Silly
Antlers
WhiteAngel25
Zeus23
Drache
ArthanusI'll start working on a post tomorrow. Er, today. When I wake up (been up all night, lol).
Lyla
Member
Shadowdancer
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User has no status, yet
Bio
~Gay, polyamorous, I have a partner, and been playing games since I was 2 years old!~
"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead." -Oscar Wilde
"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead." -Oscar Wilde
Most Recent Posts
@mickilennial - Just keep in mind what we talked about, but otherwise approved~ Feel free to jump in!
@mickilennial - Yeah, probably just the one more. ^^
These are definitely some interactions and posts~ :D
@Taka Haha. Yeah, just like Vec did~
Very little was spoken betwixt the strange pair as quiet clacks vibrating in the night air—the street still surprisingly empty save the sleeping man—giving them both easy room to travel. As they quietly approached the building, Lyselle found herself silently thinking, ‘she is staying here? But wouldn't it be easy to find?’ Despite her nervousness, her curiosity flared as it ever did, when confronted with new information accompanied by a quizzical knitting of her eyebrows. However, as soon as her older companion spoke of enchantments, her face swirled back to a mix of uncertainty and yet comfort, her curiosity sated for the moment. ‘Not many hunters would expect a normal loft in either case… too easy to track…’ she echoed to herself as the both of them slid inside the elevator.
The new scents assaulted the huntress as they ascended the building, inhaling slowly and closing her eyes, picturing a flower field in the middle of a forest. At least the ancient vampiress had good taste, though it was subtly surprising, as she originally envisioned ancients holing away in long forgotten ruins or castles, flooded with the stench of blood and rot. Her eyes opened slowly and she paid a glance to her host—their bond had grown more loose now, making it more difficult to read the age-old woman, but she could at least sense something she was not expecting: the faintest hint of nervousness. What did such a timeworn woman need to be nervous about? It was Lyselle who should be fretting and wanting to run away, right? Not to say that thought had not crossed her mind… but how could she not follow? The vampiress had been surprisingly kind and soft with her—almost making her feel… safe.
As they stepped off the elevator, she took in another inhale of scents, catching the gentle hints of leather and firesmoke which tugged her lips into a faint smile. Interest sparked once more as she tilted her head to the side and listened to ageless incantations flowing from the haunting woman, soaking in and analyzing what little she could. ‘That sounds vaguely familiar,’ she would note, pursing her lips gently in thought. Regardless, once the enchantments had been broken, she was allowed entrance—where the vampiress was quick to latch the protections back into place. ‘Smart.’
There was something oddly satisfying about the venerable vampire simply stating what she was going to do, even without asking Lyselle if she liked tea, but the huntress did not argue and instead just curved her lips upwards gently. Then new thoughts intruded as she waited—the struggle to believe she was here, in a vampire lair; that it was so well kept; the smells that swirled around her; all the little trophies kept from times in which Lys had not even been born. A lot of hunters—and no doubt other vampires—would call her soft for clinging to such things, and yet she had survived nonetheless, weathered hundreds of battles and come out alive despite her apparent softness.
What the vampiress must’ve lived through, Lyselle thought… before the same thoughts turned back on her. What would she do now? Where would she go? Was she only being sheltered out of pity? Perhaps she meant to keep Lyse as a human pet? Would she be passed around other vampires? Shown off? Fed upon? And even if she were let free—where would she go? Live a normal life? The huntress quietly clicked her tongue at that thought. There was no way she could manage a normal life. A wave of anxiety rippled across her as the reality of never returning to the Vigil sank in once more—everyone that once smiled at her would now look upon her with disgust. She didn't have anyone or anything… besides an ancient vampiress she just met.
Then suddenly she heard her name, causing her to jump ever so slightly, looking to the side to see that acquainted, beautiful face, smooth white snow-skinned arms—even her hands were somehow alluring—and in them sat a cup. The aroma of mint wafted over her gently, calming her instantly, before reaching out and taking it with both hands. For a brief moment she felt her own digits brush against the vampiress’ palm, meeting the ghostly woman's violet gaze, unable to keep the softest blush from stroking her mortal cheeks.
“Th-thank you…” she whispered, her voice soft, unsteady. She slipped into the offered seat and took a small sip, letting the warmth ground her trembling thoughts. After a beat, she lifted her eyes once more.
“U-um… may I… ask your name?”
