Ninth House | Official RP Thread

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“Geez, relax, brother. Don’t you ever get tired of being a depressed soul?” Elijah teased as he slumped in the seat beside his brother. “Ah, you know, I am just teasing. It’s just easy to get under your skin.” He smirked before settling into a serious expression as he gazed at the crowd before him.

All these fresh faces, none of which he knew. He felt a pang of anxiety come up on him, but he pushed it away with a long breath. Elijah was popular with his former classmates, but perhaps this time that wouldn’t be the case. It’s not that he was terrified of being alone; he just didn’t want to be. It allowed his dark thoughts to get the best of him, which he could not allow.

“So tell me, Flo, will things be different for you this time or will you seclude yourself once again like before?” Although those words would sound like another mock to his brother, Elijah was being sincere this time. Sure, the two twins did not get along well anymore but that did not mean Elijah did not care for his brother. After all, Floriano was his other half—whether he liked it or not.

Elijah forced a smile back into his face before he gave his brother a shoulder pat, realizing that his question would have caused a more serious exchange between them. “I’ll actually let you consider that on your own. I’m going to go have a drink and give this party some real attention.” He paused for a moment before grinning and saying, “Try to do the same; you never know, you might get lucky.” Elijah teased his brother once more as he laughed and winked before he made his way to the drinking station, hoping to meet someone who might make his stay more fun.

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@sunflower.flow sorry for taking so long :smiling_face_with_tear:
ORP: approachable <3

4 Likes

Copy of Copy of Silas (1)

[౨ৎ]

At that instant, Amani was engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, none of them bearing any semblance of positivity. She had advanced toward him, her hand connecting with his cheek in a swift motion, her expression contorted with disdain. ‘You knew it was me, didn’t you?’ she had demanded, her voice laced with anger and accusation. Yet, he had remained unperturbed, devoid of any visible emotion, as he calmly refuted her claim, stating that no, he had not initially recognized her. It was only the faint tattoo on her back that had eventually led him to the truth.

Ah yes, the ‘tattoo’—the tiny Monet inscription adorning her lower back. He must have noticed it, must have caught a glimpse when she had turned away, and she could sense his gaze penetrating her skin, scrutinizing every detail.

“Not at the start, no, but halfway through,” She hissed, “You could have stopped at any moment, ended the charade when you realized it was me, but you chose not to.".” She began, “You didn’t stop because you couldn’t—because you couldn’t resist the opportunity to seek revenge on me for leaving you to be poor, friendless little Enzo, or because you harbor some twisted obsession with me.” She spat out.

“I think it’s both, isn’t it?” She asked, her voice cutting through the air. “You couldn’t stand that I left you so easily, that I never came back for you. Left you little treats wherever I walked, so you could always follow me, we could always be together and You could pretend… .” She trailed off, stepping closer to him until she was close enough to whisper in his ear.
" We could pretend that we were each other’s salvation, that I needed you just as much as you wanted me." Amani lowered her voice, “But the thing is, no one has ever needed you or wanted you. Not your parents, who either chose death over you or completely abandoned you. Not Bigfoot, who remains friends with Jesse despite knowing how much you despise him. And not me”, she declared, her gaze unwavering.

“It sucks doesn’t it? Being so alone in this world, not having me holding your hand, telling you everything is going to be ok, that we shall be partners in crime forever.” She took a step back, her eyes cold as she stared at him, leaving her words hanging heavily in the air.

“But hey,” Amani began, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she glanced over his outfit. “I suppose it is a crime to look this beautiful,” She said, referring to herself, “And for your clothes to represent everything wrong with men fashion today, so I suppose we are both committing crimes together, I’ll give you that Vincenzo.” She emphasized his name, knowing he preferred not to go by it.

“Look at us, being partners in crime once more. It’s ok, I know your smiling, twirling your thinning hair and kicking your feet deep down, is that right my good little chien?” She mocked.

She fell silent, crossing her arms as she attempted to calm herself down. She needed to regain her composure so she could leave. Her hands dropped to her sides, her gaze flickering towards the door, her feet poised to take her away from this suffocating place, away from him. She wanted to forget this ever happened, to cleanse herself with water and wash away the memories. She could blame it all on the alcohol, even though she hadn’t drunk enough to be intoxicated, and blame it on the demonic psycho.

Tomorrow, she would go to a café before class, order a hot caramel latte, and perhaps a bagel or croissant to go with it. She would push tonight’s events from her mind, forget the fact that she slept with Vincenzo, and try to ignore the part of her that had enjoyed it.

She was on the verge of leaving when he began to speak, his voice carrying an unexpected edge of anger. Her brows rose in surprise, and despite her efforts to remain unaffected, Amani found herself freezing. She glanced down briefly before meeting his gaze, any trace of pity or friendliness evaporating instantly. What did he know about her? About her family? What did he even know about having a family?

She did not want him to see, that he was having an effect on her, that she had flinched when he spoke about her fiance. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure. “And I’m sure your parents killed themselves because they will rather go to fcking hell than take care of a son like you, and honestly I can’t blame them,” She retorted, her voice dripping with venom. “Be careful when speaking about parents, Vincenzo, you know nothing about my father nor our relationship, you don’t even know how a proper family is supposed to be like or how love is supposed to feel like. What do you even know about love?” She questioned. “No, really because I want to know what makes you so cocky, so self-righteous that you feel like you have any right to judge all that you ever could get… Was I a shxtty friend?” Amani questioned as she began circling around him.

“Perhaps it was shxtty on my part to give you that ring, to let you rest your head on my lap while I ran my fingers through your hair as we both poured out our problems,” she remarked, standing behind him with a mocking glint in her eyes. “Do you remember, Enzo? Do you remember the day we were on the rooftop together, drowning in exams and stress?” She continued, her tone laced with bitter reminiscence. “You saw how overwhelmed I was, how much I had studied, and then you stole my books, insisting that I follow the clues you left behind to retrieve them. I laughed at how ridiculous it all seemed, yet secretly relished in the moment of relaxation you provided. You were right, I did need that break. But yes, , it was indeed shxtty of me to let you do that, to give you the wrong impression of what you meant to me, when if only I was brave enough, I should have pushed your head off and watched you fall because you truly have no self-respect.” Amani whispered softly into his ear. It was so soft, so loving the tone she used, that one would not imagine the words that she was saying could be so bitter, so cruel.

