Riven Wight

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Izzy immediately recognized the metallic, yet sweet scent that hung heavily in the air. It stopped her in her tracks before she caught sight of its source, not far down the hall from where she stood. She stared at the ghastly scene ahead of her, forgetting how to breathe, to speak. She felt like she was going to be sick, but she had to know who it was, who he had killed, if she knew them or not. Swallowing hard, she dared look to the ripped face of Cerasus’ victim.
She gasped as she recognized Guillotine Cutter, the piercings on the half of his face still intact glistening with blood, what remained of his expression frozen in a state of terror and agony. She thought he would have left like the others, once defeated by her, by someone weaker than the man--the monster--they had hunted.
Though she hated the hunter for what he had done to Trevor, she would not have wished this fate on him. She would not wish such brutality on anyone.
She exhaled shakily, and looked away from the horrifying sight. Her attention snapped to Cerasus when he spoke, keeping her eyes from following his gesture to the gutted corpse. But she could not look at him long, soiled in crimson as he was. Realizing as he finished speaking that the two of them had very different definitions of “normal food,” she swallowed hard, unsure if her voice would work.
“I-I meant... ‘normal food,’ like... like human food,” she managed in a soft squeak. “Not...” She glanced down to the bloody mess. She quickly averted her gaze and took a couple steps away, trying to keep herself steady. She leaned her back against the wall, using it to help keep her on her feet.
This was what he had expected her to do? The type of “rations” he had anticipated her bringing back?
“H-how could you?” she began, her tremulous voice rising from a nearly inaudible whisper to a shout that echoed down the hall as she continued. “You... you didn’t have to kill him! That... that you’re kind of revenge? Ripping him apart like... like a rabid animal? Or would you have done that to anyone unfortunate enough to wander in here tonight? He’s,” she gestured to Cutter’s remains with her empty hand, “a human! Insane as he was, without Riley’s help, he was practically harmless! I defeated the guy in five seconds flat!” She shook her head. “How could you?” she hissed again, then took a couple backward steps down the hall before turning, wanting to place distance between her and the sight and scent of the blood saturating the hallways.

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Taking that as a ‘yes’ to her question, Izzy nodded. “See you in a few minutes, then.”
Deciding to take advantage of her vampiric abilities for the short remaining time she would have them, Izzy didn’t bother with the stairs. Though she hesitated at the roof’s edge, she jumped down the side of the building, mimicking Riley’s earlier descent.
The moment her feet hit the ground, she straightened and ran toward the road, wondering what kind of preparations Cerasus had to make, and thinking on where she could get food.
Even in a small town like this, supermarkets were locked and under surveillance. Besides, she did not feel like stealing. The only other place she could think of, was home. But did she dare risk that? Her going there could spell disaster, if anyone was up, especially with the gnawing in her stomach. But, where else could she go?
With a resigned sigh, she hurried into the city, navigating the streets expertly and staying to the shadows, though the streets were deserted at this hour.
Once she reached her home, she checked for any sign that anyone was up, hoping her parents were still on the night shift. The fewer people to worry about waking up, the better. All the lights were out, so she stole inside through the back, using the key they kept hidden, just in case.
Making an effort to breathe as little as possible in case the smell of humans would only wet her hunger, she went as quickly and quietly as she could, avoiding the creaky floorboards. In the kitchen, without turning on any lights, she grabbed a reusable grocery bag, and gathered the needed items for a couple sandwiches. She flinched at every creak or moan of the house, ready to flee if she so much as heard a yawn. She paused only to grab a cinnamon roll from a plate with a couple others in the fridge that her little brothers had somehow not eaten, munching on it as she gathered the other supplies. Before she left, she grabbed a second one for Cerasus, wrapping it in the plastic wrap that had been over the plate.
She was almost at the back door, when she passed the doorway into the living room. She cast a quick glance up the stairs, then rushed to the bookshelves. She scanned the titles, found the joke book she had mentioned earlier, and added it to her bag before heading back out into the night, locking the door behind her.
Izzy returned to the abandoned school as quickly as her legs would carry her.
“Hope you like bologna sandwiches,” she called as she ascended the first flight of stairs, searching for Cerasus.

