Rockette

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

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𝚢 𝚘 𝚞 𝚠 𝚎 𝚛 𝚎 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚕 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚜 𝚑 𝚘 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚛 𝚘 𝚞 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚍 𝚊 𝚛 𝚔 𝚗 𝚎 𝚜 𝚜</sub>

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When it happens, it happens fast.

It blurs into singular motions warped in strides, it's a quickness that lopes and plods with terrifying haste suspended in the gloom, haunted by a scarlet glow and glimmers of baited bone that snap rigidly through shadow. Emma inhales, sharp, whistling through gapped lips and teeth and the banked darkness at her heels is abloom, expanding far and wide and whippingly fast in its security as such rapidly attaches to Damien's casted shadow. Miniscule twitches of muscle within her hand suddenly spasm, a quivering tell of danger that spells coldness across her limbs, rigid and binding, she gasps around the wealth of power pooling across their connection that arises within her and surrenders her visual to rejoin his own graces. Emma moves, and when she does, the eclipse of the night responds with haunting tilts of the sky, stars suspended in colliding pings that reflect upon her eyes brightened by swirling starlight.

But they move much quicker than she, her person guided back, told to remain at the water's edge less she come to harm; stay back, we've got this. You'll only get in the way. She knows she's not useful in such an affront, her prowess is afforded to decimation and subtle harm, something that festers and accelerates treacherously slow, rather than the sudden and harshness of outright strength. Emma gazes upon those thick into the fray, summoning weapons of valour and within the images of their patronage that christens them almost godly. Raw potential and power coiled upon the fringes of warrior intrigue and brutality. Champions, she thinks sudden and swift, landing on shields, rapiers, manipulated alloys and righteous crests of a manifest. Mortal frailty is not found here and she is breathless in reproach and perhaps fear of the sudden unknown. She seeks out Damien helplessly, her shadow a flicker of a connection that clutches desperately to his slickly coated shoulders quivering broad and weighted in his power, her palms burn, but she cannot respond beyond wet gasps and wide eyes rapt in diving nebulas donned in concern.

"Damien..." she breathes on a feathered whisper and with Shadow now formed, Emma quiets and stills, hair lazily toiling upon an unseen breeze.

Such a creature is not unknown to her entirely, it's akin to an exposition of her eternal nightmares, endless skies, and careening shadows, compiling haphazardly amidst her waking world and stilling within her bones. The voice sluices upon her pores, blackened and rippling with malice, every assault and blinding attack christened white and blinding, martial competence that blurs seamlessly together as they attack. Terrifying screeches peel through her ears with wanting pain, bubbling laughter that pursues Shadow's eerie cry that is wholly mocking and baiting. Each blow and parry and impale lands true, with slick blood that reeks of poison oozing from yawning sores, Shadow slumps forward from their assaults, wicked teeth having risen into a smile, snapping around a blackened tongue that uncoils and drenched in death.

But it does not fall, not yet.

Emma has not realized that she has stepped forward, breaking among the crowd protected by the shores of the lake, bounded by her shadow, spurred by an unknown force that compels her strides whilst Shadow falls, foiled to its knees. A roar of laughter rings against her ears as the creatures raises both arms, black tendrils swirling amidst the bi-mortal children, slithering betwixt her figure then, taunting as it speaks.

"This is all the children of Gods have to show?" Shadow hissed, a slithering speech that rocked Emma to her core. "Pathetic. Undeserving. Mistakes."

Shadow's barbed tail coils then, bunched together before it releases, bidden by reflexes that released numerous projectiles upon the earth, shadows pooling forth in their wake. One comes dangerously close to Emma, a black barb grazed upon her cheek that weeps red upon her pale skin. She flinches, only barely, and listens as another voice summons forth upon her mind: whisper soft and delicate, a blanket to soothe her frayed nerves and soul burdened by the power jolting between her and Damien. Emma's lashes peel wide, her gaze brightened incredibly so, silver stars that bolt across the eerie blackness of her eyes that shimmer then with knowing.

You can help...

