Qia

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.065: Target Sighted

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_{Interaction(s):Katja-@Zoldyck,Gill-@Roman}

Previously: The Burden With Dreams

As Katja and Harper set off from the dorms, it quickly became apparent that her bulky friend might possess a hidden talent for foresight, for Harper found herself trailing in the wake of the blonde’s swift strides. The distance between them grew, despite Harper’s determined efforts, and with each passing second, the inevitability of Katja’s victory became clearer the closer the two got to the Minotaur.

After crossing their imagined finish line, Harper, panting and trying to catch her breath, fought to keep her competitive spirit in check. The urge to let disappointment show was strong—after all, she shared Katja’s distaste for defeat. Yet, in the face of Katja’s exuberant cheer, Harper managed a smile, albeit a slightly strained one.

At least there was no longer a focus on their previous discussion. The other girl had thankfully taken the bait.

“Nice one. But next time I’m setting some terms,”Harper managed to say between breaths, her tone light, conceding this round but already plotting the next for another time.

---

As the group arrived at their destination, the sun had climbed to its peak, casting a radiant glow over the grounds below. Harper, now donned in athletic gear, was the epitome of preparedness for the day’s events. Her ensemble, a pair of breezy running shorts paired with a moisture-wicking tee, was meticulously chosen to combat the midday heat. A lightweight pullover was knotted around her waist as well, just in case she needed a shield from an unexpected chill that was so common on Canadian soil. Her immaculate white sneakers, now the focus of her attention, were being laced up meticulously as she stretched her legs, easing the stiffness from the journey.

With her sneakers laced snugly, Harper allowed her attention to sweep over the grand vista that stretched out from the plateau’s brink. The edge served as a threshold to a majestic view, where the earth tenderly sloped down to meet the sea’s embrace. Below, the ocean’s waves danced rhythmically against the jagged shoreline, each surge catching and refracting the sunlight in a brilliant spectacle. The distant mountains, shrouded in a cloak of mist, stood as silent custodians over the peaceful expanse unfurling beneath them. The plateau, overall, seemed a bastion of serenity, its air pure and invigorating—a stark contrast to the relentless pace and pressures of Harper’s current life at school.

Here, the world seemed to pause, the only sounds being the symphony of crashing waves and the whisper of the sea breeze. Harper’s heart matched the tranquil cadence, her worries dissolving into the ether, replaced by a newfound sense of peace and clarity.

“Perfect,”she whispered to herself, a sense of contentment washing over her as she ventured deeper into the campsite with the others. Harper’s eyes soon found a familiar silhouette, marked by light brown hair and distinctive wings—a sight that brought an involuntary, albeit awkward, smile to her lips. It was Haven, and despite their recent encounter, the warmth of recognition was undeniable. Harper could sense a mutual understanding in Haven’s returned gesture, a silent acknowledgment of shared sentiments.

She still hadn’t quite figured out how to address her new concerns to her. If anything, if she were to be more honest with herself, she was delaying the whole thing.

"Grab a tent, guys. We meet up with Tad and the trial's build organizer once you're ready."

Heeding Haven’s instruction, Harper approached a tent nestled among its twins, its canvas flaps beckoning. She deposited her backpack, a treasure trove of essentials and personal items to be sorted later. But there was a pressing matter at hand, one that seemed trivial to others but monumental to her—a choice of a bunkmate.

The previous year, the decision had been practically made for her. Aurora, with her easy smile and open nature, had offered to share her space. It was an act of kindness that had blossomed into a friendship, born from whispered confidences and shared laughter in the quiet of the night. Harper had been compelled to interact, to engage in a way that was foreign to her then.

Reflecting on those days, she marvelled at the transformation within herself. The introversion that once cloaked her like a second skin had shed, revealing a more assertive, self-assured individual. The change was profound, and as she stood there, contemplating her next move, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the person she had become.

What’s more, were the other friendships she’d managed to develop throughout her starting year with so many different personality types. From the ever-naive and clumsy Lorcán to the simple-minded but kind-hearted Rory.

As if summoned by her musings, Rory’s voice sliced through her reverie, his words a blend of cheekiness and innocence that was his trademark. The question out of his mouth though, which was directed at her winged teammate, was audacious enough to paint Harper’s cheeks with a shade of crimson.

"So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

Rory’s words, brazen and unfiltered, floated in the air, turning heads and drawing a spectrum of reactions, including her own.

Harper’s eyes, now sharp as a hawk’s, turned to Haven, eager to gauge her response. Initially, shock registered on Haven’s face, her eyebrows arching high in a mix of astonishment and bewilderment. It was the kind of boldness that, broadcasted so openly, could stir a buzz of whispers. Yet, as moments passed, Haven’s expression morphed—first to understanding, then to a poised confidence. A smile, subtle but undeniable, played upon her lips.

Harper was now very intrigued. There was a nuance she had overlooked, a subtext she hadn’t deciphered. Though she couldn’t catch Haven’s reply as she allowed her ability to fade, and her principles simply forbade her from lip-reading with them, it was clear Haven wasn’t perturbed by Rory’s daring proposition.

Harper honestly admired the unguarded honesty between the both of them, their bravery in expressing emotions so openly unfamiliar to her. She yearned to muster the same courage to reveal her feelings one day. Instinctively, her gaze searched for Gil—or rather, the three iterations of him. The trio of Gils, two of them a clone with the same capacity for thought and emotion, were deep in discussion, likely dissecting the recent bold exchange.

