SilverSpring

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning Ignis 2nd
Location: Charity event
Interaction: @oso Cassius
Mentions: @potter Kira, @helo Callum, @FunnyGuy Alexander @princess Charlotte
Violet felt the tremor before she saw it. His hand in hers, squeezing tight enough to grind bone against bone, betrayed him in a way his smile never would. Cassius Vael, the unshakable, the untouchable, reduced to the trembling weight of a brother barely holding himself together. To anyone else, he looked the part. His lazy grin, posture dripping with confidence, voice smooth as silk. But Violet knew.

Callum’s drunken shouts, Kira’s taunting mirth, the delighted gasps as Cassius threw down his bid like a blade across the table, all of it swirled together in a haze of smoke and sweat and coin. The world seemed to lean closer, hungry for the spectacle, waiting for the fracture. Waiting to see if the bastard would finally splinter.

Her eyes moved across them all as if her mind began to piece things together. The scratch, the women…the stabbing. Her eyes moved over them like waves before settling back to Alexander, catching his own look at her.

His gaze held her, deliberate and sharp, amusement threading through it like a knife. But she knew better than to mistake it. That careful delight he reserved for her, the tilt of his head, the flicker of his lips, was real. Everything else was his performance. A master of his own craft. Her eyes held their own admiration, yet her expression remained neutral.

Her stomach tightened, a mix of anticipation and calculated restraint. She knew what she felt. Loyalty, devotion, and then there was something else. She acknowledged it, even if she would not name it aloud. She had to keep her wits about her. Cassius was at the center of this madness, vulnerable, reckless, and more than willing to risk himself. Alexander would not protect him; he would watch, assess, and smile as though it were entertainment. Because to him it was.

Violet knew she needed to play her role. The protective sister, the one who saved his life, the one who cared. A smile curved on her lips as she looked at Alexander. So faint that had he been looking only, he would have caught it before it simply faded back.

When his eyes finally broke away, Violet exhaled in silence, a breath hungry in anticipation. She was fully awake to both the dangers of her feelings and the reality of what she was getting herself into.

Her fingers tightened, steadying his grip with her own, anchoring him as though her hand alone could hold back the storm brewing inside him. Her voice came low, too soft for the mob to hear, sharp enough that he would not mistake it.

“Breathe, Cass.”

She shifted closer, shoulder brushing his. To the crowd, it was nothing, just a sister at her brother’s side, lending him the air of solidarity. But in truth, it was her own chess piece she needed to play. Placing her other free hand on top of his as he continued to bid Violet eyes couldn’t help but look to Charlotte and the thoughts that must be racing behind that beautiful face of hers.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning
Location:The Woods > Drunkards day event
Mention: Callum @helo
Interactions:
Appearance: Light blue summer dress, Hair wild and curled. No shoes.

Ari had been sitting there for hours, glaring at the sealed box as if sheer will might force it open.

It didn’t move.

The morning light broke through the trees, catching on the ornate lines of the magic etched across it. She didn’t blink. Her chin stayed tucked against her knees, arms wound tight around herself, like letting go might unravel her entirely. Her eyes flicked, just once, to the stack of journals set neatly to the side. Untouched. They looked smug somehow, like they knew she was too much of a coward to open them. Afraid of what might be waiting inside. Afraid that maybe her parents had taken her memories to protect her. Maybe it had been for her own good.

Her stomach knotted at the thought. No. That was the story she refused to swallow. They hadn’t protected her. They had stolen from her. Her memories. Her voice. Everything that belonged only to her.

Her hand shot forward before she could second-guess herself, dragging one of the journals into her lap. Her fingers hovered on the cover. Breath caught. Then she opened it.

The handwriting was hers. And yet it wasn’t. Neater. Sharper. Forced into tidy lines as though someone had tried to train her pen the same way they trained her smile. Familiar, but wrong. Her throat tightened.

She dropped her eyes to the page.

They think I trip because I’m clumsy. That I knock over glasses, bump into lords, speak out of turn, and forget my place because I’m foolish. It’s almost charming to them, I imagine. Poor Ariella, such a mess. Such a wayward thing. But it’s all a lie. I’ve built this image carefully. Like a spider builds her web, strand by calculated strand. They laugh. They dismiss. They look away. And all the while, I watch. I listen. I wait.

Every spilled drink, every crooked curtsy, every “accidental” insult to one of Mother’s beloved friends,it’s a blade in her side. Embarrassment, shame, whispers… let her choke on them. Let her squirm in her silks, clutching at the legacy she worships. They all deserve to suffer for pretending this cage is a home.

Her breath stuck in her lungs. She should have flinched at the venom in the words, recoiled from the malice. Instead, a shiver rippled through her, something sharp and familiar. She remembered the clumsy bows, the wine slipping from her grip, the sideways words that cut deeper than they should have. She had always told herself it was chance, nerves, a curse of being wrong-footed in the wrong world. But the words on the page, her own words, said it had never been an accident at all.

