Shard

The Rise of Azure [18+]

@Allycat

Are we going to make a Discord for this RP?

The Rise of Azure [18+]

@Allycat

Is Star allowed to have a fairy pet?

Would be a mage's familiar, really. Just a flavor thing.

The Rise of Azure [18+]

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The Rise of Azure [18+]

@Allycat

Thanks!

The Rise of Azure [18+]

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The Rise of Azure [18+]

I would assume that by animated, they mean non-real, as in no photos.

The Rise of Azure [18+]

I may join this quest with a fairy character.

R E B E L L I O N - A Superpower Roleplay (CLOSED)

The Compound - Wit's End

Mentioned - @Marrok

Willow was somewhat surprised by himself, as that slam into the table passed him by like a blowing breeze. He did not react, but rather, only grinned wider in response. Shade had an effect on him, truly. The boy, was he another, would have jumped out of his skin at the slam, but there he was, remaining seated with his chin resting against the flat of his hand. "This guy," Shade chuckled, "is the most entertaining fucker we've seen since torturing ol' Bob to death," he finished before bursting with laughter. Flinching somewhat at those words, as they had been strung together, Willow turned his attention to the imaginary creature, if only for just a moment, before returning to Pickles, as the jester had presented himself.

Indeed, the story of Bob was one of dark nature. Willow spent his early life, or rather, earlier life, in an orphanage where the wellbeing of children was secondary to profit. Bob was not his name at the time, but rather Bruce, a man who was well known for his vicious treatment of the young. Willow had not been spared his fist, and could very well display a multitude of scars blanketing his scrawny body presented as gifts from 'Good ol' Bruce', as he was titled. "Show him, show him, show him!" Shade exclaimed, repeatedly slapping Willow's shoulder. "Show him Bobby! Show the jester freak how kind we are! Show him! Show him the gifts we can give!"

Clenching his teeth, Willow managed to exhale a soft sigh, before he eventually spoke. The boy did not recoil from the clown, who was no doubt used to a more submissive attitude from those he approached. Yes, Willow had enough scars to expose experience in that regard. He had gotten his fear whipped out of him at the edge of knives and the blunt surface of fists. "Shame," Willow stated, tilting his head somewhat, "I was in the mood for porridge." Obsidian orbs met the jester's, abnormally large eyes remaining firm in their stance. "I guess undead isn't too far off," Willow continued, his smirk replaced by his usual, apathetic expression. "In thrall to me? Mh..," considering the question for a moment, Willow lowered his eyes, before a slight smirk returned to his pale lips.

"There it is! There's the Willow I know!" Shade expressed excitedly as the boy gently pushed his chair back and rose to his feet.

"We all have our peculiarities," the necrokinetic commented, tilting his head, "don't we?" Sharp teeth revealed once more, Willow leaned in as the jester did the same, meeting the insanity with a malicious nature hidden deep within the youngster, a darkness which appeared to surface if only by a minuscule amount. "I guess Reaper..," he hinted back at the sentence previously uttered, "isn't too far off..," Willow finished. Reaching for his mask, the boy obscured his face behind its shape, and slipped his clawed hands into gloves once more. "We're not getting porridge today, Bob. Let's go," Willow stated, pulling his hood back over his head as he started towards the exit, the large man standing and following along without a word.

"What!? Come on, Willow! You're just going to drop a bunch of one-liners and leave!? For fuck sake!" Shade flailed, "we're not going to show that clown thing what we can do!? Ugh.., you can be so boring, you know that?"

R E B E L L I O N - A Superpower Roleplay (CLOSED)

The Compound - Wit's End

Mentioned - @Marrok

What truly separated the denizens of Devo Town from one another was how they carried themselves. In a city where freaks were uncommon, a world where humans reigned and those considered an oddity were cast aside, appearance pinpointed worth and standing. However, as one might have expected, a town of Deviants followed different rules. Where some appeared to belong in story books and fairy tales, others reminded an onlooker of darker folklore. It was a sight one quickly came to understand was the norm of Devo Town, and for those like Willow who had been tossed into the pit only moments after birth, there was no other reality. Perhaps this was the reason why he remained calm in the face of adversity. The reason why he was difficult to shake off his feet. It was a resilience those within the compounds were taught to adopt, lest they fall beneath the weight of chaos which so often ruled Devo Town.

Indeed, Willow had seen much in his short fifteen years, but the caution he felt when approached by this most peculiar creature stemmed from how this fool, this jester, presented himself. It was the same man Willow had seen only moments earlier, he was certain of this. What had changed? Everything. It appeared to be a completely different entity who now approached the boy where he sat.

"Hah!" Shade laughed, excitedly slapping his hand against Willow's shoulder, "what a psycho! I fucking love him!"

Despite his young age, Willow had come to learn that the most devastating ability possessed by anyone, inside or outside the compounds, was unpredictability. Jesters were just that, unpredictable. This one seemed far more dangerous, however. No, he did not display massive weapons in the form of talons and claws, he did not reveal scaled flesh or erupting fire. Willow could measure that. This was an enigma, a hidden blade, a viper ready to strike at a moment's notice. It was intriguing, to say the least. The young mutant could not recall himself growing hesitant around another, not since the orphanage. It was safe to say that this was the reason for an inching smirk exposing itself upon Willow's pale lips, razor sharp teeth peeking out from within. "It's very sunny outside," the boy offered, his voice a soft, calm and raspy tune which clearly contrasted the jester's words. "If I ordered a bowl of porridge," Willow began, his expression one of entertainment, alongside curiosity. He wanted to see what was going to happen. "Would you bring me one?" He finished, tapping slender, clawed fingers against the wooden table, clicking the tip of each digit against the surface.

