Inertia Member
Pretty Lackadaisical
STATUS: Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions. 6 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
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Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions.
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6 yrs ago
She knocked that smug look off my face but luckily I was wearing a second, smaller smug look underneath.
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There's nothing more intoxicating than the clear absence of a penis.
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Half of Blink 182 is Wink 91.
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A Freudian Slip is when you mean one thing but fuck your mother.
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Bio
"I like it when the center is wet."
"You're the biggest bitch I know, but you're funny sometimes, so it's okay."
Most Recent Posts
Victor Crowe
Interactions: Everyone currently present in the dining room.
Victor leaned against the interior wall of the dining room. Carlisle had been carried to a room and for now him and the rest of the coven were on standby. The barrier had been down for awhile now and nothing was happening. He couldn't get rid of the sinking feeling in his gut. Was he just expecting the world to erupt due to a barrier going down? Maybe. This whole thing had a familiar earmark. A certain Déjà vu.
As predicted, the front door kicked open. A familiar man strode into the dining room. Victor furrowed his brows. Lucien. The man introduced himself with the ever-familiar and narcissistic grandiosity. This man dares to intrude in his home while bringing cursed beings with him? He threatens his family... AGAIN?
Victor almost started seeing red. The first few sentences that came out of Lucien's mouth came in one ear and went out the other.
”Now of course you could decide not to come peacefully. But then I would have to start killing off your friends, and then your family. We really don’t want that do we? My friends are kind of hungry, and they are just looking for any excuse to eat out.”
“Lucien, you fucker,” Victor spat back venomously. “... Did I not warn you what would happen if you ever pull any of this kind of shit again, you threatened my family, again!?” He stepped towards the group. One of the werewolves stood in-front of him, bending down and snarling in his face. Victor looked unfazed, rage seeming to override his fear. Frost once again began coating on his hand, this time it formed at a much quicker pace and almost covered his entire arm. His icey-blue eyes staring down the wolf in anger as it blocked his path.
Victor grabbed the the snarling Werewolf's neck despite the height difference. Frost seeped through his hands and into the Werewolf It spread at a frightening pace- in a few moments its head, then torso, then it's legs was entombed in a light coating of ice. It appeared that the werewolf should be able to easily escape its confines but it didn't. Or rather it couldn't. As if it was frozen inside out. Victor pushed the Werewolf to the side. It's expression forever frozen in that encasing of ice as it landed with a thump on the floor.
For many of the Coven members this was the first time they had seen Victor like this. He had never used his powers to this extent and his attitude was a stark difference compared to his usual self. Right now Victor couldn't be mindful of such things, though it wasn't as if he intentionally hid this side to himself. It was just extremely rare and often related to his blood family.
“All I wanted was to be cut away from the Crowe's. I wanted it to end peacefully. I shouldn't have listened to my dad. And this is how you want it to go? Well. I'm here Lucien, you son of a bitch,” Victor said. “Just like you wanted.”
 |  |
Auguste had known the Alidasht were more forward with their words. Be it through the innuendos or flirtation that the Prince often waved off with a smile or their blunt honesty. Even more were there seemingly strict adherence for tradition. Or... atleast seeming so. He figured there were some ill-will within this dutifulness towards tradition. He acknowledged Munir's presence and simply smiled at him taking his goblet.
The issue with Duke Lorenzo's seating confused Auguste. Within Caesonia the guest of honour tended to be seated on the opposite end of the host, although he did also come to the conclusion that perhaps Alidasht customs were much different from their own. Auguste personally believed that the matter was overblown. The disagreement had generated an atmosphere not do dissimilar to one in the royal court. Auguste expected such within this dinner but it was jarring that it had started over something fatuous. Auguste was familiar paddling such waters, he nonetheless hoped Wulfric was here instead of him. Perhaps it was better he was here instead as Wulfric tended to be... harsher with the Duke.
Auguste stayed silent throughout it all. He maintained his neutral expression, although his smile had dripped away from his lips. While there may have been a conflict with tradition, he thought it was taken a smidge too far when the Alidasht had aired out their personal grievances with Lorenzo. Still, he stayed silent. Auguste nodded at Leo's suggestion, an attempt to diffuse the situation.
