Tae

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Elodie Ashbourne

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Location: Sean's truck—-->Elodie’s café • Time: Night

Interactions: @FunnyGuy Sean • Mentions: @Tpartywithzombi Vex •

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Elodie leaned her head gently against the window as they drove, the cool glass a quiet relief against her still-throbbing temple. Her broken arm was cradled carefully against her in a makeshift sling from her sweater, fingers flexing now and again with the sting of every bump in the road. Still, her gaze remained on Sean more than the city lights. The way his mask stayed off. The way his voice softened just a bit. The way he rambled.

She smiled faintly.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice still hoarse but warm, “for someone who just faced down a raging lycan like it was another ordinary day of the week… that apology was like watching a baby deer try to walk. Kinda awkward. Kinda tragic.”

She tilted her head slightly toward him. “But it was also really cute.” She giggled.

Then her smile faded into something more somber, and she looked back out the window for a moment before speaking again, quieter this time. “I know you were only trying to help. And it… it means more to me than you probably realize. I’m not mad at you. Promise.”

Her thumb brushed idly over her good hand’s palm. “I’m not even mad at Vex. She wasn’t herself… and honestly? I hope I get to meet her again someday when she is. Preferably when I’m not being hit or flying across a room.”

She let out a dry little laugh, but then her expression turned inward, tight with unease. “You asked about biting. The truth is… it terrifies me. Not just because of what I am now, but because… I don’t even remember the face of the person I bit. I don’t remember their voice.”

She turned to him again, eyes searching his. “But do you want to know what I do remember?”

Her voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. “The taste. It was… intoxicating. Warm, sweet, everything I didn’t know I needed. It hit my tongue and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I wanted more. I took more. And when it was done, when the haze cleared…” Her voice cracked, eyes glossing faintly. “They weren’t moving. And I knew–I know–I killed them.”

She sniffed, blinking quickly and then shaking her head. “That’s why it scares me. Why the idea of ever biting anyone–especially you–makes my whole body lock up. You’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt, Sean.”

She went quiet for a beat, then added gently, “So here’s my proposition… if there ever comes a time when I have no other choice–when we’ve exhausted every option, and you would still want to offer–I’ll accept it. But only then. Only if there’s truly no other way.”

Her hand curled tighter in her lap. “And in return… if I lose control, if I hurt you, if it gets too far or I take too much and show no signs of stopping…I need you to promise me you won’t hesitate. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever…” She trailed off, then finished with a rasp, “Just promise me you’ll stop me if it comes to that, whatever that means. No matter what.”

The weight of her words lingered as the truck slowed.

Her eyes flicked up toward her café’s familiar exterior, and a tiny smile tugged at her lips again. “Now,” she added, trying to summon a little lightness, “you’re gonna come inside so I can feed you and make you the best coffee of your life.”

The comforting scent of sugar, spice, and coffee beans still lingered in the air despite the late hour as they entered the café. The soft hum of appliances, the creak of familiar floorboards beneath her shoes–this place was hers. Her sanctuary.

With stubborn determination, Elodie moved straight for the kitchen. Her body protested every step, and her broken arm ached, but she moved with purpose. One-handed, she brewed two strong cups of coffee, adding just a touch of cinnamon to his and a dash of cherry syrup to hers, a satisfied smirk crossing her features at the quiet nod to the ridiculous nickname she was still internally swooning over.

She pulled three pastries from the display case–two flaky ham and cheese turnover and a sweet cranberry-orange scone, the kind that didn’t require much slicing or fuss. Something simple. Filling. Easy.

Then, balancing everything carefully, she carried the mugs and plates to a small table in the corner, where the lighting was soft and golden and the shadows didn’t feel quite so heavy. She set it all down with practiced ease, then turned and retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind the counter.

She placed it between their mugs with a sly little smile.

“In case we’re feeling a bit Irish,” she said softly, eyes twinkling.

“I also have pain meds, if desired.” She took her seat slowly, easing into the chair with a quiet exhale as her body finally allowed a moment to relax. Her good hand curled around her mug again, the ceramic’s heat a balm against the lingering cold that hadn’t quite left her since the fight.

Silence settled for a beat.

And then, without looking up, she murmured, “Tonight… showed me I have a lot to learn.”

Her gaze lifted to meet his, steady but vulnerable.

“Will you teach me how to fight?” she asked. “Er, or, at least defend myself? I don’t want to be helpless if something like this happens again. I want to be able to protect myself. Protect others.”

There was no drama in her voice. Just quiet resolve.

Her cheeks flushed faintly as she nudged his plate toward him with a shy smile.

“And you can’t fight on an empty stomach, so… eat up, Warden.” Then she quietly added. ”Buuuuut, let’s not throw any more hands tonight, yeah? I think we’ve both been roughed up enough for one evening. Promise me we’ll keep things gentle for the rest of the night, okay? I don’t think I can survive another pounding.” She sighed as she sipped her coffee.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Race: Yuan-ti
Class: Rogue Arcane Assassin
Location: The enchanting bathroom
Interactions: @FunnyGuy Minerva @Helo Ezekiel
Mentions: @Apex Sunburn Scratch & Val
Equipment:

Full Equipment List

🌸 A finely crafted katana
🌸 A concealed dagger laced with paralytic venom
🌸 Throwing needles coated with different poisons
🌸 Black silk combat outfit reinforced with hidden Mithril chainmail
🌸 Soft-soled boots that allow for near-silent movement
🌸 Smoke bombs and illusion charms for quick escapes
🌸 A set of forged documents under multiple aliases
🌸 A tea set and an assortment of teas
🌸 Incense

Attire:
Gold Balance: 93
Injuries: Gash on hip and thigh, small cut on her head, aching shoulder

There was a sickening splat.