The three Gils, identical yet distinct, had always been a source of fascination for Harper. She had kept it to herself, but even with her sharp eyesight, telling them apart was a puzzle she hadn’t quite solved. Perhaps, she mused, it was the blinding effect of Gil’s striking features that had clouded her analytical gaze that one time she had tried, driven by curiosity.

Harper’s heart skipped with the thrill of the unknown as she contemplated joining their conversation, sharing her feelings with the same openness Rory had. It was a daunting thought, but the urge to be transparent with her affection was undeniable. She found herself drawn towards the Gils, her feet moving of their own accord, only to be abruptly halted by a robust Australian shout.

"Oi! Tyler! Move your bloody tent!"

The command, laced with the distinctive twang of the Outback, jolted Harper from her thoughts. Her hands instinctively rose to shield her ears, and a frown etched itself across her features. Banjo’s boisterous interruption was ill-timed, and Harper couldn’t help but think,Did he always have to steal the spotlight? The urge to deliver a swift kick to his shins was a tempting thought too, especially since he had so rudely intruded on Rory and Haven’s intimate exchange.

Harper’s irritation was a simmering undercurrent, but she managed to quell the impulse, recognizing that her actions should be driven by composure, not frustration. With a deep breath, she refocused on her initial intent, allowing the momentary disruption to fade into the background. There were more pressing matters at hand—matters of the heart.

Harper approached the Gils with a casual grace, her hand lifting in a reserved wave that masked the flutter of excitement within her. A silent mantra played in her mind, a reminder to maintain composure and not succumb to the giddy impulses of a fangirl.

Right…what would the usual poised version of herself say at a time like this that still got her intentions across?

Harper steadied her nerves as the collective gaze of the Gils settled on her, a trio of expectant stares that could easily unnerve.“So…”she ventured, her voice a careful blend of nonchalance and mischief,"I’m considering a play from Rory’s handbook… touché?”The smirk that played on her lips then was both a shield and a signal.“Respectfully,” she hastened to add, the smirk now blossoming into a full-fledged grin. A moment lingered, heavy with anticipation, before she delivered the punchline, “In separate cots, of course. For decency’s sake.”

Ju-V

I'm definitely still invested!

I'm looking forward to getting this back on track.

@Skai

Sameee here :) But you already knew that.

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

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_{Location: Mess Hall - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.054: The Burden With Dreams

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_{Interaction(s):N/A}

Previously: Maybe She Likes Her Illusions

As the flying figure of Haven disappeared into the distance, Harper’s initial burst of confidence began to fade away. The encouraging smile she had given to her teammate gradually vanished from her face as the weight of her words and their implications began to sink in. The frustration that had been building up within her - from Haven’s behaviour, from the moment she was told her dreams were just meant to be that - came back all at once, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. She leaned against the wall of the stadium for support, her breaths ragged and uneven. The weight of her decision, the things she’d said so confidently before, pressed down on her chest, threatening to crush her spirit.

What the hell had she been thinking?

Did she truly believe that they could take on one of the representatives of the Foundation? Did she forget that their unnerving teammate had come from that very place? And to make matters worse, she was relying on Banjo of all people to execute their plan. Was she so desperate to prove her point, to get what she wanted, that she was willing to put her teammates in harm’s way?

The bitter chuckle that escaped Harper’s lips surprised even herself. She clenched her head in her hands, her body shaking with uncontrollable laughter as her legs lost their strength and sank to the floor. When the tears came streaming down her face, she bent her head into the crook of her arms, torn between hiding her pride, shame, or anguish.

“But no matter what,”Amma’s words echoed in her mind, “this world will never accept you. They won’t forget. They haven’t forgotten. I doubt they will ever forgive.”

What had Harper seen in those brown eyes that day? Had it been fear or something more?

Like hate?

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

^{One Week Before The Start Of The Semester}

Harper leaned her back against the rough brick wall of the poorly lit alley, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could feel it. The uncertain glow from her phone's screen cast an eerie light across her face, revealing the furrow in her brow and the tremor in her fingers. She was wearing a well-worn hoodie and comfortable sweatpants, but she felt out of place in the eerie atmosphere of the alley. Shouldn't she have been comforted by this feeling? When had she ever felt like she belonged somewhere, anyway? Before P.R.C.U., that is.

The message displayed on her phone's screen was stark against the darkness and seemed to carry a weight that threatened to pull her into the abyss. It read, "Meet me tonight. 9 pm. The Driftwood. Come alone!" The words had been etched into her mind by this point, a haunting refrain that she couldn't shake.

As Harper looked up at the flickering streetlamp above her, she couldn't help but feel like it was mirroring her inner turmoil. Its light danced across her features, emphasizing her uncertainty and fear. She wondered why she had been asked to come to The Driftwood after all this time.

What did Sierra want? What was so important that she had insisted on Harper coming alone?

As the brunette stood there, staring blankly at her phone, her mind drifted back to the last time she had seen her sister. It had been an argument that had spiralled out of control and had ended with harsh words and slammed doors. It had been months- no years- since they had truly spoken to one another, and the memory of that bitter fight weighed heavily on her heart.

Harper carefully slipped her phone into her pocket, taking a deep breath as she prepared to face what was waiting for her. As she entered the bar, the air was thick with the lingering scents of countless nights of revelry. The smell of stale beer mixed with the aroma of aged whiskey, creating a unique, unmistakable blend. The ghosts of patrons who had long since passed away seemed to linger in the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere of the place.

