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“Scars remind us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going.”
- David Rossi

Name: mnkee
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Birthday: August 8
Ethnicity: American
Languages: Fluent English
Occupation: Stable Hand
Major/Minor: Equine studies/Animal Science & Ag Economics
Pets: 5 Boer goats, 1 Miniature Schnauzer/Beagle mix dog, & 1 cat
Preferred RP Section: Causal
RP Level: Causal to Low Advanced
Dedication Level: High






"She wasn't looking for a knight. She was looking for a sword."
- Atticus

Hobbies:
  • Roleplaying/Writing
  • Horseback riding
  • Raising goats
  • Photography
  • Online research

Fears:
  • Death/injury of a loved one
  • Lightning/thunder
  • Tornadoes
  • Wasps
  • Emus
  • Ostriches

Likes:
  • God/Christianity
  • Animals of all kinds (Horses, dogs, and goats most specifically)
  • Nature/being outdoors
  • Going to zoos
  • All things medieval
  • Strong women
  • Learning
  • Reading
  • Rping
  • Dessert/candy
  • Barn work
  • Jeans and boots
  • Swimming

Dislikes:
  • Bullies
  • Stereotypes
  • Hypocrites
  • Cruelty
  • Discrimination
  • Overexploitation of wildlife
  • Geese
  • Cockroaches
  • June bugs







“I don't know how to be silent when my heart is speaking.”
- Fyodor Dostoevsky



Rp's Currently Enjoying:


Characters Currently in Use:


Favorite Posts:


Other Places of Interest:


Upcoming Works:
  • Blurred Lines - Shapeshifter and animal apocalypse type RP inspired in part by the TV series Zoo
  • Guide to Beautification - A guide that explains how I make my posts more aesthetically appealing
  • A Grimm World - RP inspired by and based off of the TV series Grimm







“Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.”
- Josephine Hart

Theme Song:


Credits:
Headers - Colchester font, 100 pt. & 45 pt., #662D91 Gradient-Purple-V
Size of gif thumbnails - 200x200
Page layout based off of Lady Amalthea's template
Last updated: May 16, 2018

Most Recent Posts







Location: The Crypt ⇢ Servants' Quarters ⇢ Throne Room (The Palace)


Lyra's jaw promptly fell wide open. She honestly hadn't expected Prince Myrus to so quickly and easily relinquish the dragon egg to her. After all, she was merely a servant asking to have a priceless artifact of the Crown. Granted, from what she knew of Myrus, it was clear that titles meant little to him in comparison to the type of person that held them. Nevertheless, this was a big deal whether or not he saw it as such. Once the initial shock wore off, the corners of her lips pulled up into a wide grin. She bit her lip to keep herself from letting out a girlish scream of excitement. She quickly regained her composure. Now was not the time for that.

"Thank you, truly," she replied sincerely, nodding her head in thanks as a small smile played at her lips. Her gaze lingered on him, taking in his features and demeanor in seeming assessment. After a few moments, she finally pulled her attentive gaze away and smoothly turned back to face the dragon egg. She wrapped it in the linen and satin that it was rested on and carefully scooped it up into her arms. She then followed in behind the others out of The Crypt and back to the upper levels of The Palace. "I will meet back up with you all in a moment. I need to drop these off at my quarters," she explained, before breaking away from the group to head to the servant's quarters.

Once in her room, she gently rested the egg on her bed, which was still partially covered in her weaponry. She then quickly looked around her room to find a small chest in which she could put the egg. Once found, she unceremoniously dumped the chest of its contents and replaced them with the precious egg. With a soft smile on her face, she reverently stroked the egg one last time before closing the chest. For now, that was the safest place for it. She then pulled the book, which she was still meant to give to one Mavis Moll, out of her satchel and deposited it on top of her chest of drawers.

The smile soon slipped from her features as she turned to face the middle of her room. Today was meant to be a day of celebration, but more and more it was feeling like anything but. Queen Meliscente was murdered. That was nothing to celebrate about. More so, with that knowledge, she felt that the danger to Valda had only increased. And Lyra didn't like that. She didn't like that one bit. Well, if they want to get to Valda, they will have to get through me first, she thought to herself. Her expression hardened as she was filled with resolve. She marched over to her bed and grabbed her sword and sheath before strapping it on. The desire to wear a fancy gown at the coronation had long since fled. Right now, she was going for practicality, and perhaps an outward representation of the fierceness she felt in her bones. She couldn't care less if she didn't look "presentable." Screw that. Tonight she would be more than just a servant or a patron. She would be a warrior.