Not the kind that made one jump. No, it was far more humiliating than alarming. Cool, wet pulp struck the back of Meiyu’s head with an indelicate thwack, followed by the slow, sticky drag of peach flesh sliding down the back of her neck.

She froze.

Her head tilted slightly–an inch, no more–as if she needed confirmation that what just happened… truly had. The sweet, sickening scent of overripe fruit mingled with blood and smoke. Slowly, deliberately, she reached up and plucked the peach from her hair.

Then she turned.

Eyes like molten amber locked onto the culprit, unreadable.

The shifter girl had the look of someone who thought the world was her stage. Cocky. Cute. Reckless. Someone used to being the one who made others squirm.

Meiyu didn’t squirm.

She approached with the silence of coiled death, her injured side ignored for the moment, her expression carved from ice and shadow. No words yet. Just her gaze–predatory, unblinking–meant to strip away all the bravado that came so easily to loud-mouthed kittens.

When she finally stopped, it was close enough for Minerva to see the red streak trailing down Meiyu’s temple from an unseen wound, the damp smear of fruit mixing with blood at her jawline. She smiled. But there was nothing kind in it.

Only teeth.

Meiyu reached up and touched Minerva’s cheek–slowly, fingers trailing in a gesture that almost might’ve been affectionate, were it not so utterly invasive. Her thumb brushed just beneath Minerva’s eye, tracing bone and skin with the careful, quiet reverence of someone assessing a kill before the strike.

“Where I come from, kittens that tease serpents don’t get nine lives.” She leaned in, almost close enough to kiss the woman. ”They don’t even get a second breath.”

She let the words sit. Not loud, not shouted–just low, intimate, meant only for Minerva to hear.

And then her fingers lingered just a moment longer… before gently dragging down Minerva’s jaw and letting go.

“You like startling people? That's your little thrill? Hm.” Her voice dipped silkier, softer. “I could teach you what it feels like to truly fear something. To be hunted in your own skin. To look in a mirror and not know which part of you belongs to you anymore.”

There was no rage in her tone. No need to raise her voice. The calmness made it worse.

“You’d do well not to confuse mercy with disinterest, mischievous little kitten. Because I promise you–”

Her head tilted slightly, and for a heartbeat, her expression flashed something ancient and cold and deeply cruel beneath the surface. “I am the wrong serpent to swat at when you’re bored.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She turned without fanfare, flicking a sticky bit of fruit from her fingers as though it had personally insulted her. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Survivors clung to debris, some still rising from the chaos, others tending to wounded or clutching children. But she wasn’t looking for just anyone.

And then–there.

Ezekiel.

The man stood a little apart, near where she had witnessed something interesting during the crash. Something in his demeanor suggested he hadn’t been thrown off by the crash. Perhaps not even disturbed. That made him useful.

Meiyu began making her way toward him, her steps smooth but slower now, her side beginning to ache with the throb of reality. She needed the bleeding checked and he might just be the person to help her. And if he wasn’t, well perhaps he’d seen two others she knew could help.

Scratch. The girl. Where had they ended up?

She didn’t know.

But Ezekiel might. ”Eyepatch, might I trouble you for a moment?” She called out to him.

And woe be to anyone–or anything–that dared throw fruit at her again.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Elodie Ashbourne

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Location: Sean's truck—-->Vex Apartment • Time: Night

Interactions: @FunnyGuy Sean @Tpartywithzombi Vex • Mentions:

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At first, she didn’t understand.

Elodie blinked up at him, still trembling on the floor, her mind frayed and crackling with too many sensations–fear, guilt, bloodlust, him. She watched as he rolled up his sleeve, as if readying for a bandage or to check a wound, and for a moment she was about to reach out in concern…

But then he offered his wrist.

Her eyes widened. Her breath caught.
“No,” she whispered, confused, shaking her head as if she hadn’t heard him right.
“Sean, w-what are you doing?”

Oh, he knows. Look at him. Giving it to you like a gift. Sweet man. Brave man. Delicious man.

The inner demon slithered in on cue, smug and salivating. Her heart slammed in her chest.
“You can’t be serious,” she murmured, her voice shaking.

But he was. Gods, he was.

She could see it in the quiet steadiness of his gaze, the way he held his wrist out like it was nothing. Like she wasn’t a starving spawn shaking on the edge of frenzy. Like she wasn’t dangerous.

He thinks you can handle it. Let’s prove him wrong.

“No. I-I can’t. I won’t.” Her words trembled but her body betrayed her, leaning in as though magnetized. The smell of him rushed into her senses like smoke in her lungs.

You’re already there. You’ve already decided. You just need the excuse.

“Stop it!” she snapped aloud—whether to Sean or the voice, she didn’t know. Her hands curled into fists. Her throat burned.

His blood called to her like music. Warm, willing, steady. She could feel the pulse beneath his skin from where she sat, and her fangs throbbed behind her lips, begging to taste.

Her fingers twitched.