Schooled in Magic

Though the response to her question was slightly muffled through the door, Jazelle still recognized Priscilla’s voice.
“‘Break my...’ Oh,” she muttered once her brain caught up, and cleared her throat. “Breakfast.”
When the girl paused, Jazelle cast a glance to the window, the curtains swaying slightly from falling back in place.
She decided she had no way to say for sure whether everything going on was actually happening around her, or all in her head. Either way, she was here, and there was no denying how real it felt. The throbbing that had started in her head was proof enough of that. Though, whether a dream or reality, at least this place apparently knew what bacon was.
Her stomach growled at the thought of breakfast, even if it would be had with one of the strangest strangers she had encountered in a while.
She looked back to the door when Priscilla spoke again, almost forgetting the girl was there.
“Yeah, alright,” she called back, unsure whether the older girl would hear or not.
Still dressed from falling asleep fully clothed, she stuck her hands in her hoodie’s muff. She looked to the bed in a moment of panic when she felt the emptiness of the pocket, before remembering where she had put her knife.
Jazelle pulled the knife from under the pillow, twirled it open mostly to reassure herself of the blade’s presence, then placed it, closed, in the muff. She went to the door, running her fingers through her blond hair to try and make it look at least semi-decent. She winced when it pulled on the tender spot on her head.
She opened the door slowly, peering out before pulling it wide and stepping out into the corridor beyond.
“Mornin’,” she greeted tepidly, her posture stiff as she glanced around the hall and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

((Don't worry about it. Hope you feel better soon!))

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When Izzy heard Cerasus’ laugh alongside her own, she paused, a smile still on her face, and looked to him, her legs dangling over the side of the roof, and heels tapping against the bricks. It made him sound almost... human.
Of all the ways she had thought the night would end, with the tenseness and awkwardness that had existed between them worked out in the bubbles of their laughter echoing through the night was not one of them. A pleasant surprise, indeed.
By the time Cerasus decided to call it enough, Izzy was laying on her back, feet still hanging over the roof at the knees, and a hand draped over her midsection as she looked at the beauty of the stars and the wispy clouds floating lazily over them.
She turned her head toward him with a grin, about to ask if he had ran out of things to say already, when he continued.
She sat up and drew her feet back onto the rooftop, sitting with her legs crossed. Excitement buzzed through her at finally getting what she had worked for. She glanced toward the city, when the hunger that had grown gave her a reminder of its presence now that her laughter had quieted down. The mirth displayed on her face faded as she glanced down to her stomach.
“Cerasus,” she began slowly, thinking about how to phrase her question as she looked to him. “It’s been about two weeks since I’ve eaten anything. And my stomach’s not appreciating that very much right now. Can we... Would normal food help?” she finished hopefully.

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When a moment passed without hearing anything from him, Izzy looked to Cerasus, who seemed to be taking the joke amusingly seriously for, well, a joke.
She made a gentle, “huh” sound when he requested another. Though tacked on, he at least made that extra effort of politeness. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
“Alright. But only because you said ‘please.’” She looked away and thought for a short moment, before looking back to him. “How can you tell you have a really bad case of acne?” She paused appropriately, not expecting Cerasus to guess, but giving him the opportunity. “When the blind try to read your face.”
She paused again and cocked her head. “You know, I think I have a joke book collecting dust around my house. Most of them are cheesy, but no one would miss it if you’d like it, Mr. Joke-Connoisseur.”

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Though Izzy had put up a wall between herself and everyone she knew, she could not imagine what it would be like for someone's only interaction with others consisting of battles.
Any sympathy she had drained from her face at his command. Though not given unkindly, she inhaled and looked ahead of her, the pressure in her chest telling her that, even if she had not wanted to, she would comply.
“A man was walking by a mental institution with a tall privacy fence,” she began with the first joke she thought of, her voice as stiff and irate as her expression, and tongue sluggish. “From the other side, he heard a bunch of people chanting, ‘Thirteen! Thirteen!’ Curious, he peeked through a hole in the fence, and someone poked him in the eye. From the other side, the group cheered, then started chanting, ‘Fourteen! Fourteen!’”
Not bothering to look to Cerasus to see his reaction, she hugged her legs toward her chest, her gaze dark. “Maybe if you said ‘please’ instead of ordering one out of people, you won’t have to wait another two-hundred years to hear your next one,” she snapped.