She briskly left the servants' quarters and headed to the Throne Room to meet up with the others. Voices wafted to her as she walked down the hallway with a cool expression trained on her features. But that coolness was most certainly short-lived. She felt the blood in her veins turn to fire as she stumbled upon what was more or less a crime scene in the Throne Room. Her hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword, and her nostrils flared slightly as her gaze landed on the dead body of a noblewoman. Her heated gaze then came up sharply and picked out her mistress Valda in the assembled group. "What the hell happened?" she bit out.








Location: Port Barge ⇢ The Castle (South Gate)


Malekith's gaze swept over to Marya and Medea as the obnoxious twins began publicly jabbering on in an ancient tongue. Oh, that's just splendid, he thought with utter disdain, his lips thinning at their foolishness. They had only just begun their mission, and they were already risking blowing their cover. He arched a brow at Nera before averting his gaze and purposefully turning his back to them. He had no desire to be associated with them, even in the slightest. It wasn't really any wonder why he preferred to work alone. More people meant more liabilities. It was as simple as that. He spent the remainder of the ride on the barge contentedly ignoring them.

Soon enough, the barge pulled up to the docks by the South Gate of The Castle. He kept by Fleur's side as they stepped off of the barge and entered the crush of people swarming towards the same entrance. He casually glanced over at the others of their small group, more or less just keeping tabs on them. It's not that he actually cared about them, far from that actually. He just wanted to know if they were caught so he could head the opposite direction. He ended up doing a doubletake when the twins and Nera suddenly vanished by Magykal means. His eyes narrowed slightly before relaxing as he looked back at Fleur. They're deadweight, he thought to himself, opting to hold back the snide remark. He gave a simple nod of his head in response to her before continuing onward.

Malekith felt irritated rather than alarmed when he was suddenly stopped by a guard. He refrained from rolling his eyes at Fleur's clear amusement right before she unceremoniously ditched him. Women. He refocused his attention on the guard and the matter at hand. "My name's Petroc Heap. I'm craftsman, leatherworking mostly," he replied in a relaxed manner. "I'm here to see the coronation and to see old friends and old places. You see, my family moved away awhile back, and I've been itching to see the place I grew up in once more."
>My character's feelings at the moment...



Thalken Talink




Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Main Tent
Skills: Is vomiting a skill?


Thalken awoke with a start, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat despite the icy chill that also pervaded his body. As the remnants of his hellish nightmare slowly faded away, he could feel a weight increasingly pressing down on him and encompassing his prone body. It was one part the hefty weight of the ice covered cloth and two parts the massive hangover that held him captive right then. Through the pain, he could dully feel water dripping down on him as the ice slowly melted, and an involuntary shiver went down his spine as a chill coursed through him. He blinked several times as he attempted to get his bearings, but it was hard to think straight when it felt like his head was in a vice. A miserable groan escaped his lips as he weakly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

Right about then some of the pressure was alleviated as the cloth overhead was slowly eased off of him and the others who were similarly trapped underneath. He let out another groan due to the pounding in his head as he got his feet underneath himself. However, his groan quickly turned into more of a strangled gurgling sound as a stream of vomit spewed out of his mouth violently. He attempted to spin around and bend over to direct the vomit towards the ground, but unfortunately for anyone within in five feet of him (sorry, Constantin), he failed miserably. Most people were lucky enough to avoid the clear, hot projectile which reeked of alcohol. Again, the operative word is most. Perhaps none of the few victims were more unfortunate than poor ol' Constantin who was hit square in the face with the vile substance that was Thalken's vomit. Third times the charm? Wait, nope. Apparently not.


Alexandra Andonova

If confusion is the first step to knowledge, I must be a genius.



Location: Ville au Camp - Parlor
Skills: N/A


Seeing as she had thoroughly zoned out since rejoining the others, Alexandra found it quite perplexing to the mind to suddenly reintegrate oneself in the middle of lively conversations. To say she was feeling a bit lost right then was an understatement, as bits and pieces of out of context words hit her ears in rapid succession. Her brows furrowed and a frown came to her features as she looked back over at The Dice lady. The Emendator seemed to be kept in the loop. Herself? Not so much. Them? Who's them? Wait. Who are they talking about? Wait. Huh? She thought to herself in confusion. Her gaze flitted amongst the Emendators and the other Paradoxes looking every bit as confused as she felt. Did she miss something? Apparently she had.

