Lyla

Bloodbound & Broken

It was clear to anyone watching that the heavy gaze of Ren on her was flustering the huntress, her eyes flickering to the side a few times before looking back to see herself being admired. This young woman was obviously not used to being prized in such a way—praised and encouraged, yes, but not so keenly studied as though she were a beautifully carved marble statue.

Lyselle flinched slightly at feeling Ren pull at the cord before clearing her throat, trying to act as though she wasn’t surprised, but it was all she could manage under the vampiress’ watch. Hearing the laugh caught her off guard again—different than before—as she noted how genuine it sounded compared to a predator’s chuckle. It was musical even, forcing a smile to tug at the hunter’s lips. Then she watched the centuries-old woman lean forward—closer—and Lyselle felt a familiar warmth glow against her cheeks as she shifted, trying not to give away her deep-buried secret.

What was that secret? Deep inside her heart, Lyselle had once admitted to herself that the idea of teeth sinking into her neck could somehow be romantic, though she felt ever-ashamed of it. After all, vampires were evil and manipulating, and the Vigil taught whole classes on how they used charm to seduce victims. The mark she bore on her chest was meant to repel those very glamours, and she’d even trained on recognizing the feeling of influence washing over her—so she’d always know when to steel her mind and heart. Ren was decidedly not doing this, and yet her embarrassing thought still crossed her mind the moment Ren said for you.

There was something deeply alluring about hearing those words—like she had somehow become the center of this ancient vampiress’ world—and no matter how sinful it might’ve been, it caused her to grin slightly. Certainly enough for Ren to notice. Her thoughts of the Universe—like a small child playing with blocks, toying with fate to link them together—were rather amusing in their own right. Though calling it a sick joke felt too harsh to Lys, who instead wondered if it meant something more. These two were having a conversation, civilly, with no ill intent from either side—was this meant to bridge the gap? Were vampires no more evil than the hunters who pursued them with hate? The huntress had always wondered from whence the condition came, but it was older than even Ren, dating back millennia as far as she could guess.

Eventually she broke from her thoughts to refocus on the woman across from her, offering another small, shier smile.
“I guess we’re bound by some sort of fate—to figure this out. I… I appreciate you sparing his life. It’s true I haven’t ever seen a vampire spare… anyone… b-but I’m young still… and not even a fully ordained hunter.”
A quiet pause, then a short snicker.
“Probably won’t ever be, now. I’m… a heretic, maybe? Heh.”

A hand reached up to comb through her black hair sheepishly, twirling a strand around her finger.
“Who knows how long before I get used to that. Though I suppose there’s no use fighting it, is there? Even if I left…”

She bit her lower lip, thinking for several long moments, looking into Ren’s eyes.
“If I had the willpower to leave… my whole worldview has been shifted. I probably wouldn’t last long in the Vigil without pretending—or burying this feeling deep inside…”

An exhale slipped from her lips, her bewilderment painted clearly across her face—and it shivered down the string between them. Lyselle could hardly believe how honest she was being.

Bloodbound & Broken

Lyselle was slowly drawn out of her inner frets after the woman had replied with her name — letting the stillness blanket the space between them until Ren finally spoke again. This time, the young huntress' attention was fully on her opposite, her gaze gliding along her skin, examining every inch she could make out as she listened. There was a particular wash of calmness that swayed over her, causing goosebumps to appear on her arms, as her eyes were drawn to the vampire's own — locking with a purposeful stare. It may have been the first time that Lys outwardly recognized the connection they shared, by whatever mysterious means it had come into existence.

“We…” she repeated softly, her eyes seeming to peer into the vampiress' soul — like Ren still had one. Lyselle let the word hang in the air for a while before letting out a slow exhale, closing her eyes, all in an attempt to send some sort of unspoken thank you along the string that tied them together. Her eyes fluttered back open a moment later as she continued to speak, “Thank you… Miss Ren… but may I—…” A pause as Lys let out a thoughtful hum. “I… sorry… I’m just not sure — what is this?” Lifting a hand up, she gestured between the both of them. “This… feeling — connection? I’ve never heard of anything like it. Even on the best of days, both of us should be… extremely alert of one another… but we both—… it feels like—… like we’ve met before. H-Have we?”