Internally, Auguste was proud of Lorenzo standing up for himself. While he may have acted discourteous in their own eyes, there was no excuse to do the same under the guise of tradition. This newfound confidence would serve him well in court... if he sharpened his mind against the more unsavory members of court. The same could be said about Charlotte. Both the Vikena household was always one he had rooted for and often assisted. It was good to see them stand up for themselves.
Auguste exhaled unintentionally at Duke Lorenzo's final words, biting down a smile. Had the Duke always been like this? It was like a different person sat on the same table as him with those biting remarks. Though it was best he doesn't make his underlying comment much too obvious like that, the Prince still found it slightly amusing.
Even though an odd atmosphere nestled uncomfortably in the background, it was good to see that they have moved on from the topic.
“I'm in agreeance, Duke Vikena.” Auguste finally chimed in, his smile had snuck back onto his face. “There have been a-many dueling tournaments I have entered, and many I have placed in second, third, or even lower. Most of time” Auguste paused. “It is more exciting for me if there are mountains left to climb.”
Auguste truly meant no ill-will to his words and simply added his own experiences to Duke's own statement.
The issue with Duke Lorenzo's seating confused Auguste. Within Caesonia the guest of honour tended to be seated on the opposite end of the host, although he did also come to the conclusion that perhaps Alidasht customs were much different from their own. Auguste personally believed that the matter was overblown. The disagreement had generated an atmosphere not do dissimilar to one in the royal court. Auguste expected such within this dinner but it was jarring that it had started over something fatuous. Auguste was familiar paddling such waters, he nonetheless hoped Wulfric was here instead of him. Perhaps it was better he was here instead as Wulfric tended to be... harsher with the Duke.
Auguste stayed silent throughout it all. He maintained his neutral expression, although his smile had dripped away from his lips. While there may have been a conflict with tradition, he thought it was taken a smidge too far when the Alidasht had aired out their personal grievances with Lorenzo. Still, he stayed silent. Auguste nodded at Leo's suggestion, an attempt to diffuse the situation.
Internally, Auguste was proud of Lorenzo standing up for himself. While he may have acted discourteous in their own eyes, there was no excuse to do the same under the guise of tradition. This newfound confidence would serve him well in court... if he sharpened his mind against the more unsavory members of court. The same could be said about Charlotte. Both the Vikena household was always one he had rooted for and often assisted. It was good to see them stand up for themselves.
Auguste exhaled unintentionally at Duke Lorenzo's final words, biting down a smile. Had the Duke always been like this? It was like a different person sat on the same table as him with those biting remarks. Though it was best he doesn't make his underlying comment much too obvious like that, the Prince still found it slightly amusing.
Even though an odd atmosphere nestled uncomfortably in the background, it was good to see that they have moved on from the topic.
“I'm in agreeance, Duke Vikena.” Auguste finally chimed in, his smile had snuck back onto his face. “There have been a-many dueling tournaments I have entered, and many I have placed in second, third, or even lower. Most of time” Auguste paused. “It is more exciting for me if there are mountains left to climb.”
Auguste truly meant no ill-will to his words and simply added his own experiences to Duke's own statement.
| Attire: Formal attire. Interaction(s): Everyone currently present at the Dinner, Ríoghnach @JJ Doe, Mayet Kadir @13org, Leo Smithwood @Helo, Sultan Kaid Raif. Mention(s): Wulfric Danrose @Silverpaw, Matthias Larsen @Rodiak, Reohg @JJ Doe, Mayet Kadir @13org |
Auguste observed the rest of the matches in the booth with his father to observed the rest of the fights. The words of the masked swordswoman nestled uncomfortably in the back of his mind. He tried not to think of it now and simply enjoy the rest of the proceedings. Wulfric's match was interesting. He was well aware of his brother's swordsmanship prowess, so anyone able to keep up and trade blows with him was someone worth keeping in mind. Sir Mathias Larsen, huh... His eyes had unconsciously focused and sharpened as he watched the match. Ultimately it came to a close match, it ending with Wulfric's victory. He stifled a chuckle at how refreshed his brother had looked. He followed the onerous cheering with his own applause for the well fought battle.