Bazhooli! Mr. Clops! I know them! Wait. What do they have to do with anything? They're dead. Or rather I'm dead. Or I was dead but now I'm not dead but I am still dead. Ugh, I don't know. Alexandra rubbed her temple with the tips of her fingers as she felt a headache coming on. Talk about an information overload since the very moment she set foot in Ville au Camp more than a century into the future. And to think the information dump wasn't even done yet. A look of exhaustion came to her features as Evelina went on to explain more about their abilities. Don't get her wrong. It was indeed very interesting. She was just having such a hard time processing it all. So much information was being cram packed into her brain it felt like it could explode at any minute. She was a ticking timebomb right now.

She perked up some when the information dump came to a screeching halt and a question was posed that she could answer. Who did she want to pair up with? Her mind immediately went to The Hat, of course. And yet, something about The Dice lady also intrigued her. Maybe it had to do with the moment they had just shared, no matter how brief it had been, or maybe it was something else. Whatever the case, she figured that she would give Gilbert a break for a little awhile. "I want to go with you," Alexandra finally piped up, looking over at Evelina with a smile.






Location: The Crypt - The Palace


Lyra's lips thinned slightly at the look of disappointment on Emperor Taj's face. She truly wished she could've been more helpful, but alas, even her perceptive mind could only recall so much detail after so many years had passed by. She nodded her head slightly in response to the Emperor before her thoughts soon began to wander. She mentally reviewed all that had just occurred and the new information she had gained. Murder. Queen Meliscente was murdered. The queen's death had something to do with the Тиме Стоне. And somehow Lyra could feel the remnants of it, more yet it wasn't even the first time she had felt it. Then there was also the бесконачни каменци, which they didn't elaborate much on, that had something to do with all this as well. Lyra's lips pulled down into a small frown as she went over everything, and she absentmindedly fiddled with her necklace while the other still stroked the dragon egg.

The question is who or what did this to the queen? What person would so cruelly rip a mother away from her children? What sick, depraved soul would turn children into orphans, who now must also rule a kingdom unprepared?! Lyra thought to herself, with each thought only growing in intensity. She could feel her metaphorical hackles raise at the injustice of it all, and a storm brewed just beyond her blue green eyes. Her hand tightened into a fist around her necklace as righteous fury threatened to boil to the surface. Yet all thoughts on the matter quickly fled as she felt something stir below the hand that was still rested on the dragon egg. "It moved!" she gasped, whirling back around to face the egg fully. She rested both her palms on it, feeling for anymore movement, before pulling them away and instead putting her ear to it. She frowned slightly. She didn't feel anymore movement or hear anything inside it stirring, but she was certain that she hadn't imagined it all.

She straightened back up, glancing over at the others. Yes, the coronation. We must get to it. She knew she had a duty to perform, and yet she felt loathe to abandon the egg. She couldn't abandon it to hatch in a dark, dusty crypt. She couldn't, and she wouldn't. Her chin rose as a stubborn determination filled her. Her steady gaze turned to Prince Myrus. "Prince Myrus, may I be so bold as to grant your permission to care for and protect this dragon egg," Lyra boldly addressed the prince. This probably wasn't the time or place to ask this of him, but nevertheless, she was deadest on the endeavor.

Meanwhile, Lyra's Night Transformer Aurora came out of the woodworks. The black coonhound plowed her way through the crowded streets like a runaway freight train. She may have taken out a person or two in the process, but who's counting. She practically tripped over herself as she exuberantly ran back towards the palace, with her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her giant ears flopping in the wind. Her deep bark echoed off the walls of the palace as she barked excitedly at the sight of Thia and Cuyler. At the last possible minute, she finally turned on her brakes, coming to a screeching halt that nearly plowed over Thia in the process.








Location: Port Witch Coven House --> Port Barge


Malekith's gaze turned to Nera with notably less interest than he had shown Fleur. Sure, the other witch was indeed an attractive woman. He would be blind to not see that. However, she had this god-awful tendency to spoil her good looks with that big mouth and big head of hers. Needless to say, he didn't like her, and neither did he trust her. He saw her as a threat to his supremacy, and if it weren't for her close relationship to their Witch Mother, he would have disposed of her a long time ago. For now, he would have to express caution and bide his time. He would have to tolerate her presence. Unfortunately.