Her hand pressed flat against the ink, holding it steady, holding herself steady. It felt like looking into a mirror and finding a stranger’s face staring back. A stranger she recognized.

She turned a few pages with trembling fingers.

…Locked up again. Mother shrieking through the halls that I’ll be the death of her. She swears she saw me using magic in the courtyard. Magic. As if she’d even know what real magic looks like. As if I’d waste it on her.

She bolts the door like wood and iron could keep me in. As if I’m not already free. She lives every day convinced I’m waiting to slit her throat. What a life to live, it's pathetic. Sometimes I almost pity her. Then I remember how much she hates me. How badly she wants me small, obedient, to be nothing. She doesn’t even fear me because she knows me. She fears me because she refuses to.

One day, I should show her. Show her what real power looks like. Watch her face when she realizes the lock was never what kept me inside.

Her pulse thudded in her ears. She read on.

The king parades again, drunk on jewels and borrowed power. They call it law, order. Rules bent to keep thrones standing. Chains dressed in gold. But power doesn’t sit in chairs, doesn’t shine in crowns. It hums in roots, in storms, in silence just before blood is spilled. That’s where it lives. That’s where it waits. They cannot cage it, cannot buy it, cannot bend it to their will.

The earth sings to me. Life, death, bloom, decay. All the songs they pretend not to hear. But I hear it. I feel it. The wildness in my veins, the truth their decrees can’t touch. Let the king rot on his throne. Let his courtiers smile with sharpened teeth. Their power is borrowed. Mine is real. Mine is eternal. And when the earth swallows their kingdoms whole, I will laugh as their jewels scatter in the dirt where they belong.

Ariella closed her eyes. Her breath trembled in her throat. The last words clung to her like smoke, heavy and unshakable. She didn’t recoil. She didn’t want to.

It felt like recognition. Like something buried deep had stirred awake.

Her hand slid over the page, slow, deliberate, as though she were touching the hand of a friend she had once known. Closing the book, she held it tight to her chest.

Above her, the morning light cut through the leaves. She lifted her gaze to the canopy, emerald eyes catching the sun.

She wasn’t sure if the journals scared her or if they made her feel whole, but a smile spread to her face.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arriving late, Ariella slipped into the edge of the gathering just as the bidding was reaching its crescendo. Voices collided with one another in the air, a drunken chorus of shouting and applause, the attention of every eye pulled toward a single figure at the center of it all.

“Three-hundered!” Prince Callum bellowed, his voice carrying over the noise as he waved his arm high. “You. Me. Team-up. TRIANGLE DATE!" His grin split wider, almost feral in its delight, and he flourished his whiskey as though it were a royal scepter. “And we give a big ol’ pile o’ gold to feed the people!”

The crowd erupted in laughter and hollers, some cheering, others pounding their mugs on tables until ale sloshed over the rims.

Ariella’s gaze fixed on him, her brow creasing. His arms stretched wide, crown askew on his head, the glittering metal nearly tumbling free with every movement. It wasn’t his familiar mocking grin that unsettled her; it was the crown. Callum, who cursed its weight, who swore he’d never wear the thing, now wore it as if it were nothing more than a party trick. That image gnawed at her.

She stayed in the back, pressed against the shifting sea of bodies. The air was thick with sour ale and sweat, every breath steeped in the stench of beer. Slurred voices cracked and broke like waves against her ears, drunken songs about the sea spilling from broad-chested men who stumbled into her as if she were part of the ground, nearly missing her exposed toes with their large boots. Their laughter rolled heavy, careless, echoing through her bones.

For a heartbeat, she wanted to cut through the crowd, seize Callum by the arm, and tell him what she had found in her journals. The words were a weight inside her throat, begging release. But she held back. It was his day, his chaos, his crown teetering at a dangerous angle.

So she watched, silent, the swell of the crowd rising and falling like a tide around her. Her eyes drifted away from the prince, combing the gathering. Every unfamiliar face etched itself into her mind, the sharp smiles, the glassy stares, the shifting shadows between them. With so many gathered in one place, the day was a maze of opportunities.

Reaching for a drink that was offered to her, she took it with little thought, smiling before taking a long drink of the ale as she continued to watch the auction.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning Ignis 2nd
Location: Charity event
Interaction: @osoCassius
Mentions: @FunnyGuy Alexander @Tae Mina @helo Callum


Violet moved through the crowd like a shadow stretched across the sunlit lawn. Her gown, loose and black, shifted with each breath of wind, stark against the brightness of the morning. Her raven hair fell long and unbound, though she had swept one side back with a red flower. It left her face bare, her eyes catching the light, red and unyielding, lit like rubies. They gleamed with every turn of her head, as though fresh blood burned at their depths.