The pale young creature felt his heartbeat accelerating somewhat at the interaction, a mixture of intrigue and caution blending together to draw a picture most vivid. Shifting his attention from the jester, to the bar owner and then back, Willow gently rested a hand under his chin, obsidian orbs fixed on this most enchanting presence. "Since you're new," the young necrokinetic spoke, "welcome to the compounds, you and..," he paused for a moment, before speaking once more, "the fool." Willow's grin grew somewhat wider at the statement leaving his lips. Bob had not moved a muscle, not an inch, and neither would he. Whether Shade was a bad influence or if Willow's inner curiosity had been roped to the forefront, there was no denying that the insanity presented with flamboyant intent was enough to color him an intrigued spectator.

R E B E L L I O N - A Superpower Roleplay (CLOSED)

The Compound - Wit's End

Mentioned - @Marrok

Standing at the entrance to a bar all too known throughout the compound, Willow instructed his thrall to lower itself to a knee, allowing the boy to slide off, a pair of small feet hitting the ground with a weightless thud. A mount like any other, Willow often found himself atop the undead servant in an incredibly lazy display. Beyond the walls of the compounds, one would likely view the development as an oddity. However, within the circus of freaks so often called Devo Town, it fell into the local norm. The compounds were nothing if not colorful. Also, of course, as one would call them, shit holes. It was, however, the only reality Willow had known since early childhood. He was all too familiar with every nook and cranny within Devo Town, New York. Such was the life of a mutant orphan. Willow's appearance gave off his nature as a deviation from humanity at first glance.

Ghostly white skin, large, black eyes, claws, albeit small, atop fingers and toes, and of course razor teeth would fundamentally indicate the result of this most failed pregnancy. A mutant, clearly, Willow's size also indicted a miniscule, sylph like creature rather than a human in both height and girth. This set him apart from his kin, even before powers manifested, which for Willow, was at the age of nine. He could not imagine how it must have felt for those who built themselves a life in the surrounding city, only to be ripped from those they had learned to love, from their very existence, and dropped in the concentration camp Willow had known as his home since birth.

It was a depressing thought to be sure, comfort swept from under one's feet, and left to fend for oneself. The fine folk of New York's pristine venues could not imagine life within the compounds. To be thrown into the nightmare so abruptly was not a scenario Willow had little empathy for. These thoughts reached the front of his mind once Willow pushed the bar doors open and saw a waiter he had not witnessed in the past. He must have been new. At the very least, newly hired. "That dude looks like he's about to break," Shade laughed, his arms circling Willow's shoulders from behind the boy. "Oh, that's rich! New meat!" of course, where Willow displayed empathy, Shade found laughter.

"Let's have a seat," the mutant boy commented, before pulling a chair out in the safety of a shadowy corner, alongside Bob and made himself comfortable. It was ironic, in a way, or perhaps a sad revelation, that despite all the company Willow had accumulated, he was well and truly alone. Bob was a husk, a creature controlled by the boy and Shade was a figment of Willow's very fractured and damaged mind. The sad part found itself displayed in the fact that without this schizophrenia, he'd be lost. Without that voice clawing at the back of his mind, without the imaginary touch he had grown so used to, Willow could only see himself growing mad.

Pulling his hood down, slender fingers worked on the buckles keeping his beaked mask in place, before finally revealing the boy's young, androgynous visage to those within the establishment. With a soft breath, Willow shook his messy, raven hair loose, and tugged his gloves off. It was not often that the boy exposed his face in public, merely out of habit, rather than a more insidious intent. He oftentimes forgot himself, even when indoors, and thus only took his mask or gloves off when he retired for a night's sleep, or well earned meal. Porridge was what Willow considered his norm, and also what he could afford. Working for the resistance movement had allowed for some income, but nothing to consider impressive.

Willow's main source was tailoring, where he repaired clothes or crafted new vestments. It was the one labor he excelled at as a child in the orphanage, and a skill which had come in handy more than once. Willow tailored his own masks, and had made several options available in the hole he called a house. With a stretch and a yawn, the young mutant unzipped his hoodie, before a pair of large, obsidian eyes fixed their attention on the new hire. He seemed scared, lost, out of his element. This wasn't a man who had grown to understand the compounds. Not yet. Willow's gaze intensified somewhat as the server was apprehended by a patron, but the situation quickly simmered out. "Pff..," Shade's voice trickled into Willow's ear, "what an underdog."

"That used to be us, you know," came a soft whisper in turn as Willow shifted his attention to Shade. "He's the reason no one messes with us," Willow finished, motioning to Bob who sat silently on a chair by the table.

"And that's a fucking shame," Shade offered with a sigh and roll of his eyes, "when was the last time we melted someone? Admit it, you fucking love the feeling."

Willow's silence hinted at a response, one he wasn't necessarily proud of, before turning to look at the menu on his table. Using his powers was, in a word, bliss. It was exhilarating, conjuring forth the energies swirling within. What Shade said was true, even though Willow was less than prepared to admit it.