sempis

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

I was thinking of having my guy work at the bakery/coffee shop downstairs or at Rebecca’s Hole if that’s alright with the GM?

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

@akayaofthemoon

awesome : ) does it matter if I have a guy or a girl?

Redwood Apartments, Silvervale, LA

Hey! Room for one more?

L'Mordryn Academy

Bestia Dorms ▸ Cafeteria
Interactions : @artifex (minor)

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Alistair grinned at Silas, glad he hadn't caught him in a bad mood. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy."

He didn't think that Silas would be the snappy morning grump type, but the early hours could change the human mind in scary ways. Last year, his roommate had been an absolute monster in the morning. While Alistair tried to be friendly to everyone at the academy, he definitely respected some weren't a fan of his energetic personality.

This year, he'd been pretty lucky to be roomed with Silas and Odhra. As far as roommates went, they weren't unpleasant to be around. They coexisted peacefully, and Alistair hoped that as the year went on they'd be able to get to know each other better. Their personalities were very similar, which definitely helped with the whole living together situation. Plus, as far as he could tell, they seemed like they would be pretty alright with a party now and later.

Already, Alistair had been asked by several students when his next party would be. Apparently he'd become well known last year for the parties he'd thrown. Since a four room dorm wasn't the best place for a big party, most of the time it was on an invitation basis only. At the end of last year though, he'd thrown a big party down by the lake. People he'd never met before had shown up, to Alistair's delight, and the party had run into the early hours of the morning.

Departing from the dorms and heading to the cafeteria, he was pleasantly greeted by the smell of breakfast. He licked his lips. He hadn't eaten much last night, his limbs feeling like lead, and even looking at food making him feel sick to his stomach. He'd gone to dinner in hopes of shaking the dread that felt as if the sky was about to fall. It had been in vain, and after forcing smiles for the better part of half an hour, he'd given up. He had ended up slinking back to his dorm under the excuse of not having had enough sleep the night before. He could feel his throat closing up even as he burrowed deep into his covers and his cats settled around and on him. He'd contemplating going to the roof, but was too tired to even think about getting out of bed.

Alistair hated the days that made him feel like chains were wrapped around him too tight, squeezing the air out of him. For the most part, he tried to ignore it, but last night had been undeniably low for him. His stomach growled, snapping him from his thoughts. Food might not have been on his mind last night, but now, eating seemed like a great idea.

He moved through the line of food at his leisure, a pile of food stacked onto his plate precariously. Even if he hadn't eaten in a while, Alistair's appetite was insatiable. If there were a competitive eating club at L'Mordryn, Alistair could probably have everyone at the academy beat. But, there wasn't, so Alistair put the knowledge he learned from years under the heel of the Blackwells to use in culinary club. He'd imagined that years in servitude would ruin mundane housekeeping tasks for him, but last year, his first year at L'Mordryn, he found comfort in tasks he knew he executed well.

Dangerously balancing two plates in his hands and a drink in the crook of his arm, Alistair navigated his way over to a free table. He set his plates down first, sipping his coffee, if you could even call it that. Alistair's 'coffee' was practically milk with a couple shots of coffee. He hated the bitter taste, but could use the small boost of energy in the morning to get him going. It was better for him to not have too much caffeine, unless he wanted to be bouncing off the walls all day. Settling in to his seat with forty five minutes left until his first class, he was already making quick work of his breakfast.

Phantasma Dorms ▸ Cafeteria

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As Ives exited the bathroom, Gambino was already waiting outside. He sat stiffly, staring intensely at the door. Upon seeing his summoner, Ives could almost swear he was staring daggers at him. When he'd first woken up, Gambino was still asleep on his bed, and Ives had elected to not wake him up. Obviously, Gambino didn't appreciate the sentiment, evident in the subtle concern in Gambino's red eyes.

While Gambino wasn't a fan of other people, he clearly adored Ives. His frustration at being left in Ives' room didn't come from a need for reassurance, it was more caused by worry. Ives had been up late the past couple of nights despite Gambino's attempts to get him to rest more. In a way, they both took care of each other, both needed each other in the way that a child needed a mother's attention. While their relationship was far from desirable at the beginning, they'd come a long way. Gambino was the one being that Ives could really let himself relax around, finding it almost easier to drop the formalities around him.