Her body bore no trace of what it had endured with Cassius. No bruises, no marks. As if nothing had ever happened. But Violet carried it still, buried where no one could see. Just as she carried Alexander’s voice, threading into her thoughts even now. That night with him had left her unsettled in ways she hated to admit: his calm, his sharp truths, the way he had forced her to see herself without her excuses.

Applause rippled through the park, drawing her eyes to the stage. Alexander stood at the center, Mina beside him. Sunlight gilded him, catching the fine cut of his suit, turning his smile into something dazzling. Every inch the master of ceremonies, he spoke, and the crowd bent to listen. Violet felt the pull of it, that easy gravity he carried.

Mina shone in her way, flame-haired and radiant, as though she belonged to the stage itself. The crowd leaned in, eager, their voices low with anticipation as Sorin’s auction began. Violet caught the glances exchanged between the two of them and felt the knot tighten in her chest. She hated that most of all.

Alexander was magnificent. Every word deliberate, every gesture practiced. A predator circling its prey, beautiful and merciless. Violet watched as he and Mina worked the crowd with ease, drawing laughter, coaxing purses open. The people leaned toward them as if they were caught in a spell.

But Violet wasn’t Mina.

He never looked at her the way he looked at Mina, with that bright smile and easy warmth. Yet she had seen sides of him that she could only assume no one else had. The mask stripped away, the charm gone. What it left was something else. Something she couldn’t name, a feeling that lingered like heat too close to the skin. She didn’t understand it, not yet, but it stayed with her all the same as she watched him shine on the stage.

Laughter broke across the lawn, loud and misplaced. Thankfully, it pulled her from her spiraling mind onto Callum. Drunk already, though the sun was still climbing. His glass tipped dangerously in his hand as his voice rose over the music and chatter. Reckless, as always. Too loud. Too exposed. He was a storm with no direction..

Then she saw Cassius.

The smell reached her first: drink, sharp and heavy, tangled with the cloying perfume of some whorehouse. She nearly turned her head, nearly walked past him, but then Charlotte stepped onto the stage. His face changed.

Violet stilled. She knew that look. The hunger in it, the shame stitched to it. A raw, unguarded longing. She had worn it herself once, and seeing it mirrored on her brother’s face made her chest tighten.

She moved without thinking. Crossing the grass, she slipped into the chair beside him. She did not speak. She did not need to. Her eyes stayed on the stage where Alexander’s smile shone like polished glass. Quietly, Violet reached for Cassius’s hand. Her fingers found his, cool and steady, holding him with a gentleness that said more than words could.

She did not look at him. She did not have to. Her hand was enough, an anchor, a promise. Even in the full light of morning, she could still be his shadow.

✨Beyond The Veil✨ Open!

Bumping: Still have more spots open!

✨Beyond The Veil✨

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Location: Underground Club
Time: Night
Interactions: None
Mentions:

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

The bass pounded like a second heartbeat, vibrating through Vex’s chest as she moved across the sticky floor of the club. Lights spiraled around her in dizzying neon streaks, bathing her in deep purples and searing blues. Her arms rose above her head, fingers twitching to some rhythm. Sweat clung to her skin like glitter, her body swaying with a slow, serpentine grace, hips rolling, red lips parted around a breathless laugh.

She was high.

Deliriously high.

Every nerve hummed. Her skin tingled beneath the black mesh of her crop top, every brush of air like an intimate touch against her body. The world had no edges, only motion and sensation, and in this moment, she was untouchable. It has been months since she used. Her drug of choice had always been Coke. Though she gambled with it on a Friday evening here and there after Bear’s death, she spiraled. Not remembering much of her benders, she put everything and anything she could in her body at the time, hoping to numb her pain. This high however, she knew this high all too well. Ecstasy.

Vex broke away from the dancefloor, her boots thudding heavily against the ground as she stumbled toward the bar. Using her arms to part through the sea of people, she nearly stumbled over herself a few times.

“Vodka. Straight,” she purred, gripping the counter for balance. Her pupils were blown wide, rimmed with burning gold like the sun caught fire in her eyes. A lazy smirk played on her lips as she waited, leaning against the counter. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out another cigarette, holding it between her lips before lighting it. Her hands were shaking as she raised them close to her mouth, unable to control the movement as her vision blurred into a mess. Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to light her cigarette.

Then she felt it.

A voice slurred behind her ear. “Damn, I bet you taste fucking amazing.” The man slipped a baggy of pills into her pocket while his other hand explored. Fingers. Gritty, presumptuous, and pressing against the bare skin of her hip. Sliding lower, reaching below the belt of her jeans. She allowed him the moment to feel as if he were a man, just enough for him to think he held the upper hand.

Vex didn’t respond. She didn’t even flinch. Her hands gave up on the lighter and instead gripped the bar tightly as the bartender came over, setting her drink in front of her, but she didn’t reach for it.