Glancing back at Fleur, he barely held back a snicker at her comment of the cover name Esren Carlan being hideous. The corner of his lips quirked upward slightly with amusement. As he returned his gaze to Nera, there was a glint to his eyes, a glint that could perhaps only be perceived as spite. Yet it was there and gone so quickly that one could think they had simply imagined it. Petroc Heap. He committed the cover name to memory. When she stated her cover name next, his lips formed a harsh line, which he promptly tried to smooth out with an arched brow in question. Emmie Heap. We both have Heap as a surname. What the hell is she getting at?!

"What, are we brother and sister or something?" he almost scoffed. Almost. He didn't wait long for Nera's reply before he turned back to Fleur. He nodded his head in agreement to her empowering words. They were the words of a leader. An easy smirk came to his features before he followed in behind Fleur. Malekith remained close to Fleur but still slightly behind her as they made quick work to the Port Barge. Once there, he courteously offered his arm to help her up the steps and onto the barge, as any noble gentleman would. That's not to say that he was either of those things, but nevertheless, appearances matter.


Thalken Talink

So far from who I was, from who I want to be
So far from being free of the past that's haunting me
- "So Far" by Ólafur Arnalds



Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Main Tent
Skills: None, clearly.


By what could only be considered as divine intervention, Thalken was pulled from the dark recesses of his mind as his dream world took on an entirely new form. He was soon greeted by tumultuous waves crashing onto a shoreline. The ocean was lined with ships sailing on a stormy horizon. The sea spray misted the air as the wind relentlessly battered the ships' black sails. The images that played out before him were not memories of his own making, and yet they seemed too vivid to be purely make believe. It was perhaps something else entirely...

The dream continued on. His attention focused on a sole individual standing out on the beach. It was a woman with pale skin that starkly contrasted her ebony hair. Her feminine curves were mostly hidden by the men's attire she donned. Her face was hidden from him as she just stood there silently looking out at the horizon as the waves licked at her feet. The imagery was so tranquil, providing him with a well needed reprieve from those painful memories that had threatened to swallow him whole mere moments ago. And yet, unfortunately for him, it was always darkest before the dawn. He could feel the darkness beckoning to him from the corners of his mind, and soon he felt himself slipping back under their dark, treacherous waves...


Alexandra Andonova

It's often said that life is strange, but compared to what?



Location: Ville au Camp - Dining Room --> Parlor
Skills: Travel (Involuntary)


The stress of the day, with all its relentless ups and downs, weighed heavily on Alexandra right then. She couldn't quite shake off the melancholy that had reared its ugly head despite her best efforts. Needless to say, she was totally over this day. Like totally. Over. It. Everything else became white noise as she kept her head down and focused on eating her food. It was written all over her demeanor that something was up, but she really didn't care. She was content just then wallowing in her self pity until she could pass out for the night. A part of her still foolishly hoped that this was all just some terrible dream and that she would wake up to find herself back in the Tent City of the Russian Imperial Circus. But, of course, that would just be too easy.

One second she was staring down at her plate of food that was set on the table and then *poof* it was gone. Now she found herself staring down at her bare feet with her hand still poised in midair. She blinked several times in confusion. She slowly looked up to find that the others were all in the other room and she...was not? The hell?! "Avvvv vhat nov?!" she groaned with a pout. She had already had more craziness today than she could take, and now there was apparently more in store for her. She really couldn't get a break, now could she? She looked over at Evelina with a frown on her features as the Emendator came over and sat down next to her.

"Is it that obvious--" she asked before stopping to shake her head. "Never mind, of course it is." She knew herself well enough to know that she was more or less an open book when it came to her emotions. She arched a questioning brow at The Dice lady, silently telling her to do continue whatever explanation she had in store.
In Darke Magyk 14 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay







Location: The Crypt - The Palace


Lyra's brows furrowed slightly as she pondered Emperor Taj's question for a moment. She thought back on that memory, that moment in time. So many years had gone by since then that it was but a faint memory. In fact, she couldn't even picture in her mind with any hint of clarity what the individual had even looked like. The dark aura that the individual had given off, what Emperor Taj had described as being the remnants of the Тиме Стоне, however was another matter. She couldn't so easily forget the uniquely uncomfortable sensation that it elicited it.

She shook her head with a frown. "I do not recall ever encountering that individual again in all the years since then. I truly wish I had more information to give you, but it happened so long ago that the details are blurry to me now," she replied apologetically as her hand absentmindedly stroked the smooth surface of the dragon egg once more. She glanced back over at Myrus and Asha, seemingly checking up on them, before relucantly returning her attention to Emperor Taj.