“Oh no! I Left you when i found out you were a poor, sad guy with no family and money and blah blah. Get over it, it was months ago.” She told him, leaving his back and going in front of him. “I can’t believe-i can’t believe that maybe there was actually a part of me that li-” Amani stopped herself, shaking her head. "No, let me not dwell on that, because it will get me so angry to think there was actually a part of me blind to the fact that you were and still are-no matter how much you have apparently changed- a pathetic, self-pitting fool. " she seethed, her voice barely above a whisper . “And I want nothing to do with you.” Withiout giving him time to add something or leave himself, Amani turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Vincenzo alone with his thoughts.

Her father was right, her father is always right, even when she did not want him to be She muttered, about to leave to her room.

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With Aurora

As Amani made her way toward her destination, her steps were abruptly halted by a woman with bright orange hair and a white dress stepping in front of her. Carrot top, Amani thought, recognizing Aurora Dear, the headmaster’s only living and breathing sperm—unless, of course, Adrian had other children no one knew about. Regardless, Amani had no time to exchange pleasantries or engage with the school’s favorite red-headed tomato. With a dismissive glance, she attempted to resume her steps, only to find Aurora feigning a stumble and intentionally spilling water on herself.

“Why” The red banshee screamed, drawing people in. “Why did you do that? What have I done to you?” Aurora continued, drawing in people.

Amani’s eyes narrowed, her Patience’s wearing thing, and she considered; walking away, but there was a crowd and it would just lead them into talking more. So with a calculated sigh, Amani shifted her demeanor, allowing a few fake tears to well up in her eyes. She glanced around, ensuring that the growing crowd was watching her closely before turning her gaze back to Aurora.

“I-I can’t believe you’re blaming me for this,” she said, her voice quivering with faux indignation. “You were about to pour that drink on me, but you tripped and spilled it on your own dress instead”. Amani continued, “Just like your father seemed to trip on his words when addressing North, incompetency and bluffing must run in the family,” Amani muttered the last part under her breath, not wanting to be overheard by the crowd or by Adrian if he happened to be nearby.

" I know we did not start on a good foot, Aurora” " Amani made sure to emphasize on her name, just in case anyone did not know who she was due to the mask (though her hair was an obvious give-away) with a soft tone.
“But I thought we were getting closer, especially after you told me about what really happened with M…” She let the sentence hang, a masterful stroke of leaving the accusation unsaid, yet implied.

Whatever game Aurora was playing, Amani was prepared to play along, even if she didn’t particularly want to participate. Hopefully, though,the game is short because Amani was tired of games for the day.


@astxrism

@raviola

5 Likes

image

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Freya was unsure about how the conversation became about the pastries being served at the party. Had she not heard what Freya just asked? In fact, she was confused as to how this had turned into a conversation in the first place. The simple plan in asking this girl to delete the photo and for them to move on with their lives was clearly far more complicated. At this point she probably should have just ignored the flash she had noticed. “I didn’t approach you to talk about… the refreshments and music,” She retorted, her tone stoic, in that it was more a matter-of-fact comment rather an attempt to insult.

The idea of Freya’s photo being taken hadn’t even particularly angered her, but when the photographer was arguing that it was her imagination that had seen it, that emotion started to arise. Freya trusted her instinct, and her own mind over what anyone else would tell her. Especially over what this girl was trying to tell her. Even more considering the fact that Freya hadn’t been drinking - and this person certainly had.

As that observation came over her, Freya couldn’t unsee it. This girl was drunk, and possibly dictating her actions right now. It was potentially why she had been trying to blame Freya’s mind, and maybe why she was stumbling in her steps, drowning amongst the sea of bodies around them. “I think you need to get out of here,” She told her, mainly thinking out loud. When she realised how that sounded, she shook her head as if to dismiss that statement. “I mean, you shouldn’t be here,” Freya attempted again. Though with trying to avoid stating the obvious that she was too drunk, combined with the difficulty in talking over the music, it was seemingly impossible for her to get the intended message across.

She had wanted to leave the ball anyway. Doing so with someone else she certainly had not anticipated, but it just hadn’t felt right to leave this girl in her current state. Getting her outside, though, was the extent to her plans. So when they were stood outside the building, Freya now felt lost. “Is your… room near? Or can you get to it or something?” She questioned, looking around and hoping this girl would give her some clue on what the next plan of action would be.

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@Kristi Thalia

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Dante


“Well, if it’s ‘Girls Girls Girls,’ then I must be in for quite the adventure,” Dante replied with a chuckle, acknowledging her dry humor. "But who’s to say imminent danger can’t be thrilling in its own way?"

As Celestine continued to express her love for fashion and admiration for the 1967 Balenciaga oval dress, Dante’s amusement grew. “Ah, so you’re really a lover of vintage fashion, are you?” Dante quipped, his tone light and teasing. "Well, I must say, you wear your passion quite well. But don’t sell yourself short, Celestine. You may not be a fashion standard, but you certainly have a knack for making a statement with your style. Who needs modern taste when you’ve got timeless elegance?

Dante responded to Celestine’s critique on his outfit with a playful smirk and a raised eyebrow, his tone light and teasing. “Ah, so you think my all-black ensemble lacks creativity?” he quipped, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know that black is the epitome of sophistication and mystery, my dear Celestine. As for leather, well, let’s just say it adds a certain… edge to the ensemble.”

“Ah, so now you’re offering to transform me from greasy greaser to James Dean, hmm?” Dante reacted, his tone light but tinged with amusement. “While I appreciate the offer to undergo a complete style overhaul, I must admit I’m rather fond of my current look. But I must say, the image of me strutting into a party in an all-leather detective suit does have a certain appeal,” he added with a playful grin and a hint of a chuckle. “Though I fear it might cause more than a few raised eyebrows among the crowd.”

“Aha, so I see I’ve been at the receiving end of your little mind games,” Dante said with a shrug, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I must say, you succeeded admirably. Here I was, following along with your references like a lost puppy, only to realize you were leading me down a rabbit hole. But it’s all part of the game, isn’t it?” He chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Well played,” Dante continued, his tone filled with playful admiration. “You’ve managed to keep me on my toes, and for that, I tip my hat to you.” As he spoke those words, for comedic effect, he pretended to tip his non existing hat. He knew it was a bit corny, but if it drew a little smile, it was worth it.

“Well, well, aren’t we the expert jeweler all of a sudden?” Dante said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “I must say, you have quite the discerning eye for quality. But let’s not be too hasty in dismissing comedy pyrite just yet. After all, even fool’s gold can have its moments of brilliance, wouldn’t you agree?” He accompanied his retort with a playful grin, teasing Celestine while also acknowledging her knack for clever wordplay.