Her shoulders stiffened. Her pupils shrank into glowing, vibrant, and yellow. In one fluid, precise motion, she spun on her heel. Her fist collided with the man’s face like a hammer slamming into drywall, knuckles cracking against bone. His head snapped to the side with a grunt, blood bursting from his nose in a wet pop.

The music didn’t stop. But the people around her did. She stood there breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, golden eyes glowing like embers in the low light.

“You ever touch me again,” she hissed, voice a velvet snarl, “I’ll take your fucking hand.”

The man stumbled back, dazed, clutching his face, and disappeared into the crowd like a cockroach fleeing light. Vex turned back to the bar, casually lifting her vodka with blood-streaked knuckles. She knocked the drink back in one swig before setting the glass down.

With trembling blood-coated hands, she attempted once more to light her cigarette very aware of the fun hidden just in her pocket.

✨Beyond The Veil✨ Open!

Definitely throwing my interest into this!

@Torack

Awesome! We still have space! I'll send you a DM

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

FLASHBACK

Trigger Warning: Blood and some gore

Cassius & Violet

---

The night answered with suffocating silence.

The wind had died, leaving behind a heavy stillness that pressed in from every direction. Even the distant laughter of the stray drunk had ceased, as if swallowed whole by the shadows. The once comforting flicker of lamplight became distorted, stretching and shrinking the shadows of buildings, transforming familiar alleyways into eerie corridors of darkness.

Cassius moved on instinct, body turning sideways as he slipped in front of his sister...calm, alert, and ready as he braced for what was to come.

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the darkness itself began to move.

From the corners of their eyes, the shadows peeled away from the walls like ink bleeding into water, forming shapes too precise to be tricks of the imagination. One by one, silhouettes melted into existence, slipping out from behind crates, doorways, and concealed corners. Each figure moved with predatory grace, their steps unhurried yet purposeful, like wolves emerging from the forest, scenting vulnerable prey.

The sound of a blade being drawn was sharp yet strangely delicate. Clothing rustled softly as more figures detached from their hiding places, forming a tightening noose of shadowed forms around Cassius and Violet. Alleyways that moments ago seemed empty now offered up menacing eyes and glinting steel, each exit methodically sealed, each pathway methodically blocked.

The circle of figures drew nearer, the gaps between them shrinking until Cassius and Violet were left with no route of escape. Their approach was patient, almost languid, relishing every second of fear they instilled.

A low chuckle emerged from the darkness.

From within the dense shroud of shadows, a figure slowly emerged, barely illuminated by the faint, flickering lamplight. Dark waves of unruly hair framed a face half-hidden in darkness, revealing only the barest hints of youthful charm: sharp cheekbones, a faintly amused curve to the lips, eyes that shimmered with a dangerous look of mischief.

He stepped casually into the dim light, the shadows reluctantly peeling away from him as though hesitant to lose his presence. His elegant attire contrasted starkly against the grim setting, a stylish dark suit and high-necked black shirt beneath, almost as if he’d come from some lavish event straight into the gloom. His eyes glinted as they flicked between Cassius and Violet, as if he had stumbled upon an amusing secret rather than a deadly encounter.

“My, my, isn’t this a delightful surprise… Two Damiens wandering alone, so late at night? Seems almost...irresponsible.” Violet's breath caught as she stopped, her eyes frantically glancing at Cassius before looking back at the man.

Cassius didn’t flinch at the man’s little speech. Instead, he rested a hand on Violet’s arm for the briefest of moments as to reassure her that everything would be okay. Then, he began to slip off his coat. He moved with the kind of unhurried purpose that only men like him could afford in moments like this…men who'd survived ambushes before. The kind who knew the rhythm of it all.

Folding the heavy fabric in half, he wrapped it once, then twice, around his left forearm, cinching it tight at the wrist like a makeshift shield. The other sleeve he coiled loosely around his right hand, fingers flexing within the folds.

Blades were coming, and though Cassius was unarmed…he didn’t seem worried. He was already shifting his weight, ready to meet them.

“Alright, then…Enough with the theatrics.” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. “But I hope you know how many of you will die in vain before death earns the right to reach us.”

The approaching man’s eyes darkened abruptly, the smile sharpening. His expression shifted from entertained to merciless in a heartbeat, the warmth draining from his features until all that remained was something predatory.He raised a hand slowly, almost lazily, as if giving a command to mere beasts.

“Kill them.” Violet gasped before her brows furrowed. She looked over at Cassius but he appeared so calm and collected, he had certainly done this before. She took a few steps back, giving him ample space.

At his command, the surrounding darkness erupted and the figures surged forward like a pack of unleashed hounds. They surged forward silently, blades glinting, their eyes vacant, their faces masked.

The young man simply stepped back into the gloom with a shrug, commenting with intrigue, “Let’s see if the legend bleeds as beautifully as they say.”

Two men lunged toward Cassius. Their eyes were wide, clearly men driven by either promises or threats, yet with enough ferocity to make their blades dangerous. Another came from behind, swinging low with a heavy wooden club aimed to bring him to his knees.