Location: Port Witch Coven House


Malekith strode over, a picture of sophistication he might add, to the small assembling party of witches and misfits. "Ladies," he greeted as he gave them a slight courteous bow. He nodded his head in greeting to each woman in turn, before his gaze purposefully lingered on Fleur. His dark blue and black flecked gaze unabashedly took in her every inch and curve. She looked as beautiful as ever in her gown. It was a shame really that this was more or less just a business trip. Oh, what fun they could have together. The corner of his lips pulled up into a devilish smirk at the thought. He subsequently had to pry his mind out of the gutter, no matter how much it pained him to do so, as they began discussing their plans for the night. It struck him once more as rather irksome that they were making plans at the very last minute. It starkly contrasted his rather meticulous nature after all. Well, he supposed that he would just have to pick up the loose ends and get the women back on track.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he listened closely and went over the details in his mind with a fine tooth comb. He nodded his head in seeming agreement. However, he felt that it was still too broad of a plan. Winging it just wasn't going to cut it if they wanted things to go without a hitch. They needed to get the fine details sorted out now rather than later. He wasn't about to risk his life because they wanted to go in all half-cocked. "How do we plan on introducing ourselves? We can't very well go in with our actual names lest we blow our cover," he inquired, purposefully making it sound more like a suggestion rather than a demand. "And as far as a signal goes, perhaps we should establish something beforehand. Maybe we could use a Call spell, or Send."


Thalken Talink

So far from who I was, from who I want to be
So far from being free of the past that's haunting me
- "So Far" by Ólafur Arnalds



Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Main Tent
Skills: None, clearly.


Thalken was in his own little world of drunken bliss. His senses were dulled, and he was thoroughly oblivious to the chaos quickly ensuing around him, up to the very moment his world came crashing down. With flames beginning to engulf the heavy tent cloth a slow, painful death was sure to come. But then, everyone was suddenly gifted a miraculous escape as the crazy, crazy brilliant, German turned the flames to ice with his magical beans. Yet, Thalken was not spared a moment to revel in this wondrous change of events, as the shift in weight overhead sent him sprawling back onto the ground. Everything then went black for him when he passed out. He was quickly whipped away to a land of dreams, and nightmares...

It was a breath of fresh air, the feeling of the sun on his face and the taste of sweet freedom. He weaved and danced through fields of lilies, their colors and smells were a picture of serenity. His dark eyed gaze, which was much more inviting just then than it ever was in real life, looked ahead to catch a glimpse of straw-blonde hair. Though the woman's face constantly evaded his view as she skipped ahead of him, he could not deny feeling unnaturally drawn to her. His feet took him forward, barely of his own accord, as he devotedly followed the dancing women.

Yet, the longer he followed her the darker his surroundings became. The sun was soon blotted out as if an eclipse was taking place, and he felt a darkness creep into the very fabric of his being. He could no longer feel the soft grass caressing his bare feet but instead cool stone that allowed coldness to seep into his body. He could barely make out the woman's straw-blonde hair through the increasing darkness, but her cries of no doubt pain easily came to his ears. Her cries soon turned into screams, and he quickly covered his ears in an attempt to block out the sound, but to no avail. His vision then twisted and morphed as the woman's scream caused memories to resurface, memories of his sins he tried so hard to forget. They were memories that forever haunted him, because the truth of the matter is that reality cuts much deeper than fiction...

It was a cloudy night on the Chinese mainland. The moon sparsely illuminated the streets. Thalken stuck to the shadows, stealthly surveying the area for activity. Everything seemed quiet tonight, as most people had since gone to bed. He tightened his circle, skirting around a particular house as he kept low. He noted that there was a candlelight lit in the far side of the house. It was not surprising really, as according to his sources, the man of the house was known to work till late at night. Unbeknownst to that hardworking Chinese man, he had a bounty on his head, one Thalken was content to cash out on. It wouldn't be his first hit, and it wouldn't be his last. Why this particular individual was wanted dead, Thalken did not know. He hadn't asked, and he really didn't care. It wasn't personal. It never was to him. It was just his job, the family business, and a part of being in the Three Harmonies Society. It was how he made his living. He didn't love the job, but neither did he hate it. It was just all he knew. He did the job and he did it well. And then he got paid for it. That was that.