“A fascinating insight, Celestine,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue. “Indeed, the human mind is a curious thing, capable of perceiving subtle nuances even in the most mundane of surroundings.” Leaning in slightly, as if sharing a secret, he continued, “But what if I were to suggest that perhaps those who seek only peaceful admiration are unwitting participants in the garden’s grand design? What if, in their quest for serenity, they unknowingly become entangled in the very secrets they seek to avoid?” His tone remained enigmatic, leaving room for interpretation as he continued, “It’s a curious paradox, isn’t it? To admire without seeking, yet still find oneself drawn into the mysteries that lie beneath the surface.”

“Whoa there, Celestine, easy with the assumptions,” Dante said with a smirk, his tone light and playful but with a hint of challenge. “I never said you were the only one with a viewpoint, but hey, when you’re as stylish as you are, can you blame a guy for noticing?” Leaning in slightly, he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “And as for the butterfly effect, well, who’s to say a simple gesture couldn’t spark a revolution? After all, every grand idea starts with a single thought, doesn’t it?” He flashed her a roguish grin, inviting her to ponder his cryptic words.

As they walked outside, Dante played along with Celestine’s dramatic statement about her mother’s perspective on men using women as accessories. He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise at her exaggerated remark. “My, my, Celestine, such a vivid imagination your mother had,” he teased, his tone lighthearted. “But I assure you, my choice of attire has nothing to do with turning you into a mere accessory. I simply prefer the understated elegance of black.”

Dante’s jovial demeanor faltered for a moment as he processed Celestine’s outburst. It was clear that his playful banter had struck a nerve, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at him. He hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings; after all, he was just being his usual witty self, engaging in the back-and-forth banter that he enjoyed so much. But as he looked into Celestine’s eyes, he saw a hint of vulnerability that he hadn’t noticed before. He realized that beneath her poised exterior, she was human, with her own insecurities and sensitivities. His heart sank as he realized the impact his words had on her, and he felt a twinge of remorse for his thoughtless behavior.

For Dante, teasing and joking around had always been his way of connecting with others, a way to break the ice and keep things light-hearted. He never meant any harm by it; in fact, he often used humor as a defense mechanism, a way to deflect attention from his own vulnerabilities. But now, faced with Celestine’s hurt and anger, Dante couldn’t help but question his own actions. Had he gone too far? Had his jokes crossed a line without him even realizing it? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let her down, that he had failed to see beyond the surface and recognize the pain beneath her facade. As he listened to her impassioned words, Dante felt a swell of guilt wash over him. He had been so focused on trying to be the life of the party, the joker with a quick wit and a ready smile, that he had failed to see the impact of his words on those around him. And now, confronted with Celestine’s raw emotion, he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Woah, woah, Celestine, let’s take a step back here,” Dante said raising his hands slightly in a placating gesture. “I never meant to belittle you or your experiences. If anything, I’ve been thoroughly impressed by your grace and elegance throughout the night.”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, his tone earnest. “I can see how my teasing might have come across as undermining, but believe me, that was never my intention. I’ve enjoyed our banter and your company immensely. You’re far from being a ‘Prissy Little Princess in Gold’ in my eyes.”

Before Dante could say anything else, he could see Celestine seemed physically unwell. “Celestine,” Dante said softly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing tone. “Are you alright?” He stepped a bit closer, wanting to genuinely support her, but also knowing he did not want to make the situation worse. His expression however, showed concern for her well-being. “Take all the time you need. I won’t touch you, I promise.”

As they have moved, and Dante had unmasked himself, he was initially taken aback by Celestine’s deduction about having figured out his his identity before he had revealed himself. He paused for a moment, processing her words and the implications of her keen observation. As she continued to speak, confidently laying out her reasoning and conclusions, he listened, his curiosity piqued by her boldness and perceptiveness.

“Ah, so you’re not one to reveal all your cards at once,” he commented to her reaction of him revealing himself, his tone teasing. “But I suppose that’s what makes you so fascinating, Celestine. You keep us all guessing. And trying to pry into my secrets, are we?” Dante said, flashing a playful grin. “Well, Celestine, a true gentleman never reveals all his mysteries.”

He then adopted a more contemplative tone, leaning in slightly as if sharing a confidential tidbit. “But I suppose I could share a hint or two, just to keep things interesting,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s just say there’s more to me than meets the eye. Perhaps someday you’ll uncover some of those secrets for yourself.”

“Bold indeed, but isn’t life more fun when we take a few risks?” Dante quipped, his tone light and teasing. “Besides, what’s a masquerade without a bit of intrigue and daring? But let’s not forget, it takes two to tango. Your own boldness in unraveling this little mystery is equally commendable.”

Her analysis of the different groups and her deduction impressed him, and he felt a sense of admiration for her intellect and deductive skills. However, he also maintained a playful demeanor, not wanting to give away too much of his own thoughts or intentions.

When Celestine directly addresses him as Mr. Dante Blackwell, Dante flashed a wry smile, acknowledging her accuracy while also maintaining a sense of mystery. “Well, it seems you’ve easily uncovered one layer of the puzzle, Celestine. But as you said, there’s always more beneath the surface.”
“What you haven’t yet uncovered,” Dante began, his gaze piercing, “is why we’re truly here.” He held her gaze, his expression inscrutable. “Our journey for the evening has only just begun.”

Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he noted the time with a sense of anticipation. “He should be ready by now,” Dante muttered, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. Motioning for Celestine to follow, he led the way toward the entrance gate of the academy.

As they approached the gate, Dante’s eyes flickered with a mix of apprehension and determination and he peaked at his watch impatiently. He couldn’t afford any missteps now. Not after the evening’s turbulent events with Celestine lingering in his mind.


@cordyx - Celestine

5 Likes

Aurora New

{ ball / with Amani }
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How much luck does a girl have if out of everyone - EVERYONE - she targeted the girl she liked the least? No, she can’t even say she likes Amani the least, Aurora simply despises her. The girl was nothing but bad energy and bad manners. We could stay here and talk for hours about why and how this feud started but this is not the time nor place for it. I’m sure you’ll get to see a similar scenario very soon in which Aurora will not be the one who will accidentally start something.

Now here is what Aurora was expecting once she realized who was standing in front of her: a big dramatic scene, a lot of yelling and a few, not so nice, words. But what did she get? She was… Not quite sure. Was Amani playing along? Was… What was she doing? The girl was known for her manipulative tactics, but this felt different somehow. A bit stunned, Aurora let the girl have her own reaction, at least glad to see it was drawing in some attention. Until she heard the words that seemed to be spoken only for her to hear. The mention of her father’s stumble on his words did cause a flicker of annoyance, which she quickly masked. Not like it mattered, under the mask it was hard to read anyones emotions.