Just a sip. Just a bite. He said don’t argue, remember? You wanna be a good girl, don't you? Obedient little monster.

Her hand reached out, hesitating—hovering just above his arm. And gods help her, she wanted it. She wanted him. Her lips parted, breath quickening. Her teeth grazed his wrist.

Do it. DO IT!

She inhaled—deep, trembling—and froze.

That wasn’t Sean.

Her head snapped to the side, nostrils flaring. There, beneath the metallic perfume of spilled adrenaline and bruised skin, was something else. Older. Cooler. Stored.

Preserved.

She knew Sean’s scent. Knew it by heart.

But this? This wasn’t him.

And it wasn’t Vex either.

It was blood.

Stored blood.

Elodie’s voice cracked, thick with desperation and shame as she looked back at him, fangs still peeking, breath coming too fast. “Sean…” she whispered hoarsely. “I think… there’s blood. In Vex’s fridge.” Her hand clutched at his shirt like a lifeline. “I think I can smell it…”

She wasn’t sure if she was begging for his help or warning him to get away.

Maybe both.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Lys Solwynd

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Location: The Eclipse • Time: Nighttime

Interactions: @AuthenticTomb Volfango @princess Angel • Mentions: N/A

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Lys didn’t need long.

The glamor was cute.

Golden hair, softer angles, a different sway to her hips–but Lys had known her through fire. You didn’t forget someone like Angel. You didn’t unfeel someone like her.

The woman dancing across the floor wasn’t hiding from the room. She was hiding from those who knew her. And that included Lys. Which, frankly, only made Lys want to chase her more.

She tilted her head, letting her gaze linger just long enough for Angel to feel it. Like the brush of a fingertip behind the ear–soft, but unmistakable. Her lips curved into something wicked and slow, too knowing to be innocent, too pleased to be safe.

Oh, petal…playing pretend? You should know better by now. I invented the game.

Still, she didn’t call her out. Didn’t shout across the club or carve her name from the stars. She just let it simmer. Let Angel wonder.

Volfango’s approach didn’t go unnoticed either. His presence was bold as always–those sin-stained golden eyes, that casually undone shirt clinging to the sculpted chaos of a man who knew exactly how good he looked. She could still taste him on her tongue, feel his magic humming through her bones like the leftover crackle of lightning.

When he leaned in, claiming space like it already belonged to him, Lys let him. Let his voice curl around her like smoke, let the spark of his touch tease goosebumps across her skin. Gods, he was decadent. Dangerous. A perfectly wicked match. But he certainly would never own her.

Her eyes slid to his as he whispered against her ear, and her grin deepened, curling like a ribbon pulled tight.

Then, as Volfango’s question curled in the air, Lys turned her attention to him like flipping a coin. Something light and casual, with mischief tucked beneath every word.

”Strange,” she mused, her tone rich as spiced wine. ”For a heartbeat, I thought she looked like someone I used to know.” She trailed a nail lazily along the rim of his open collar, lips twitching.

A beat passed, and she added with deliberate softness,
”But that girl wore wildfire in her hair. This one’s cloaked in starlight.” No lie. Just carefully barbed honesty. To Angel, the truth would strike like a spark. To Volfango, it would read as idle poetry.

And that, darling, was the art.

Lys laughed quietly, like something bubbling over after being corked too long. ”Either way…” she purred, casting a final glance toward Angel…slow, deliberate, scorching… ”I’ve always been one to welcome unexpected guests into the chaos. The more, the merrier.”

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Elodie Ashbourne

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Location: Sean's truck—-->Vex Apartment • Time: Night

Interactions: @FunnyGuy Sean @Tpartywithzombi Vex • Mentions:

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Elodie didn’t realize she was crying until the tears left a cold, dampness on her cheeks.

Her whole body throbbed. Her arm was useless–twisted wrong, swollen and searing. Her ribs burned with every breath, each inhale like dragging broken glass through her lungs. The scent of blood still hung heavy in the air, thick and rich and maddening. Every heartbeat in the room–Vex’s, Sean’s–drummed against her ears like war drums.

Feed, something whispered in the back of her mind. Just a taste. Just enough to fix it.

But then she saw him. Saw Vex lunge at Sean.

Her heart didn’t beat, but the fear that twisted through her felt like it should’ve stopped one anyway.

“Sean!” Her voice cracked, hoarse with panic and grit. She tried to push herself up. Her good hand braced against the ground as she bit back a scream, dragging her broken body inch by inch across the floor. Her legs barely cooperated. Her arm hung limp. Every motion sent fresh waves of pain through her chest, but she kept going. She had to get to him.

By the time Vex collapsed and he finally spoke, Elodie was only a few feet away. Her fingers trembled as she reached for him.

“One problem solved… Now… Elodie… First, sorry for… this. Second… are you alright?”

She blinked, silent for a moment, and then she let out a laugh–a broken, breathless, slightly hysterical one. “You’re sorry?” She gasped. “You got half-pummeled by a lycan while I lay here drooling over blood like a discount Dracula and you’re apologizing? I should be the one apologizing for being useless.”

Her voice trembled at the edges, but there was a faint thread of teasing beneath it. It was frayed, but still there.

“I’m not alright,” she admitted, softer now. “My ribs are wrecked. My arm’s useless. And the hunger is–” Her voice faltered. Her crimson eyes shimmered in the dim light, wide and glassy with the effort of restraint. “It’s bad, Sean. I can smell everything. It’s like the whole room is… singing to me. I want to bite something so badly my jaw aches.”