Even in the face of such uncertainty and fear of losing everything she knew, this connection somehow gave her comfort — the vampiress’ mere presence was enough for her to question everything the Vigil had taught her, every book she had read, every legend she had heard. Ren didn’t seem evil or blood-thirsty, but instead sat there calmly, as if the two had met at a book club and Lyselle had been invited over for tea — which in a sense, she had been. Everything inside her told her to be alert, to be protective of herself, to never trust anything that was born from the night… and yet even among her most familiar mentors, she had never felt this level of kinship with them. Clearly, it must have been the same for Ren — Lys noted easily how at ease the vampiress was around her, who was raised to hunt her kind, having even gone so far as to spare Delwyn simply because Lyselle had asked her to do so.

Although just a moment before Ren could reply, Lys added, “New beginning… I’m not even sure what that would look like… I grew up in the Vigil — was taught and trained since I was little. It’s all I’ve ever known and I just…” A light sigh slipped past her lips. “gave all that up. It’s funny how little I regret it too, if it meant you staying alive — though I’ve no idea where that urge comes from.”

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

Finally the simulation completed, leaving the group without the commander, instead replacing her with a sweeping night sky—shining stars scattered above a full moon that bathed the pavement in silver. In front of them stood a dozen police officers and their vehicles, their flashing red and blue lights pulsing like a distant lighthouse signal warning of danger ahead. Behind the gathered officers loomed a single warehouse, its façade drowned in shadow; only the moonlight and the rhythmic blinks of the cruisers dared illuminate its edges. One particular officer—pepper-gray hair, a clean mustache, posture like a man who’d put in thirty years and still wasn’t done—waved the group forward as if he had expected their arrival. Illusion or not, the simulation’s constructs were shockingly solid. Real enough that the air even smelled faintly of warm asphalt and engine oil.

Of all the recruits, the young man named Elias seemed the most nervous, fidgeting quietly with his hands and glancing toward the others in search of something—guidance, confidence, permission. His attention gravitated toward Andrew more than once before he nearly jumped out of his skin at Clive’s introduction. Unlike several of the others, he didn’t conjure his weapon immediately; instead he edged subtly closer to Speak Easy, almost unconsciously treating him like the natural anchor point of the group. Juniper seemed to follow suit, though with far more serenity than nerves. She held her tongue for the moment, but her movements were deliberate as she summoned her eerie silver lantern, its soft glow mirroring the moon overhead.

"Heh." Rashad—older than the youngest recruits but still in his prime, early thirties maybe, brown hair, strong jaw, shoulders built from actual work rather than gym mirrors—stepped up and gave Andrew a light pat with the back of his hand.
"Looks like some of the others are already looking to you, Speak Easy," he remarked with an easy, casual wink.
"That's Elias and Juniper—‘June’—back there. Nervous lad’s got Hrunting. The lass has some… game lantern that heals."
He gestured broadly, introducing the pair to the rest of the group with the confidence of someone used to taking charge when no one else had decided to.

"Tonberry lantern," June corrected gently, offering a warm, kind smile.
"Though Tonberries are known for death, my lantern is… an inverse of that."
She gave a tiny shrug, shoulders rising and falling as if she herself wasn’t entirely sure how one inverted a mythos of doom. Beside her, Elias managed a small, timid wave.

"Then this is—"

"I'm Kira," the woman cut in, stepping forward with sharp confidence, her twin blades already flashing into existence with an eager shimmer. She smirked at the group—giving Clive the quickest wink before settling into a relaxed but unmistakably combative stance.
"Ready and willing to fight and see what this simulation is made of!"
She shifted her weight to one hip, posture loose but predatory, then tipped her chin toward Andrew with a small, knowing nod.

The only recruit who had yet to return to the group was, unsurprisingly, already mingling with the projected police officers—circling them like exhibits in a museum, poking at uniforms and clipboards until the constructs began gently herding her back toward the others. Rashad groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before resigning himself to the inevitable.
"The distracted one over there is Sarah. Besides being a total space-case, all we know is she refuses to summon her weapon—says it’s too dangerous to draw. So…"
He let the words trail off with meaning as his gaze drifted back toward Andrew.
"Someone’s gonna have to keep an eye on her. Whenever you’re ready, big guy."

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

Sorry for the slow reply - some personal things came up I'm working through, but I'm still getting it written up.

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

I'll start working on a post tomorrow. Er, today. When I wake up (been up all night, lol).

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@mickilennial - Just keep in mind what we talked about, but otherwise approved~ Feel free to jump in!

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@mickilennial - Yeah, probably just the one more. ^^

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

These are definitely some interactions and posts~ :D

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@Taka Haha. Yeah, just like Vec did~

Bloodbound & Broken

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?”