Cassius waited until the last possible moment to move.

The first blade came in fast, aimed for his ribs. He pivoted sharply, letting the coiled jacket around his forearm take the brunt of the thrust. The blade skidded off the thick fabric with a dull scrape, slowed just enough for him to slam his shoulder into the attacker’s chest. The man stumbled back with a grunt, winded but not finished.

The second was already on him, slashing high. Cassius ducked low, twisting his wrapped hand up and catching the man's wrist mid-swing. In one brutal motion, he yanked the man forward and drove his knee into the side of his face, sending him sprawling into the cobblestones.

But the real danger came from behind.

Cassius sensed the shift in air before he heard the swing. He turned just enough to see the club arcing toward his legs. Instead of leaping away, he dropped...his body folding into a crouch as the weapon sailed just over his head. In that same breath, he spun low and swept a leg outward, catching the third man off balance and toppling him to the ground.

The fucker got lucky.

The club clipped him on the way down, grazing his shoulder with enough force to jolt through the muscle and rattle bone. Pain flared sharp and hot, but Cassius barely gave it a blink. He straightened in a smooth, practiced motion, rolling the shoulder back as he just shook off the blow.

The first two attackers were scrambling upright, and Cassius shifted his jacket as he raised his arms again, one hand balled tight in its coiled sleeve, the other braced behind layered cloth. He stepped forward without hesitation, already reading their weight, their fear, the timing of their breath. Whatever wound the club had left barely even registered. Cassius moved quick, controlled, and utterly certain that they had fucked with the wrong siblings.

Meanwhile, one assailant approached Violet. Their steps were cautious, perhaps even wary. He brandished a knife, his hand trembling slightly but his eyes locked with a deadly resolve.

Violet froze for a split second as the man broke through the tall grass, heading straight for her. Her breath caught in her throat.She took a few stumbling steps back, boots catching in the uneven ground.

“Cassius!” she started to shout, but the man was already on her.

His weight slammed into her like a wall. She hit the earth hard, the breath ripped from her lungs. Grass and dirt scratched at her arms as she landed on her back, a sharp rock jabbing into her hip.

Then he was on top of her.

His legs straddled her, pinning her down, and his hand closed around her wrist, shoving it roughly above her head while the other went for the knife at his belt.

Violet thrashed beneath him, twisting, kicking, gritting her teeth.

“Get off me!” she snarled, voice shaking with fury and fear
.
He tried to pin her harder, his weight crushing against her ribs, but she shifted her hips, jerking violently. She used his momentum against him, one desperate push, all her strength thrown upward

And he tumbled.

She scrambled to her feet, breath ragged, heart pounding in her ears. Dirt streaked her face. Her arms ached from where he’d grabbed her.

Cassius turned his head just enough to catch sight of Violet, stumbling back through the tall grass. His gut dropped as she hit the ground with the attacker falling atop her.

He moved to reach her, but before he could take more than a single step, a hand seized the collar of his jacket from behind. The first assailant, blood on his lip and rage in his eyes, yanked him off balance. Another figure crashed into his side, forcing him to pivot and brace, absorbing the blow through his wrapped arm.

He swore under his breath, twisting free, but the moment had already passed. Violet’s cry echoed through the alley. He saw her limbs thrashing beneath the weight of her attacker, and he could feel her panic as though it were her own.

Cassius gritted his teeth and turned back to the men in front of him.

He’d find a way to get to her…but right now, all he could do was survive...and pray she would, too.

The first attacker lunged, his blade flashing in the low light. Cassius met it head-on, twisting his jacket-wrapped arm to catch the blow and deflect it wide. He stepped in close and drove his free hand into the man’s throat with a brutal, open-palm strike.

The man staggered back, choking, and Cassius didn’t give him the chance to recover. He lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar, dragging him down, and wrenched with all of his might. A sharp twist, a sickening crack of the neck…then the man crumpled to the dirt.

Another was already moving behind him.

Cassius turned with practiced fluidity, letting momentum carry him into a sidestep that narrowly dodged the next strike. He slammed his elbow backward into the attacker’s jaw, then spun low, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him. The bastard crashed hard, breath leaving his lungs in a wheeze.

Cassius rose again, breathing heavy but controlled, his shoulder aching, his coat darkened with dust and sweat. His gaze flicked once more toward where Violet had vanished into the grass.

She was out of sight, but not out of mind.

Just two more fuckers to send to hell before he could make it to her.

The blade slashed through the night like lightning, and Violet barely twisted away in time. The knife grazed her side, slicing clean through the fabric of her gown and leaving a stinging trail of fire along her skin. She gasped, stumbling backward, one hand pressed to her ribs as warmth bloomed beneath her fingers…blood.

The attacker grinned, thinking her weak, thinking the fight had left her.