Her gaze flicked down, just for a second, to his throat. She didn’t mean to. But she could see the slow, steady rise of his chest, the subtle pulse at the base of his neck beneath the scruff. Even bruised and bloodied, even gasping for breath, he smelled warm. Alive.

Her fangs pressed against her bottom lip.

She blinked hard and looked away, shame tightening her chest. No. Not him. Not Sean.

Still trembling, she inched a little closer, dragging her broken body with slow determination until her fingers brushed his arm. Not grabbing, just grounding herself. He was real. He was here.

“You’re always the one who shows up,” she murmured, then caught herself. “Which… is maybe a problem, because one of these days you’re gonna get yourself killed being the knight in a very dark and kinda casual armor.”

Her voice cracked, and her fingers curled faintly.

She hesitated, then forced her eyes back to his–still glassy, still red, but trying like hell to stay calm. “Are you…” she paused, biting down a flicker of nerves, “...you know. Still alive-alive? Not, like, stubbornly ‘I’ll die when I’m dead’ alive?”

A beat.

“Because, no offense, but I really need you to be okay right now. I think I used up my bravery quota for the night.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Mina Blackwood

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Attire: Dress & Hair
Interaction: @ReusableSword Roman
Mentions: @Helo Callum/Clarence, @SilverPaw Wulfric, @princess King Edin & Queen Alibeth, @Oso. Killian

Mina didn’t speak as she returned from the corner of the banquet hall.

She moved with measured poise, but the calm she wore was just that–a carefully placed mask. Her thoughts were still tangled around the conversation she’d had with Roman, barely minutes ago. They’d kept to a quiet corner, away from the worst of the spectacle, but even in the hush of distance, his words had pierced through her like splinters.

Not the words themselves–those had been polished and precise, spoken in their shared dialect like they often did. But the message? That had come from his hands.

Three gentle squeezes.

Nothing.
Control.
Best.

Each word a lie, hidden in plain sight. And then he’d mispronounced her name. Roman had never done that before. Not once. Not even when drunk. Not even when grieving. It was deliberate. A flare in the dark. A message meant only for her.

He was warning her.

And whatever had its hooks in him… it wasn’t just affecting his tongue. It was something deeper, something older. For a moment, she wondered if it was something similar to what she’d already seen flickering behind Prince Callum’s eyes. That same hollow shine. That same eerie calm.

No, she’d thought. Not calm. Caged.

She had responded with a soft squeeze of her own. I hear you. I’m with you. I’ll help you. Then her voice followed, careful and controlled, “If you say nothing’s wrong, then I believe you. Whatever you think is best… I support you. And I’ll help however I can.” A script. A shield.

A promise.

She’d barely had time to let the weight of it settle when the room shifted again. Boots. Dark cloaks. The chill that preceded a storm.

The witch hunter entered.

Mina didn’t flinch, but her body tensed beneath her gown. The presence of a hunter wasn’t surprising, she had always known the penalty for her kind was fire. But it wasn’t supposed to get this close. Not here. Not now.

And then came Wulfric’s voice. Cold. Clear. A sword disguised as truth.

Accusation.

Alibeth.

Queen.

A witch.

The guards moved like wolves on blood, and the air inside the hall thickened with tension so sharp it could cut skin. Mina kept her expression neutral, but inside, her lungs felt tight. Not just from fear, but from the new reality clicking into place. Magic hadn’t just become more dangerous. It had become hunted.

Before stepping away, she had touched Roman’s arm again, murmuring low beneath the din,
“End your night here.” A suggestion in tone, not in content. “You’re not alone.” Another promise.

She didn’t wait for a reply. She couldn’t.

As Edin ordered the guests to leave and the hall began to ripple with confusion and motion, Mina weaved gracefully through the shifting crowd. Her steps were light, careful, almost detached–but inside, everything was tightening.

She reached her uncle at last. And for the first time all night, without a word, she slipped her arm through his. To anyone else, it was a simple gesture.

But to Sebastian Blackwood, it would speak volumes.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Vex & Elodie

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Location: Vex’s Apartment

Time: Night

Interactions: @FunnyGuy Sean

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Vex lay on her back, her arm cradled awkwardly against her chest, fingers twitching now and then like they weren’t hers. The pain had dulled, replaced by something heavier, thicker, like her body was slowly sinking into warm water. She was cold, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t care.

Somewhere in the haze, she heard laughter.

His laughter.

Her lips twitched. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know.Bear was nearby. She could feel the thud of his boots on the ground, the heat of his shoulder brushing hers. That familiar mix of sweat, leather, and blood that always clung to him like a second skin.

“V,” his voice echoed, deep and steady, full of that cocky calm he wore like armor. “Stay close. I’ve got you.”

And she believed him. In that moment, she felt no pain. No weight. Just him. Just the two of them back in that dark nest, blades drawn, breath held. It had been like this before, side by side, clearing out that hive of vampire spawn, adrenaline and banter sharp as their weapons.

A shadow moved behind her.

“VEX!” Bear shouted.

She turned. Too late.

In real time, her eyelids fluttered. Her vision blurred. The face above her shifted, too close. Someone watching her. Hovering. Her heart kicked hard in her chest.

Spawn.

Her body moved before her mind caught up.

