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y o u ' r e a w a l k i n g , b r e a t h i n g , l i v i n g t r a g e d y .
โ‡ฝ โค›

graphic artist. โ– digital & traditional artist. โ– passionate gamer. โ– novelist writer.

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@Ephemeral --



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@SweetOwlette --



&& you know the drill. โ™ฅ
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๐šข ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šŽ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐šœ ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š› ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐š” ๐š— ๐šŽ ๐šœ ๐šœ

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Emma Laurent bites down on her lip -- hard. And she bleeds.

Pallid teeth tucked around her pout and twisted flesh into a glower, a befitting scowl adorned in twinkling silver and glittered in starlight with ebony chain woven taut around skin and laced through bone. Damien's touch scalds and soothes her all in one, reassuring in clasp and yet shrouded within reprimand; calm, it says, stop it goes unsaid. She had, briefly, felt through his intentions and that smile branded across his veneer that was cajoling and tinged in a quip -- she wonders if he even notices that he is now staring too. Black nails press to a quivering palm and ruby smiles mock against her pale skin till she pries them apart, glances down, and then hides those scarlet simpers with her sleeves. They're conversing now, introductions with expressive eyes and something about this woman twists her shadow abroad. It's inkling across the ground, wriggling tendrils that coil through the grass and trees, knotting the blades and branches tight. Her gaze is interchanging and Emma cants her head, opposite, lashes unmoving and her stare eternal, the colours she reads as emotes to her current fluxation of the soul, and here she looks at Damien. Does he see it too? Such a kaleidoscope was hardly different from the shimmering eclipse of the barrier that was seen here as well, briefly rippling across the settling sky and touching to the water's edges that she -- Azura she introduced -- had collected from.

Emma almost responds acutely: yes, go. Leave.
Fuck off.

"It's fine," she breathes, stepping forward in small approaches, as if unsure of herself and this woman. No. It's there in her features, a bidden innocense, a small trickle of youthfulness that rests beneath her unmarred skin and seems to shine from neath a layer of self-discovery. Emma's rejoining smile is all razor sharp and bright with a blanket of shadow pooling across the shining starlight of her eyes as her lashes pan low in a flutter, she feels something tugging beneath her skin, something laced to her shadow as the night graces her with both beauty and sudden serenity.

"I'm Emma," her voice is soft just as the wave of hair tickling at her nape. She glances upon the vials she had shown earlier, curiosity niggling upon her thoughts until she rejoins: "And this is my brother, Damien. You weren't disturbing us... Not really."

Though her shadow trembles, the twirling whips snaked across the Earth alerting her to the arrival of others, set further around the lake's lapping edge. She glances to Damien, for neither of them are fond of crowds, but the Hestia proper had been abundant in rumour and whispers for those preparing for the party to be thrown and now those well known in those affairs were coming down from the forest's browse. She recognizes a cooler and the woman hoisting it down to the water, her shadow lazily twirling, it senses the unease of their troupe, the unknown that people abhor and deny in the face of light.

"Oh... I don't think we were invited." Emma almost laughs and -- she has yet to wipe the bite of blood from her lips.




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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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Avem Vogel is not a man to complete tasks without incentive [usually], however he had taken Kelsey's belongings -- duffel and another carrier or two -- upon her dismissal and left them upon her side of the apartment without so much as a conflicting order. He left it to the influence that Dustyn and Kelsey were unlike most women he had associated with in the past few years since he discovered the delights his associates had to offer -- he has never loved them, and they have never claimed to care. Each was proffered with an exchange in hand or mind; show me yours indeed. It's a means to an end, to snuff out a void.

Most of his belonging had already been deposited and sorted, Avem was not a creature of clutter and irrelevant belongings, his means cycled upon his whims and his mother's upon the seasons and years, his personalization miniscule almost. He had exchanged his attire swiftly, trading royal blue for black and twisted most of his hair into a golden tail to keep from his nape, golden hoops still adorned to his tresses and the brass still clasped upon his wrists. He was familiar with these partying affairs but had never attended one of Dallas' well-infamed gatherings, the stories were endless and the results varying.