Ives scandalized Gambino with a rough rumple on his head, knocking his horn-like ears back and forth. "No late night tonight if I can help it. For now, let's get to breakfast and do something about that scowl of yours."

Satisfied with his appearance, Ives moved around Gambino, throwing an almost cheeky half-smile over his shoulder, as if asking him what was taking him so long. Ives was a naturally fast walker, so the commute to the cafeteria didn't take long. As he always did, Ives was aware of the berth the students gave him and Gambino. It was ill-founded, as even though Gambino had a short temper and a dislike for strangers, Ives had trained the habit of snapping at people out of him as soon as he trained the habit of chewing on him out of him. He wrinkled his nose subconsciously at the people who muttered at Gambino. Gambino couldn't seem to care less as he took advantage of the extra space, letting his long limbs stretch properly.

Breakfast for Ives was light as usual. He stacked a pair of waffles with syrup and tossed a couple pieces of sausage to Gambino. Gambino didn't need to eat, but enjoyed participating with Ives. Besides, he seemed to like the taste of sausage. He grabbed a bowl of yogurt topped with granola, strawberries, blueberries, and sliced bananas, and a cup of black coffee. He picked out a table towards the side of the room away from most of the foot traffic.

L'Mordryn Academy

Room 1, Floor 6, House Bestia Tower

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Alistair could be described as nothing other than a corpse when he slept. Strategically, he had 2 alarms set on his clock on weekdays. One at 6:30, the other at 6:35, both of which he'd hit snooze on an average of 3 times before he woke for the day. He was definitely not a pretty sight when he woke up, his thick brown hair looking more like a rug than anything else. On this morning, he'd forgot to set his alarms the night before. He'd only woken up because of one of the cats had found his face the perfect place to lay on. Unable to breathe, and his mouth getting clogged with thick tabby orange fur, he attempted to pull the cat from his face. Claws latched into his skin, and he yelped, finally dislodging the feline and sending it back to his realm.

With a bit of morning grumpiness he muttered something about never letting his summons sleep in his room, but there was no real threat behind his words. On the nights that memories of his past wormed their way into his dreams, the cats helped him to sleep. Often, he didn't have to command them to comfort him, most of them were more than happy to keep him settled through the night. He didn't show it much, even in the privateness of his room, but he was grateful for the cats that laid on and around him.

He grabbed a couple of clothes and stumbled over to the bathroom, his hurried attempts to get to breakfast before the best of the food was picked over sacrificing his gracefulness. He managed to trip over a pile of books and stub his toe on the leg of his desk before he made it to the bathroom, thankfully in one piece. A wide toothed comb did little for his hair except take out the knots and make it lie a little flatter, giving his mop of hair its trademark 'messy in its own charming way' look it had every day. He grabbed his bundle of clothes, pulling off his night shirt, his movements slowing as his eyes fell on his scar. He turned around and looked over his shoulder to see if it looked any better than it had yesterday, but as usual, the skin was still pale and irreparable. He scowled, even after years since the incident he never got used to the look. He pulled his shirt over his head and rounded the corner to get to the cafeteria, nearly running down one of his roommates, Silas, in the process. He just barely pulled up short in time.

"Shoot, sorry man. I didn't see you there."

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Some Room, Some Floor (TBD), Phantasma Tower

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Ives awoke with a dull ache in his head. He blinked sleep from his eyes, blearily sitting up but stopped when the movement shot discomfort up his spine. His back had an awful crick in it, but he expected as much from sleeping upright. He'd fallen asleep on his books again, and his glasses had been pushed up his forehead, leaving ridiculous pressure indents in his skin.

No matter how late he stayed up the night before, Ives woke up at the same time of day every morning, at 6:45. Today was no exception, despite his estimates that he'd been up past midnight the prior night. He always promised himself that he'd drop the habit of staying up late to study, but he never really bothered with trying. One way or another, he'd make his family wish they wanted him when they had him.

There were noticeably no pictures in Ives' room, and there were very few objects of sentimental value. It didn't take someone to know Ives personally to conclude this, his room was barren except for school books, and tons of sketchbooks, canvases, and art mediums lined neatly by his bed. Some were full, others blank. Several of his paintings were stored on his bed, and a vanitas he'd painted were hung up on the wall. He was particularly fond of the one he'd done of the skull with red and white wilted roses growing out of it resting atop an overflowing chest of gold. Most who saw it would poke fun at Ives for it, calling him edgy or depressive.