Suppressing a surge of anger, Aurora forced herself to maintain her outward composure. She couldn’t afford to let Amani see how Her words could affect her. “That’s just ridiculous, why would I do that? Just apologize to me,” Aurora tried to make her voice shake as people listened, only to murmur her last words. Just like Amani did, “Be careful what you talk about.” Why would she warn her about anything? There is a lot that people don’t know and she didn’t want her father to keep dealing with students tonight… Or Aurora just didn’t want her attempt to fix something actually make things worse.

But somehow things got even more confusing - the way Amani was acting somehow nice, suggesting they were getting closer. Well, she could only wish and truth be told, it felt nice not to actually fight with her. “Just like you did a few days ago, Amani.” She referred to the way she asked Amani to apologize, bringing in a lie herself. “You didn’t have to beg for it though,” she added loud enough for people to hear but not make a big deal out of it. Whatever game they were both playing soon came to an end as Aurora could only guess what Amani’s words were leading to. Who she was brining into this conversation.

To stop the girl from bringing up the name she wanted for a night to forget about, without much thought, Aurora turned around and with a swift movement snatched the glass from the unsuspecting student’s hand, her fingers tightening around the stem with determination. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her as she turned back toward Amani, her heart pounding in her chest. This was a risky move, one that could either diffuse the situation or escalate it further. But she was willing to take that chance if it meant silencing Amani. In one fluid motion, Aurora tilted the glass slightly, allowing the liquid to spill over onto Amani’s dress. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry!” Aurora exclaimed with sympathy in her voice as she faked concern. “It just slipped out of my hand.”


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@Kristi - Amani

5 Likes

celestine beaumont

you keep me hangin’ on

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Twisting the edge of her heel as a way to kill time due to her growing disinterest in the conversation, she was left with little words to say but only a safe word used by many people from her circle as a way to reply to such questions, “Quite.” With a hidden smile slowly peeking from the hand she had placed upon her face, there were moments of wanting to politely go out of the way and simply have a drink of her choice: White Russian. As she sees it, she does deserve another set to ease herself from being too deep in a conversation as bland as unsalted potatoes.

With her interest piqued at the conversation of 60s fashion, she was slightly interested and pleased with the conversation as she had a certain form of appreciation and familiarity to the topic at hand—something that she had found interesting by herself and stuck as a way to differentiate herself from many others. If she has the money, why not choose something many struggle to even collect an immense amount at such a young age? In response to his quips, she had given him an appreciative smile, devoid of her usual boredom: “It’s not just love. Infatuation would be the proper word. I don’t know why the 60s has pulled me, something about the miniskirts or the colorful pallets future generations seems to dislike when incorporating in their wardrobes.” Her mind in deep thought as she looked down, playing on the rim of her glass, she uttered, “I truly dread to live in that time, but the way they styled themselves and the united agreement of the world wearing the style… it breathes a sense of timelessness that is not encapsulated by a little black dress or a white satin gown.” Drinking from the glass, she looked at Dante with a soft liveliness, she gave a sigh, not out of boredom but of relief and appreciation, “Timelessness is by state of mind, no? I guess I misuse my words at certain points. No, I don’t think I’m a standard as no one will look at me and become a part of their mood board, but I guess I mostly wear the way I wear out of pure fun. Not anyone is bothered to manicure their nails, do a wet set, tease their hair, wear toilet paper for preservation, wear a brassier and girdle, wear stockings everyday, do an ensemble dressing, and make a time to do their makeup and hair.” Celestine cleared her throat, drinking for the glass after listing her routine. “But… I like it, as much as it seems too much for everyone. But honestly, it is a form of control in… making an example. Like me. I’m sure they mostly do a blowout rather than a full on perm.”

Celestine shook her head in disbelief after his rejection in a suggestion of a rejuvenation in his style. Giving a small grin, she chortled. “I assure you, this isn’t a style overhaul. You already have components of what would be a style. I would guess you already dress like a rebel, no more than Marlon Brando or James Dean, so it wouldn’t be shocking for you to completely have some updates in your wardrobe. Just think of it having another collection in your leather jackets; its just now you have an authentic 1957 leather jacket from some greaser rather than some cheap plastic imitation of a leather.” Celestine came close to Dante as she whispered, desperately wanting to do something about his choices of clothing. Appreciating the bad boy look, she wants to shine a different light on a potential that could be tapped with the right stylist. “Even if you reject it, think of it as a gift from me; you wouldn’t want to reject a gift from a woman, right? I already have something planned for you, of course, if you are complacent to agree to a diamond offer.”

“You haven’t even offered a dance to me, I fear. I was only playing along if you knew what I was talking about. I was curious if you were even going to keep up with my charade. If you truly want a game, we can try and look around the guests here. See that young fellow?” Her eyes shifted to some random man, giving direction to what may happen if he truly wants to play a true game. “I heard an hour ago about some agreement with his family. Something about an oil business and setting it out straight. But I also heard from farther seats about taking care of a man with descriptions as close to him as… taking care of pests. Now, we could play guardian angel and subtly warn him about a certain drink he will be about to drink. Typical method, but in here would be inappropriate. I would bet that the concoction is an emetic, then the plan will take place.” Looking back at Dante, she gave a mischievous smirk, unlike her, a certain form of excitement that usually is seen when planning something grandiose. “I have a hunch that this oil agreement is a way to save his family from debt, probably finding an opportunity to raise their predicament. Or maybe that oil agreement is something more, exploiting workers so as to make a message, hence 'setting it straight’. But who knows, unless we interfere, it would just unfold us into an unnecessary chaos. Too much, but fun to look from afar.”

Celestine was rather entertained by conversations such as these. The amount of mind games she had endured caused her to think slightly about the words she had to say. Despite the need to think, she was rather pleased to exercise what she had learned. With a sigh of amusement, she looked at him with such dignified confidence and said, “That is true. But shine is just appearance. We can argue that no one can tell, as it is just as luminous as gold. But let’s be real: fool’s gold is fool’s gold. It’ll flake and crumble, unlike gold, which will gouge and leave an indent. As they say, heavy is the head that wears the crown. Luminosity can’t compare to the weight gold has.” Tapping her head, she looked at him with some reassurance, “Besides, why defend comedy pyrite? Shouldn’t you be striving for gold? As I said, strive for quality, not quantity. Why settle for less when you can have more?”