Avem left the apartment with his mobile in hand, reminded himself to find a way to ask for Kelsey's information and Dustyn's in consequence as the two -- he imagined -- would never be far apart from another. He surmised the two were judging and prompting him on similar standards and he was not without trying to gain their favour, each prompted and baited his responses equally. Easiest to make this year simplistic and smooth compared to the previous semesters, he imagined Lyra's grace within his mind and Avem paused, scrolled through his contacts idly and thumbed her number, breath whistling into a sigh. And waited.

He didn't expect an answer.

He suspected she'd be at the lake tonight, with Ariana -- he shuddered, smoothed his hair and allowed his phone to drop in his back pocket -- and on that notion he exited the Hestia building with the lake's direction in mind. Kelsey had already left, muttering something about supplies and gear, which Avem had lifted a brow at but didn't inquire after. There were only so many scathing retorts he could withstand to his intelligence and masculinity. He navigated to the lake easily, having traveled this way many times where fond memories remained with nymphs cluttering his vision, the recall of caresses twisted a charming smile upon his face as he came upon a worn trail and began his trek.

The surrounding forest was blanketed in night and shadow, his marbled gaze peering endlessly upon the gloom that seemed to bank upon the trees and grass before twirling among the leaves. It was almost unnatural in such choreography but hypnotizing none the less, however, Avem made no movement to join the reflecting dance and hastened his step all the more. The air was heavy, thick, and sprinkled with touches of silver now the closer he came to the water, he paused, voice upon the breeze and suddenly a screech on the wind that made his eyes travel skyward.

Dustyn was here.

...And so was the girl from before, the one he had felt and seen drenched thick in aphotic dread and laced from crown to foot in so many threads, Avem could hardly tell where her heart ended and these strings began.

"Huh," Avem breathed, hands hidden within his pockets, posture lax. "This is one way to start a party." He found the girls easily enough, Kelsey with booze in hand and each of them warily regarding the trio farther around the lake and rightly so. Damien and Emma sported reputations it would seem that rivaled against any and all. Avem's spine bunched only slight till his eyes fell upon the cooler temporarily being used by its owner -- he assumed -- none the less.

"Oh, hell. If this is a bring your own, I'm going to have to make a stop."

There was more than just student files with Helena's office after all.


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๐šข ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šŽ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐šœ ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š› ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐š” ๐š— ๐šŽ ๐šœ ๐šœ

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There was a draft of festering anger, one that coiled thick and black upon lithesome breezes and wafted through her tresses in tangible caresses of self-loathing; she breathed it in, chest fluttering under a gel of animosity that congealed betwixt her airways. Emma followed dutifully on a rasping cough, footfalls snug within his own, falling carefully whilst her nails plucked at tarnished silver, causing charms to chime eerily upon her fidgeting grace as her shadow drank upon Damien's distress. She did not blame his misfortune and fumbled upon her words to pacify his seething soul that chafed against her heart, it spoke to her of his loneliness, the kind of that banked low in his eyes and shimmered sapphire amidst pale irises that pierced through body and soul and struck her breathless. She turned twinkling starlight to the banking sunset, the tug and lure of the ascending hour sifting through the heavens and strumming through her quivering shadow attached helplessly to Damien's eternal cast. Silver pinged through her lashes, glittering graces of bristling black -- again he spoke of Aiden -- and here she nodded, slow, thoughtful and rejoined his apology.

"I understand," Emma muttered, gaze struck upon the lake, fingers laced through ebony chain and her thumb caressing over the name that haunted her dreams of late. "But... You are nothing but what you are. Who you are. They may not know it, but I do." Her opposite gesture fled down, curling her slender clasp upon his palm, holding tight and secure and using their contact to purge him of his anger. Her lashes swooped low, the twinkling canvas of her eyes burdening with swirling nebulas donned in black and red.

"You said it was going to be okay, and it will be. I have never even met Aiden, so I wouldn't bless my fortunes yet." During the orientation, she hadn't been able to meet him, but then she hadn't really looked either, caught up in their misconstrued housing details. A smidge of guilt wove around her vice, causing her to tense just so with her arms locked till she breathed, her lips curling into a soft simper.