The dim lighting cast a sepia-toned filter over everything, as if time had mellowed within these walls. The bulbs above flickered restlessly, their filaments dancing like restless spirits. Harper's footsteps echoed softly against the creaking wood as she followed the path that led her across decades of stories. Each scuff, each groove held a secret - a whispered confession or a desperate plea. The floorboards bore the weight of countless souls, all seeking solace in the bottom of a glass. Their collective memories seeped into the grain, etching invisible lines of connection that were impossible to ignore.

Following her own invisible line of connection towards the back of the bar, Harper's eyes were drawn to Sierra's hair first. It was a vibrant red, a stark contrast to the familiar brunette that she was used to seeing. The colour screamed rebellion and defiance, leaving Harper to wonder at the reason behind the sudden change. Was it Sierra's attempt to distance herself from her? A bright red would definitely accomplish that if that was the case. Her black leather jacket over a fitted graphic tee, ripped jeans, and combat boots only further emphasized her new rebellious spirit. Harper couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she looked at her, knowing that things from now on would never be the same again.

Sierra lifted her sharp brown eyes from the drink before her. The dim light of The Driftwood cast shadows across her features, emphasizing the curve of her lips - a smirk that danced on the precipice of mockery.

"Well, if it isn't my baby sister," Sierra drawled, her voice a blend of familiarity and tension. The years apart had etched lines on her face, but she remained the beauty the brunette had always thought she was.

Harper eased into the worn wooden chair opposite her, her spine straight, her gaze steady.

“It’s been a while,” Harper echoed, her words a bridge spanning the abyss. Sierra’s smirk widened, revealing a hint of teeth.

“What do you want?” Harper finally asked. The Driftwood seemed to hold its breath, its walls absorbing their history. Sierra leaned back, her eyes assessing, calculating.

“Closure,” the redhead replied, her gaze unyielding. “Answers.” Harper’s guard remained intact, but curiosity gnawed at her at this.

“Answers for what?”

"Answers," Sierra repeated, enunciating each syllable as if the word held power all its own. "About that night. About what really happened to you." Her gaze bore into Harper's, daring her to break the silence.

Harper blinked, taken aback by Sierra's intensity. The night Sierra had discovered Harper's abilities was one neither of them could forget, though they'd both tried. It had been the catalyst for their estrangement, and the thought of revisiting it now sent a chill down Harper's spine.

"And what do you think you'll gain from dredging up the past, exactly?” she asked, her voice taut with suppressed emotion.

Sierra's expression hardened. "Closure," she said again, the word hanging in the air like a spectre. "And maybe, just maybe, a chance to move forward. To understand what happened to you... to us."

Harper leaned back in her chair, folding her arms, unable to hold back her glare.
“I don’t know…I think I got a pretty good understanding of what happened.”

Sierra matched Harper's glare, her voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've been running from it. From me. From everything we once were."

Sierra’s words seemed to strike a nerve, and Harper's gaze faltered momentarily before she regained her composure. "I didn't run,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered ever so slightly. "I just... it wasn’t safe for me anymore without the control that I have now. And besides I needed to find my own path. To figure out who I was without-“

"Without me?" Sierra interjected, her eyes blazing. “We were supposed to be in this together, Harper. We were supposed to have each other's backs, always! Especially since…”

Harper recoiled as if physically struck, her breath catching in her throat.

"Don't you dare bring them up,” she hissed. “You know we can't change what happened. And I can't... I can't deal with that right now. There’s too many things now to worry about.”

Sierra's eyes narrowed. "You're not getting it. This isn't just about them, Harper. This is about us, about our family. And if we don't confront our demons, they'll keep haunting us, no matter how many 'things' you try to bury them under."

Harper's fists clenched as she fought to maintain control. "What do you want from me, Si? What do you want me to say?”

Sierra's voice softened. “I want the truth, Harps. I want us to face our past together, so we can finally move forward…. So we can be sisters again.”

Her gaze dropped to the table as she reached out, hesitantly resting her hand on Harper's. Harper tensed, feeling the weight of Sierra's touch like an anchor, keeping her tethered to a past she'd tried so hard to escape. Despite the urge to pull away, she remained still, willing herself to hear Sierra out.

“You’re in your last year, right?” Sierra continued, attempting a more casual conversation. "Time sure flies, huh? Have you decided what you want to do once you graduate?”

Harper’s guarded nod betrayed her wariness. The sudden shift in conversation felt like a gust of wind threatening to topple her carefully constructed walls. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice measured. “It’s been intense—exams, late nights, and some self-discovery, I suppose. But it’s helped me grow in ways I never thought possible.”

Sierra’s gaze softened in response. “You’ve come a long way,” she murmured. “From that little girl who used to hide in the closet during thunderstorms.”

Harper’s lips twitched. “I had a flashlight and a stack of comic books in there. It was practically my fortress.”

“And I was your knight,” Sierra teased. “Ready to slay imaginary dragons.”

The years apart—the chasm carved by grief and secrets—loomed between them. Sierra’s other hand rested on the table now, a bridge waiting to be crossed. “But you know,” she continued, her voice barely audible, “no matter how much you grow or how far you go, you’ll always be my baby sister, right?”

Harper’s gaze fell to that hand—the same hand that once wiped away tears, braided her hair, and held her secrets. Love and resentment swirled within her, a tempest threatening to spill over. “I know,” she whispered. “But sometimes… sometimes growing up means facing things you never thought you’d have to.”