With a strangled grunt, she rolled into the motion, fist flying upward. It collided hard with the soft center of a stomach,Elodie’s stomach,with a thud.

Vex hit the floor, a sharp jolt rocketing up her side. Her breath caught. Her eyes blinked open, wild and unfocused, searching for Bear. Where was he? But all she found was the ceiling again. Still. Wrong. Too still.

Her eyes glanced back at the Vampire she struck. Deep red circles hollowed them in as her golden amber eyes almost glowed in the moonlight. Her chest heaving up and down as her skin glittered in the moonlight from the sweat that continued to bead down her forehead.

“FINISH HER!” Bear shouted off to the side as Vex continued to stare Elodie down. The mind warped and twisted around the vampire spawn, the posion of the venom so deep in her system now she was no longer seeing reality.

Elodie wheezed, doubling over with a choked sound that wasn’t quite a scream, but definitely wasn’t dignified. Pain bloomed across her abdomen like a firework, her hands instinctively wrapping around herself as she stumbled back a few steps.

“Oh my god–okay–ow,” she gasped, eyes wide as she looked up. Involuntary tears blurred her vision as she looked at the woman in front of her.

Vex.

Sweating, trembling, eyes unfocused and glowing like dying embers in the dark. And that stare. Elodie had seen a lot in people’s eyes over the years. Grief. Rage. Desperation. But never something quite like this. It was like looking into a storm made of fever and ghosts.

And she didn’t even know her.

“Hey, hey, easy,” Elodie breathed, voice soft and shaky, as if talking down a frightened animal. Her heart was thudding against her ribs like it had somewhere better to be. “You don’t know me, I know that, but I'm not trying to hurt you. I swear.” Elodie’s gaze darted to the door Sean had vanished through and she quietly sent a prayer out to anyone who was listening that he'd be back soon.

She forced herself to straighten, even as her stomach protested. “Okay. Okay. You just... need rest. And probably electrolytes. Or a sedative. Maybe both?”

She thought she saw a flicker of movement from Vex and panic gripped her as she quickly threw up her hands, frozen bag of peas still in one. Why hadn't she dropped that?

Elodie’s voice went up a full octave. “Let’s not do punching again, please!” She’d never been in a fight. And right now, she was pretty sure she was about to lose her very first one to a gorgeous half-delirious werewolf.

That look. One she had seen for so many times before. They play the helpless deer, using peoples remorse to find a weakness. Disgusting…

Vex sneered lunging at the vampire. Her hand gripping around its neck as she slammed her body against the wall leaving an outline of the womens form. Her hand tightened around her neck restricting her airway. Her yellow eyes narrowed in on the women. “You’re lucky your dealing with me and not bear” she smirked pulling the women by the neck back and slamming her back into the wall.

Elodie choked as her back slammed into the wall, an explosion of agony radiating from her spine up into her skull. She heard something crack–maybe the wall, maybe something inside her–and her vision burst into blinding sparks. Her lungs seized, the air punched out of her chest in a ragged wheeze as her toes scraped uselessly against the floor.

The bag of frozen peas tumbled from her numb fingers, but she managed to catch it again, clutching it like a lifeline even as her arms shook from the strain of trying to pry Vex’s fingers away from her throat. Her head throbbed in time with her pulse, each beat like a hammer against her skull.

Move, Elodie… please, move… Her mind screamed at her body to act, but her limbs felt heavy and wrong. Pain bloomed where Vex’s grip crushed her windpipe, raw and burning, every breath a pitiful rasp. Her stomach still throbbed from the punch, each breath sending a lance of pain through her core that nearly made her retch.

“Wh-who the hell is Bear?” she croaked out, the words thin and strangled. Tears streaked down her cheeks as her vision swam, edges blurring and blackening like ink spilling across paper. Every nerve screamed. The sharp, crushing grip on her neck blurred into another set of hands–rough, unyielding–pinning her in that dark room where blood coated the walls and magic hummed like a broken wire. The smell of old iron. The cold tile against her cheek. Teeth sinking into her flesh. The fear so thick she couldn’t even scream.

No. No. Not again.

A strangled noise ripped from her throat, something between a whimper and a snarl. Her hand shot up, clutching the frozen bag of peas, and she smashed it against Vex’s head with a desperate crack. Her other hand grasped at Vex’s arm, nails biting into flesh. Then, fueled by panic and raw vampire strength she barely understood, Elodie twisted her hips and drove her knee up with all the force she could muster, aiming for the soft space between Vex’s ribs.
The knee to her ribs followed fast and hard. Pain bloomed sharp beneath the surface, and her body folded instinctively, breath hissing out through clenched teeth.

But she didn’t fall.
Her arm snapped out, catching Elodie’s wrist with bruising force, her grip all knuckles and rage. Blood dripped from the scratches along her forearm, but she barely noticed.

“Spicy,” she purred, voice laced with both amusement and menace. “You always this fun, or is this just for me?”

With a fluid twist of her hips, she reversed their positions, pinning Elodie to the counter in one graceful motion, mouth near her ear, breath cool as night. “You don’t even know what you’re capable of yet, do you?”

There was no rage in her. Only hunger. And the thrill of a challenge.

“I’m not… dying… again!” she choked out, voice shredded by pain and desperation.