The new scents assaulted the huntress as they ascended the building, inhaling slowly and closing her eyes, picturing a flower field in the middle of a forest. At least the ancient vampiress had good taste, though it was subtly surprising, as she originally envisioned ancients holing away in long forgotten ruins or castles, flooded with the stench of blood and rot. Her eyes opened slowly and she paid a glance to her host—their bond had grown more loose now, making it more difficult to read the age-old woman, but she could at least sense something she was not expecting: the faintest hint of nervousness. What did such a timeworn woman need to be nervous about? It was Lyselle who should be fretting and wanting to run away, right? Not to say that thought had not crossed her mind… but how could she not follow? The vampiress had been surprisingly kind and soft with her—almost making her feel… safe.
As they stepped off the elevator, she took in another inhale of scents, catching the gentle hints of leather and firesmoke which tugged her lips into a faint smile. Interest sparked once more as she tilted her head to the side and listened to ageless incantations flowing from the haunting woman, soaking in and analyzing what little she could. ‘That sounds vaguely familiar,’ she would note, pursing her lips gently in thought. Regardless, once the enchantments had been broken, she was allowed entrance—where the vampiress was quick to latch the protections back into place. ‘Smart.’
There was something oddly satisfying about the venerable vampire simply stating what she was going to do, even without asking Lyselle if she liked tea, but the huntress did not argue and instead just curved her lips upwards gently. Then new thoughts intruded as she waited—the struggle to believe she was here, in a vampire lair; that it was so well kept; the smells that swirled around her; all the little trophies kept from times in which Lys had not even been born. A lot of hunters—and no doubt other vampires—would call her soft for clinging to such things, and yet she had survived nonetheless, weathered hundreds of battles and come out alive despite her apparent softness.
What the vampiress must’ve lived through, Lyselle thought… before the same thoughts turned back on her. What would she do now? Where would she go? Was she only being sheltered out of pity? Perhaps she meant to keep Lyse as a human pet? Would she be passed around other vampires? Shown off? Fed upon? And even if she were let free—where would she go? Live a normal life? The huntress quietly clicked her tongue at that thought. There was no way she could manage a normal life. A wave of anxiety rippled across her as the reality of never returning to the Vigil sank in once more—everyone that once smiled at her would now look upon her with disgust. She didn't have anyone or anything… besides an ancient vampiress she just met.
Then suddenly she heard her name, causing her to jump ever so slightly, looking to the side to see that acquainted, beautiful face, smooth white snow-skinned arms—even her hands were somehow alluring—and in them sat a cup. The aroma of mint wafted over her gently, calming her instantly, before reaching out and taking it with both hands. For a brief moment she felt her own digits brush against the vampiress’ palm, meeting the ghostly woman's violet gaze, unable to keep the softest blush from stroking her mortal cheeks.
“Th-thank you…” she whispered, her voice soft, unsteady. She slipped into the offered seat and took a small sip, letting the warmth ground her trembling thoughts. After a beat, she lifted her eyes once more.
“U-um… may I… ask your name?”
@Yankee - Going to have to add Clara now too, haha. As for the NPCs...
Commander Mara Hensley — 5'10"
Captain Jonah Redd — 6'3"
Dr. Theo Brandt — 5'7"
Elias Tran - 5'11"
Kira Voss - 5'6"
Sarah Oaks - 5'4"
Juniper “June” Mallory - 5'2"
Rashad Edden - 6'0"
Commander Mara Hensley — 5'10"
Captain Jonah Redd — 6'3"
Dr. Theo Brandt — 5'7"
Elias Tran - 5'11"
Kira Voss - 5'6"
Sarah Oaks - 5'4"
Juniper “June” Mallory - 5'2"
Rashad Edden - 6'0"
@Vec - Only shift is her vision, because heroes see a woman standing in the waters of a mountain lake, offering their weapon and speaking a message only they can hear - though I'd be completely fine with her being an observer while the unicorn talked to her. It's my fault for not including it in the CS, so oops - sorry!
Otherwise Clara is approved!
Otherwise Clara is approved!
Lyselle was so lost at first, swimming in a sea of fear over what might happen, that she hardly registered the vampiress closing the distance. Even as young as Lys was compared to her companion, her feelings had been built over decades of repetition — drilled into her from a very young age — and those kinds of instincts were always difficult to erase. Then, while she was drowning in that ocean of despair, something shifted: like sunlight filtering through water at dawn, guiding her, directing her, keeping her from sinking completely.
“They will not kill you,” she heard, blinking her misty eyes as she looked up at the centuries-old creature. “And nor will I.”