"But -- I guess you do? What's he like? Emma could not deny the curiosity that coloured her inquiry that tapered off upon a sigh, soft and hushed, however, was still alight in the notions of wonderment towards a man she had never met. She had settled to enjoy the evening with her brother, a delicate breeze playful as it twined through her hair, loose tresses settling against her nape and brushed upon her pale cheeks. Her head canted, just so, something that traveled upon the gale that teased through lapping of the water nearby. How nice was it to spend some time alone...

Someone was watching them.

Emma's shadow visibly wound at her heels, eclipsing the ground where she stood whilst her twinkling gaze panned the forest until she saw her; auburn curls upon the crest of plump features, the soft and round bless of her veneer smudged in green and enchantment, her posture woven in the delicacy of curious notions until -- she was staring at her brother. In the slowest degrees of acknowledgment, Emma drew up, her shadows jagged and splintered, sluicing upon her thin frame whilst she gazed severe and true at the woman fixated upon Damien. Something ticked upon her spine till it banked low upon her backside, bundling into a taut sphere of dread that plummeted to the dregs of her heart. She breathed; slow, deep, her eyes never leaving her figure as her eyes spun, haunting glimpses of starlight spiraling readily out of control.

"We have company."
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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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If Avem didn't know any better -- and he wasn't entirely sure he did with these two, both exchanging mock kisses that drew a quirk of his pout into a smirk -- he would claim to be apart of some sort of initiation scandal. Fixated betwixt two women who jeered and taunted one another, laced thick in citrine twine, each lacing toned variously in hues of yellow and orange, burnt and smudged into browns with undertones of cooling light that tinged green on the feathering edges. The appropriate colors he knew of friendship and trust. It was fitting and if he reached just so, he could caress these delicate tendrils of Fate; he also realizes that he could snap these threads upon a cruel whim, their ends frayed and left bitter, each party spitting disdain. Avem's gaze slid to each, lashes stooped low upon his cheeks whilst he bent at the waist then, hooked the strap to Kelsey's duffel upon his index and middle finger and swung it around to rest against his broad shoulder, easily supporting the weight of the contents she bothered to bring. He imagined them personal effects and minded his jostling stance as one braceleted gesture curled around his hip, resting there as they bantered. Vaguely and yet somehow violently subtle, he assumed his sudden roommate's stubborn taunts and posturing inclinations had many things to do with her history, something he had gleaned over upon browsing through her file. There were kindred details there, but unlike her, he knew not his father. Not even a name.

Avem felt only mildly guilty for taking that initiative, however he was taught to be prepared, and this being the first time he was chosen -- he used the term loosely, for he wouldn't be surprised if Helena paired him with a child of the moon on purpose -- to be apart of the Academy's usual system in housing students. This child of Hera was usually secluded to his own, personal quarters, such being the same solitary apartment located within a different unit from the Hestia proper.

"Consider me warned," he drawled and rocked back upon his expensive heels, oozing nonchalance as he rejoined: "If you show me yours, I'll show you mine." A quip uttered into a whisper, conceptual conspiracy laced into a glittering bite, teeth punctuated upon his broad smile all gold and oozing with that ichor he was infamous for. Avem laughed, allowing his gaze to sweep the crowd, finding his sister easily for she was spun in lavender and white threads where, if he peered yonder, he would discover miniscule weaves of black amidst the golden tone she heralded in their graces. Curious that she would be with a child of Hades, he'd have to inquire after that mess later through text. However, the mention of a party drew Avem back to the women who intrigued and made him nervous -- he'd never admit such a thing -- and caught the latest suggestions of assisting Dustyn with her own belongings. He neither confirmed or denied their aide and instead willed his marbled gaze to snatch Kelsey's charming scrutiny. He drew himself up, only slight, feeling much like a man in the desire to keep his impression forward and in favour.

