Riven Wight

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For a moment, Izzy thought maybe whatever had happened to him had rendered him incapable of speaking, of understanding her. But then, his expression twisted in an unnervingly un-Trevor-like way.
His ‘master’s friend.’ She inhaled, and it felt like her stomach dropped. Though the person, the aberration standing before her wore her friend’s face, it bore none of what made Trevor, Trevor.
Realization dawned on her when he mentioned her presence at his burial. The dog. The White Wolf. She felt the blood drain from her face. She had the feeling that this was what Riley had feared. They had fallen in that last ten-percent chance.
Confusion pulled at her expression, before not-Trevor moved to toss something at her. She flinched back, her palms closing as she readied to dodge, but instead two limp bodies thunked at her feet.
She stared down at them, her mouth agape in fear and shock. When not-Trevor laughed with startling volume, she jumped and her head snapped back toward him until he finished speaking.
Izzy looked back to the two unconscious bodies. Her jaw and fists clenched tightly at her sides. Trevor’s so-called parents. The people who had abused him. Whatever the Wolf had done to them, part of her felt they had deserved it.
With a slight shake of her head to try dispelling the feeling, she looked back to the Wolf. Trevor’s ‘parents’ would have to wait. Something about the White Wolf had Riley concerned, which was disconcerting in and of itself. She had no idea what it could or would do to the city.
“Fine, but what are you going to do?” she called after him, trying to regain his attention as she stepped around Trevor’s guardians. Though she feared she would be little more than kibble to the Wolf if she got on its bad side, what with being little more than a human, she could at least try to delay it.

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With her mind ever on Trevor, when she turned a corner, paying little attention to the familiar route to the park, Izzy shouted at the creature that seemed to appear from nowhere in the light of the flashlight. In a panic, she simultaneously tried to stop her bicycle, and swerve to the side to avoid the beast. The force of the stop and awkwardness of the incomplete turn sent both her and the bike tumbling to the thin strip of grass beside the sidewalk with a pained groan.
Heart pounding in her chest, Izzy scrambled to her feet, maneuvering the bike so the flashlight shone on the creature. Her eyes locked with the beast’s golden gaze. No, not a beast, exactly: Trevor. No matter how most of his appearance had changed, there was no mistaking his face, a face she had been concentrating on just before her near collision.
For a precious moment, her lungs and heart forgot how to work.
“Trevor?” she breathed. As quickly as she dared, she put down the kickstand without looking from her friend so the light remained on his unnaturally white form. She slowly raised her hands just in front of her, palms facing him, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “Trevor. It’s me. Izzy.” She glanced to the lupine ears just visible in his hair. “It’s okay.” She took a small, cautious step toward him, unsure whether he was more animal or human. “Are... are you alright?” It felt like a stupid question the moment it left her mouth, but it was the first thing that would come out.

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It was easy enough to locate the source of the ringtone, the screen lighting up from the floor to inform anyone who would pay it attention that she was calling. Brows furrowed and wondering why it was left to charge in the middle of a hallway, Izzy headed for it. Before she reached it, she stumbled over what felt and sounded like a couple books lying on the floor. She just managed to catch herself with a hand on the wall to keep herself from face-planting with the carpet.
She quickly ended the call, and, with her flashlight still on her bike, switched to the flashlight app on her phone, a finger covering the camera’s flash slightly to prevent the harsh light from being too piercing. The last thing she needed was to trip on something else, risking making more noise.
She bent to stack the books, but froze when she noticed the light falling on what could only be Trevor’s living area. His guardians had not even bothered to give him an actual bedroom. Her free hand clenched into a fist for a moment, before her gaze fell to the unused sleeping bag and comforter.
Trevor was not home, and her only means of contact with him was plugged into the wall near her feet.
With a disheartened sigh, she quickly put the books right, not wanting to risk getting Trevor in trouble for not keeping his things neatly stacked, and headed back outside. Thankful no one else in the house had woken up to discover her, she stopped just outside the doorway. It didn’t seem like Trevor to leave the door slightly open, but she supposed there was always a first for everything. Or perhaps he wasn’t the last to open it.
Izzy stepped back and surveyed the house once more, before retrieving her bike, running through her options. Trevor’s usual haunts--at least, the ones she knew of--were closed this hour, and there was little else, if anything, still open. She could ride around town, hoping to run into him, but there was no telling where he was. Perhaps he had stayed at another friend’s house for the night, and forgotten his phone.
Would he go back to the park? she wondered, thoughtfully chewing the inside of her cheek. It was as good a place as any to start. If he was there, problem solved. If he was not, maybe she would run into Riley; he might know of a better way of tracking him than aimlessly roaming the streets.
Wondering if this made her a stalker, or at least put her in the first stages of it, she mounted her bike and headed toward the park, keeping an eye out for any sign of Trevor along the way.