The next match, however, Auguste watched with attentively. It was a match between the masked swordswoman 'Reohg Knock' vs Shehzadi Mayet Kadir. The fight was long and intense. An exceptional fight. Shehzadi Mayet's handle on her unorthodox weaponry was something to marvel. But this... 'Reohg' was able to keep up with her. This was a surprise as this fighter was unknown. He knew most of the prominent fighters in the underground circuit, as he keeps close tabs on them for his mission. It was strange that he hadn't heard of Reohg.
The fight went on for much longer than the other fights. A beautiful dance of blades. The two appeared equally matched but he did notice that Reohg began slowing down. Eventually Mayet came out the victor with Reohg offering her blade to the Shehzadi. There was an interesting exchange as the end of the fight winded down. Though he lauded such exchanges, something itched in the back of his head.
Auguste stroked his chin. There were three things that occurs during an attack. The wind-up, contact, and recovery. A simplistic concept. With a jab, the extension of the arm is the wind-up; it can also increase force or speed. Contact was when the fist lands on your opponent. Recovery is retracting your fist to your guard position. This concept applies to swordsmanship. Swordsmen can often mask, or even eliminate, the first and third step, though it was contingent with their mastery of the blade.
August was particularly skilled at reading body movement. This allows him excel in duels as he often is able to read his opponents actions- their attacks, feints, and similar.
As a happy coincidence, this makes Auguste excellent at recognizing who an individual is through their gait and posture. Usually he is able to simply tell who was who without needing to see their face. Reohg's gait and cadence scratched at his mind. He knows who this individual was but he had trouble placing exactly who.
Auguste snapped out of his ruminations and joined the crowd's applause.
For the rest of the afternoon, Auguste attended to some more paperwork and a few meetings with his knights. He was a bit sad at missing some of the other events but duty calls.
He had bathed and dressed himself in formal dress attire. A favourite of his, often used during relatively important meetings, political courts, or meeting with delegates and similar.
Soon Auguste found himself entering the dining room. His entrance wasn't trumpeted nor grandiose, as he simply entered the dining room casually, as if he was simply some guest. He personally found no need for such theatrics, as he has observed his father personally having the trumpeters follow him around for his grandiose entrances.
He passed by Riona, greeting her with a smile. “Ah, Riona, good evening. I hope that you have had time away to enjoy some of the events today.” His tone was friendly and jovial, as he had not suspected that Riona was Reohg.
Auguste's first action was to greet the Sultan. “Sultan Kaid Raif, peace be upon you. I give you my thanks for allowing me to attend your dinner,” He said with a bow.
The next was to greet each other attendant currently present. “Shehzadi Mayet, your match with Reohg was spectacular. I admire your mastery of your unorthodox weaponry.”
“Lord Leo. I hope the events we've hosted have been to your tastes.”
Auguste walked over to Farim to acquaint himself. He has only heard of the man through reputation Wystan's reports. The Prince extended his hand out towards Farim. “Sir... Farim Kadir, I take it. Your skill in trading is renowned even here in Caesonia. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Finally Auguste took a seat to marvel at the dining room. The scents and sights was different... unique compared to the traditional dinners he has had. He silently admired the excellent craftsmanship of the Alidasht. He took a sip of water. Hopefully this dinner will go well.
The next match, however, Auguste watched with attentively. It was a match between the masked swordswoman 'Reohg Knock' vs Shehzadi Mayet Kadir. The fight was long and intense. An exceptional fight. Shehzadi Mayet's handle on her unorthodox weaponry was something to marvel. But this... 'Reohg' was able to keep up with her. This was a surprise as this fighter was unknown. He knew most of the prominent fighters in the underground circuit, as he keeps close tabs on them for his mission. It was strange that he hadn't heard of Reohg.
The fight went on for much longer than the other fights. A beautiful dance of blades. The two appeared equally matched but he did notice that Reohg began slowing down. Eventually Mayet came out the victor with Reohg offering her blade to the Shehzadi. There was an interesting exchange as the end of the fight winded down. Though he lauded such exchanges, something itched in the back of his head.