Harper's heart skipped a beat as Sierra stayed silent, her gaze fixed on Harper's face. She looked at her sister, trying to read her expression, but Sierra's face was inscrutable. Harper fidgeted nervously, her patience wearing thin. She was about to ask Sierra what was wrong when she finally spoke up in a quivering voice.

"Harper," Sierra began, "Mom and Dad…they didn’t die in an accident. Everything you think you know… isn’t always how it seems.”

Harper's breathing faltered as the words lingered in the heavy, humid Carolina air. She had reluctantly agreed to this meeting, hoping for closure, not revelations.

So what the hell was this?

---

^{| 0750 hrs // University Dorms}

Things were so much easier back then.

Harper ran her fingers over the edges of the photograph, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The picture showed her and her sister when they were young and carefree, captured in one of her fondest childhood memories. They were around 5 and 9 years old and it was taken in Harper's bedroom closet, which had been her secret hiding place. She remembered the joy of that moment, giggling with Sierra as they made the best of the stormy night. It was around this time that she had been introduced to graphic novels, and the picture reminded her of a time when everything felt perfect. She cherished it dearly.

With a sense of longing and nostalgia, Harper let out a deep sigh and slowly closed the photo album that she had been flipping through for what seemed like hours. The memories captured in those faded, yellowed pages had transported her back to a time when life was simpler, happier, and full of promise. But now, as she gazed at the blank walls of her dorm room, she knew she had to face reality and get ready to leave for her first day.

As Harper pushed herself out of bed, she couldn't help but think about the events of the previous day. Her mind was still muddled by the strange turn of events that had left her feeling off-balance and unsure of herself. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss, but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

The brunette glanced at the clock on her nightstand, surprised to see that it was much later than she had anticipated. She had never been one to be tardy, but yesterday's events had thrown her routine completely off balance it seemed. It was as if the world had shifted just a little bit and she was struggling to find her footing again.

Upon glancing at her reflection in the mirror, Harper quickly checked her appearance. She’d already put her hair in its usual low ponytail. Her white dress shirt looked crisp and neatly tucked into her black slacks. The black blazer she wore was also immaculate, but as her eyes shifted towards the P.R.C.U. emblem on the blazer's pocket, a frown crept onto her face. Despite her impeccable appearance, the emblem served as a reminder of her allegiance to the organization that she was currently having mixed feelings about.

Harper couldn't shake off the impact of Amma's statement, which had struck a chord with her. She couldn't help but admit that there was a certain truth to the idea that this place was, in some sense, both a prison and a refuge for individuals like Amma and herself. Despite Gil's attempts to retain some of the joy that Amma had managed to puncture out of their ballooning dreams, it was too late. Everyone else's expressions had already betrayed their disappointment.

For Harper, the realization that she agreed with her oddball teammate was a bit… unsettling. She couldn't help but feel a sense of self-loathing for agreeing with her - even if it was just a tiny bit.

Harper gently pinched her cheeks with her fingertips to snap herself out of the distracted state. She noticed that her usually rosy fair skin lacked its natural glow. To fix this, she pinched her cheeks a little harder, creating a natural flush that complemented her features, especially her freckles. After admiring her handy work, she put on comfortable black flats and left the dorm.

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_{Location: Mess Hall - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.044: Maybe She Likes Her Illusions

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_{Interaction(s): Haven- @Skai}

Previously: Dreams

Once Harper finally arrived at the Mess Hall, she’d managed to join the tail end of the line of the Blackjack members already there, breathing a sigh of relief—her heart going back to its regular pace from the run she’d had to do to get here right on time. She sidled past a few of them, trying desperately to catch up to her second favourite—tied with Katja (and don’t ever ask her to choose between the two)—girly of the team: Haven.

Once she did, Harper hooked her arm in Haven’s with a smile and a whispered “Hello. Missed you this morning!” before sitting beside her winged friend.

When a loud voice boomed through the speakers, Harper's attention was immediately drawn to the stage. As she fixed her gaze on the platform, she observed the Canadian anthem being played with great interest, although she still couldn't sing along to all of it. As the anthem ended, a colourful parade of flags followed, adding to the patriotic atmosphere of the event. "How noble of you, P.R.C.U.," she thought, before taking her seat along with everyone else.

As the ceremony progressed in its usual fashion, Harper's attention was mostly focused on the speaker's words. However, her ears pricked up when the Chancellor made a significant announcement - the school's new guests for the year were none other than The Foundation.

The brunette couldn’t help but search for Amma among the members at their mention, but she couldn’t spot her from where she was. She wondered what her reaction would be…to seeing some of her old friends.

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”

Harper's heart sank as the weight of the announcement hit her. She could feel her stomach already starting to knot with anxiety and disappointment.

“WHAT?” she said loudly, though her voice was drowned out by the cacophony of shocked murmurs and protests from the gathered students.

Harper was deeply shaken by the news that had just been announced. "How could this happen?" she thought to herself, still struggling to process the implications of what she had heard. It was clear from the expressions on her peers' faces that they were all in the same boat. Shock and concern were etched on their faces as they tried to come to terms with the news.

As she looked around, Harper couldn't help but feel a sense of despair. All the hard work and dedication that they had put into their studies might be in vain. The prospect of not being able to achieve their career dreams was devastating.

Harper tried to gather her thoughts and regain her composure. She knew that she had to think quickly and consider alternatives if she wanted to salvage her academic career. She had planned to enroll in a radiology program, but the loss of accreditation could mean the end of her ambitions. Unless…

"What's with this bitch?" Harper heard her friend say beside her.