The soft voice was so soothing, so genuine, that Lyselle couldn’t help but part her lips in surprise. A small puff of breath escaped her when she felt the cold hand on her cheek, fingers sliding beneath her chin to guide her gaze upward, and the final touch settling on her shoulder. She couldn’t help but marvel — letting a vampire comfort her. And the most surprising part was the way that touch felt through the mystic thread connecting them: strangely warm, like it reached beneath her skin.
Something deep between them pulsed — baffling the young hunter. It felt like she could hear a whispered heartbeat inside the vampiress’ silent chest, as though something ancient was being coaxed back to life. It was perplexing and intoxicating all at once, making her suddenly aware of her own blood, her own heartbeat thundering behind her ears. It was as if the closer they stood, the stronger the supernatural thread pulled them toward each other — reminiscent of tales of reincarnated lovers finding one another after death, bringing a soft blush to her pale cheeks.
“Come with me. Let’s go someplace safe, just until we figure this ordeal out.”
Without even realizing she’d done it, Lyselle nodded — the bond moving her body before her thoughts could catch up. As easily as breathing, she rose to her feet and simply stared at the age-old woman before her, willing to follow her anywhere, wherever this was meant to lead.
Yet faint echoes of doubt and shame still rippled through her subconscious — flashes of mentors, peers, the familiar scent of the old church, the weight of duty. Questions she didn’t want to answer. Fear she didn’t want to confront.
And still… she couldn’t help herself.
The way she felt the vampiress — beneath her skin, in her bones, in the ember glow of her very soul — there were barely words for it. It was as if she had finally found “home” after being lost her entire life… even if that realization came hand-in-hand with confusion.
“They will not kill you,” she heard, blinking her misty eyes as she looked up at the centuries-old creature. “And nor will I.”
The soft voice was so soothing, so genuine, that Lyselle couldn’t help but part her lips in surprise. A small puff of breath escaped her when she felt the cold hand on her cheek, fingers sliding beneath her chin to guide her gaze upward, and the final touch settling on her shoulder. She couldn’t help but marvel — letting a vampire comfort her. And the most surprising part was the way that touch felt through the mystic thread connecting them: strangely warm, like it reached beneath her skin.
Something deep between them pulsed — baffling the young hunter. It felt like she could hear a whispered heartbeat inside the vampiress’ silent chest, as though something ancient was being coaxed back to life. It was perplexing and intoxicating all at once, making her suddenly aware of her own blood, her own heartbeat thundering behind her ears. It was as if the closer they stood, the stronger the supernatural thread pulled them toward each other — reminiscent of tales of reincarnated lovers finding one another after death, bringing a soft blush to her pale cheeks.
“Come with me. Let’s go someplace safe, just until we figure this ordeal out.”
Without even realizing she’d done it, Lyselle nodded — the bond moving her body before her thoughts could catch up. As easily as breathing, she rose to her feet and simply stared at the age-old woman before her, willing to follow her anywhere, wherever this was meant to lead.
Yet faint echoes of doubt and shame still rippled through her subconscious — flashes of mentors, peers, the familiar scent of the old church, the weight of duty. Questions she didn’t want to answer. Fear she didn’t want to confront.
And still… she couldn’t help herself.
The way she felt the vampiress — beneath her skin, in her bones, in the ember glow of her very soul — there were barely words for it. It was as if she had finally found “home” after being lost her entire life… even if that realization came hand-in-hand with confusion.
As the man scrambled with his weapon and lifted it to line another shot, he already felt it — his body moving sluggishly, like wet sand dragging at his limbs.
“No..!” he growled, gritting his teeth, trying to fight the nightmarish sleep by sheer will alone. Darkness took him far faster than he expected. He clenched his fists, shaking with fury, and just before slumping to the ground he cast one last look toward the huntress — a look sharp enough to cut, venomous and betrayed.
“H-how… c-could…” There was no more struggle. His body sprawled across the sidewalk, swallowed by moonlight as he slipped into the nightmares that Blood Magic promised.
Now, only the two women remained — one standing over the other in quiet, intense questioning, and the other wrestling with a storm of her own making. What had she done? Her whole life, Lyselle had been told, taught, trained, drilled: vampires were evil. And yet here she was, staring dumbstruck at the very woman she had just saved from a hunter.
“I…”
Words failed her. Thoughts flickered across her face like frames of a film — confusion, worry, awe, doubt, and that same confusion again. Slowly, she lowered herself into a side-sitting position. Her eyes fixed onto the vampiress’ black-heeled boots, unable to meet her gaze, unable to process the enormity of what she’d done.
‘What have I done?’
‘What am I doing? Why? If… if I let her go, I’m betraying my order — the people who raised me. But… can I really bring myself to hunt her?’