"Yeah? I'm down to crash a few parties," Avem had already confirmed the roster to memory and what brief interactions he had among this selected crowd, and swept his free arm into a flourish, complete with a mock bow with palm thrust up against his shoulder, golden hair spun across his stare of sapphire and gold. "After you ladies."

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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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Had he been a lesser man, Avem might've blanched, losing colour upon his usual golden parlour in being caught completely off guard by some left field comment that'd invoke laughter or disfavour, or both. Had he been any other child of the Gods, he might've appreciated her candor and responded in kind: cheeky head tilts, lopsided grins flashing teeth and tongues waggling in mirth and lewd promises upon the silken pout of his wicked mouth gaped wide and coloured red in wine and cherries. Avem could be all of these and more, a shimmering, perpetual sin twined in threads of fate that corded him to Dustyn and Kelsey respectively in hues of mauve and vermillion. Instead, he laughed, a charming chortle of deep appreciation to her attempt in shattering that proverbial shell of ice that could've ruined their potential impressions. Though, Avem knew well enough of his roommate now from his own discerning glance over her school files, if she knew, what would she think? Would he be painted as resourceful as his mother quoted often in honeyed words filled with falsity, or would she pale in colour and label him something -- as Lyra would utter -- creepy. Marbled blue dashed from one and onto the other and his arms wove across his chest, brass adornments clinking together, vein laced forearms dusted in a hue of gold and lips donned in a smirk.

If these two were as closely knitted as he perceived, then Avem felt the premonition of having to keep on his toes at a near constant whilst they were around one another. They were dabblers in all things carnal and provocative in drink and song, loose morals and harpy wit, the kind of jovial experiences Avem could relate to, but only upon the fringes of his eternal sense of self-control. In small doses, he envied them. Dustyn was the kind of woman with lipstick upon her teeth all red and smudged in kisses, swollen lips and wild eyes painted in wings of black with scars that mapped an unhinged tale. She was attractive in abandonment and he speculated on her influence over Kelsey then -- did she allow herself that same wilderness? What am I getting into.

"Well, Ms. Fart Joke," he teased, bequeathing Dustyn with a cheerful quip, all humour, and inclinations towards her breed of comedy. "I'm here to actually meet her," Avem provided, his glance panning high and low at a leisurely scan of her profile. The way Dustyn introduced her had his male appreciation scrolling her over in a double take before he grinned, hand proffered.

"Avem Vogel." He greeted in cooling tones. "I've already moved into the apartment, perks of living here pretty much." His simper tweaked at that, a miniscule forge of bitterness at the reality that Avem had never been off Academy grounds, had never graced the world beyond the barrier shimmering abroad like a cage; beautiful and embellished, but confining. His breath whistled in a sigh, hands and posture lax to shake her hand.

"But, if you want, I can help you move your things in too." Hera had raised a gentleman, afterall, and thus he pointedly gestured to her duffel bag.

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๐š’ ๐š  ๐š’ ๐š• ๐š• ๐š ๐š• ๐šข ๐š ๐š˜ ๐š› ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š ๐š˜ ๐š› ๐šข ๐š˜ ๐šž

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While everyone around seemed fixated on either finding their friends they havenโ€™t seen in the three months since the end of the last semester or figuring out exactly who their new roommates were, Damien was stuck. He was stuck because he knew who his roommate was, or at least he knew who she was by reputation. Her name wasnโ€™t a common one: Persephone, the name that was shared with only one other person and that person currently lived in the Underworld. How vain was Demeter?

Honesty to the Gods, as he stood as far away from the crowd of overexcitable neanderthals, especially the Sons of Sun and Bloodthirst, Damien found himself in deep thought that he had not yet noticed his sister making her way towards him. Even worse on his part, he had not yet realized that she was full of silver tears. To him, seeing her shed those drops from her eyes wasnโ€™t something he could bear. But he knew what those were tears of. He knew to see him after so long was like the wave of joy she couldnโ€™t handle, so the overwhelming feeling came bursting through the surface.

He waited for her to finally get close enough so that he could hug her. His embrace was always the trick he knew to get her to calm down. Once he was confident she was no longer in a place where she was a soaking mess, he let her go. When he saw her pale face again, he had hoped no more droplets were present and she would return him a smile with one of her own.