“Yea…” was all she could manage to say in response, however. After all, none of the Foundation member’s futures seemed to be in trouble.

As the Foundation's representative continued to speak, Harper couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over her. It was as if the words being spoken were causing a chill to run down her spine. And then, out of nowhere, she felt a soft fluttering on her arms. It took her a moment to realize that it was the wings on her friend’s back causing it - a physical manifestation of the same anxiety and fear that Harper felt within her.

The brunette placed a comforting hand on her friend’s arm, forcing a smile on her face.
“I understand your frustration,” she said softly, choosing her words carefully. “But maybe...that's not the best idea.”

And Harper couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-loathing after the words she spoke. Honest and practical she was, as always.

Harper watched intently as Lorcán stormed out of the stadium, followed closely by Haven, whose feathers were still ruffled with frustration. Despite Haven's fiery spirit, Harper knew that it was important for them to remain level-headed amidst the chaos. Lorcán's sudden exit seemed impulsive and Harper couldn't help but wonder if he was planning his next move in response to the news they had just received.

Taking a brief pause, Harper's gaze drifted towards Aurora, her close friend, and she couldn't help but think about how difficult it must be for her to process the uncertainty of her future. With a heavy sigh, she got up from her seat and began to move towards Haven, calling out to her to wait up.

"What Did They Do To Us?" - A Mysterious Supernatural Escape RP!!

@naomimyselfandi That sucks to hear :( I hope everything turns out alright for you!

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

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_{Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.033: Dreams

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_{Interaction(s):*Insert Everyone gif here*}

Previously: Tempest

A smirk began to form on Katja’s lips as she listened to Harper’s reply, giving a couple of small nods to acknowledge her answer.

“I feel you on that one, sis. We’ve got a lot of things on our plates, so I totally understand forgetting about it.” Her voice was filled with the usual enthusiasm she was known for across the campus. “You shouldn’t worry though. A cute girl like you will find a date in no time! If you don’t then I’ll take you to the dance, and you don’t want that now do you?”She said with a playful wink.

“Thanks, Kat,” Harper replied. She managed a small laugh, but beneath it lay a quiet vulnerability. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but honestly, I'm not too worried about finding a date. There's more to life than dances, right?”The brunette highly valued her friendship with Katja. Still, the thought of attending the dance together as friends felt like a band-aid solution—a temporary fix for a deeper yearning she couldn't quite voice to the guy beside her.

The next words out of Gil’s words seemed to hang in the air like a frosty mist, however, chilling away the warmth of Harper’s anticipation.

"As for the dance, I don't have a partner yet. You've got to keep your options open, you know?" he said, as if the whole thing were a mere footnote in his grand life. His words were a paradox to her—a plea for freedom disguised as practical advice. Harper couldn't help but wonder if he truly believed it or if it was merely a shield against vulnerability. Perhaps he feared commitment, or maybe he revelled in the thrill of uncertainty.

Or maybe she just wasn't his first choice for some stupid dance like he was hers.

And then came the final blow: "Besides, I'd hate to disappoint any die-hard fans." The pang in Harper’s chest was sharp, like a sudden frostbite. Die-hard fans—those who clung to his every word, who traced the contours of his fame. A face in the crowd of his adoring fans? Was that all she was to him, perhaps?

But self-awareness tugged at her. I’m not being very fair here, am I? What exactly have I done to be seen as any different? Harper knew that her feelings for Gil ran deep, but she also recognized that, to him, she might simply be a friend and fan.

The realization stung more than she wanted to admit to herself.

As the weight of her thoughts fully settled in, Harper found herself searching for any semblance of normalcy remaining in them. And then she took a deep breath.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make the right choice when the time comes, Gil," Harper said, offering a smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “As for me, I’ll probably just go with the flow.”She paused, her gaze drifting back to the scene behind her further up the sand. By now, Lorcán seemed to be in better shape than he was before, as far as she could tell. But her eyes were more so focused on the cooler beside him. She licked her lips.“And…right now I think I could use a drink.”

---

As the sun dipped lazily toward the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the beach, Harper found herself in familiar territory—sand between her toes, the rhythmic lull of waves in her ears. This time, she held a cold can of beer, its aluminum surface chilling her palm. Settling onto the warm sand near the campfire, she stretched her legs out before her. The beer can perched on her knee left a faint damp circle on her light blue jeans, thrown on earlier with a white tee after an afternoon with the group. The remnants of her earlier buzz had faded following a refreshing shower, leaving her hair slightly damp but no longer carrying the scent of saltwater.

Lorcán's question, delivered with his signature flair, broke through the comfortable silence then:

“Alright gentle-dudes and lady-brahs, where does everyone see themselves once they graduate?”

Haven was the first to answer, supplying a response that sounded pretty incredible to the brunette.

“I think it’s their loss if they don’t accept you,” Harper reassured her, offering an encouraging smile across the fire.

Next was Aurora, echoing sentiments of uncertainty about the future. Harper had previously held back her own aspirations, fearing they might come across as boastful. The last thing Aurora needed was to hear about Harper's confidence in her path.

The thought held her tongue, until finally, she spoke, her voice soft but resolute. "If I keep my grades up, I’m aiming for a spot in a diagnostic radiology residency program." Leaning back, she traced patterns in the sand. "It’s not as fancy as it sounds, though." It was one of the best ways to help others with her ability, but the program was notoriously competitive—a source of occasional stress.