He was wrong.
Her breath slowed, deepened. Her vision narrowed to a tunnel, the world blurring around the edges as her pupils dilated, swallowing the color from her eyes and replacing it with a deep, seething crimson. Rage boiled up, hot and sharp.

A low snarl tore from her throat as she lunged forward, feral and fast. He tried to react, but she was already too close. Her fingers clamped around his wrist, twisting it hard until the knife clattered to the ground between them. Her knee slammed into his chest, knocking him backward, and they hit the earth with a thud.

Violet was on top of him in an instant, one hand bracing the knife now turned against him, the cold blade biting into his neck just below the jaw. The moonlight gleamed off its edge. Her lips pulled back as her teeth bared. The scent of his blood was thick in the air. Coppery. Tempting.

Her fangs made their own appearance.

He whimpered something…words or pleas, she didn’t care. His eyes twisted in fear as he looked up at her. Her mind was lost to instinct, drowned in fury and survival.

With a guttural growl, she struck. With a quick motion, she twisted his head to the sid,e leaning into her attacker.

Her fangs pierced deep into his throat, hot blood rushing into her mouth. He screamed once, short and sharp, before it was choked off by the vicious tear of flesh. Her teeth ripped through tendon and vein, blood gushing over her chin, down her neck, soaking into the remains of her shredded gown. He writhed beneath her, weakening with every beat of his failing heart.

She didn’t stop.

Not until his body stilled completely.
When she pulled back, her face was a mask of crimson, breath heaving, hands trembling. Her eyes still burned red, glowing faintly in the dark.

Slowly and with ease, Violet stood to her feet, the blood strained deep and rich around her mouth, falling down her chin and soaking into her gown. She watched as Cassius continued to scuffle with his attackers, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths as she felt drunk on her kill, stumbling slightly as she walked towards him.

Cassius caught sight of his sister through the chaos, crimson staining her face, her eyes burning in the lamplight. For half a breath he faltered, not in fear, but in recognition. The world had its way of stripping people down until all that was left was what they had to become to survive. And gods help him, maybe only monsters could survive nights like this.

He let the thought settle as his boot drove hard into the chest of the bastard scrambling back to his feet, sending the man reeling toward Violet’s waiting hands.

Catching him in her grip, Violet's fingers dug into the man's arms, gripping so tightly that blood drew beneath her fingers. The man let out a guttural groan, but before he could attempt anything, her fangs were already buried deep in his neck.

The other came in fast, blade flashing. Cassius moved just as quick, his jacket-wrapped arm snapping up to catch the arc of steel. Fabric caught the edge, slowed it just long enough for him to clamp down. With a vicious twist, he wrenched the man’s wrist until it snapped with a wet, splintering crack. The knife clattered free, but Cassius already had it in his other hand.

Without a second’s hesitation, he drove the blade deep into the attacker’s neck. Hot arterial spray burst across his chest and face, soaking the collar of Cas’s shirt, the copper sting of blood sharp in the air. The man gurgled once before collapsing at his feet.

Cassius stood over him, chest rising hard, crimson dripping down his jaw, eyes already cutting back to Violet as if to say they weren’t done yet.

Then, the air shifted as a figure appeared behind him as though from nowhere at all.

A whisper brushed against his ear, low and haunting, carrying a voice he hadn’t heard in months.

"You should have never abandoned me."

His blood ran cold as he recognized that voice; familiar and bearing a unique accent, one she rarely used around those she didn't know.

An arm coiled around him from behind, locking him in place. Before he could wrench free, white-hot pain tore through his gut as steel drove deep once, twice, then a third time. The arms didn't loosen; it was almost as if she meant to watch and hold him as he bled out.

"Perhaps your sister can feast on your traitorous blood."

The Women swiped his legs out from underneath him to force Cassius to slam backwards onto the ground. The breath left him in a ragged gasp, his body folding as he hit the dirt. The world tilted, shadows blurring into the lantern glow.

He looked up at the ghost of an old friend, the black mask obscuring her face but he knew who she was… There was no denying that voice, and the burning rage and coldness in those eyes was just as painful as the dagger had been to his stomach.

“…I…How? was all he could manage as he watched her turn and walk away.

Tossing the limp body in her arms to the side, Violet's dark crimson eyes looked for Cassius, watching as a female figure walked away from Cassius as if nothing had just happened. She saw Cassius lying in his blood as the scent hit her.

Cassius clutched at the wounds, crimson blooming across his shirt, his vision swimming. The sound of retreating boots echoed like a drumbeat in his skull as the assailants made their exit. He turned to his sister once again, true fear laced in his eyes as he began to lose consciousness.

Rushing to his side, Violet dropped to her knees, blood soaking into the fabric of her dress as it spread in thick, glistening pools beneath him. Her hands hovered above him, shaking, torn between the instinct to save and the urge to devour.

The scent was overwhelming.