“I can’t argue with that analogy. Our mind is as complex as the garden itself. Finding such beauty to the point of being entangled in a contraption made to be so complex as to perplex the knowledge of man. Admiration can spiral out of the mind to explore further, becoming prey to the gardens as they dug themselves too deep in the quest of finding pretty little flowers.” Such ideas made her mind numb in thinking of ways to reply to his questions. She had an agreement with all his interpretations, yet she found herself needing to defend what she had placed upon herself. Maybe it was by reflex, but a game of chess is not something you could leave unless one admits defeat. Continuing on, she gave the same thoughtful cadence she had brought out: “Of course, the gardens are still a place for admiration and serenity, even if you say that they will consume one with the secrets they hold. Even if you say it is inevitable for anyone to come out as safe from the gardens, one must never forget the purpose of the very same building they have been assigned to. If the gardens are a place for serenity and admiration, they have to comply with it, as betraying their purpose defeats their design. To be drawn to its beauty is part of the gardens; you usually come out clean once you stop by and admire the flowers.”

His tone irked Celestine a bit—such a playful tone, yet it was as if he hadn’t even stopped to think that she was slightly dejected from his viewpoint. Keeping up the ruse, she contained the same formal tone yet kept a weaker smile so as to make it seem less pressing for him and others to see. “Men usually do notice that first. What do they say? Do they like the look but not the personality? They like the makeup but want to see the real girl. To reiterate my point, is it only my style that is worth conversing about, or are you just here to ogle at it until you have an opportunity to slide it right off? It was fun to talk about my style, but we can move on to other topics like the weather or how am I doing after that quip of yours?” With the same tone of formality, she responded back, “That… is my point. Butterfly effects range from simple to big changes. There is nothing really to split hairs when a point is made.”

“Yes, yes, so that I can be the jovial piece of arm candy to compliment that sleek style of black you totally have.” Celestine rolled her eyes to respond back with such a playful manner. She wanted to maintain such energy, regaining an amount of energy she had so as to amp up the ruse. Keeping the dramatic elegance she flared, she looked back at him with glorious disbelief. "Besides, my mother’s imagination is not that vivid to make a statement. There is truth; she’s been one and many others. There may even be women from your generation once we go back to women not being allowed to vote. So are you implying that our plights and limited rights are simply our imagination? A woman’s hysteria? Fiend! "

The playfulness would soon end after a couple walks and a meltdown later on as the sound of silence consumed the place around them. There was a different energy that came out after everything had taken place. Thoughts ran through her mind as she made a fool of herself, running back to moments where she could’ve handled the situation differently from what she had already done. Still slumped on the hedges, she had heard a different tone from Dante that she had not heard before. Not the playful demeanor nor the insightful aura he had displayed a while back, yet a sound of worry—guilt, perhaps. Her back still turned to him, and she gave a weak, mocking chuckle. “Easy for you to say.” She had some strength to muster up words, yet she had felt a shiver in her voice if she would utter even an ounce from him. Despite her mind’s protest, she continued on with a struggling tone: “Says the one who mentioned my delightful rambles, my dear. Yeah, go on and forget everything you said and change the narrative of liking my f*cking company. I… don’t even know why… forget it.” Rubbing the droplets forming in her eyes, she saw her makeup from the gloves smudging around. In hurried frustration, she ripped out both gloves with a sense of loathing. Her mind wandered at the thought of why anyone would even want to be with her. She wasn’t great company, and she knew it. His concern and assurance of this rest gave her a certain form of frustration. She expected to be berated; even being violently thrown a piece of clothing at her as compensation for her attitude. Whatever it was, she felt miserable and grew angry looking at her manicured hands.

Its grim silence hummed across the fields as both of them took a good amount of silence. Her defeated attitude would soon be regained as she picked herself up using things that she had been taught and mastered through years of teaching. Despite her confidence sprinting back out, she still snickered at his tone of playfulness. With a tiny bit of annoyance in her tone, her eyebrows raised. “I could’ve slipped something in your drink if I wanted to, you twit. Even if I wanted to pry into your secrets, it’d only take a connection or two to know you front and back. But such matters are beneath me, and I prefer playing the long game.” Laughing at his overt confidence, she shook her head as she looked at him with utter disbelief. “Usually, bold means to make an intentional decision confidently. I don’t really define bold as obviously making a mistake to name me when I haven’t even introduced myself, but lets just support your delusions and move on from that.” As she tapped her heels with hearing his statements, she couldn’t help but mockingly laugh at him. “I am well aware of the dance that lingers around a masquerade. Don’t you forget, I have danced in the game so much that I could perform it in my sleep. Usually my boldness wouldn’t be this upfront had you not been so… openly confident in showing your true identity like a lunatic running around naked in the streets.”

As his statement began, the wait of this journey piqued her interest as she followed through every direction he had given her. With some confusion, she had wondered quite a lot of things, including why he was quite determined on this journey. Tapping on his shoulder, she looked at him with slight confusion and said, "And to whom are you referring to as ‘he’? I did not expect a third party to come, and I do not care that I look obvious. Who is he? I have my mask unfolded, and I could be implicated in whatever is happening! "

━─━────༺༻────━─━

@Jass - Dante

4 Likes

Atlas Theodore Alstone

⊱—⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅—⋅༻༺⋅—⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅—⊰

The girl began walking towards them without a skipping a beat, as if she’d sensed Atlas would wave to ask for help. That gesture, though it brought temporary reassurance, still left so much uncertainty concerning what would come next. Could she really help, or had she joined them out of curiosity? Atlas felt the tension in the air rising with each of her steps, watching as she navigated through the crowd. Tugging on the collar of his shirt again, his eyes darted between the stranger and Esther lying unconscious on the bench.

It wasn’t long until the girl arrived, and Atlas gave her a weak smile and a nod to confirm. He took a step back as she made her way to the sofa, but still close enough to look over her shoulder. As she caressed Esther’s face, Atlas held his breath in anticipation. Her hand began to glow gold, followed by a faint sound that resembled a song. The noise of the crowd and the music in the background muffled her voice, and Atlas found himself leaning closer, as if entranced by her ability. His eyes remained locked on the girl as she continued to sing, her angelic voice causing a calming wave to wash over him. Whatever she was doing it seemed to work, with the energy and glow emanating from Esther’s body.

As the girl’s spell faded and she returned to normal, Atlas blinked a few times to bring back his focus to reality. “Oh, uh, hi,” he returned her greeting, his mouth still slightly agape. He still felt like he wasn’t fully present, his thoughts occupied by Esther and this mysterious girl’s magic. “Thank you so much, I—” his speech was cut off as he saw a movement in the corner of his vision. His head snapped towards it. It was Esther, slowly getting up from the sofa.