The waves seemed to whisper their approval nonetheless, as if saying, “Go for it, Harper.” And she would. Because beyond the textbooks and exams, she had to believe there was a purpose to her being the way she was.

"What Did They Do To Us?" - A Mysterious Supernatural Escape RP!!

A

---

A’s heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as the entity devoured M. His bravery, both admirable and terrifying, had been futile against the malevolence that now consumed him. Loss hung in the air, a tangible ache even though she had only just met M. There was no time for mourning; the entity’s attention shifted back to the remaining group.

Shadows leapt from the walls, their movement unsettling. A chilling coldness enveloped A, seeping into her very bones. She fought against the invading darkness, but it was relentless, overtaking her senses. The entity’s voice, distorted and unsettling, promised help—but A sensed malevolence behind its words.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the onslaught of visions. Survival depended on understanding their adversary, yet the cost weighed heavily. Determination warred with dread as she surrendered to the entity’s invasive power, hoping the answers she sought lay within the shadows it conjured.

---

She felt the girl’s fear and despair as if it were her own. Her heart ached for the pain and humiliation the girl endured. Bravery shone through the darkness—the girl’s defiance in the face of cruelty was nothing short of admirable. Yet, it was painfully clear: she was outnumbered and outmatched.

The blood from her injured nose, the bruising on her face—each detail etched into her memory. The emotional toll of the experience weighed heavily upon her.

Was that… her reflection?

The veil between present and past wavers and A stepped into her memories. The girl before her, battered and bruised, is a reflection of her former self—a mirror echoing pain and resilience.

She reaches out and takes her hand.

---

Facing her own shadow creature, A swiftly realized that her ability -Hemorrhage- had little effect when she tried to use it on the being made purely of darkness. Undeterred, she adapted her strategy, searching for any sign of weakness or vulnerability in her opponent.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the shadowy form, seeking patterns in its movements or any indication of a physical weakness. Despite its amorphous shape, she realized the creature appeared most solid around its core, where the glowing red eyes resided. Perhaps that was the key—focus her attack there.

Gathering the remaining energy within her, A channelled Hemorrhage once more, directing it toward the creature’s central mass. She gritted her teeth, pushing the limits of her newfound power, determined to incapacitate her foe.

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

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_{Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.024: Tempest

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_{Interaction(s): Gil @Roman, Katja @Zoldyck, Amma @Rockette}

Previously: Rainbows

Harper’s brows furrowed slightly, a crease forming between them as Amma addressed her. A faint hint of unease washed over her face, like a cloud passing over the sun, as she slowly processed the interaction that was occurring. Despite her innate discipline, a discipline honed through years of tough love and the navigation of complex social waters, she couldn’t help but feel a thread of disconcertment weave through her thoughts, tugged into existence by Amma’s unyielding intensity and her peculiar, almost theatrical mannerisms.

As Harper offered her gift, a cold can with droplets of condensation sliding down its sides, the brunette managed a tight-lipped smile. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, eyes that were busy noticing the subtle shift in Amma’s stance—the way her grip on the still unopened can had tightened imperceptibly, her knuckles whitening for a moment as if the can be a precious object too worthy of her taste buds.

She doesn’t like it.

Harper didn’t need to use her ability to see that.

Nonetheless, the girl offered a nod, her gesture one of tentative acceptance of the other’s expression of… gratitude? It was a question that hung in the air, unanswered.

She then took note of Amma’s distraction by the others, her eyes briefly flitting over her shoulder to gauge the unfolding scene. Upon witnessing Lorcán’s stumble and subsequent fall, a crease of concern carved itself deeply between her brows, her lips pressing into a thin line of worry. Her body reacted instinctively; a small step forward was taken with the readiness of one prepared to offer aid. However, her attention was abruptly reclaimed by her immediate surroundings as Gil’s voice, deep and unexpected, resonated from just beyond her shoulder. Startled by his unforeseen proximity, Harper’s muscles momentarily coiled tight, her sharp gaze snapping to him. Her mind raced to piece together the silent approach he had managed, her senses heightening as she tried to understand how he had evaded her notice.

A disquieting sensation gnawed at the brunette, an intuition that something was profoundly amiss with the entire scene unfolding before her. Yet, despite her efforts to pinpoint the anomaly, the reason remained elusive, shrouded in a fog of uncertainty that seemed to cloud her usually impeccable judgment. It was as if her mental faculties were ensnared by the same enigma that currently disturbed her peace.

She had to do it now. She had to use it.

The shift in the atmosphere was a subtle one, a nuance that would have escaped any other observer but Harper. They often say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and at this moment, as hazel locked with blue, there was an entire saga written in the depths of their gazes.

As Amma addressed Gil, Harper detected the undercurrent of tension that seemed to weave through the very air around them, a silent tempest gathering strength in the space of their interaction. Amma’s laughter, which to an untrained ear might sound carefree and genuine, carried a certain edge—a sharpness that Harper couldn’t quite identify. It was as though the laughter was nothing more than a fragile facade, a thin veneer that struggled to conceal an underlying strain, a pressure that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to shatter the illusion at any moment.

Harper’s gaze subtly descended, her eyes narrowing as Amma continued to speak. The slight clench of her jaw and the almost imperceptible grinding of her teeth betrayed a mix of emotions—irritation, wariness, and an emerging twinge of something green and very ugly.