It filled her lungs with every breath, thick and sweet and maddening. Her mouth watered. Her pupils dilated. Somewhere deep inside, a voice begged her to look away, to press on the wound, to scream for help, but it was buried beneath the roar of hunger. The ache in her teeth throbbed. The hunger clawed at her ribs, howling, relentless. She had fed. Twice. It didn't matter.

A tremor ran through her as her eyes locked on the vein in his neck. Her breath came faster. Her fingers twitched.

“Cassius…” she whispered between gritted teeth. Her voice was barely audible. “I- Can’t…”

But the hunger didn’t care.

Her hands moved before she could stop them. One wrapped around his jaw. The other gripped his throat. She hesitated. For one brief moment, she froze, trembling with the weight of what she was about to do.

Then her grip tightened.

With a sudden, fluid motion, she twisted his head to the side, exposing the soft skin of his neck. Her hollow crimson eyes gleamed with hunger, a twisted smile creeping across her blood-stained lips and chin. Her fangs were fully bared, sharp and gleaming. With a breath Violet leaned into him, pressing her mouth to his skin, lips parting…

Then….

Darkness…

✨Beyond The Veil✨

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Location: Vex’s Apartment Time: Night
Interactions: None
Mentions: Dom@oso Sean@funnyguy

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

The linoleum was cold beneath her cheek. The kitchen floor reeked of stale beer, blood, and something acrid, burnt plastic maybe. Vex stirred, a slow twitch in her fingers the only sign she was still tethered to this world. Her eyes cracked open just enough to squint at the dim light bleeding in through the broken blinds. It was the kind of light that came too late, afternoon, maybe evening. A whole day has passed.

She didn’t try to move right away. Her body felt like it had been ripped apart and stitched back together by someone drunk and blindfolded. Muscles screamed, skin burned, and somewhere in the fog of her nerves was the sharp sting of a needle still stuck in her leg. The Warden's bite had done a number on her.

“Shit,” she rasped, breath tasting of metal and ash.

The silence hit next, deep, swallowing, like someone had muted the world. No buzz of her phone. No sirens. Not even the usual hum from the fridge that had long outlived its warranty.

Just silence.

She blinked through the haze, her cheek sticking slightly to the grime on the floor as she turned her head. An open beer can lay just inches from her face, condensation forming a halo around it. The top hadn’t been cracked yet. She reached for it, flinching as her side protested. Her fingers fumbled once, then hooked beneath the tab. With a single, practiced flick, it hissed open.

The sound was sharp. Too sharp.

She rolled onto her back with a groan, eyes squeezing shut for a second as the room tilted and spun. The beer can pressed against her lips, and she drank like it might erase the last twenty-four hours.

It didn’t.

The can clattered from her fingers, hitting the tile with a tinny clink before rolling somewhere under the cabinets.

Her arms splayed out beside her, palms up, too exhausted to care. Her chest rose and fell, slow and unsteady.

She stared at the ceiling. Pale water stains shaped like ghosts stared back.

Her throat was tight.

“Fuck,” she breathed, barely more than a whisper. The word hung there, heavier than the silence.

Images came in fragments, Bear’s eyes wide, the sound of something wet and final, the heat of rage, the taste of blood and regret. It all flooded in, seizing her chest until she had to blink fast just to keep from drowning in it.

The ceiling offered no answers. Just a reminder that she was still here. And he wasn’t.

Sitting up slowly, her arms hanging over her knees as she steadies herself against the dizziness swirling in her skull. Every movement was a battle, stiffness in her joints, soreness in muscles that felt like they’d been pummeled by a freight train. She breathed in deep, then pushed herself upright.

Grunting, she reached down and snatched her battered leather coat off the floor. The worn leather felt familiar against her fingers, like a shield she could wrap around herself. She slipped it on, the stiff fabric creaking as she moved.

Her eyes flicked to the apartment door. She moved toward it, hand outstretched. As she grabbed the handle and pulled, the entire door groaned and suddenly came loose, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud.

Vex jumped back just in time, staring at the door as it lay beneath her feet. Her fingers dug into the pocket of her coat, pulling out a cigarette from the nearly crumpled, broken pack that was once new.. She carefully straightened the bent cigarette, eyes still locked on the fallen door.

She sucked in a long drag, the smoke filling her lungs like a brief moment of clarity.

With a slow, deliberate step, she climbed over the mess on the floor, the cigarette burning low between her fingers. She paused at the threshold, eyes dark and tired.

"I need a fucking drink," she muttered, stepping out into the stale hallway, leaving her shattered apartment and memories behind.It seemed to be a reoccurring theme.

---

Vex rolled up to the entrance of the underground event, the pounding bass from inside vibrating through the cracked pavement. Neon lights flickered erratically, casting jagged shadows that danced across the graffiti-covered walls. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and the raw, electric tension of a crowd hungry for chaos.