“You’re okay!” Atlas shouted immediately after, stepping closer to kneel down beside her. “I don’t think it’s the best idea to get up so soon, maybe you should lay down,” he advised, his tone mostly calm though a hint of panic lied underneath. Their eyes met and he could see the unease hidden behind her mask. Atlas held back his next words, standing back on his feet and taking a step back. Esther jumped to her feet, and he put his hands forward as if to stop her, but froze in the process. His mouth hung open but he couldn’t speak, watching as she thanked the girl and turned on her heel right after. She ran before he could even react, and he was left standing in silence, unsure of what to do.

“Wait…!” he shouted weakly, his voice trailing off and blending in with the background. She didn’t turn back, didn’t even pause, only became a silhouette in the crowd the further she walked. Defeated, Atlas let out a sigh and lowered his arms. He thought, would it be wise to run after her when she’s in such a vulnerable state?

He turned towards the girl, looking into her eyes with an uncertain expression. “Is she going to be okay?” he asked, followed by a hollow laugh. “Your magic must’ve done wonders for her, if she could get up like nothing even happened.”

He shot a short glance into the crowd once more, letting out a sigh. “I want to go look for her, but…” He looked into the girl’s eyes, his brows clearly furrowed this time. Though he didn’t speak, he hoped the silence would betray his hesitation to ask for help.

⊱—⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅—⋅༻༺⋅—⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅—⊰

@Mouschi Esther Ruth Dubois
@raviola Desdemona Sevdaliza


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Copy of Copy of Copy of Silas

𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪

“We could always talk about the sky, architecture or photography,” Thalia suggested awkwardly, “Actually let’s not talk about photography! I never really liked it anyways,” she chuckled nervously, realizing her own aversion. “Is it just me or has the sky started not to look as blue as before?” Thalia glanced upwards, only to remember they were indoors at a masquerade ball, her cheeks flushing red.

At least, she does not know who I am, Thalia thought, resting the urge to bury her face in her hands and cringe at herself physically. Maybe she really should not have drank so much, then told herself it was to honor Miles and Serafina, two people she did not even know very well, but had gone missing.

In her own defense, it was not like Thalia had intentionally set out to drink so much. She couldn’t even recall when she had downed three glasses of alcohol. She wished she had remembered to stop herself, considering she had classes the next day. But it seemed the world was never in her favor, was it?

Apparently not, as Thalia struggled against the haze threatening to cloud her mind, attempting to grasp onto the fraying threads of coherence. She straightened her posture, hoping to appear more composed despite almost losing her balance and staggering backward.

“I think you need to get out of here,”

Thalia blinked, flinching slightly at the woman’s abrupt declaration. In that moment, a fleeting sense of panic washed over her, but then a glimmer of realization sparked in her foggy mind. This could be her escape plan, a convenient excuse to avoid delving into the uncomfortable topic of the photograph she had taken of the girl.

"I couldn’t agree more, great minds think alike no~ " Thalia blurted out, seizing the opportunity to extricate herself from the situation. Thalia pointed in a direction that led to nowhere in particular as she said, “You know what, let me just… bye!” With that awkward farewell, she turned on her heel, intending to make a hasty exit on her own.

However, in her intoxicated state, Thalia’s exit was far from graceful. She stumbled forward, colliding with something solid and sharp. Pain shot through her nose, and she couldn’t help but let out a yelp of surprise. Her tan skin reddened with embarrassment as she staggered back, clutching her injured nose.

The girl’s firm grasp on her arm steadied her, pulling her outside the building. As they stumbled outside into the cool night air, Thalia felt a wave of relief wash over her as she touched her throobing nose. The oppressive atmosphere of the ballroom seemed to lift slightly, replaced by the quiet serenity of the outdoors. But the respite was short-lived, as the woman’s question pierced through the silence, pulling Thalia back into the harsh reality of their predicament.

"“My… my room?” she echoed, her thoughts spinning in a dizzying whirlwind. She racked her brain for a coherent response, "I’m a cipher!’ is all Thalia could muster, where was her room again even? It was room 134- no no that did not seem right, it was actually the room to the left as soon as you reached the Cipher campus and ventured inside, or was it too the far left or far right?

Wherever it was, Thalia couldn’t remember right now, especially as her stomach churned uncomfortably, fighting the urge to double over and retch. The combination of alcohol and disorientation left her feeling nauseous, her senses overwhelmed by the cacophony of sounds and sensations assaulting her.

She shot the woman a pleading look, her eyes wide with desperation . “Are… are there any available toilets?” Thalia managed to choke out, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I think i’m going to-,”


@novella

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Copy of Copy of Silas (1)

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Amani found herself wishing she had simply walked away, casting a glance down at the diminutive figure of Aurora, who, though not short, seemed small in comparison to her. But leaving abruptly was bound to cause a scene, and Amani worried she might be summoned by Aurora’s '‘lovingly’ creepy father with a seagull beak that acted as a replacement for a nose for allegedly ‘disrespecting his daughter and refusing to apologize,’ as perceived by onlookers. Amani had never been called to the principal’s office in her entire school life, having been a diligent student, and she preferred not to start now.

“That’s just ridiculous, why would I do that? Just apologize to me”

Amani would sooner leap off Mount Olympus, akin to baby Hephaestus, or perhaps as Aurora’s parents should have done upon hearing her cry, than apologize to Pippi Longstocking, especially for something Amani hadn’t even done. Even if Amani was going to fake apologize, she should have at least let her done it, instead of jumping to play whatever this game was.

“Aurora, it’s okay,” Amani began, her voice laced with what she hoped passed for genuine sympathy to the onlookers. “I understand you’ve been seeking revenge ever since you saw me kiss him, but the truth is, he kissed me, not the other way around. Despite our tense relationship, I’d never intentionally hurt you.” Except of course, when the urge to slam your face to a wall and pray you break your little nose, takes full control of Amani.

“I tried to explain, I even followed you, I did not know you were dating him, and I didn’t realize he had feelings for me. I knew you liked him, and that’s why, even though we weren’t friends, I rejected him for your sake.” Of course, there was no ‘him’; Amani preferred not to associate with the people associated with Aurora, and even if there was truly a him, Amani would not have turned him down if she knew Aurora liked him; Amani would have kissed him when she knew Aurora was watching, and made him tell her all the things Amani did better than Aurora, not to fuel Amani’s ego—because trust, Amani’s ego—was already high enough—but more so to wound Aurora’s ego.

“But you still blamed me, even when I tried to clarify things. It’s always the girl who gets blamed in situations like this,” Amani lamented, her expression carefully composed to convey sadness, though the mask helped conceal her true emotions. Turning to the crowd, she appealed to their sympathies. “It’s tough being a woman, constantly pitted against each other,” she declared, before directing her attention back to Aurora.