โ€œNow, stop that mess. It didnโ€™t take you that long to find me, but arenโ€™t you curious about your new roommate?โ€ He asked her. There was both a slightly teasing tone in his voice as well as a trace of genuine curiosity. She couldnโ€™t have gotten the short end of the stick. That right was reserved for Damien.

Her relief was instantaneous; a smattering of glimmering stars bursting with an abundance of silver radiance pinged with glittering dust that feathered soot lashes and dotted pale cheeks lifted upon her grin. Emma's gaze was a ritual of warmth and a night sky in unison, simultaneously aglow in adoration and alight in the loyalty of the moon suspended above her crown, for he was her centre of gravity. And here, with her grasp scooped against his spine, clinging on just a little tighter, for just a little longer, her shadow pooled upon their heels, conjoined to his own to form a singular eclipse of a reflection of the bond these children of night personified shared. Emma's lilting rejoinder was sounded upon the bell crest of her laughter, sharp and appealing, a chime of cheer that lifted those literal shadows suspended upon her like till they fell, twirling absently upon an unseen wind as feathers of the void.

"I've missed you." And it was genuine in her praise, the way she clutched upon his gestures, fingers twined, endearment colouring her delicate voice something bright, honest, and yet fleeting. However his following inquiry bid her pause, and anything else to be shared suddenly dismissed. Slowly, her head canted, dropping loose strands across her brow as it twisted and then fell. Had she even glanced at the sheaf of paper that told her of her place, and then, her eyes lifted wide; alarmed, almost panicked and pinched on the border of her lashes still adorned in silver.

"Would they not room us together?" She breathed, for sheer madness would be told otherwise. With a flourish of leather and black, Emma dropped Damien's hold and panned her gaze low, landing upon her name and another that was not his. "Aiden Weinmann?" The solid pronunciation of his moniker snapped her teeth together beyond pale lips, bone upon flesh in contortion, her posture gone taut and wound with a whimper slipping jaggedly from her throat.

"I don't -- I don't. Why?"

โ€œThatโ€™s what I would like to know,โ€ he muttered to what he thought was quietly, but clearly, it wasnโ€™t.

He couldnโ€™t help but notice just how displeased Emma was with the roommate arrangements. Damien felt similarly, though in his case, his roommate, Persephone Neotera, was completely unknown to him. The only thing he knew about her was she was the Daughter of Demeter and she was a pale blonde. Maybe that was for the better. In the case of Aiden, Damien didnโ€™t really have any feelings about him one way or the other. He was an idiot who lived too much like his father. He didnโ€™t like that his sister was going to be forced into a living situation with him. As he let out a heavy sigh, Damien pressed his hand between his temples in an attempt to distract himself from his shared disappointment with his sister.

โ€œI guess they wanted to be unique and creative. This experiment will fail. But hey, at least your roommate isnโ€™t completely unknown. You know what youโ€™re going to get with Aiden. Meanwhile, mine is a blank canvas. I envy you, sister.โ€

Did she know him? Did she --
Wait. Did he know of her?

There was a chasm of doubt that splintered across her veneer as a supernova, glittering specks of silver that bled ebony shadows within her eyes, fracturing into worry and intensity as paper crinkled and shredded within her grasp, her nails slicing through her own name; impaled upon her epitaph. She didn't even bother to make note of her apartment number.

"I don't want to be an experiment," she spat, her voice seethes, her shadow writhes and blooms far and wide, coiling upon a frenzy as she despairs over their circumstance. Her head shakes, dispelling a boiling void that's threatening to clamour upon her soul, twisted silver charms twinkling upon her distress.

"But - who is yours?" Emma utters, her lips twined into a frown, letting shreds of paper descend upon scuffed leather, her head bowed then.