She slipped inside, weaving through the dense mass of bodies pressed together like a living organism moving to the relentless roar of guitars and drums. The music was a gritty, screaming wave of rock that hammered her bones, a soundtrack perfect for the night’s descent.

She’d left her leather coat at the door, too heavy, too cumbersome for this. Instead, she wore tight dark jeans that hugged every scar and curve, massive platform combat boots stomping through the floor, and a black mesh top that revealed the intricate tattoos littering her arms and torso, the delicate ink swirling beneath the surface like a map of her past. Underneath, only a black bra held her barely contained, skin gleaming faintly with sweat and a faint sheen of grime from her kitchen floor. She pulled out her phone to check her messages. Sean.. he had shown up. She responded to him, texting simply ” Thank you…Sorry about your friend. she wasn’t sure what else to say. What could she say? Thumbing through her phone, she came across a missed call from Dom. She stared at it for a moment before putting her phone in her back pocket.

As she moved deeper into the crowd, Vex became a magnet. Hands reached out, pressing drinks into her fingers, slipping pills and rolled joints into her palm, offering lines of white powder and glowing capsules. She grabbed everything; there was no hesitation. Drinks to burn, smoke to chase the ache, anything to dull the sharp edges gnawing at her insides.

A shot pushed into her hand, a flash of a familiar face grinning through the haze. Without a word, she tossed it back, the bitter burn lighting her throat on fire. Another pill, another drag, a quick swallow of something sweet and sticky.

The music throbbed through her, wild and unforgiving, and for a moment, the weight of the day, the silence, and the memories felt far away. She was alive, raw and electric, a storm in human form.

The deeper she sank into the crowd, the less the world made sense in the best way. Noise became color. Color became motion. The hard angles of the room melted into soft pulses of light that kissed her skin and licked the edges of her vision. The drugs , whatever cocktail had taken root in her bloodstream, were hitting now. Hard.

The music slowed, or maybe her heart sped up. She couldn’t tell.

The dim, grungy underground suddenly bloomed into something beautiful. The lights above strobed brighter, burning through the fog like halos. Reds, blues, and purples were all too vivid, too alive. It felt like the ceiling had cracked open, and the stars themselves were bleeding down into the room.

She laughedher head tilting back as she welcomed the overwhelming brilliance. Her fingers curled along the belt of her jeans, then slid up her torso, tracing the curve of her ribs. Every touch felt electric, like her nerves had been stripped raw and made golden. She wasn’t just touching skin. She was feeling it. Her body pulsed under her fingertips, alive in a way it hadn’t been in months.

Her hands moved slowly, drifting over tattoos she no longer remembered getting. Each mark sparked under her touch, igniting something inside her. Her breath hitched. Eyes half-lidded. Her lips parted around a silent breath.

She wasn’t on the floor of her shitty apartment anymore. She was light. She was sound. She was everything and yet nothing all at once.

And in that moment, swallowed by the brightness, Vex felt fucking good. Her body moved with fluid motion to the music, feeling and touching herself as her hands explored her own body. She felt her phone in her back pocket, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t called Dom back. Instead, she pulled the phone out, opening her camera and sending him a photo of her flipping him off with a wide grin, her pupils the size of a pinhead.

Send

Giggling to herself as if she had just made the funniest joke, she fell back into the music and the drugs.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

"The storm is upon us."

Time/Day: 7pm/Saturday (Yesterday was Friday)

TIME SKIP

_{@Oso@Tpartywithzombi@Tae@AuthenticTomb@Ctenoid Soul@Sadie@Infinite Cosmos@JJ Doe@deegee@Helo@Potter@Manzanilla@ShiningSector@Apex Sunburn@enmuni@Mole@Amatiramisu@Theyra@Expllo}

---

The city never sleeps; it only slouches deeper into the dark.

Tonight, the waning crescent hangs over Halcyon behind the charcoal clouds. It’s the kind of moon that doesn’t light the way, just looms, as if it offered hope too far off to reach. The air is thick with the promise of a storm, and the humidity clings, sticking hair to skin and sweat to cloth like a second skin you didn’t ask for.

The streets remember last night’s blood and bass.
But tonight? The pulse is faster.

The famous Halcyon rock band, Vein Theory, is onstage at the Underground—and anyone who’s anyone already knows. The line started forming before sundown, winding around graffiti-tagged corners and under flickering neon signs, then all the way down the subway stairs. This is the kind of crowd that doesn’t flinch when the air smells like a reckoning to come.

The storm warning hit an hour ago: flood risk, torrential rain, all the usual sirens. But no one’s turning back. Not because of the weather. Not for anything.

Not when Vein Theory’s finally back.

If you're hoping to get a good view, you’d better move fast.

The thunder’s already rolling, and Halcyon’s about to open its mouth and swallow the night whole.

✨Beyond The Veil✨ Open!

Interested!
Of course if that is okay and there are still spots available.

@Veilsight

Awesome! Lots of spots open :) Feel free to submit a CS in the OOC channel.