“I’ve always respected you for being thoughtful and kind, so I didn’t mind if you were angry with me. I understood you were just upset,” Amani continued, feigning compassion in her voice. “Being the headmaster’s daughter must be challenging, right?” she continued, “After all, when was the last time someone had asked you how you felt?” She added, layering on fake empathy, and biting the urge to add something else that will sound like obvious mockery. “But I never imagined you’d fully blame me for what happened, let alone try to throw a drink at me!” Amani said, her voice trembling, “And then when you slipped, you tried to blame it on me, when I just stopped back into the party from being in the bathrooms” She turned to an outlooker, giving her a look that Amani hoped presented itself as pleading through the mask, “You saw me right? I had disappeared and then I just recently came back.” The outlooker nodded, as if in deep thoughts and the crowd began to mummur.

Amani resisted the smile coming up her face. Amani has always been a good actress, after all she always portrayed the image of a ‘good warm loving girl’ in front of elders and her siblings, it was also the fact that she was lucky enough to have had someone seen her just entering back into the party.

“Be careful what you talk about.” Aurora had muttered, and Amani eyes brightened, amused. “Or what you will send daddy to me? Tell him to lock me up in a cage, like he did North and the other missing students.” Amani whispered back, only loud enough for Aurora to hear, and so quiet the others could not hear. “You’re not the only one with a powerful father, Beany, if Headmaster seagull tries something, my father will react” she whispered back, before she straightened herself, and smiled. “But it’s ok, I forgive you.” Amani said, it was more so directed at the crowd to hear, than for Aurora.

“I did what?” Amani asked, feigning a shocked expression, taking a step back. “Oh dear,” Amani said, her voice pitiful. “I’ve heard stress can make the mind wonder, but I never knew it was this bad.” She said, placing one hand on her heart and the other at her lips as she shook her head. “You shall thanking medications and stop playing whatever this game is, because you’re not going to win.” Amani whispered to Aurora, “You already stained your white dress, making yourself look like a clown, you’re quantum not an egnima, stop trying to play the circus freak.” She added, her voice going even lower.

Amani was already growing up, and thus she brought up Miles, loud enough for the whole crowd to hear., and loud enough to cause murmurs. Amani had not actually said his name of course, only that Aurora had told her something about someone whose name started with Mi. She had hoped that it would set Aurora off, and it had, just not in the way Amani had expected.

Amani stood there, stunned by Aurora’s unexpected move. The glass slipped from the unsuspecting student’s hand, and before Amani could react, Aurora had snatched it and deliberately spilled its contents onto her dress. A gasp escaped Amani’s lips as the cold liquid seeped into the fabric, soaking it through.

Fcking cunt , fck this game, Amani was going to-. No, no, Amani was not going to do anything right now. Yes, Amani’s first instinct was to lash out in anger, to hurl accusations and insults at Aurora for her reckless actions. But as she glanced around at the growing crowd, Amani realized that this was exactly what Aurora wanted – to draw attention away from something by having Amani react negatively, but to draw attention from what exactly? What had Amani missed.

Whatever she had missed or had not missed, Aurora seemed to have not known that Amani was not hot headed, she knew how to control her temper in front of crowds Amani took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm despite the surge of frustration coursing through her veins.

“It’s quite all right, Aurora,” Amani said through gritted teeth, her voice laced with forced politeness, “But if you simply wanted me to take of my dress, you could have just asked more privately and then I could have rejected you nicely,” Amani said, reaching into her purse and bringing out a napkin she used to wipe the stain off and some liquid that got in her skin, thank God she was wearing black. “I’m not as bad as you think, Dear, Aurora Dear.” Amani continued.

i’m actually, something much more worst- Amani wrinkled her nose at that, sounded corny, exactly like something he would have said. Anyways, with subtle flick of her wrist, Amani summoned shadows from the surrounding environment, weaving them into a cloak of darkness around herself. The shadows coalesced, swirling around her form like tendrils of smoke, cloaking her movements from prying eyes. “help me practice shadow, will you?,” Amani muttered, extending her control over the shadows, reaching out with invisible tendrils to ensnare Aurora’s arm. The shadows wrapped around her tightly, pulling her away from the crowd with a firm yet unseen force as she brought her outside, smiling and waving at the crowd, making it look like they were just to have a cute little conversation and work out their differences through the power of friendhip

As they reached outside the building, Amani pushed Aurora towards the walls with her shadows, careful not to cause enough physical damage, that would have Headmaster Seagull singing,off with her head.

“You fucking cunt ,” Amani said, now that they were finally alone, releasing the shadows. “What game are you playing at?” Amani began. After the argument with Vincenzo, Amani was not particularly in a forgiving and making amends mood. “And why do I have to be involved in it?” Amani snarled,


@astxrism

3 Likes

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“I hadn’t heard about that.” Ayla watched alarm plague her beautiful cousins face, and she felt bad she had brought it up in the first place. “Its probably nothing,”[/color] she noted, her ‘this shouldn’t affect’ us tone very apparent. “Especially after what happened to my brother… It’s hard not to let fear creep in.” But that did make sense to Ayla. Why shouldn’t Lyra look over her shoulder? It wasn’t like it was normal, to hear that people were missing. To have your brother vanish. Instead, Ayla took Lyra’s hand in hers, gave it a squeeze. “I know,” she murmured, tracing the places Lyra’s eyes had just scanned. Ayla was well aware that fear was a very real and scary thing. Difficult to break free once you’re under its clutches. “You’re not alone though, Lyra. I’ll keep an eye out, and I’m a only a text away.” Ayla wasn’t used to being emotional, so if Lyra needed a speech–she wasn’t getting one. This was Ayla doing the best she could. She honestly hoped in her bones that it sounded comforting.


"Sometimes it feels like the pain will never go away. Do you ever feel that way, Ayla? Like we’re just trying to fill a void that can never be filled?” She looked at her cousin with a mixture of sadness and understanding in her eyes. “I…” fear tugged at her insides this time, daring her to lie. Should she tell the truth? Admit this weakness? “…I do, feel that way sometimes, Lyra,” she admitted very quietly, her eyes downcast. Except I will fill it. Even if it k/lls me. The thoughts were intrusive. “But knowing we have each other helps.” Lyra’s words pulled her back out of her head. Ayla nodded in agreement, her heart aching for her cousin and the pain they both shared. “Yes, it does,” she replied softly, her thumb rhythmically drawing circles on the area between the thumb and index finger on Lyra’s hand.