โ€œPersephone Neotera,โ€ he recited. The name was embedded into his memory. He must have read it a few times just so he could know who she was. It was annoying for him. Anyone else would have been just fine. The lack of knowing anything about her was honestly driving Damien up a wall (so to speak). โ€œItโ€™s clear as day sheโ€™s Demeterโ€™s daughter. That name isnโ€™t exactly common.โ€

"I -" she glanced away, animated eyes of woeful starlight flickering among the students, searching, probing, landing upon each for milliseconds before flashing away on pings of silver. "- see..."

"Should we - can't we change it?" Emma inquired, knowing the answer long before such parted from her lips in hushed murmurs. Instead, she knotted her fingers upon the thin chain draped over her nape, thumb caressing over tarnished heirlooms and refused to meet Damien's eyes should he see the wake of turmoil in her own stare. She sighed, dejected for that moment and said:

"I guess I should go find him -- Aiden," she reminds herself on a whisper, though her body does not move and she makes no effort to glance once more upon the crowd.

Damien had known her to be quite reserved in a lot of instances, but something was up. At first, he thought she just missed him so much and perhaps that's why she has been acting weirdly, but now it seemed like she was downright avoiding any direct eye contact. Had it been out of her control, then maybe he wouldn't have an essential eyebrow arched in suspicion, but Damien knew his sister and something was up.

"Oh, no you don't, not yet." Damien stopped her from leaving as a hand landed on her slender shoulder. "Talk to me. What's going on?" He politely demanded to know.

"Nothing," she immediately distresses, vocals taut and voice strained, eyes finally meeting blue-blue eyes mysteriously aglow. Emma recoils, briefly, shoulder flinching under the press of his palm as if burned. Though she twines her fingers there, looping their gestures and squeezes just so, trying to reassure him. To reassure herself. She doesn't know if it works.

"I just don't like this. Being housed apart. Curious experiments or no." She admits on a soft voice.

"You're not alone there, Emma," Damien found himself admitting.

The exchange of a mutually-displeased gaze met Emma's. Even after it was all said and done, Damien didn't like it. If nothing else, he was worried about his sister. Knowing full and well what could potentially happen if he wasn't around drove gut-wrenching distress through his body. It wasn't so much that he was worried about Aiden whatshisface was going to hurt her, it was more about how he knew his sister well enough to know that being away from him was the worst thing. Maybe it was Damien just feeling protective over her.

"This may suck, but there's a silver lining," he said, smiling assuringly at her. Damien pulled out the paper and looked over the information for a brief moment. "The layouts of the buildings has us directly across from each other. So if Aiden gives you any problems, I won't be far. And if he has any problem with that, I'll just kick his ass." A laugh followed that comment.

Tucking a lock of black behind her pierced ear, Emma too glanced over the paper, forgetting at that moment that she had shredded her own which was drifting around her feet in the catches of her twirling shadow. He was right, these assignments at least had them near one another, yet so very far apart, and though it did little to ease the stress of anxiety fisting around her heart and choking her lungs in a vice, she could at least be assuaged by knowing he'd be there. Close. Exactly where she needed him.

And so, she laughs. Bells matching baritone laughter, merry spurts of happiness that paints her eyes alive in twinkling light. It's a threat he has brandished many times, to countless men who have approached her, and it does something to her spirits now lifted.

"Thank you, Damien." And she means it, with every bit of her glimmering smile.
@SweetOwlette



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๐šข ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šŽ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐šœ ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š› ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐š” ๐š— ๐šŽ ๐šœ ๐šœ

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She had left the house just as he had: plywood against glass, velvet curtains whispering against old, Victorian wood a dull, chipped beige bruised with weather and time and eroded in places that wept with the rain. The records were stacked to the ceiling, instruments kept to the walls atop one another, tacked high above her crown where as a child she had gazed upon them with a strong, firm hand sweeping through her locks, teasing and playful and there a sad smile that never quite reached his eyes. A young Emma never touched their likeness, yet here in her farewell she caressed aged casings and strummed over taut strings that hummed beneath her graces. A solemn goodbye parted from her lips and eyes twinkling in the crisp hours of an early day, the night suspended in fog and a moist breeze that promised an early Autumn. Starlight shined bright upon unshed tears, a sorrow that eclipsed her bitterly in throes of malice, a shadow that haunted her steps even as she left the house once more upon the summons of her crippling birthright. In her grasp she clutched tarnished silver and uttered a prayer, one whispered in a mantra and murmured into her ear every night she dreamed or told desperately to her by the only man alive who could touch her without succumbing to the turmoil of power quaking 'neath her breast.