Auguste stroked his chin. There were three things that occurs during an attack. The wind-up, contact, and recovery. A simplistic concept. With a jab, the extension of the arm is the wind-up; it can also increase force or speed. Contact was when the fist lands on your opponent. Recovery is retracting your fist to your guard position. This concept applies to swordsmanship. Swordsmen can often mask, or even eliminate, the first and third step, though it was contingent with their mastery of the blade.
August was particularly skilled at reading body movement. This allows him excel in duels as he often is able to read his opponents actions- their attacks, feints, and similar.
As a happy coincidence, this makes Auguste excellent at recognizing who an individual is through their gait and posture. Usually he is able to simply tell who was who without needing to see their face. Reohg's gait and cadence scratched at his mind. He knows who this individual was but he had trouble placing exactly who.
Auguste snapped out of his ruminations and joined the crowd's applause.
Time: 6:00pm
For the rest of the afternoon, Auguste attended to some more paperwork and a few meetings with his knights. He was a bit sad at missing some of the other events but duty calls.
He had bathed and dressed himself in formal dress attire. A favourite of his, often used during relatively important meetings, political courts, or meeting with delegates and similar.
Soon Auguste found himself entering the dining room. His entrance wasn't trumpeted nor grandiose, as he simply entered the dining room casually, as if he was simply some guest. He personally found no need for such theatrics, as he has observed his father personally having the trumpeters follow him around for his grandiose entrances.
He passed by Riona, greeting her with a smile. “Ah, Riona, good evening. I hope that you have had time away to enjoy some of the events today.” His tone was friendly and jovial, as he had not suspected that Riona was Reohg.
Auguste's first action was to greet the Sultan. “Sultan Kaid Raif, peace be upon you. I give you my thanks for allowing me to attend your dinner,” He said with a bow.
The next was to greet each other attendant currently present. “Shehzadi Mayet, your match with Reohg was spectacular. I admire your mastery of your unorthodox weaponry.”
“Lord Leo. I hope the events we've hosted have been to your tastes.”
Auguste walked over to Farim to acquaint himself. He has only heard of the man through reputation Wystan's reports. The Prince extended his hand out towards Farim. “Sir... Farim Kadir, I take it. Your skill in trading is renowned even here in Caesonia. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Finally Auguste took a seat to marvel at the dining room. The scents and sights was different... unique compared to the traditional dinners he has had. He silently admired the excellent craftsmanship of the Alidasht. He took a sip of water. Hopefully this dinner will go well.
Victor chuckled at his joke. “Sure, man.” He replied, grabbing the case. “You look great man, time's been kind to you, huh?” A tingly chill caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up, something was wrong. Victor's eyes flicked to the sky. The sky illuminated blue, almost appearing as if it was the morning. What the fuck? The vibrant blue suddenly began dissipating as quickly as it appeared. Is that the barrier?!
Victor had to get to Carlisle. As far as he knew, he was one in-charge of maintaining the barrier. Tradition, or something. It didn't matter know. He dropped the case and ran a full sprint into the Coven. The barrier kept all kinds of nasty things outside of Tanner. It was paramount that the barrier not deactivate. His old Coven, too, had a similar barrier and he knew from personal experience that only trouble awaits when it fails. He searched every nook and cranny of the house, dodging dancing, drunk, or drugged partygoers- often some combination of all three.
After a few minutes of dead end searching, Victor spotted Aurora, her face mangled with worry and fear. He ran past her and got onto the veranda. Daniel wore a similar look to Aurora. Carlisle was there, unmoving and stiff. He looked dead. Luckily he had skipped eating something before the party, otherwise he likely would have thrown up all over the place. He took a second to calm himself. Daniel tried to hide his expression but it was plain to see.
Victor stepped over to Carlisle and took a pulse. Nothing. It was expected, but what the hell did this to him? Could it have been the curse, how can a curse even do this. He grit his teeth. He wasn't aware of the particulars of this... curse, but if someone purposefully did this... No, he should keep his mind on the current situation.
