less eyes on her.

Her fingers brushed by a pair of jeans laced along the side, the gaps suited to expose her dark skin through its gothic butterfly design. The imagery caused her lips to turn up into a smirk as she gently pulled it off the rack, then tossed it upon the bed behind her. Next she located the perfect v neck tank top with broad straps. Finishing up her ensemble with a small cat choker, she applied her black lipstick and examined herself in the mirror.

Afua leaned over for one last good-bye to her pets before she walked out of the door.

~| One Night in Hell|~


The night air was chillier than normal causing Afua to regret not being a jacket. Her figure walked through the neon sea of lights, their colors altering her skin and enhancing her allure. Each step made her tight curls bounce across her face as she pulled them across her eyes. A long line stretched across the pavement to the street. The club entrance seemed backed up by the eager patrons waiting to satisfy their curiosity about floating rumors. Afua found herself faintly surprised by the fact due to the club’s reputation as she skirted past the line’s end, heading to the front.

One of the bouncers were about to stop her until she jerked up her VIP badge. Flashing it caused both men to come to an abrupt halt then waved her by, one of their arms even pushed the door open. She gave a distinct nod then strolled right in. Maybe a bit too much like she owned the place, but she had other things on her mind besides appearances.

Afua narrowed her vision across the scene. Patrons wiggled like insects partying in a corpse, their movements carefree and sometimes sexual, as they became lost in the music. She fought against the siren’s influence while she panned for Masha’s location. The necromancer found her target currently busy with another of her ‘co-workers’, Damian.

“Shit,” Afua muttered under her breath.

She couldn’t approach him without the little hybrid blabbing to Darius. Deciding to wait until Masha was alone before approaching her, she sought someone else that could give her the answers she needed: Nabriales. Resigning to her second option, she made a beeline right for him.

7


~|Ryria T’Vessi|~


As Sabinus’ speech echoed across the open air of Eos, Ryria twitched subtly at the mention of civilian and private experience being left at the door. Isn't her personal experience with hostile environments what got her assigned to APEX in the first place? What put her over the top of any other qualifying medic within the compound? Through these questions rattled within her brain, her lips never once asked them. It was pointless in a military operation to disagree with a superior officer without consequences. Her eyes drifted down to Matthews, the name oddly familiar, who was currently eating dirt with her push-up.

‘Yeah, it won't end well at all…’ Ryria thought sarcastically, her eyes snapped upright before Sabinius came waltzing by then left.

When he introduced the angaran liaison officer, her head tilted to observe the individual. It was officially her first time seeing one that wasn't from a distance. She will admit, secretly, to admiring the bone structure and unique anatomy. It was slightly refreshing to have someone different in the group when it came to species. The only regret came when she knew a physical was out of the question.

For medical purposes of course.

She pushed away any distractions when Sabinius ordered them to move out and head toward the dubbed ‘training grounds’. Through she hasn't been in the military for ages, she remained in good shape as she easily kept up the pace. Her thoughts dwelled on the fact they would be split up and doing a killhouse scenario. Those were a nightmare and a half.

Out of all of the defense team, Ryria felt and looked the least prepared. Through the threat of attack from Kett always hovered over their heads, it was difficult to do fine surgery when completely suited up and survival rate of her patients rated higher than her personal safety. It didn't help she was only recently informed and this prevented her from taking military measures. Thankfully, the armory had spare suits as well.

When Sabinus dismissed them long enough to grab weapons and proper gear, Ryria’s discomfort grew. There was little privacy or creature comforts within the compound, but she at least had some way to hide her scars from strangers. Here she couldn't. It wasn't that she was ashamed, but the looks bothered her subconsciously. Pity, horror, and disgust were very common. Most would stare until she was left cringing on the inside, pleading they stop over and over silently. Ryria learned a long time ago pleading rarely worked.

Not able to avoid it, she pushed herself to take the plunge then hoped for minimal reactions. Especially since they were going to be working together for the current future.

She picked a Predator heavy pistol and Mantis sniper rifle, both she knew decent enough to shoot with. Then she popped open one of the lockers where she selected a fitting helmet with matching suit. Setting her weapons aside, she began tapped the boots against the ground to ensure there was nothing crawling in them. Sealed lockers meant nothing to clever wildlife itching to find a cozy place to snuggle in. When that was done, she set the weapons to the side. After she pulled the suit overtop of her clothes, Ryria reached for her scarf as she carefully unwrapped it. Even she knew a headscarf and helmet spelled disaster.

Those that actually bothered to look or were at a close angle could see two deep, slightly discolored puncture wounds just behind her eye and on the lower jaw. Jagged lines angled from those points through the side of her mouth. The flesh seemed to have been splashed with acid leaving only essential tissues to prevent infection. It also allowed her to speak properly. Her crest back was jagged and broken, the area no longer symbolized a proper one.

Ryria finally dipped her head into the helmet before fastening into place. She finished her routine by checking each gun, calibrating it to her comfort zone. When satisfied, she fell back into formation.
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