‘Why does she feel so real? Like everything before this was just some giant… circus act. Fuck… what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?’
Lys lifted the back of her hand to her forehead as if checking for a fever. A sigh escaped her, shoulders falling, eyes shifting aside — ashamed, overwhelmed.
“He… must’ve… come looking for me when he realized I had left — looking for him,” she managed.
“I–… I didn’t mean for… this… whatever… this is… gods…”
Her hand fell, fingers brushing the sigil. She broke it with a swipe, wiping away the symbols that kept it functioning.
“Might as well…”
She hesitated before the next words, throat tightening.
“… kill me… if you don’t, they will…”
Her expression spoke what she could not: a whirl of fear, guilt, clarity, devastation.
Betraying the very thing she had sworn to uphold — the thing her entire life had been built upon.
A single woman had made her question everything.
And she knew what awaited her if Delwyn ever woke and returned to the Vigil.
There was no forgiveness for traitors.
No second chances.
Just death.
All those smiles, all that praise —
the admiration,
the jealousy of her peers,
the quiet pride of being someone special,
the crushing weight of becoming a legend,
the lonely rooftops at sunrise and sunset —
all of it blew away like dust in a sandstorm.
Gone in one night.
She waited for her appointed death at the hands of the very creature she was trained to destroy… because the only alternative was a life on the run. And she couldn’t decide which fate was easier, or which she even wanted. She would never have a normal life.
That was stolen from her the moment the Vigil adopted her — long before she even understood what “normal” meant.
Not like the people she watched in daylight —
going to work,
laughing in groups,
sharing coffee,
having families,
holding hands,
speaking in simple, everyday conversations with infinite possibilities…
Things she would never know.
“No..!” he growled, gritting his teeth, trying to fight the nightmarish sleep by sheer will alone. Darkness took him far faster than he expected. He clenched his fists, shaking with fury, and just before slumping to the ground he cast one last look toward the huntress — a look sharp enough to cut, venomous and betrayed.
“H-how… c-could…” There was no more struggle. His body sprawled across the sidewalk, swallowed by moonlight as he slipped into the nightmares that Blood Magic promised.
Now, only the two women remained — one standing over the other in quiet, intense questioning, and the other wrestling with a storm of her own making. What had she done? Her whole life, Lyselle had been told, taught, trained, drilled: vampires were evil. And yet here she was, staring dumbstruck at the very woman she had just saved from a hunter.
“I…”
Words failed her. Thoughts flickered across her face like frames of a film — confusion, worry, awe, doubt, and that same confusion again. Slowly, she lowered herself into a side-sitting position. Her eyes fixed onto the vampiress’ black-heeled boots, unable to meet her gaze, unable to process the enormity of what she’d done.
‘What have I done?’
‘What am I doing? Why? If… if I let her go, I’m betraying my order — the people who raised me. But… can I really bring myself to hunt her?’
‘Why does she feel so real? Like everything before this was just some giant… circus act. Fuck… what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?’
Lys lifted the back of her hand to her forehead as if checking for a fever. A sigh escaped her, shoulders falling, eyes shifting aside — ashamed, overwhelmed.
“He… must’ve… come looking for me when he realized I had left — looking for him,” she managed.
“I–… I didn’t mean for… this… whatever… this is… gods…”
Her hand fell, fingers brushing the sigil. She broke it with a swipe, wiping away the symbols that kept it functioning.
“Might as well…”
She hesitated before the next words, throat tightening.
“… kill me… if you don’t, they will…”
Her expression spoke what she could not: a whirl of fear, guilt, clarity, devastation.
Betraying the very thing she had sworn to uphold — the thing her entire life had been built upon.
A single woman had made her question everything.
And she knew what awaited her if Delwyn ever woke and returned to the Vigil.
There was no forgiveness for traitors.
No second chances.
Just death.
All those smiles, all that praise —
the admiration,
the jealousy of her peers,
the quiet pride of being someone special,
the crushing weight of becoming a legend,
the lonely rooftops at sunrise and sunset —
all of it blew away like dust in a sandstorm.
Gone in one night.
She waited for her appointed death at the hands of the very creature she was trained to destroy… because the only alternative was a life on the run. And she couldn’t decide which fate was easier, or which she even wanted. She would never have a normal life.
That was stolen from her the moment the Vigil adopted her — long before she even understood what “normal” meant.
Not like the people she watched in daylight —
going to work,
laughing in groups,
sharing coffee,
having families,
holding hands,
speaking in simple, everyday conversations with infinite possibilities…
Things she would never know.
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