As Amma uttered Gil’s name, it was with a tenderness that seemed to caress each letter, a familiarity that struck a dissonant chord within her.

Harper was no fool; she was acutely aware of the kind of attention Gil often garnered—the admiring glances, the flirtatious conversations, the subtle and not-so-subtle advances.

But this was different.

This was primal.

Harper couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a raw edge to Amma’s voice, a certain timbre that hinted at wild, untamed depths and instinctual urges. It was a tone rich with the resonance of shared secrets and perhaps intimate moments, suggesting a connection that transcended mere acquaintance. This very undertone, this subtle yet unmistakable note of intimacy, set Harper’s nerves on edge, kindling a flame of jealousy that flickered fiercely within her, a flame she desperately fought to keep hidden.

Harper watched, a masochistic part of her unable to look away, as Amma’s gaze began its slow, deliberate descent then ascent of Gil’s form. Her eyes shone with a brightness that belied a deliberate intensity, almost as if she were claiming ownership with her stare. Her eyes appeared to linger on certain points of Gil’s physique, her gaze pausing with an almost predatory precision. It was as though she were etching every contour, every line of his body into her memory, cataloging each detail with a possessiveness that left Harper feeling a cold that could rival Calliope’s inside of her.

Harper’s heart raced, a frenetic drumbeat echoing in her chest. Each pulse was a rapid staccato, a tumultuous rhythm that surged through her veins with an urgency that mirrored her inner turmoil. It was as if her heart was trying to outrun the cascade of emotions that flooded her system—the sharp sting of jealousy, the biting chill of apprehension, and the simmering heat of anger. With every beat, her heart seemed to thrum louder, faster, a wild thing caged within the confines of her ribcage, desperate for release.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. The pressure was a grounding force, a physical sensation that helped to tether her to the present moment, to keep her from being swept away by the storm of emotions that raged within her. The world around her seemed to dim, her heightened senses receding as she released her ability, the intensity of the experience leaving her drained and unsettled. As the vibrant hues faded, replaced once more by the muted tones of the evening, Harper was left with a lingering sense of unease, the echoes of her turbulent heartbeats still reverberating in her chest.

And then, Katja’s arm encircled her, drawing her into a tight embrace. Harper’s eyes widened, her breath catching. She hadn’t anticipated this—Katja’s warmth, the unexpected closeness. But as she registered Katja’s genuine joy, the tension in her shoulders eased. The sincerity in her voice was unmistakable, her joy at seeing them again palpable. Harper found herself leaning into the embrace, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of Katja's enthusiasm.

As she adjusted to the closeness of the embrace, Harper became acutely aware of Gil's proximity. Her heart skipped a beat, the earlier chaos of emotions momentarily forgotten as she focused on the sensation of his arm pressed against hers, their bodies sandwiched together within Katja's hold.

"It's good to see you too, Katja," Harper replied, her voice soft and sincere, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

As Katja placed them down and settled her hands on their shoulders, Harper couldn’t help but feel a sense of security in the familiarity of the gesture. Despite the chaos of emotions that had plagued her earlier, there was something grounding about the presence of her bulky friend—a steadying force amid uncertainty. 

However, as Katja broached the subject of the dance, Harper’s heart sank. The earlier apprehension rushed back with renewed force. She felt her cheeks warm, the weight of the question settling heavily on her shoulders. The dance—an event that held both excitement and now a great deal of trepidation.

Before Harper could respond, Katja’s attention shifted. A glint caught her eye—the spare beer can still in the brunette's hand. The conversation veered, and Harper’s shoulders relaxed slightly. The weight lifted, if only for a moment. She watched as Katja quickly consumed half the beverage, a brief reprieve from the topic at hand. But even as Harper hoped for a complete change of subject, she knew that Katja’s expectant gaze would soon return to her and Gil.

Steeling herself for the inevitable, Harper mustered a small smile, her eyes flickering towards Gil as she prepared to address Katja's inquiry. "To be honest, I haven't given much thought to the dance yet," she admitted, her voice soft but steady. "I've been so focused on other things that it kind of slipped my mind."

As she finished speaking, Harper couldn't help but wonder how Gil would respond, her stomach tying itself in knots as she awaited his answer.

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

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_{Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.0017: Rainbows

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_{Interaction(s): Aurora @Melissa, Gil @Roman, Katja @Zoldyck, Amma @Rockette}

Previously: Tides of Responsibility:Harper’s Campus Stand

An involuntary smile curved Harper's lips as Aurora's voice drifted toward her, the familiar tone piercing through the salty sea breeze. Despite her best efforts to maintain the stern facade of a seasoned "drill sergeant," Aurora's playful teasing possessed an uncanny ability to chip away at Harper's resolve.

“Somebody has to keep these maggots in line,”Harper quipped, her hand sweeping across the beach to emphasize the scattered debris. The sun-drenched sand was still somewhat strewn with remnants of carelessness—discarded wrappers, forgotten plastic bottles, and the occasional abandoned flip-flop. As Harper’s gaze swept across the beach, she noticed the colourful contrast of her friend Aurora's vibrant hair, a fiery blend of red, orange, and golden yellow, against the deep green hues of the palm fronds swaying gently in the breeze behind her.

"Otherwise, this place will be a disaster zone by the end of the day,"she added, her tone half-serious, half-teasing. "And don’t you dare say I’m being too hard on them. Someone has to remind them that this beach is more than just a playground. It’s a fragile ecosystem—a sanctuary for creatures big and small. Like…Kat and little Rothy. And I care immensely about both! So there!" She harrumphed with a pout before dissolving into giggles.