“... I saw the barrier fail outside.” Victor finally said, “This isn't good, Daniel. Shit. We need to talk to Lilith, or even Serena.”
“Actually, are you okay?” He hadn't taken into account his friend's mental state. It was taking everything in him to not lose it. We're still human, after all.
After Victor had dropped off Caitlin, he drove back home to eat some food and recharge. After the food he wanted to take a nap. Despite himself he wasn't one of the types that was able to sleep with alot on his mind. Between his parents still at his extended 'families' estate and the issue with the weakening barrier and werewolves with Carlisle being cursed with a lycanthropy curse. Not to mention the Covens more... spirited members returning, the Coven will be pretty unstable because of posturing. Victor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, this wasn't good for his sleep.
Victor rolled off his bed. There was a better use of his time for now, and that was the practice his magic power's endurance and some light workouts. He noticed that a relatively fitter body increased his magic's efficiency. It didn't tire him out as much.
Victor lost track of time, he was late, not that it really mattered for a party. Well, he debated even going to the party in the first place. It was good to mingle but parties weren't exactly his thing. Too much loud noises and much too many bad decisions. He turned his car off and began walking to the Coven.
He spotted Rowan before he could make his way in. “Hey Rowan, good to see you.” He called out. He was acquainted with Rowan, even got a few tips on developing the spell 'Thundercall' from him. “You, uh, need help with that?”
| Attire: Light armour with an insignia of Caesonia. Interaction(s): Mention(s): Edin Danrose @princess, Wulfric Danrose @SilverPaw |
A robed, armoured figure sighed as his own fight approached. Altare Remulus, a veteran knight who participated in numerous wars and skirmishes. Recently he had been promoted to a Lieutenant for his distinguished efforts in the military. Altare had heard rumours of Auguste's penchant for the blade. He was of two minds, it was considered taboo to fight royalty and potentially tarnish their honour but Prince Auguste also disdained others losing matches due to his status.
As Altare ruminated these thoughts the Prince called to him from outside the arena. Auguste Danrose, a warm and gleeful smile crossed the prince's face. "Lieutenant Altare. Congratulations on your promotion." Altare paused, taken a-back at the Prince knowing of his promotion. He had forgotten how uncannily well-versed the Prince was in matters of the military. "My thanks, Prince Auguste." Altare saluted in the traditional military-style, which the Prince returned respectfully. A few members of the crowd clapped and whistled at this exchange. Truth be told, Altare had not observed the prince in combat personally, only hearing of his prowess through tales and whispers. It would be fun to test his skill against a master of the blade.
The Prince's atmosphere changed with each step strode into the arena. His ever-present smile faded into unnerving neutrality as his emotions dripped away from his countenance. The aristocratic air and dignity surrounding him had all but vanished. His eyes, usually filled with a merry luster, turned sharp and focused; similar to how a predator would look upon its hapless prey. Is this.. really Prince Auguste? He thought, a bead of sweat ran down the Knight's neck. The hiss of the Prince's blade being unsheathed was almost deafening to Altare.
With a gulp, Altare did the same. The atmosphere was choking, the pressure he felt was almost akin to what he has felt in a battlefield. Where one's life was truly at stake. How was it possible that he was feeling this way in-front of the Prince? Auguste dashed towards him, "Focus." He heard the Prince let out with a stony voice. Altare barely had time to place his blade up to block the blow, sparks flying as his blade chipped away at the heavy strike. Unconsciously, Altare lifted his blade and stabbed towards Auguste's midpoint with deft precision; a response built up by years of battlefield warfare. He didn't mean to attack like that.
The Prince's blade met his own as his attack was deflected away with relative ease. Altare noticed the Prince's dark smirk. The two now exchanged a flurry of strikes. He knew that he was at the disadvantage. It took all of his effort to barely deflect or block each sword stroke from Auguste. Altare had noticed that the Prince was now more passive than before. The Prince attacked, sure, but with considerably less aggression and force compared to his initial attack- it was as if the Prince was simply just observing him and responding in kind. Altare struggled to meet Auguste's gaze; the cold, golden hue of the Danrose's eyes looked terrifying.