Ives went to his wardrobe, grabbing a navy collared shirt and a black pair of jeans. Ives was careful to check no one was in the hall when he slipped into the bathroom, he was certainly far from presentable at the moment. His hair, washed the night before as it always was, no longer had gel to hold it back from his face. Jet strands hung over his eyes, which had pronounced dark circles under them. He changed into his shirt, making sure the collar was properly folded, and washed his face. The cold water certainly helped to wake him up and took care of the pressure indents. He slicked back his hair and grabbed his glasses, getting ready to leave for breakfast.

The Safe Haven - Revival (Closed)

i'm still here, just waiting to see if this picks up a little. hopefully it does, since I'm a sucker for magic type schools.

L'Mordryn Academy

Ives Sevinsys

Ives Sevinsys Last . 18 . Male
House Phantasma . A2 . Hellion

The one that could do well to get a little more sun on his skin

Appearance/Attire |
Ives's dark hair, cool toned pale skin, and cold gaze have groomed him to be the receiver of comments comparing him to some of the beings that he summons to his side. These comments generally go unheard, or perhaps he just doesn't care, as his appearance is always as uniform and sharp as it was the day before. His jet black hair is always pushed back and away from his face save for a few loose strands, and his cold blue eyes are framed by glasses he'd be blind as a bat without.

Ives' taste in clothing is inflexible, but simple. Most days he wears collared button down shirts, monochrome or jewel toned, with a pair of black jeans and black midcalf army style boots. Polo shirts for warmer weather, V-necks and looser fit pants for strenuous activities.

Personality |
Ives is nothing if not prickly. He carries himself in a very collected and sophisticated manner, and moves as if every motion is carefully choreographed in his head. His constant composure is more so false than it is truth, serving mostly to create a barrier between him and the outer world, as if seeming untouchable would therefore make him so. He has a tendency to be laconic, preferring action over tossing words about like trash. This can lead to him coming off as abrasive or brusque, despite most times not his intention. He has an enigmatic, melancholy aura to him, as if the world weighs on his shoulders.

Ives is incredibly intelligent and enjoys learning, his current goal is to become a master summoner and prove all the people who doubted him wrong. He's incredibly ambitious and competitive, and has a proneness to throw himself into his learning and studying for hours on end. He's very observant, but can get obsessive over straying from perfection, or menial details. His leadership, persuasion, and decision making skills are efficient.

Ives isn't a completely unpleasant person, his empathic capacity is immense, but he can struggle to comfort others and his difficulty expressing intense emotion can make it difficult for others to feel connected to him. Ives tends to put off his emotional problems, opting to pretend they don't exist. He genuinely does enjoy the company of others, but his energy is drained quickly by intense or stressful situations.

His friends enjoy a more luxurious side of him. Unable to properly verbalize his feelings (especially of endearment), his affection could almost be overlooked if not for the complete reversal of his behavior. Ives becomes more talkative and shares the fleeting thoughts in his head, as he is more willing to invest time in the people he cares about, even if he isn't one for many words. His demeanor becomes considerably less cold and harsh. He's almost comparable to a 'mom-friend' with how much more gentle, attentive, and intensely protective he becomes. While still very guarded about his more personal self, he will let his friends in more so than acquaintances.

Habits/Hobbies |
Ives finds organizing his thoughts into lists therapeutic and mind clearing. he always carries his leather notebook with him, but doesn't like others to touch it. While most of them are things he needs to do or remember, some of them are more mundane, like songs he enjoys or books he wants to read.

Ives also enjoys arts and the contrast that they bring to his intense academic schedule. He loves to draw and paint, and his room is filled with sketchbooks and canvases. He enjoys spending time in public places sketching people and their summons, or painting landscapes. He likes to paint vanitas.

Ives is passionate about dance, and often spends his free periods in a private classroom dancing if he isn't practicing summoning or combat, or studying. He wouldn't be caught dead dancing, mostly because it would make him too self-conscious to be caught in such a personal and vulnerable moment.