As Aurora sat down, Harper took a moment to truly observe her friend. She always looked so stunning, no matter what she wore. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes, the colour of a seafloor dotted with sunken ships, seemed to hold a thousand mysteries—and Harper felt lucky to be privy to some of them. She practically embodied everything Harper admired, too. She was the yin to her yang—the chaos to her order. And as much as Harper grumbled about the students’ lackadaisical attitude, she secretly revelled in Aurora’s presence. It was like a soothing balm for her perpetually furrowed brow.

“In all seriousness,” Harper continued once she caught her breath, her eyes dancing,“you’re looking at P.R.C.U.'s new and one and only lifeguard.”She struck a pose, hands on her hips, channelling her inner superhero. “Watch out, world! Harper’s on duty.”

Harper’s gaze shifted from the sun-kissed beach to the worn pages of her sketchbook at Aurora’s comment. She wasn’t usually one to seek out compliments. Her art was a silent companion, a refuge from the world's chaos. But Aurora’s praise slipped past her defences, settling in a corner of her heart. It was nice to have her work acknowledged, even if she rarely shared it beyond these pages.

“Thanks, Rora,” Harper replied, her voice soft. She traced the curve of the protagonist’s winged back with her fingertip. “I’ll have to add you to my list of subjects.”

Although, she’d already drawn Aurora once.

Harper’s sketchbook held her remaining secrets. Each line drawn was a confession, a silent tribute to the people that coloured her world presently. And Aurora was no exception to that. Her old shyness resurfaced, however, tangling her tongue. So, she settled for a half-smile.

That quickly vanished once he decided to make his presence known.

Gil.

Harper's heart fluttered slightly, and she couldn't help but avert her gaze, looking down at her lap as if searching for something beyond the polished surface of the megaphone resting there. She was so captivated by his presence that she barely took notice of Mei's arrival, an oversight she knew she would have to apologize for later, accompanied by some pitiful excuse.

To distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions, Harper’s fingers traced the edges of her sketchbook, which she had swiftly—though not subtly—swapped for the megaphone.The graphite smudged her skin as she turned it over, revealing the familiar embossed design at the front.

“Yeah… gonna be great,” she managed as an answer to his question, her voice steadier than expected. Four words. No stutter. Progress. But beneath the surface, her thoughts churned like a tempest. She’d drawn Gil before, too—captured glimpses of his essence in fleeting strokes. His blue stormy eyes were etched into her memory, a detail she could never quite capture on paper when he wasn’t watching (and surely not when he was). Just from memory, she’d recreate the curve of his lips, the tilt of his chin, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Harper’s cheeks warmed, and she wondered if he’d ever stumble upon her sketches. Would he recognize himself in those lines? Or would they remain secret, hidden within the pages of her sketchbook, a silent tribute to the guy who made her heart race and her fingers itch for the touch of charcoal?

Thank goodness for Calliope’s arrival. Harper didn’t think she could take much more of whatever was going on in her head.

The sun painted Calliope's silhouette with hues of indigo, casting a dark, almost regal aura around her as she approached the group. The deep blue-violet shade seemed to embody the coolness Harper often sensed in Calliope's demeanour, and as her figure drew closer, the indigo shadows receded, revealing her familiar features and that controlled, calculated warmth Harper had come to associate with her.

And when there’s the blonde beauty queen there is…the Dung Beetle.

Right on cue, Harper's ears picked up the distinct drawl of Banjo's accent as he approached the growing group—an accent that often grated on her nerves due to the fact that she could hardly understand him half the time. Seriously, what the hell was a Soup star!? The man was a walking, talking enigma, and not always the charming kind.

She needed a break, and she needed it pronto.

The brunette stood up to follow her copper-headed friend, deftly slipping her sketchbook into the camo drawstring bag stationed beside her before leaving. She brushed the clinging sand from her sun dress as she walked, her gaze now lingering on Rory’s cooler. He’d set it up upon arrival, a silent invitation to quench their collective thirst. But Harper’s attention wasn’t solely on the chilled beverages; it was on the figure she’d noticed earlier—Amma—strolling near the water’s edge.

While everyone congregated here, Amma stood apart, a solitary silhouette against the horizon. A familiar feeling enveloped Harper at the sight—one that she had often experienced herself during her first year here, isolated amidst a sea of people. The loneliness was a shade of violet, a gentle hue but unmistakably present, connecting them in their shared solitude. It wrapped around Amma like a delicate veil, almost like she was a figure in an old horror painting.

The thought of her alone, forgotten, tugged at Harper’s empathy. And that simply would not do. So, with determination etched into her expression, she pondered her options—the possible unspoken peace offerings that could bridge the gap.

Two beer cans caught her eye, their metallic coolness promising refreshment. Harper frowned; her decision was made. If Amma wanted anything different, she’d have to venture here herself. For now, Harper carried not just beer but a silent invitation. One that she hoped Amma would take.

As Harper turned around, however, she was greeted with a scene she honestly should have expected: Katja engulfing Amma with one of her famous bear hugs. That girl truly was sunshine incarnate. She peered down at the two cans in her hand and decided to keep with her original intention. At least, this time, she wasn’t risking putting Amma on the spot.

“Hey ladies,”she greeted the both of them as she drew near, holding up the cans in her hand,“Care to join us?”

"What Did They Do To Us?" - A Mysterious Supernatural Escape RP!!

No rush at all :)!