Perhaps it was due to nerves or how tired this short exchange of strikes had made him, Altare fell for a simplistic feint. He slashed at at a perceived opening after an 'opening' after one of Auguste's attack. The next thing Altare knew, however, was his blade leaving his grasp and careening into the air and then digging into the stone to his right. Auguste had hit Altare's gauntlet with the flat side of his blade and disarmed the knight. The force of The Prince's counterattack pushed him backwards as he fell on his rear.
The sun cast shadows overhead, blanketing Auguste's face in shadow. His dull, golden eyes seemed to glow as they bore down on Altare. It took everything in him to not run away in fear. Auguste's eyes flicked towards Altare's blade then back onto him, as if goading him to pick it back up. Altare dared not move. Auguste strode towards him, each step in his direction caused his heart to palpitate. The sounds of his heart beating drowned out the noise from the crowd. The Prince was now over him. His hand reached towards Altare. The Knight shut his eyes in fear.
"That was well fought." Auguste said, causing Altare to open his eyes. A hand was outstretched towards him. Augsute's cheeks and smile rose in equal measures. His eyes regained its usual luster. His presence was once more pleasant and inviting, a sharp contrast to his earlier presence. The foreboding atmosphere lifted and Altare felt like he could breathe again.
Altare took the outstretched hand and he was hoisted up. He took a few breaths to compose himself after that fight. "My- my thanks, Prince Auguste. The rumours do not do you justice." He finally said. August simply chuckled mirthfully as he pat Altare's shoulder.
Altare noted to himself to avoid sparring with Prince Auguste and to keep good relations with the Prince in the future. He truly did feel like his life was about to end. He hadn't felt as much fear as when he was in the depths of the battlefield or even in the presence of King Edin and Prince Wulfric.
As Altare ruminated these thoughts the Prince called to him from outside the arena. Auguste Danrose, a warm and gleeful smile crossed the prince's face. "Lieutenant Altare. Congratulations on your promotion." Altare paused, taken a-back at the Prince knowing of his promotion. He had forgotten how uncannily well-versed the Prince was in matters of the military. "My thanks, Prince Auguste." Altare saluted in the traditional military-style, which the Prince returned respectfully. A few members of the crowd clapped and whistled at this exchange. Truth be told, Altare had not observed the prince in combat personally, only hearing of his prowess through tales and whispers. It would be fun to test his skill against a master of the blade.
The Prince's atmosphere changed with each step strode into the arena. His ever-present smile faded into unnerving neutrality as his emotions dripped away from his countenance. The aristocratic air and dignity surrounding him had all but vanished. His eyes, usually filled with a merry luster, turned sharp and focused; similar to how a predator would look upon its hapless prey. Is this.. really Prince Auguste? He thought, a bead of sweat ran down the Knight's neck. The hiss of the Prince's blade being unsheathed was almost deafening to Altare.
With a gulp, Altare did the same. The atmosphere was choking, the pressure he felt was almost akin to what he has felt in a battlefield. Where one's life was truly at stake. How was it possible that he was feeling this way in-front of the Prince? Auguste dashed towards him, "Focus." He heard the Prince let out with a stony voice. Altare barely had time to place his blade up to block the blow, sparks flying as his blade chipped away at the heavy strike. Unconsciously, Altare lifted his blade and stabbed towards Auguste's midpoint with deft precision; a response built up by years of battlefield warfare. He didn't mean to attack like that.
The Prince's blade met his own as his attack was deflected away with relative ease. Altare noticed the Prince's dark smirk. The two now exchanged a flurry of strikes. He knew that he was at the disadvantage. It took all of his effort to barely deflect or block each sword stroke from Auguste. Altare had noticed that the Prince was now more passive than before. The Prince attacked, sure, but with considerably less aggression and force compared to his initial attack- it was as if the Prince was simply just observing him and responding in kind. Altare struggled to meet Auguste's gaze; the cold, golden hue of the Danrose's eyes looked terrifying.