Ives has a soft spot for animals, especially household pet type creatures. He was never allowed to have a pet while growing up. His dorm room is often filled with harmless creatures lounging about. He enjoys their simple company.

Little seems to break his composure, except for comments on or comparisons to his family. Oh, and bugs. Ives is deathly terrified of bugs. If you ever forget what a screaming six year old girl sounds like, Ives can definitely remind you.

Background |
Ives' coldness and inability to properly express himself stems from constant stress and a lack of familial emotional connection in his childhood. His father was the type to never be satisfied with what he had. To him, a middle class family with a young son to raise and a loving wife was not enough for him, so ran off with his assistant when Ives was barely five. Ives' mother abandoned all sense of duty, heartbroken and betrayed by the man that had promised her the world when she had just barely grown out of her teens. In hopes of never working another day in her life, she remarried into a rich family for the money and comfort, and so followed Ives' seven other siblings and his stretch of time in a rich household.

Due to the age difference in his half siblings and being of a more shameful family member, Ives lacked close personal connections with people his family. He was often left to himself, as being the eldest child by a couple of years made him more independent than his siblings. His mother did little to hide her resent for him as he grew to be the spitting image of his father. She enrolled Ives into an expensive boarding academy for him to learn invoking, and for a couple of years Ives found stability in throwing himself into summoning. As far as he was concerned, that was the only thing that he could control.

Surrounded by people he saw as potential friends, Ives made some poor judgements of character. The people he saw as trustworthy were only children conditioned by the rich society they lived in to fight tooth and nail to get to the top. Ives was too naive to realize that giving any of the students a reason to tear him apart would lead to exactly that. When word of Ives' father's identity got out, the bullying he experienced was ruthless. Tired of hearing how his mother gave him up because she hated him, or that he'd never amount to enough, Ives picked a fight with several other students and was nearly kicked out of the academy. The good thing with money, though, was that it could buy almost anything, including leaving certain details off Ives' school record. Ives was pulled out of the academy by his family anyways, but his stepfather's shiny reputation was intact.

Ives has been sent to L'Mordryn on the threat that this is his last chance to be given the opportunity to learn summoning, and any step out of line will end his summoning dreams in a matter of moments.

Favorite Summons |

Skeleton Army

Ives is able to summon a handful of heavily armored, combat skilled skeletons for a strong offensive, or dozens of weaker skeletons intended to overwhelm targets. Ives is still working on being able to divide his attention between himself and the armies, but for now can only control the army. This leaves him vulnerable, and loss of concentration leads to the army falling into disarray.

Gambino

Gambino is a dog made up of bones and shadow matter. His size ranges upon summoning, as most times Ives calls him and allows him to model whatever breed he pleases. If Ives needs him for a certain task, he might designate a breed or form for Gambino. He can't do much that a regular dog can't do, but he has been known to be able to mess with lights in the buildings.

L'Mordryn Academy

[ Removed ]

L'Mordryn Academy

Alistair Setter

Alistair Setter . 17 . Male
House Bestia . A2 . Maverick

The one with the really, really weird cats

Appearance/Attire |
Alistair tends to stand out like a sore thumb, mostly because of the amount of space he can take up. He stands at about 6'3, with a well muscled but lean build reflective of the feline(ish) creatures he summons. His complexion is pale, unmarred except for severe burn scars that cover most of the right side of his back, as well as his upper right arm. Treatments have caused the skin to become pigmentless, but little can be done to make the raised skin smooth again. Alistair's ears are pierced through the lobes, and he rarely wears anything more than matte black studs.

Personality/Habits
Alistair blends right into the House Bestia scene, with his personality just as, if not more noticeable than his icy appearance. It's rarely a boring moment with Alistair, as he always has another bad decision or daring adventure to pitch to his friends. Quick with a joke, and even quicker with a sharply sarcastic comment, his demeanor is easily mistaken as shallow and cold to those not in his inner circle. There's an unmistakeable aloofness and detachment underneath his social persona. Alistair knows many but trusts few, but is always willing to support those he trusts in any way they require him. He tends to clam up when questioned too personally, deflecting with a joke or some other distraction.