Sean, please… Her thoughts fractured around the pain, each beat of her heart sending panic and desperation spiraling through her veins. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hurt her. I don't want to die. Please…

Vex wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand, staring at the smear like it personally offended her. She looked up, eyes locked on Elodie, and let out a short, sharp breath, half a laugh, half a snarl.

"You're kidding me. This is supposed to be a vampire?"

She leaned in closer, her boots dragging slightly across the floor as she widened her stance.

"I’ve gutted spawn in back-alley dens with more fight than you. At least they had the decency to go down swinging."

Her gaze raked over Elodie, eyes cold, mouth twisted in something between disgust and pity.

Elodie’s back screamed from the impact, her ribs aching with every breath, but the blood–gods, the blood was worse.

It was in the air.

Slick and sharp and close.

The scent coiled down her throat, warm and copper-sweet, clinging to her tongue like honey-drenched rot. Her stomach twisted with a hunger she didn’t want to name.

No. No, not now—

Her gums ached, fangs pressing at the edge of her control. She squeezed her eyes shut, nails digging into her palm. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, trying to drown the bloodlust in pain, in fear, in anything else, but it only throbbed louder in her ears.

”If anyone’s found bleeding, leave or get yourself into another room.” Sean's words echoed in her mind as she tried to hold her breath.

Don’t lose it. Don’t become that. Don’t let her see it.

”Ever consider that I didn't choose this and want to live a normal life.” She gasped out, trying to distract herself, as she opened her eye. Crimson irises now began to scan her surroundings in search for anything to help her out of this. Then she saw it–Sean’s gun, glinting on the table. A wild, desperate idea sparked.

If she could get to it. Hold it. Pretend she knew what she was doing… maybe Vex would pause. She moved before she could talk herself out of it.

Elodie slammed her fist into Vex’s nose. The impact was jarring yet Vex didn’t even much as flinch. A sick smile spread on her face followed by a soft chuckle. She heard a crunch of her hand as it met her face. The crunch was sickening, but Elodie wasn't sure if it was from Vex's nose or her own hand. “Ow–oh my god, ow!” she gasped, recoiling as if she had been hit.

Why does no one talk about how much that hurts?! Movies made this look way easier!

She hoped the shock of it, and maybe the absurdity, would give her just enough of a window. She twisted her torso sharply, legs kicking at the floor to slip beneath Vex’s arm, her heart pounding wildly as she scrambled toward the table.

Just a few more feet…don’t look back…don’t think…just move!

The gun. The plan. Sean. Focus on that.

She didn’t know if it would work, but if she was going down, she was going down swinging–with bruised knuckles, cracked ribs, bad ideas, and every last scrap of defiance she had left.

Pulling back the wolf stood back, her eyes looming over the frantic vampire as she attempted to scurry away but instead with a swift hand and an abrupt tug, Vex pulled Elodie back dragging her across the floor.

Elodie yelped, her nails clawing at the floor as she was pulled, panic clawing up her throat in tandem with the searing pain in her ribs. Her eyes locked on the gun–it was so close–and she twisted, arm outstretched, bloody fingers reaching for the metal like it might save her soul.

Then came the thud.Vex’s heavy combat boot slammed down on her shoulder, pinning her like prey under a predator’s paw. The pressure was unforgiving, enough to crack bone if she pressed harder.

Elodie let out a sharp, broken scream as pain exploded through her body, sharp and immediate. She thrashed beneath it, sobbing through clenched teeth as her free hand kept reaching–futile, desperate–for the gun. Still, she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Tears streamed from her eyes, hot and unrelenting as she choked on another cry. Her bloodlust screamed alongside the pain, fangs pressing against her lips, but she fought it back, locking it behind every ounce of will she had left. “Please–” she whispered, voice cracked, her breath hitching through agony.

But Vex didn’t even glance down.

Casually, she reached behind her, fingers brushing the torn edge of her jeans until they found the crumpled pack of cigarettes stuffed in her back pocket. She smacked it twice against her palm before drawing one out with the kind of leisure that mocked the chaos around her. Her hands moved with mechanical familiarity as she brought it to her lips and lit it, the flare of flame briefly illuminating her blood-spattered face.

She took a long drag.

And then, there he was.

Leaning casually in the shadowed corner of the room, Bear. His grin was as lazy and smug as ever. Arms crossed over his chest, he watched her with a glint of amusement in those knowing eyes.

“How long are you gonna drag this one out for?” he drawled smoothly, his voice dripping like warm honey, unaffected by the brutal scene.

Vex’s lip curled up, cigarette pinched between two fingers. She exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around her. Her eyes didn’t leave the apparition in the corner, even as she felt Elodie writhed under her boot.

“Don’t pout, Bear. I’ll be done soon. Then it’s just you and me again.” she seemed to speak to the empty corner of the room.

But Bear wasn’t real.

And Elodie was.

And yet Vex just smiled, the smoke pouring from her lips. Kneeling down her boot now pressing deeper into Elodies arm the sound of her bone crunching under her foot echoed like sweet music. Her golden yellow eyes watched Elodie like prey, her beautiful smile contrasting against her primal gaze as Seans gun was just inches from Elodies reach.

Elodie’s scream tore from her throat. It was raw, jagged, and filled with a pain so deep it didn’t sound human. It was the sound of something breaking–not just bone, but hope.