Perhaps it was due to nerves or how tired this short exchange of strikes had made him, Altare fell for a simplistic feint. He slashed at at a perceived opening after an 'opening' after one of Auguste's attack. The next thing Altare knew, however, was his blade leaving his grasp and careening into the air and then digging into the stone to his right. Auguste had hit Altare's gauntlet with the flat side of his blade and disarmed the knight. The force of The Prince's counterattack pushed him backwards as he fell on his rear.
The sun cast shadows overhead, blanketing Auguste's face in shadow. His dull, golden eyes seemed to glow as they bore down on Altare. It took everything in him to not run away in fear. Auguste's eyes flicked towards Altare's blade then back onto him, as if goading him to pick it back up. Altare dared not move. Auguste strode towards him, each step in his direction caused his heart to palpitate. The sounds of his heart beating drowned out the noise from the crowd. The Prince was now over him. His hand reached towards Altare. The Knight shut his eyes in fear.
"That was well fought." Auguste said, causing Altare to open his eyes. A hand was outstretched towards him. Augsute's cheeks and smile rose in equal measures. His eyes regained its usual luster. His presence was once more pleasant and inviting, a sharp contrast to his earlier presence. The foreboding atmosphere lifted and Altare felt like he could breathe again.
Altare took the outstretched hand and he was hoisted up. He took a few breaths to compose himself after that fight. "My- my thanks, Prince Auguste. The rumours do not do you justice." He finally said. August simply chuckled mirthfully as he pat Altare's shoulder.
Altare noted to himself to avoid sparring with Prince Auguste and to keep good relations with the Prince in the future. He truly did feel like his life was about to end. He hadn't felt as much fear as when he was in the depths of the battlefield or even in the presence of King Edin and Prince Wulfric.
Auguste bid Altare goodbye. The man was a skilled swordsman. Able to perform and respond under stressful conditions. Altare almost had him with the initial riposte. Truly, the knight lived up to his reputation of surviving numerous wars. Auguste wondered he looked petrified.
Victor Crowe
The energy of the room got a bit more tense and awkward as Lilith entered the dining room. Victor winced, clearing his throat awkwardly, unable to handle the atmosphere. He stayed quiet throughout their interactions. A few fellow coven members began dripping through the entrance and settling in the dining room. Victor gave them all a glance and a nod if their eyes had met.
Carlisle Aston, the current 'acting' leader of the Coven. From the years Victor has known him he knows that Carlisle's heart is in the right place. His family situation reminded Victor very much of his own, except that he atleast cut off pretty much all contact from them. Victor believes a bit of confidence would do the guy some good. At the very least Carlisle would get what meager support Victor could offer. He did like him and the Coven after all. “He's stronger than he knows.”
Lilith Montgomery, her family is one of the big three in Tanner. Victor honestly was surprised at how close the two had gotten between high-school and when had he left for college. Lilith was well known in Tanner for being aloof and standoffish. He put no stock into rumours but it appeared that rumours do stem from a kernel of truth. They both felt comfortable enough to hang out with barely a word between the two; at times they even dived into each other's personal lives. In his words, “She's a good egg.”
Aurora Newman. From first impressions she seems to be a good person. Exuding more experience than the others with maturity to boot. While he may not know her much, she seemed to be a dependable sort, protective even. Her honesty is much appreciated, Victor himself dislikes dancing around issues that seeps into long-running hatred.
Carlisle had left to answer the door. He had returned with Catherine who politely rang the doorbell. A grin formed on his place. Cathrine Heirich. She-
Victor's impression was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. A look of anger flashed on his face for a moment as he recognized the unsaved number calling. Lucien...
“Gotta take this call, excuse me.” Victor said apologetically, getting up to go to an empty room. He didn't want to bother the other Coven members with his own family issues.
“... Lucien, what do you want?” Victor said in an uncharacteristically irate.
“Well I missed you too, brother.” Victor could practically see the douchey smirk on his cousin's face.
“Cut the crap,” He spat out, venom lacing his words. “I'm ending this call if you don't tell me what you want in the next few seconds.”
“Now, now, don't be like that. We're close, aren't we?” Lucien replied, “This is a courtesy call regarding your dearest mum and dad, they may be away than they've told you, Vic.”