To Cure a Curse

Rayadell glanced to Calanon when the elf gave his answer, watching him rub one arm.
Thea gripped her husband’s hand and beamed at Calanon. “Thank you.” She looked pleadingly to Rayadell, awaiting her response with what looked like fearful anticipation.
Rayadell raised her chin, then nodded slowly, suddenly more conscious of the hair draped over her own dark mark. Even a slim chance based on a rumor was more hope of breaking her curse than she had had in years. “You know the only payment I desire. And just trying is enough.”
The couple breathed a sigh of relief.
“Of course, we’ll provide you both a place to sleep for the night, and any provisions you’ll need for your journey, as well as a map.” Thea stirred her soup absently. “If either of you have any questions, please, ask.” She looked to Rayadell’s untouched bowl. “Your food’s getting cold, hon.”
Rayadell glanced down to the bowl, her spoon still resting, unused, between her fingers. Slowly, she placed it into the broth and began eating the delectable stew, the hunger gnawing in her stomach egging her on.
“You travel with an elk, right?” Merek asked Calanon, returning to his food. “We have an empty stall in the stables if you’d like to shelter him there for the night.”
“And I’m sure we have some feed somewhere that he’ll like.” Thea gave one of her friendly smiles.
Ignoring his wife’s glare, Merek raised the bowl to his mouth to finish off its contents. “I can take care of that if you’d like.”

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When silence fell between them, Izzy opened her eyes and looked to Cerasus. She wondered what was running through his head, why he had taken any sort of interest in hearing about her life.
In the quiet that settled, she returned her hands to her bent knees and rested her chin on her arms. She jumped and sat up straight when Cerasus’ voice shattered the silence.
She gave an amused smile when he finished, more at the randomness of his statement, especially coming from him, of all people, than the joke itself.
“That’s... cute,” she offered when he looked to her. Her expression faded, changing to one of curiosity, her head cocking slightly. “How long has it been since you last had a conversation--an actual, friendly conversation--with someone?”

Mystic Orphanage (Aristocles and Siaya Dragalorn)

Sorry my post's so long. Got a bit carried away. xD

And now, things should get interesting! Heh.

Mystic Orphanage (Aristocles and Siaya Dragalorn)

Thayva nodded her agreement to Serapis, and followed him through the dining hall, her hands clasped regally behind her back.
“A little warning that you’d made up your mind would have been nice, love,” Thayva said with a sigh once they were out of earshot of the others.

* * *

“No doubt there,” Nick whispered back. Panic at being discovered blossomed in his chest when he, too, noticed the dracons coming toward them.
He looked around for somewhere for them to hide.
“Quick! This way!” He ran down an adjoining hall leading toward the front doors as quietly as his bare feet would let him, keeping close to the shadows clinging to the walls.
About half way down the hall, he stopped, listening for any sigh he and his friend had been spotted.
He was about to give a sigh of relief, when a gentle knocking echoed down the hall, only to be drowned out by a peal of thunder. He glanced to Aurelian. “Did you hear that?”
Before the human could answer, he held up a hand to silence his friend, when the knocking came again, this time louder and fiercer. Someone was beating on the front door.
“Go get the headmasters!” Nick ordered, looking to Aurelian a moment before sprinting down the hall toward the front door.