Upon his thought, the likeness she adored and loved bloomed within her mind; warmth and devotion, a bond of kinship and something more that simmered there in hearts of night and darkness. At her booted heels of scuffed leather and silver, her shadow shuddered and twined itself upon her shoulders in the mock embraces of her brother, and in the void upon her nape stars shone brightly within the suspension of a black hole.

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The Academy's splendor never ceased with each semester, it hung prettily within a glow of mythic embellishment, where if she canted her head just so, the shimmering, kaleidoscope barrier maintained by the goddess who was wreathed in misconception as much as her own mother was seen in a myriad of pastel, rainbow hues. They maintained the presence of nightly wonders and Nyx whispered tales and stories where she spoke with her many moons upon the crossroads she guarded with torchlight and key. Emma slung worn, beaten leather over her shoulders and exhaled steadily, allowing the comfort to settle against the off colour sweater she wore, a shade suspended somewhere betwixt white and pale yellow that cupped to dainty shoulders with ebony lace peeking from the twist of coal tresses barely contained. Through the phases of introductions, this daughter of Nyx skirted the grounds with her luggage carted behind her, hands twisted through a black chain, matte black nails prickling against her sallow skin with every trudge of her boots towards the Hestia proper. Starlight eyes ticked critically, oblique observations as she watched the castings of shadows from the buildings and searched in vain for her brother -- they hadn't really spoken all summer, something desperate and raw that left their last year tasting much like soot and ash on her tongue from his widely known offense of power during a yearly soiree.

Emma had taken upon his rage with a gluttonous purpose, digesting the emote of tragedy and felt within her heart the might of his wildly bidden heart. It was a glimpse into his soul that still left her within disparity, for even with her spirit and hand woven to his, Damien was still lonely.

A breath of a sigh whistled from parted lips the same instance the heavens boomed and summoned her to the Ares Colosseum, the likeness of the Headmistress's bust glared down upon her, a stern reproach awaiting any and all. Emma cast her eyes upon her belongings with a pinched expression, her grace of touch over each carrier before others began to file in pursuit and thus she followed, barely noticing the man off to her right with hair spun of gold. The trinkets within his locks caught the sunlight purposely, thin rings woven onto thick braids and a whipping tail that brushed across broad shoulders and dipped between his blades. Emma's breath caught the moment their figures brushed, and she saw scarlet twine woven thrice around his neck and coiled within his clutch, she felt the configurations of chains upon his heart and panted around the brightness of his figure suddenly ablaze.



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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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Avem Vogel had known the endeavors of his half-sister Helena's project weeks prior to her summons -- he refused on most days to acknowledge her mantle of Headmistress -- and already secured his area of the shared apartment. When one lived at the Academy their whole life, it was just a manner of shedding skin and living through the motions of his foreseen existence, Hera had once told him it was only fitting he change rooms every year, despite protests, and he had obeyed without question. Though, he had done a little investigating through the offices of his superiors, had glanced over the profile of his alleged roommate in advance and pondered on her mannerisms. Thin in the balletic grace of a bi-mortal child with a dour expression, she appeared almost eternally pensive, the sort of woman that hid beneath a stubborn glamour with enough bite to even break him into hesitation. Avem had taken in auburn locks and brown eyes set prettily within a square face that hinted towards a womanly beauty that she had not quite tapped into and uttered her name in silence; a child of Artemis. Irony coated his teeth, prompted a prod from his golden tongue and a press against his pouted lip, he wondered then if his mother knew of Helena's supposed experiment and would she find it just as paradoxical as he that he would be paired with a child of the hunt and moon.