“What!?” His parents hadn't told him. “You fuc-” He slammed his fist into the wall and took a breath. “... You Crowe's hurt a hair on their bodies, I'll come back there and we'll have a repeat of what happened a few years ago, you hear me?”
Lucien took a few seconds to reply, Victor derived a bit of satisfaction knowing that he had peeved off Lucien.
“Yes now we wouldn't want that, would we?” came the voice from the phone before abruptly dropping.
“Well I missed you too, brother.” Victor could practically see the douchey smirk on his cousin's face.
“Cut the crap,” He spat out, venom lacing his words. “I'm ending this call if you don't tell me what you want in the next few seconds.”
“Now, now, don't be like that. We're close, aren't we?” Lucien replied, “This is a courtesy call regarding your dearest mum and dad, they may be away than they've told you, Vic.”
“What!?” His parents hadn't told him. “You fuc-” He slammed his fist into the wall and took a breath. “... You Crowe's hurt a hair on their bodies, I'll come back there and we'll have a repeat of what happened a few years ago, you hear me?”
Lucien took a few seconds to reply, Victor derived a bit of satisfaction knowing that he had peeved off Lucien.
“Yes now we wouldn't want that, would we?” came the voice from the phone before abruptly dropping.
Victor calmed himself down a bit more before rejoining his fellow Coven members. He returned right before Carlisle had given his speech. Carlisle addressed the stranger that Kolby had brought with him. Victor gave her a curious glance before focusing on the speech. It was worrying that the barrier seemed to be weakening.
Victor lazily half-raised his hand up, “I'll help, Carlisle. Gotta take my mind off a few things anyway.”
Victor Crowe
Victor groaned into his pillow as the ever-familiar, rhythmic beeping of his alarm resounded in his room. 7:30 AM. He had recently moved back into his family home in Tanner. His parents would arrive in a few days as they had some business to take care of, they didn't inform him of what- although he guessed it was related to his ever-obnoxious extended family; The Crowe's. Despite the excommunication, his extended family often called their parents for differing reasons. It irked Victor to no end, as he's had more than a few negative run-ins with them.
Willing himself out of bed, Victor began his routine. Preparing a small breakfast- eggs and toast, he began eating. He ate slowly, still attempting to will the sleepiness away. Victor then jumped into the shower to clean up. He wondered if the Coven had changed, or if it was more of the same. Well, atleast that curiosity will be satisfied today. Stepping out of the shower, he wore a dark leather jacket, a blue hoodie, and comfortable black jeans. An outfit he defaulted to in relatively casual settings. Hopefully the Coven hadn't embraced the trend of business attire in recent years.
Victor nonchalantly heated the coffee that turned tepid when he was lost in his thoughts. Oops, should avoid doing that around the other Coven members. With that he stretched, bones creaking and crackling. He made his way outside and took in the fresh air of Tanner. An oddly nostalgic feeling overtook him. He really was back.
A family friend had lent Victor his junker to drive to the Tanner Coven household. A beat up truck that looked like something out of a junkyard. He arrived and parked in the Tanner Household by 8:15 AM. Mid-drive he remembered that he was to be there by 11 AM. With a chuckle, Victor reclined his seat, opting to catch a few more hours of sleep he's missed out since he was born.
Victor's nap was interrupted by the vibrating phone in his pocket. Good thing too, he might've overslept. It was about 9:45 AM. He locked his car behind him and lazily sauntered to the the front door. It clicked open and he let himself in.
There were a few changes within the mansion, but thankfully it was still familiar. A few paintings were changed, furniture shifted, and some lighting fixtures different, but it still felt very much like 'home'. Victor ran his hand through his hair as he spotted familiar figures. It was Carlisle Aston, an old friend he hadn't seen in awhile.
Victor walked into the dining room, patting Carlisle's shoulder with lazy smile before finding a seat himself. “It's good to see you, Carlisle, been a while.” He said, nestling comfortably into the chair with a yawn, situating himself as if he's never left. “Oh, did you prefer acting 'Coven Patriarch' Aston?” A smirk tugged at his lips, seemingly amused by his own joke.
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