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quench this fire
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[se] you're such a heaven...
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hold me like we're dying ...
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Chulane | Whimzi
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and the ice sea cracks al...
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try to tear my way in
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deep down the hollow
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don’t you say it
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forget me not
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[se] and the cry goes out
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  don’t you say it
Posted by: Vervain - 09-22-2020, 08:05 PM - Forum: The Devil's Advocates - Replies (13)

She’d been able to smell the smoke on the air the night it happened. But by the time Vai got outside, by the time there was any help to be had, the Senzaok house was burned to the ground, and all its inhabitants were missing. It’s been a couple of days since then, and between running fucking Torchline and trying to take care of the rest of the sick, she’s been searching for her runaways.

That search has taken her to the Slagveld today, and up to where Sunjata had taken her previously. Vai looks ruffled, tanned from the LongHeat sun, her curls pulled up off the back of her neck, and she’s got no time for anyone’s shit, as is evidenced by the way she heads straight up the stairs. [say]”Sunny?”[/say] she calls, trying to hide the hope in her voice. [say]”Nate?”[/say]

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  Compensating for Something
Posted by: Friedrich - 09-20-2020, 03:32 AM - Forum: The Spire - Replies (11)

Friedrich stared up transfixed at the looming spire. It was not part of skyline he remembered. His back bowed slightly under heavy thoughts. Where were the legions? Where was his house? Where was his favorite tea shop? Where were the corpses?

Well, maybe some questions didn’t need answers immediately. Or ever.

He had waited as long as he could in his study, but the lack of house surrounding his solid concrete cube suggested a regime change. And, that his social capital may be worth less than he had hoped in the ‘new world’.  His gaze focused back on this unfamiliar edifice, narrowing his eyes at this interloper intervening in his moonlight.

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  and find the box that's gay and crush it
Posted by: Loren - 09-20-2020, 02:03 AM - Forum: Domiciles - No Replies

It took them a while (and Astra a lot of wrangling) but eventually Loren, Oliver, and the luxere stumbled into the Sanctuary. The healer looked around at it in a daze. Every time he stopped to stare at something, frowning, his companion would nudge him forward.

Perhaps because it was familiar or perhaps because it was such an imposing and noticeable landmark, they found themselves in front of the Launceleyn Manor. He grimaced when he realized that. Still, his hand reached for the door.

Letting the blacksmith and Astra into the building, the Firebrand slammed the door shut behind him. Then he slumped against it. He found himself sliding down until he sat on the ground, legs splayed in front of him. In human form, his clothes were tattered and dirty, stained with sweat, blood, and ash. His skin was sallow and his cheekbones stood out starkly.

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  List of Sick Ascended
Posted by: Samuel - 09-19-2020, 08:16 PM - Forum: Shrine - No Replies

Dear Goddess mother Voice,

hello

You asked for a list of Sick Ascended so I tried to get a list of Sick Ascended for you because you asked for a list of Sick Aband Ascended.

THE LIST:

- Me
- Wesex
- Amun (we had a nice time together in Torchline though! He held my hand )
- Bastien
- Neron (I only heard second-hand about these ones...............please don't be mad if it isn't true.)
- Nate (we did NOT have a nice time. He pushed me against the wall.)

I love you,
I think,

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  you don't have long, i am on to you
Posted by: Gideon - 09-18-2020, 06:26 PM - Forum: The Spire - Replies (4)

Well, there it was. Gideon stood at the base of the Spire, staring up at the monolithic structure: foreboding, impressive and chilling all at once. A place of real history. Once, he would have seen it as a symbol of control and beauty, but now that the Voice had escaped, left it torn and broken...it was simply a sad monument to the power of wickedness.

He reached out to put a hand to it's smooth surface, whispering under his breath a prayer of hope, that one day they might be able to capture the Voice and her followers in a more successful prison (Gideon would rather she be destroyed, of course, but due to her perverse divine-like powers, he knew that wasn't always going to be possible). Once he was done with his prayers, he peeked through the entrance - having come to the Grounds using his own ability, he had not yet seen the portal.

Shuddering at the atmosphere of the whole place, he turned to leave: and when he did, he saw a figure before him; before he could even see them entirely ,something gripped him like fear. Knowledge of a dark energy, something wrong. Gideon stared, waiting for the enemy to define itself.

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  hold me like we're dying from the liquor that we drank
Posted by: Sunjata - 09-16-2020, 04:53 AM - Forum: The Devil's Advocates - Replies (42)

In reality… What was a home? In Sunjata’s experience, he’d found a home with people more than tangible places. He’d had homes before, a vast vibrant one in Korofi with white walls and blood inside. He’d had a rapidly shifting room in the Rebellion when they had to leave at the drop of a hat. He’d danced between beds and couches when he fled his father’s reach. And he’d done much of the same here. The house by the ocean was just that. A house. They could always have another.

His home was with Nate.

It doesn’t take long – or maybe it takes an eternity, he can’t tell – before they’re stumbling into the Slagveld, slipping up familiar stairs to a door that’s locked, a key swiftly (and fumbling) in his attempt to unlock it. And once they’re inside? He locks the door again, gives Haai a lot of scratches behind the ears and wings for her work, before depositing the items he’d brought from home atop the makeshift dining table within the main room.

And then he turns to Nate, exhaustion finally weighing heavy in his bones and his mind, adrenaline lost. He reaches out for his fiancé, to bury his head into Nate’s shoulder, the scent of woodfire smoke and cigarette smoke thick within both their bodies. At least there weren’t any shadows here, not yet anyway. "[say]Thank you... For getting Luci's lantern.[/say]" He murmurs against the Ascended's skin and hair, simply taking a moment to breathe.