“Shhh… It will be over soon.” Vex grinned.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Lys Solwynd

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Location: The Eclipse • Time: Nighttime

Interactions: @AuthenticTomb Volfango @princess Angel • Mentions: N/A

^{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Lys didn’t so much sprawl in the booth as rule it–legs tangled in velvet and shadow, a crooked crown of messy black-green waved tipped askew like she'd just rolled out of sin and hadn’t quite decided if she was done with it yet. Her skin shimmered faintly, kissed by leftover magic and the aftermath of Volfango’s devotion. She stretched languidly, each movement designed to tempt and tease, flashing lace and thigh with a wicked smirk.

She tilted her head at his approach, lips already quirking as his mouth brushed her neck. She didn’t stop him. Of course she didn’t. But when he pulled back, she reached out and tapped two fingers lightly against his lower lip.

”You were delicious, love. And lucky,” she purred, dragging her nails up the open front of his shirt. ”I’m not always that sweet on the first round.”

But her gaze drifted–flicked past him–drawn like a flame to a familiar shadow she’d thought long gone.

There she was.

Sicily.

Heat pooled low in her belly. Memories flashed of shared nights, whispered dares, the taste of alcohol and want tangled together. But tonight wasn’t for reunion. No, tonight was for games. For chaos. For seeing just how far they could push this club before the walls themselves begged them to stop.

Her grin sharpened. Darkened. Oh, but wasn’t that just perfect?

”A stór,” she purred with a sultry smirk, ”I would love a bit more fun... especially if it involves an old flame with a habit of pretending she doesn’t still dream about me.”

She didn’t wait for permission. She stood–one slow, sinuous stretch that let her skirt ride up high on one thigh–then leaned in close, whispering like a curse just for Volfango.

”Lead on.” Her hips swayed as she stepped from the booth, letting her magic ripple across the room–a whisper of illusion here, a flicker of heat there, sparking desire like wildfire in their wake. As they moved, she trailed her fingers down Volfango’s spine, nails scraping ever so slightly.

She let her gaze linger on Angel, lips curling into a slow, wicked grin. Not yet, she thought. But soon. Oh, so soon. She wanted them both undone, wanted to watch the night bleed around them while they drowned in pleasure and sin.

Her laughter spilled out into the pulsing air, wild and bright as neon. Tonight was theirs, and Halcyon would remember their names in curses and praises alike. And Lys, ever the chaos-born queen, would ensure every second burned bright enough to sear into eternity.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Race: Yuan-ti
Class: Rogue Arcane Assassin
Location: The enchanting bathroom
Interactions: @FunnyGuy Minerva
Mentions: @Oso Captain @Apex Sunburn Scratch & Val @Helo Ezekiel
Equipment:

Full Equipment List

🌸 A finely crafted katana
🌸 A concealed dagger laced with paralytic venom
🌸 Throwing needles coated with different poisons
🌸 Black silk combat outfit reinforced with hidden Mithril chainmail
🌸 Soft-soled boots that allow for near-silent movement
🌸 Smoke bombs and illusion charms for quick escapes
🌸 A set of forged documents under multiple aliases
🌸 A tea set and an assortment of teas
🌸 Incense

Attire:
Gold Balance: 93
Injuries: None currently, but has numerous faded scars on her body

Meiyu turned at the sound of her name, amber eyes narrowing as they sought the source of the unfamiliar voice. The singsong lilt grated against the tense quiet she had been cultivating within her own mind, and for a heartbeat, irritation coiled tight in her gut like a striking serpent. She didn’t recognize the woman’s tone, and her gaze flicked across the deck, searching for the fool who thought it wise to call out to her so loudly in the middle of chaos.

Before she could snap a reply, the Captain’s voice crackled over the comms, taut with barely-contained control. Emergency descent. Lhazaar Principalities. Not ideal. The words fell into Meiyu’s mind like stones into a calm pool, each one sending out ripples of calculation.

She ignored Minerva’s call for now, her attention shifting skyward. The clouds churned above like ink bleeding through silk, and the elemental ring sparked and flared, leaking arcane light as the airship groaned beneath their feet. Meiyu watched the way the clouds seemed to swallow the horizon, watched the flickering glow of failing warding runes sputter and die. The scent of scorched metal and ozone filled her senses, sharp and bitter.

“So this is how it ends,” she murmured under her breath, one hand resting lightly against the hilt of her katana as though to remind herself of its presence. She had faced death a thousand times before, but it was never quite the same twice. And she had no intention of meeting it here, on a falling ship surrounded by strangers.

When the Captain warned them to brace, Meiyu gripped the railing with white-knuckled hands, her slender fingers tightening like claws against the edge. Her jaw set, teeth bared faintly in something that wasn’t quite a snarl, but wasn’t far off either. As the ship shuddered and lurched violently to one side, she hissed softly, coiling her body low to absorb the impact.

The screech of tearing metal and splintering wood was like a scream through her skull. A section of railing to her left exploded free as the Stormrider tilted hard, splintering with a high-pitched whine. Shards of wood and metal caught her along her hip and thigh as she was thrown sideways, pain flaring hot and immediate beneath her robes. She landed hard against the deck, shoulder first, the breath knocked from her lungs in a single, sharp exhale.

For a moment, stars burst behind her eyes. Her vision tunneled, a wash of red blooming across her sight. But she forced her body to move, rolling with feline grace despite the jolt of agony that raced along her side. She pressed a hand against the wound instinctively, feeling warm blood seep between her fingers. Shallow. Manageable. Later.