Emma kneels, nails raking across whipping shadows, grasping such within her usually fragile gestures now confident and sure, muscles thriving and bounding, her heart aflame and anxious. She breathes around a surge of power that boils within her veins, it wakes across the shadow joined between her and her brother and through such she siphons his emotions: his usual abrasive nature, and confidence within a battle, his raw potential. Emma inhales all of this and more, silver tears spiked upon her lashes whilst she tugs, pulls, ripping apart the veil of shadows usually commanded to shield her within. The rendered darkness splits into a yawning abyss of a void, an endless and desolate pitch that groans eerily within a low-crowned crescendo of barely constrained fury.

"Force it into the void," she cries. "Let it be lost, forever."

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

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ᴅ ᴀ ɴ ɪ ᴄ ᴀ ꜱ ʜ ᴀ ʜ ᴇ ᴇ ᴅ

_{The warrior, the soldier, the woman who forsake silk and luxury for the hold of the blade and the sound of the undying upon the fields in which she commands. Death reaps and sows upon her breast, undone by the hand in which a christening blade of gold reigns, carved and beaten by flame into the image of a careening bird upon the hilt; claws of the predator poised to maim. Stoic malice gleams abroad eyes of subdued tones, lax hues of gold that have long been drowned by time, cooling to amber as if a kindling of fire has long perished within. The reserve of her upbringing gilded upon her bearings like an armor, of which all ladies of the East wield undoubtedly. Sallow tresses pool upon pale skin, dusted coral in the sun, fair and blemished within shadow by the rigid command she bears. Time has ran its course against the warrior princess of the Easteren cliffs, the eldest daughter, her sworn loyalty tested aside falcons that have fought under her champion for many years.}

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^{[ 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕𝚒 ]}

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

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ᴅ ᴀ ʜ ' ʟ ᴀ ɴ ᴀ ᴇ ꜱ ʜ ᴀ ʜ ᴇ ᴇ ᴅ

_{The golden princess of the East: bejeweled and bestowed upon with beauty often heralded upon canvases of golden regalia; sweet ichor blesses her grace and twinkling eyes report shimmer upon a cherub bearing. Eerily aglow within the gloom, bidden under lamplight and candle flames, a yearning prospect to the whispers found in the surroudning holds that pine endlessly on her embellished reputation. Youth preens and glimmers with rouge upon her lips, a darkened hue of scarlet nestled upon a bow shaped smile adorned prettily as sacred, revered, and wholy beloved within the keep of the East crowned high upon olden shores banked against unforgiving waves. Wholesome locks coil among lithesome shoulders, tangible delicacey toned soft in hues of brown, eatheren darkness and auburn touches of golden likeness similar to the graces of night and day. The Golden Princess, as such a moniker entails, is the youngest of four, a jewel of the Eastern hold of flaxen hawks and their silvered falcons, her image often beside ancient creatures of the eternal skies dominion. She is thus a symbol of divine purity; a key figurine of both power and beautiful grace.}

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^{[ 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 ]}

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

&&

x x x.

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_{x x x.}

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^{[ 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 & 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 ]}

&& a brief check.

^{updated -- 7/6/19.}

&&𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑.

^{warning ! -- large image. click for full resolution. &&}

^{[ p e r s o n a l ]}

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

^{-- do not post yet.}

^{. soundtracks
. realm introductions
. map
. holds & houses}

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

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𝚢 𝚘 𝚞 𝚠 𝚎 𝚛 𝚎 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚕 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚜 𝚑 𝚘 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚛 𝚘 𝚞 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚍 𝚊 𝚛 𝚔 𝚗 𝚎 𝚜 𝚜</sub>

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It was peculiar -- and mind reeling in retrospect -- how an hour or two could harness and finesse events systematically in lighted tandem. From the perspective of the proverbial side lines, cheap alumminan tacked with matte nails and a pout perched upon a sweating and beaded beer can, Emma leisurely sipped and observed with twinkling eyes raptured in star light. Every drink disturbed her features into a grimace, this was cheap swill compared to the spirits housed down in a wind-raked basement upon stained cherry wood, she remembers her first taste on the fringes of her sixteenth birthday in a room draped in velvet and dark and dank and sad. It was his private collection and memory filtered an image of her youth; dark eyes expressionless under a fringe of curled black, names and years and ages muttered from pale frowns until he would turn and say: this was her favourite, I think you'd like it too.