Thalken crouched just outside the back door, which was nearest to the occupied room. He pulled out his lock pick set and went to work quickly but quietly picking the lock whilst remaining vigilant to his surroundings. Soon enough he got through the door and was prowling the halls of the house with a knife in hand. He kept a mental note of the layout of the house and the path he took from his entry point as he followed the source of the light. He cautiously peeked his head around the corner. Thalken grimaced as the floorboard creaked below his feet, and he quickly retreated back around the corner. Nevertheless, he had managed to catch a glimpse of the side profile of the man. He was certain it was his target. With bated breath he waited, listening as the man got up and shuffled over to the hallway to investigate the sound. And the moment the man came around the corner, that's when he struck. Before the man knew what hit him, Thalken stabbed him in the side of the neck, hitting the jugular vein. A dull gurgling sound came from the man as blood filled his mouth. He slid the knife back out of the man's jugular and quickly grabbed the man as he collapsed. Thalken lowered him to the floor before swiftly leaving the way he had come in. The man bled out there on the floor and was found in the morning by his wife and two children...

The room was dimly lit and a select few individuals were huddled around one very bloody and battered man. An interrogation, of the violent sort, was underway. The man had information that the Three Harmonies Society wanted, and needless to say, he wasn't forthcoming yet. Thalken casually leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his father Beowulf's handiwork. It was business as usual, despite having not seen his father for months. This was more or less Beowulf's version of good father son bonding time. "你很難。 我會給你的,但沒有人是牢不可破的。 如果你不給我們想要的東西,那麼我們會讓別人付出代價,"1 Beowulf growled at the man in Cantonese, before turning to bark an order at his son. "Bring in the girl!"

Thalken straightened, pushing away from the wall. He gave his father a curt nod before turning to leave the interrogation room. He walked down the hallway to a cramped cell. Huddled in the far corner was a girl no older than fourteen. She started crying and shaking with trepidation as Thalken opened the cell door and stalked over to her. His dark eyes were ever ominous, only serving to exacerbate the girl's fear. "閉嘴,也許你會活著離開這裡,"2 Thalken retorted gruffly as the girl began pleading with him. He grabbed her bound wrists and roughly yanked her to her feet. He then shoved/dragged her down the hallway and into the interrogation room. The moment her eyes landed on her father's bloody and battered form her legs buckled underneath her and she began to wail with tears streaming down her face. Her father started yelling and spewing curses at Thalken and Beowulf at the sight of his beloved daughter. Thalken grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair and yanked her head back before pulling out a knife and putting it to her throat. His intense gaze then came up and locked with her father's. And the look on the man's face and his and his daughter's cries for mercy were not something that Thalken would soon forget...



Alexandra Andonova

How terrible it is to love something that death can touch.



Location: Ville au Camp - Kitchen House --> Room 208 (Bedroom) --> Dining Room
Skills: None currently


Alexandra was all smiles and giggles as she drank and conversed. A sense of normalcy and comradery washed over this strange new reality, smoothing out all the craziness to something more bearable. Right then she felt content, through and through. And then The Dice came in and dropped a bombshell that metaphorically sent her staggering backwards into an emotional tailspin. Death. They all had just escaped death and already it struck again. Couldn't it just give them a break for one goddamn day?! She didn't know this Peter person, and yet it struck her hard nonethless. She was no stranger to loss after all. No, loss was an old friend.

The smile fell from her face, her lips thinning as the rest of her features dulled. She shook her head slightly and slowly retreated from the group. She couldn't go to the funeral. She just couldn't handle them, not after both her parents were killed in one fell swoop. Besides, she would just say the wrong thing and unintentionally offend someone. She didn't do emotional pain well. She just ended up instinctively resorting to sarcasm to cover up what emotions lied below the surface. She refrained from escaping the now stifling room until the others had left to attend the funeral. She didn't want to appear desperate in front of them, and she was trying to at least be respectful despite the emotions welling up inside her.

Once everyone left the Kitchen House, Alexandra took one last swig of her alcohol before quickly retreating to her room. As she shut her door behind her and she was greeted to the pictures of her loved ones, she couldn't hold herself together any longer. A sob was wrenched from her throat, followed by another and another as she crumpled to the ground. She didn't know how much time had passed before she felt like she had cried herself out. She felt exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and yet she also felt lighter. Apparently, she had just needed a good cry. She finally pulled herself up off the floor, wiping away the remaining tears from her cheeks. She gave a fleeting glance to the photographs before relcutantly leaving the room.

She trudged into the dining room, where she found the others already gathered. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy from crying, and her hair was probably a mess. But, whatever, food would make her feel less crappy. She grabbed a plate and stuffed it full of food, her appetite unhindered by her mood. She then took a seat as The Dice began discussing the beginning of their training. She was quite possibly only half listening to the conversations stirring around her.
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