Helena had known he would find out, she had bitterly foretold his scheming with her belittling twinge of voice, often greeting him with sardonic charms that were baited upon his eternal inquiry of: didn't she find it amusing to marry a son of Zeus? What would Hera say? He asks, bubbling laughter and nebula adorned eyes whipped with gold and sapphire, his stance open and wide for her scathing repertoire. She would never rejoin his derisive attempts and even now with her image emblazoned upon the sky, he could feel the iron adorned fist she would bring upon his head should he decline. He breathed, whistling breath through his pierced nose and brushed invisible dust from his broadly set shoulders clad in dark quarter sleeves, the threads of his blouse dyed a royal blue and pants black on black. It looks wonderful upon you, Hera once said, and Avem took to her praises with ease and eager grace. With his hair swept half up and down, decorated in gold, and wrists loosely adorned in brass, Avem plodded towards the Collesuem and hardly noticed the shadow wreathed figure coming upon his flank.

They touched, briefly, a singular breadth of contact that elicited a gasp from both, heavy threads of aphotic dread clung to her profile, sopping wet with shadows and the night sky, starlight blinding and then --

"Oh! I'm sorry - uhm." She flinched, those eyes of a night sky unmoving the moment Avem reached out, steadying her slight figure. He knew immediately who she was by the drape of leather and shadows over her grace and the uttered rumours of her rather unhinged brother, he wonders then, if he were here now, would he strike him down for righting her?

"No harm," he whispers, releasing her arm, unable to dispell that vision of a gaping sky and the thrum of powers quivering beneath her skin. His own flesh was aglow in golden light, subdued in relation to her expressive shadow cast at her heels in a wide, churning whorl. His brow quirked, slight, his lips poised in an inquiry to her state of sudden unease until the summons repeated once more, drawing a sigh from his chest that bespoke of his exasperation. Instead, he swept his gesture broadly and allowed her forward, he hardly noticed that she toed away from him, keeping a full three feet away from his tall, muscled figure.

"Shall we, Ms. Laurent?"

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They were among the throng of shuffling demigods, those that had debated and pondered among the means of the assembly so early within the return of the semester and had hurried during the Headmistress' recycled summons. A queer pair, gold and black, a child of Hera and one of Nyx, goddesses that ruled opposite realms and with glaringly different agendas and approaches. Avem glanced down, among the twists of her ebony hair there were faint pings of light, glittering dust that disappeared as soon as he saw them, but then he noticed the way her eyes raked through the crowd; up, down, sweeping left to right until they suddenly became lightened with silver ribbons. He followed her hope-filled gaze to Damien seated above, however, the press of bodies prevented her from little else, but only a small, bell-like sound of happiness that bubbled in her chain adorned throat. No sooner than when she found him did the gathering begin, and there were admissions of surprise and some with disbelief, colourful words spilled from lips as Helena summoned them all forward. Her smile twisted around his name, slick and red, the same aplomb she used in her pretty speeches dropping an octave to something ill and sick.

Their eyes met and he rose to the challenge, his smile broad and bone white.

Emma was already standing at attention, hands folded primly afront and her shadow oozing, trickling in waves across her steps as it reached for Damien called immediately after her. Avem already found Kelsey among the students, his marbled eyes coming to rest upon his other sister next, one like him in many ways and alike their mother in more; she was beautiful in a harsh way, swift lines and words and a crown of lies upon her head just like his. His expression soured, briefly, lips twisted when he saw the usual company she kept and the way she greeted them, juvenile he thinks. Her preferences were what they were, he supposed, his posture waning until he stood, hands tucked and presence withdrawing as he simply watched.

His roommate -- Kelsey, he amends -- busied herself with planning a night of debauchery, if her conversating with Dustyn was any indication towards her endeavors and habits. Avem's simper lifted at that, for who did not know of the children of Dionysus and their particular delights of all things carnal. And so he slunk closer upon the fringes of those gathered, whispers of parties and dalliances abound, his eyes and ears never missing anything and the threads that bound everyone together within a plethora of blinding colours. He breathes, taking in the wealth of teachings from his mother, the rememberance harsh and bold, her tutelage pristine and said --

"Excuse me, ladies."

Somewhere behind him, a hopefull sister greeted her brother with tearful smiles and twinkling eyes.



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