Mystic Orphanage (Aristocles and Siaya Dragalorn)

@Aristocles

If you mean slow as in how often we were posting, that isn't it. I don't mind waiting (I tend to have a lot of patience when it comes to stories). Usually, I feel excited about what's coming up, what could happen, etc., no matter how long it takes to get there, but that went away a few pages ago. I wanted to make sure it wasn't just a temporary switch in interest, but it's still like that. If you mean the pace of the RP itself... same thing, I think, really. We were getting to a point where it would start picking up, I'd imagine, but, well.

For sure! I'm so sorry about this. And thanks for understanding. I really appreciate it. You know how to contact me, and vice versa, should an idea arise somewhere between us!

Mystic Orphanage (Aristocles and Siaya Dragalorn)

Hey. I hate to do this, but I lost interest in this a long time ago. I was hoping it'd come back once we got further in and adventures picked up, hence not saying anything sooner, but it doesn't feel like that's going to happen. And because of that lack of interest, I keep making you wait way too long between posts.

Anyway, the point is, I'm going to drop this RP. Thank you so much for the opportunity to RP with you, though! Your dracons are interesting creatures, and I wish you the best! Thanks for sharing them with me, and letting me play as one.

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Izzy’s attention snapped toward the direction of the familiar ringtone, every muscle tensing as she expected a light to flick on somewhere and to be discovered lingering just inside the house. When no such ill luck occurred, she dared exhale, much to her lungs’ relief.
But the feeling was short-lived.
She hung up when the phone went to voicemail, hoping Trevor's lack of answer just meant he was a heavy sleeper, then redialed. This time, she slowly maneuvered through the house, avoiding dark lumps of furniture as she followed the sound as fast as she dared, using the light of her phone's screen as well as she could without moving it too far from her ear.
“Trevor?” she called in a whisper, though she was sure no one would hear.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra raised an eyebrow at Ghent’s adjectival choice for the backpack. “Not quite the word I’d use for it. But it is interesting.” She had never seen a pattern repeated to such perfection before, let alone one consisting of skulls. Even the material of the pack was, in its own right, intriguing.
Drust’s brows rose fractionally when Ghent addressed him.
“Optimism will only bring you severe disappointment,” Elayra interjected, her tone and expression filled with the bitterness of experience, "or get you killed faster."
Her attention shifted to the bag Ghent offered her. Her head cocked slightly, and she took it and the cup. She ran a thumb carefully over the flimsy cardboard. “Your cups here feel like rather impractical,” she commented, her voice filled with fascination rather than criticism.
Drust accepted the items with a jerky nod in thanks.
Elayra followed Ghent’s lead and sat near him. She placed the cup on the floor, then opened the top of the paper bag. She peered inside, then pulled out something wrapped in paper. She turned it over in her hand as Drust once more unstrapped his katana, and sat a bit further away, his wary gaze shifting between the door and the bag of exotic food.
Elayra glanced to Ghent as he began his explanation. Taking note that he had unwrapped his burger, Elayra did the same with hers.
“Hamburger?” She held it at eye-level, examining the meat shoved between the seed-studded buns. The meat glistened with grease and juices in the dim light from the phone. “As in meat from swine? Or is that a word with a different meaning here?”
When he moved on to the milkshakes, both Elayra and Drust glanced toward the cups, tubes sticking out from the lids.
Elayra placed the burger, still mostly wrapped, on her knee, and picked up the milkshake. She closed one eye and looked down through the straw, before deciding to remove the lid. It took her a short moment, but she pulled it off, part of the pleasantly brown milkshake sticking to the lid as she raised it.
Drust took a bite of the hamburger, a hint of thoughtfulness on his otherwise impassive expression as he chewed.
Careful to not spill any, Elayra lifted the cup to her lips, the chill of the drink inside gentle against her hand. When her tongue met the sweet, chocolaty drink, her eyes widened slightly.
“By Absolem!” She cleared her throat once the thick, cold substance slid down it, leaving a sweetness unlike anything she had ever tasted to coat her mouth.
“Ghent.” Drust looked to him. “Our earlier conversation was interrupted. If you have any further questions, now seems the opportune time to ask them.”