* * *

The wind howled through the forest, making even the mighty trees bow to its power. The rain pelted through the foliage, the world lighting in a near constant stream of lightning that cast eerie shadows about the dark woods.
Valera and Seaella made their way slowly through the forest, their heads bent against the wind, and clothes and hair soaking wet. They had lost track of the path long ago, the trees offering little assistance in finding it as they fought their own battle to remain upright.
Valera gritted her teeth, the weight of her drenched cloak slowing her down further. Even her thin, lightweight armor felt heavy. Seaella trudged a couple steps ahead, never straying far from her sister, and casting her worried glances from time to time.
When another gust blew through the trees, blowing Valera’s hood from her head, the older elf gripped the staff in both hands and leaned her weight on it as her strength threatened to fail her.
“Lera!” Seaella shouted over the storm, her cloak whipping about her as she hurried back to her sister.
“I’m fine!” Valera growled through her teeth unconvincingly, her face twisted in pain.
“No, you’re not!” the nine-year-old groaned. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m going to scout ahead for shelter!”
“What? No!” Valera reached out to grab the girl’s cloak, but she missed as Seaella bounded away. “Seaella!” She tried to follow her sister, but her legs threatened to give out, forcing her to return her weight to her staff.
Could this night get any worse? She let out a groan.
As if to answer her question, movement in Valera’s peripherals made her turn around.
The next flash of lightning shed its electric light over the forest, flashing over the knotted fur of three massive, emaciated wolves a few yards behind her, their eyes glittering hungrily from where they couched.
With a painful inhale, Valera held her staff in front of her with both hands, the gem in its top glowing softly and creating a gentle, silvery-green haze in the wet air.
She heard Seaella’s voice call through the forest, the thunder cutting off her words so she only got short snippets:
“—era!... house ahead!”
“Seaella! RUN!” Valera bellowed, her voice easily slicing through the night.
As if the wolves, too, took her words as an order, they darted forward.
Valera turned and ran. “GO!” She shouted when she nearly ran into her sister. She pushed the girl ahead of her and into a clearing with one hand while swiping her staff behind her, sending out a burst of light to momentarily blind the wild dogs at their heels.
At the vast clearing’s center, sat a large mansion, the lightning eerily illuminating its dark form. A couple warm, fiery lights glowed from inside, flickering with the howling of the wind.
Without the meager protection of the trees, the full force of the storm hit the two in a harsh wave.
“Whatever you do, DON’T STOP!” Valera shouted from a few feet behind her faster sister.
She turned to see where the wolves were as she felt her light spell break, her well of magic dwindling as quickly as her little remaining strength. The wolves were not far behind.
She shouted when she slipped on a patch of grass particularly slick with rain and mud. She fell onto her stomach, and a searing agony filled her chest and radiated through her body. For a precious second, her vision was flooded with starbursts. The raging storm momentary dulled in her ears, and Seaella’s voice calling out her name sounding realms away.
A metallic taste in her mouth, she rolled over and blindly swung her staff with the movement, sure the wolves would be on top of her any moment. A burst of pure energy exploded from the staff as one of the dogs leapt for her.
The burst caught the dog midair and sent it flying with a pained yelp. Its companions fared only slightly better as they rolled across the ground from the force.
Though the world spun around her, Valera got shakily to her feet, panting heavily and glaring wildly at the dogs, daring them to make another move for her or Seaella.
Apparently deciding there was easier prey in the forest, the three wolves turned and ran back into the woods with defeated snarls.
With a pained moan, Valera fell to her knees, her head bent and teeth grinding together as she grasped her staff like a lifeline.
“Valera!” Seaella slid to a stop beside her sister, an arrow nocked in her bow.
“Keep going!” she hissed, forcing herself once more to stand, darkness lurking at the edges of her vision. But she refused to give into it. Not until Seaella was safe inside. Head bent and an arm wrapped tightly around her midsection, she and Seaella climbed the couple stairs to the wraparound porch of the mansion, unconsciousness creeping ever closer no matter how hard Valera fought it.
At the door, the wood illuminated by the meager light of Valera’s staff, the teenage girl reached up weakly and rapped at the door. The impact of the side of her fist against the wood sent another shockwave through her, her knocks drowned out by another clash of thunder. With a heavy moan, she sunk to the porch, her palm running over the door and her staff clattering beside her.
“VALERA!” Seaella dropped her bow, went to her sister’s side, and helped lean her back against the house beside the door.
“What...” Valera gritted her teeth as she reached for one of the pouches at her belt. “Whatever happens, don’t let anyone get this.” She unhooked the fabric pouch and handed it to Seaella. “Understand?”
“Lera...” Seaella bit her lower lip, her voice quivering.
“Understand?” Valera leaned her head against the house as Seaella nodded, the older girl’s eyes closing.
“Lera?” Seaella’s wet eyes widened when she did not receive a response. Checking quickly that her sister still breathed, she scrambled to her feet, clutching the pouch tightly.
“HELP!” the child screamed, a fist pounding against the door with all its strength. “SOMEONE! Anyone,” she finished in a quiet sob.