Background

Alistair had tried several times to understand what his father had hoped to accomplish by stealing straight from the Blackwell's treasury. His life was cushioned as the advisor to the head of the Blackwell family. The Blackwells were known for their mastery in summonings of all kinds, but even more well known for their cruel temper and quickly diminished patience for those who crossed them. Alistair's father was one of those deluded fools, but as far as Alistair knew, it'd been nearly a decade since he'd disappeared without a trace, and he had yet to hear from him. To Alistair, Archibald Setter was dead to him.

Of course, someone needed to suffer for the crime the burden falling to Alistair. While the value of the items stolen was inconsequential compared to the vast wealth that the Blackwells owned, it was a matter of setting an example. The Blackwells were not one to be trifled with, and they assured that all knew of such. Alistair was to work off his father's debt.

The years wore on, and Alistair's hate for living in subjection never diminished. That's how Alistair ended up in the situation he was now. He'd barely even scaled halfway up the gate before he'd been caught. He would easily acknowledge that climbing over the front gate was a pathetic effort of escaping, but the constant watchful eye of the Blackwells left him unable to piece together a decent plan.

Master Blackwell effortless grabbed his ankle and yanked him to the ground, his shining black boots inches from his face. Alistair observed distantly that those were the exact pair he'd shined this morning, but barely had enough time to register the thought before the boot was kicked sharply into his ribs, knocking the wind out of his chest. Master Blackwell's expression was something like disdain as Alistair rolled onto his knees and coughed like a smoker with raisins for lungs.

"Get up." Were the only words Master Blackwell offered, even now he had no tolerance for vulnerability. The slightest drop of your guard, and Blackwell would tear at your soft metaphorical flesh. His boot reared back for another blow, but Alistair's had already picked himself back up, brushing the dust from his clothes.

"I've grown tired of your insolence, boy. It would do you well to give up your ceaseless ambitions of a life outside of this manor." Blackwell spit his words at Alistair like they'd pierce his skin. "You're beginning to cause more trouble than you're worth, which leads me to believe that we'd be better off if we just disposed of you." Blackwell's eyes were cold, making it painfully clear that his words held dangerous intent behind them.

Alistair, the idiot that he was, still had a bit more of resistance in him. "You wouldn't dare get your hands dirty with a child's blood."

Blackwell was unfazed by this comment, causing a pit of terror to worm its way into Alistair's heart. The smile that slowly broke the man's features was mirthless, as he snapped his fingers. Within seconds, a hellhound was materializing by his side, magma dripping from its jaws. "Oh, but he would."

Alistair retreated, but there wasn't far for him to go. A few paces had him pressed to the gate, the heat from the hellhound growing unbearable as the distance between the creature and the boy decreased. Alistair was barely able to find his voice, but he was grateful that his voice didn't break when he spoke. "If I win, I walk out of here."

Blackwell's eyes widened in a way that would have been comical if Alistair wasn't about to die. His words had exactly the effect he'd hoped they would have, they dug perfectly under Blackwell's skin. "Foolish in the face of death." Blackwell sneered. "You're never going to leave here." The hellhound lunged, and immediately Alistair flinched away. His back was instantly doused in pain, whatever the hellhound was doing felt like it was pulling him apart cell by cell.

As much as Alistair tried to bite his tongue, nothing could stop the screams that tore up his throat. Alistair called out to anything at all to save him, knowing that this rush of fear would do little to help him. Pain was all he could think of until it wasn't.

Cue the cliche "Am I dead and in the afterlife moment?", which was quickly cut short by searing pain again. He blinked the tears from his eyes, barely registering the scene in front of him. Was that his creature that he summoned? Six eyes stared at him over the corpse of the hellhound. The creature eyed him with disinterest and a slight air of annoyance, as if he'd been woken up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. With no further acknowledgement, he grabbed Alistair by the collar of his shirt and moved to take off. Through the pain Alistair managed a grin and a rude hand gesture. "I win." Silently Alistair let the creature take him to L'Mordryn.

Favorite Summons

Adraanyr

Alistair's most reliable summon, two feet at the shoulder.

Sealas

Alistair's first ever summon. Since first enrolling at L'Mordryn, Alistair has only been able to summon him a handful of times.

Rukha

Alistair's latest summon, a heavyset hybrid with a belligerent temperament

L'Mordryn Academy

awesome! i will have my form up soon :)