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Izzy watched Riley climb onto a nearby window, vaguely wondering when he had bothered to take the boards off. She nodded in agreement just before he nonchalantly fell out of the window, knowing the distance between this floor and the ground would do little to faze him.
She snatched her scarf and flashlight, just in case, then turned toward the door, but she paused and looked to the child still huddled in the corner, realizing she had not done what she had come to do.
“I’ll be back later,” she promised, then hurried through the dark school to retrieve her bike from its temporary hiding place.

* * *

Izzy was sure she had broken a record with how quickly she returned to the general area of her neighborhood from the abandoned school. She slowed as she reached the street where Trevor lived, trying to remember which house was his. The familiar sight of the ranch-style home was enough to jog her memory, and she brought her bike to a stop in front of it.
She clicked off the flashlight she had hastily tied back to the handlebars, and walked the bike quietly into his yard and away from the glow of the streetlights, her gaze looking for any sign anyone was up. But the house was completely dark, and she had no idea which window might lead to Trevor’s room.
As she neared the front of the house, she contemplated peering through each window to see if she could figure out which room might be Trevor’s, when she noticed the door was ajar. At well past midnight. That was never a good sign.
Holding her breath, she hastily leaned her bike against the house, and cautiously approached the door. In the dim lighting her eyes picked up on from the streetlights behind her, she looked for any sign of a break-in. As far as she could tell, the door was still intact with no signs of a forced entry. So, maybe not a robbery, unless they made it a habit to leave their front door unlocked. But still. She cast a quick glance down the street. An open door was probable cause to enter someone's house without an invitation, wasn’t it?
Still not daring to breathe for fear of making too much noise, she slowly pushed the door open. From just inside the doorway, she blinked in the darkness saturating the entrance, then pulled her phone from her pocket. Finding Trevor under her recent calls, she hit dial, hoping, at the very least, to hear his phone ring somewhere in the house, and that it would not wake anyone else up.

They Live Among Us (Vampiricchild x Siaya)

Victoria stared at Alex a long moment. “Jump out the…” She looked back to the window, wondering how many stories up they were. Two? Three? Either way, it would likely be at least a twenty-foot drop, unless they were on the first floor. Which she highly doubted.
She took a deep breath.
Stop being such a coward! Her life had just taken a headlong leap into dangerous, and so far, the most she had done about it was run from Alex, and hide in a closet. Her whole life, she had avoided this side of the world, but if this side refused to avoid her, a quiet voice in the back of her mind warned against doing nothing to fight back. Even if she began with only taking small steps and hops--literally and figuratively--toward it.
She stepped toward the window, part of her wanting to know how far up they were and the other preferring to not find out. “Okay,” she breathed uneasily. “As long as you’ve done that before…” She snorted and rolled her eyes slightly at the absurdity of that statement revolving around jumping from a window.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Heh, thanks. :-) He isn't all gone, after all! It's how he isn't just a mindless shell trying to kill anything that crosses his path, even when the Curse does mostly take over. The person he was before he got affected is still semi-active and cramped somewhere inside that skull of his to fight against it.

Honestly, when I look up that kind of thing, I don't mind too much if I run into pictures of it, depending on what it is (gives me a better mental image of what happened), it's more that, when you're looking up ways to kill someone, what would happen if wounded a certain way, or how much the human body can endure, that I can't help but hope the government doesn't suddenly decide to track my searches. "I SWEAR, I'M A WRITER, NOT A SERIAL KILLER!" (I don't really think that would happen, but it's an amusing concept.)

Which makes me think of this:

Researching Writers

Ha, awesome. xD High-five for Subway! What do you usually like to get from there, if you don't mind my asking?