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  hide your fires
Posted by: Samuel - 09-11-2020, 05:57 PM - Forum: Sanctuary - Replies (8)

After speaking to Loren, Sam's faith in the world was rapidly falling. Some of the smartest, most put-together people he knew were sick; they seemed to be degrading distressingly quickly, leaving Sam unsure if this whole mess would be solved. He also struggled to shake the constant, never-quite-ending fear that this was somehow all his fault.

He had thought to go to the safehouse to see if he could find any of the Ascended family: The Voice had wanted him to find which of them were sick and perhaps they could band together through this confusing, worrying time. He was sure the rest of the family were as baffled as he was in regards to why and how they were sick, when that was meant to simply not happen. How their systems had failed without any warning.

Before he could even make it to the edges of Sanctuary, though, Sam had found he was exhausted again. It was odd, to feel tired without pain or actual physical sleepiness, but he found motivation for each step failing more and more until he was sitting on a wall just outside of Sanctuary, leaning with his head in his hands, trying to desperate force himself to think coherent, clear thoughts.

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  SE - for which the world shows little pity
Posted by: Wessex - 09-10-2020, 01:38 AM - Forum: Fields - Replies (7)

Without a filter, without the right frame of mind,  there is no disguising Wessex’s feelings. Aggressive and antagonistic, the Wraith has more than a few feelings to let out to a certain star-wrought Goddess.

Carrying a dead rat by the tail - it had the misfortune of looking for food in her shack while she was there - she stalks, naked and remarkably pale, into the Fields at night. Not too close to Safrin’s shrine, mind you, but close enough to see the pillars and smell the flowers from afar. Fuck the Ascended senses, sometimes. Her lips curl against her fangs and she throws the dead rat to the ground, sending a small ripple through the grass.[say] “Fuck you, Safrin,”[/say] she hisses into the darkness.

Ah, but the thought seizes her and she lifts her arms to the sky, the picture of Earthly witchery and defiance.[say] “I wish the Blight had taken you,”[/say] she screams,[say] “I hope the stars fall! And die!  And the skies abandon you!”[/say] Wanting to throw something, to hurl it upward in the hopes that it might, just might touch the Goddess, she picks up the rat and hurls it upward, putting all her demigodly strength behind it. It goes - somewhere. Not so much up, but up and out, but Wessex only has eyes for the stars.

[say] “Here’s your godsdamned gift. With love from your faaaaaaavorite Abomination!”[/say]

Because that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? If Safrin had just offered to help, had even tried, Wessex wouldn’t be here. The Wraith is a product of the herald’s own fickle natures and she’s going to be the biggest thorn in their side for as long as she can.

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  Some Kind Of Nature
Posted by: Osozo - 09-08-2020, 08:11 PM - Forum: The Artist's Sanctuary - Replies (5)

Well, they were back in the Hollowed Grounds now, for better or for worse. Though, from the whisperings on the winds, it seemed it might be leaning towards worse, some flu rippling through the population.

Sickness is the absolute last thing on Osozo’s mind as they walk the familiar path to the artists sanctuary though. Something else, someone else has been occupying their thoughts, has spurred this journey. Azrael. Another being forged solely by the Voice’s hand, a child, the closest thing they will have to a sibling in this world. Closer than the other ascended. Closer than Wessex even.

Bastien is a babbling, near incoherent mess, filled with delusions Osozo doesn’t know how to navigate, they they ignore easily in the face of their true purpose here. The Demi-god ascends the stairs, ignoring the pieces of a home, messy and alien, and enters rooms at random, until they find Azrael.

[say]”Hello.”[/say] They stand at the door, hair shifting between a rainbow of brightness, eyes glowing with the Voice’s own blue. After a moment, they crouch, meaning to get on their siblings level, to seem less imposing.

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  hot hot
Posted by: Oliver - 09-01-2020, 01:53 PM - Forum: Domiciles - Replies (21)

The symptoms all flooded in at once. Waking to a start, Oliver’s face felt intensely hot, but the rest of his body was flooded with chills coursing down his skin causing the hairs to stand up. A loud groan left his lips and rather than understanding he was sick and just needed to sleep, Oliver immediately wanted to put a stop to these bad feeling. Thankfully, the decorative quilt was at the foot of the bed to add some spice to the room. Reaching forward, Oliver grabbed it and went to work.

Tightly wrapping the quilt around his body, Oliver tried to relax, but even this wasn’t enough. It didn’t feel like enough and no matter how tightly he wrapped it around his body, he didn’t feel any calmer or happier. Removing the quilt, Oliver staggered to his feet and was just about to search for a second when an idea clicked in his brain. Why use two blankets.... when he could instead use the fireplace! Wrapping the quilt around his body, he slipped on socks to aid in heating himself up only to make the slow trek down to the fireplace.

It was only when he got down to it that he remembered he didn’t have enough firewood for it. Ready to just use the kitchen instead, the rusted over gears clicked once in his head. Not bothering to slip on any shoes or get changed otherwise, Oliver departed the manor and slowly made his way towards the shop.

Being outside seemed to click another thing inside of him. He had to look over each shoulder multiple times. Check every alley and box. People were wanting him, yes. He could hear someone say his name but nobody was in the alley! Maybe someone wanted him dead or maybe he had made an accident once. It wasn’t safe and while he thought he was jogging now, he was simply walking faster.

The shop was a welcomed sight and Oliver went to work and quickly set up the fire. Satisfied with his work, Oliver sat down on the ground next to it and closed his eyes, very happy to have the intense warmth his body craved.

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