Emma's clenches her hands and breathes to finish her beverage in an impressive gulp, crushing the empty and slyly pilfers another under a blanket of quivering shadow. She's been sipping on dark chocolate aromas of cabernets and pinot noirs for years, this is child's play. With a prick of her nail, Emma pops her tab with an aggressive flick, light and cold, the straw toned pilsner bubbles over her fingers till she tames the head of foam with a perched lip and downs a fourth with a hiss of her tongue coating over her teeth. They hardly notice her and to her, this is none of a legitimate concern as she plucks warm shadows from the realm, pinches them tight before allowing such to flutter closed on a swirling nebula. Emma knows she could browse and breeze through the party entirely unseen and still discover means to enjoy the festivities, and she's okay with this facet. She can literally see the waves of emotions that ooze from beer tinged pores flushed red and glimmering under gem enhanced lighting and the stars that shimmer and collide within her peering glare, and they come to her relentlessly, smoothing and caressing upon her limbs. They boil and pool to gleaming swathes of happiness and joy that are sweetly toned and yet bitterly coated; friends and yet not, lovers that waited and lovers that pined.

She turns, finding Damien easily upon that euphoria, coming up upon his flank with a query on her lips; is everyone here wanting after somebody? Emma didn't dare to approach anyone else with these quivering emotes, though the man that was caped in shadows and death by the shoreline had been curious enough for her to inch towards, however, the flickering atmosphere had pulled her elsewhere on pinkish hues. She breathed in suggestion and lustful qualms, the baited air distinctively awash in want and drunk upon the biddings of physical desires; it's like sweat down the nape of her neck. Emma barely caught the exchanges at hand, but the muttering narrative of their host and Damien's own retort ringing in her ears that reeled her in has her smile lapsing.

"Uhm. Yeah." Too distracted she was by the colourful monologue carried on by Dallas' purrs and praises, red bloomed and blossomed upon sallow skin, warmed to a rich hue that coloured her eyes vibrantly and sudden silvers suspended low on lashes coated in black just before her arrival. Emma's lips curled around a delicate whistle, "Funny..."

Such a statement was punctuated by the roar of laughter somewhere near the coolers, her ears ringing upon the appealing tone that carried familiarity.

---

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𝚜 𝚞 𝚏 𝚏 𝚎 𝚛 𝚜 𝚕 𝚘 𝚠 𝚕 𝚢 𝚖 𝚢 𝚍 𝚎 𝚊 𝚛 𝚜 𝚘 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚠 𝚎 𝚖 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚔 𝚗 𝚘 𝚠 𝚑 𝚘 𝚠 𝚕 𝚒 𝚏 𝚎 𝚎 𝚗 𝚍 𝚜</sub>

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Avem was enjoying himself -- courtesy of the free booze, lost tooth turned into a trophy, ditzy dames and now a scorned Ariana in which was icing upon his golden cake -- and he illustrated such with a crack of laughter that whipped from his lips in a belly wrenched guffaw that nearly pitched him forward. Palm to chest and lips pulled from teeth, Avem wanted to applaud the son of Ares, but he knew the stubborness of that woman almost personally. In various ways he and the boquet of visual sex appeal that was Ariana were alike, they were proud individuals donned in finery, in gold and silver and dripping in their splendor and painfully aware of their vanity. Playing the role of a brutish neandrethal to thwart her kittenish paws and mewls would only permit him maybe another night free of her awaiting clutches, if anything it would only tempt and redouble her efforts to pursue him upon another evening; audience or no.

And whilst such was amusing and deserving of a finale, Avem turned just in time to receive Kelsey's elbow and teasing quip. His smile was easy and his rejoinder more so.

"My money is on you girlie. Might I suggest a nose ring though," he gestured to his own septum with a suggestive flutter of his lash. "Maybe win a new piece for me, I need some new jewelry in my body."

Beer pong was not his choice of play within these endeavors, for Avem held finesse with cards and dealings and bets, though the promise of piercing flesh was enough to tempt his curiosity and the potential of the night still young and awaiting their affairs. He took another swig of his beer at that probing thought and pondered to why he never joined with these parties before.

The following thought was loud enough within his mind to stir up a darkening glance, the swirling gold snapped around the sapphire that darkened just so, increasing the clutch of his hand upon his beverage.