She could hear voices shouting around her, the panic of crew and passengers mixing with the sickening screech of the ship’s hull scraping rock. Her scales glimmered faintly in the pulsing light of broken arcane wards, her serpentine pupils dilated as she scanned the horizon.

The impact rattled through her bones as the Stormrider struck land at last, grinding across stone and sand in a cacophony of metal shrieks and crackling flame. The jolt threw Meiyu against the deck again, another sharp burst of pain radiating up her spine. But she endured, breathing shallow, her expression calm save for the tightening at the corners of her mouth.

When the world finally stilled, Meiyu dragged herself to her knees, her hair falling in a dark curtain around her face. She brushed it back with one bloodied hand, golden amber eyes glittering as they surveyed the wreckage. Fires burned along the deck, casting shadows that flickered and danced like hungry ghosts.

She stood, testing her injured side, and then glanced back over her shoulder at the woman who had called for her before the descent. Her expression was cool, her voice a low hiss edged with wry amusement.

“You have a terrible sense of timing,” she drawled, one brow lifting faintly.

And with that, she moved away from the railing, every step measured and controlled despite the sting of her wound, her mind already shifting to the next problem. Survival. Opportunity. The game never ended, after all. Her mind also oddly went to the dark elf and the young girl from earlier as well as the white haired man with an eyepatch, wondering how they were faring in this situation. Strange.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Interactions/Mentions: @Apex Sunburn Iyen & Sjan-dehk @Oso Killian, @Silverpaw Wulfric, @princess Alibeth & Edin
Aesthetic: Outfit

Kalliope’s fingers still lingered near Sjan-dehk’s, a touch meant more for grounding than comfort. Her jaw had long since tensed, her breath carefully metered, but her expression remained composed–deliberately so. Only her eyes betrayed the storm behind it all. Keen. Calculating. Ever-moving.

And then she leaned in.

Barely. A subtle tilt of her shoulders. Just enough for her words to pass unnoticed by anyone else–but not by the two seated closest.

Her voice was barely a whisper. A breath in Sjan-dehk’s native tongue.

“They’re watching for reactions,” she murmured. “That man is a witch hunter. I’d bet my life there are more of them here tonight.”

Her gaze slid back toward the bound woman, then to the nobles–whispering, gasping, posturing in false outrage. But she saw what others missed. The white-haired woman at the hunter’s side. The casual familiarity. The lack of fear.

Another one.

“Magic is illegal in Caesonia,” she continued, soft but certain. “It is hunted. And those found guilty are usually burned at the stake.”

Her eyes returned to the two beside her, letting the gravity settle between them. “They won’t just kill the user. They’ll kill anyone who protects them. Publicly. To make an example.”

She paused. Inhaled.

“If you brought any with you who use it… hide them. Tonight. Tell them to keep their magic buried. If they’re caught, there will be no mercy.”

Her fingers brushed her glass again, the motion automatic.

“I don’t care if someone uses magic,” she added, quieter still. “Magic can be twisted, yes… but so can a blade. Or a stroke of a pen. Or a lie. Anything can be dangerous. Doesn’t mean it always is.”

Her tone remained even, but her eyes sharpened like cut glass.

“These people–” her gaze cut to Killian, then to Alibeth, “–they want fear. They want someone to flinch so they can drag them off next. To them, to the church, magic isn’t just criminal. It’s demonic.”

And then, Wulfric spoke.

She heard his voice–and the faintest tremor passed through her fingers in her lap. A twitch. Nothing more. But it betrayed the shock running cold down her spine.

Not rage.

Not fear.

Shock.

Did he just…?

Wulfric hadn’t accused Alibeth outright–but he may as well have. His words had been clean, calm, measured. Not a sword swung in fury–but a dagger slid between ribs. A carefully placed cut. Deliberate.

But not perfect.

“A few days ago.” That phrase echoed in her mind. To most, meaningless. But not to her. Not to anyone skilled in court politics. Not to anyone looking for blood in the water.

It was a crack.

A timeline that didn’t add up.

A delay that raised questions.

If he’d seen magic, why wait? Why not act then? Was he shielding his mother? Was this a ploy for power? Did he hesitate because of love… or strategy?

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that others would ask.

Loyalists to Alibeth. Enemies of Wulfric. Even cautious allies might start to whisper. His words were enough to damn her, but they left just enough room to damn him too. Was he a magic sympathizer or just power hungry?

And Edin?

Still smiling. Still indulging.

But even he had to know, he couldn’t challenge Wulfric without unraveling his own legacy. The King’s hands were tied now. He couldn’t afford to appear divided. Not in front of the Church. Not in front of this hall.

Which meant…

Kalliope’s eyes narrowed, the smallest of smirks ghosting at the corner of her lips.

Which meant the game had shifted.

There was a way to spin this. To make it look like hesitation. Like corruption. Like an heir willing to sacrifice his mother for power. Or a witch corrupting the sacred family, creating a sympathizer from the heir.

She didn’t need to create a scandal. Just amplify it. One whisper here. One nudge there. A letter left just carelessly enough. A truth hinted at, never spoken.

Let the court turn inward.

Let them eat their own.

She lifted her glass, letting the motion mask the glint in her eye. The flame had already been lit. All she had to do now… was let it spread.

She took a sip, hiding a smirk as she did so.

“Oh,” she murmured, tone wicked and just a touch amused, “how delicious.”