“Having family here makes all the difference. We’ll get through this together, just like always.” Ayla couldn’t help but grin at her cousin’s warmth. It was infectious, and she felt a sense of belonging that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was like the pieces of her life were finally falling into place, and she was determined to make the most of it. “Yeah, it’s going to be amazing,” When she first had the opportunity–not that it had ever closed, but Lyra was a good excuse to get back into the magically inclined academic world–she had still been morning her bother, two years ago. Alex, her bother, has been dead seven years now. Lyra, had jumpstarted her ambitious side–at least towards magic, which she had given up between the ages fifteen and twenty, and although she kicks herself in the butt for this, Lyra coming to Ninth House made her realize the power she could hold. Learn to hold. Ayla dearly missed the feeling of walking into a room and automatically be instantly liked or either hated. She had forced herself into introvertism (?) for heavens sake! But now? She had a goal, and nothing would stop her. “It does indeed.” Ayla looked around the ball room. “Do you think they have anything stronger than champagne? I feel like I should drink now, so when I’m buried in school work I’ll know I used up all the drinking I’m permitting myself this school year,” She winked, twirling around looking, dress poofing out. She only sounded half joking.


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@Jass ✦ Lyra

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"I find it hard to believe that someone as enchanting as you has no dreams”, Devon laughed softly at his statement, her features lit by a slow, playful grin forming on her lips. She acted coyly towards the charming gentleman, replying, Hey, I’m telling the truth, I don’t have it all figured out yet”. Her smile grew wider, the light glinting off her mask as she adjusted it. She tried to conceal her longing behind the mask, but the subtle gleam of desire in her eyes betrayed her. From her champagne-fueled lust down to him, all of her thoughts begin to drift into a different space.

"Everyone has a small fire in them. Is it almost out? Possibly. But until I’m dead, it’s still there. A little flicker. And I can’t let myself believe that your fire is out”. The words spewed from his mouth with effortless lyricism, like it was his natural ability. His voice was melancholic, but carrying a sense of hope, as if he was truly speaking from the heart. With a little pat on his shoulder, she offered slight reassurance, sensing the man’s seriousness when his statement mentioned death. ”Wow, I wonder what his thoughts sound like”, she thought to herself. Devon met his gaze with a warm smile, "Well, if you put it that way, I guess you’re right”. She raised a brow jokingly, "Don’t you have an answer for everything?”. With his words came a heaviness, a heaviness that Devon pondered on.

The man appeared to flinch slightly at her question, what she thought initially to be a harmless inquiry. Her smile faltered briefly as she hoped that she hadn’t upset him by mistake. Correcting her face, Devon tried harder to decipher him, but he wore a pensive look, his eyebrows pulled together, like he was in a deep thought. Then, as if he landed on his answer, his beautiful smile reappeared. "In 10 years, I see myself following my passion for writing. I’d probably go back to Norway, take over my piyāgē(father’s) hotel business. Experience new cultures and meet fascinating people”. With a soft exhale, she smiled again, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. While she may have no hopes and dreams as of now, she couldn’t help but feel happy for the alluring man. "Wow, that sounds great”, she began, "I love traveling, I’ve never been to Norway though, and a hotel business? Isn’t that interesting”. She giggled a little towards the end, amused at her own gushing.

Feeling the music and the atmosphere, Devon closed the distance between them, her lips mere inches from his ear. "Look up behind me”, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "There’s a staircase”, she paused again, placing an arm on his shoulder, " I wonder where it leads . . .". Pulling away from his ear, Devon shook in excitement, "C’mon, I saw something up there!”.

@Tina.G - Oggy

3 Likes

Vinnie banner and colors later


She whispered in his ear and he huffed, waiting for her to cool her overconfidence. “You seriously think you’re special enough for me to obsess over you??” Vincenzo rebutted without hesitance. “I didn’t stop because yeah, revenge is nice, but at the end of the day, you’re not any different from the other girls. I guess you must just love yourself because no one else does. I was one of your only what, two friends? Because the other people in your life are definitely just using you for your body. I doubt any of them actually like you for the stuck-up b^tch you are.” She stared at him idly and he spoke for her. “This is me, Amani, mask off. Did you miss me?” Vincenzo exhaled, reflecting on her own speech. “But for the record, I didn’t tell Ren everything I told you.” Enzo admitted, his heart sinking just a little bit before he had to recover, showing his own arrogance again.

Then, once again, she tried to hit him where it hurt. And Vinnie knew what she was doing, but her knife still punctured his skin. He wished he could correct her about his parents, but the truth was that he did not even know how they died. He did not know who they were, he knew nothing. He only remembered the thoughts he had about it as a boy. He imagined his mom was a princess and his dad was a knight; they fought dragons together, and loved each other so much. He remembered telling himself that they didn’t keep him because they had the world to save; they were like superheros, and he was doing a noble thing by letting the world keep them as protectors instead of hogging them to himself. What Amani said made him feel like she saw through him, right into his heart where his inner child lived, and it was that little boy who she was insulting.

“Watch your fcking mouth.” He commanded. “And what do you know about love, either? You’ve never had a relationship in the four years I’ve known you, even though you let any guy have his way with you.”

Vincenzo turned his head down, clasping his hands together. He knew he shouldn’t act like that, so he collected himself to taunt her a bit more civilly. “I should have let you fall out that window, too.”

“And I think you’re a little mad.” Amidst his anger, a smile threatened to blossom on his lips, his blue eyes glinting. “Are you feeling insecure because of how easy it is to get past you? Because if I was in your place, I would be too. But I’m not, am I? As much as you try to dig at me with my past, I got what I wanted, and that kills you.”

He lowered his voice. “Come closer so you can hear me clearly.” But obviously, she didn’t listen, so he stood up off the bed to her height, and rose his hands to her sides sensually as he leaned closer with his mouth inches from her ear, just getting one last token of her memory.

“If I’m your little dog, good luck erasing my bite marks off your skin.” He whispered, smirking again.

Before she could paw him off, he dropped his hands to his sides and off of her hips. She gave him an angered expression as soon as he saw her again, but he knew she felt chills when he spoke.

After the fact, she complained about him once more. ”Oh no! I left you when I found out you were a poor, sad guy with no family and money and blah blah. Get over it,” she rambled, but if he was not mistaken, somewhere in that rant he caught a glimpse of the Amani he actually liked. But before he could catch her, call her out on her bullsh^t, because their argument had ended. He did not even notice before he had his mask on again, alone. He was angry, his heart concaved behind his lungs, he was crestfallen and furious.

Vincenzo left the room, a gust of wind hitting him as he left. He paced to his room, not even bothering to close the door behind him, and picked up his flask off the nightstand, took a swig, and walked back outside with the drink in-hand.

He needed something; somewhere to go.

So he stormed through the hall until he saw it. Since no one was supposed to be in the hallway during the masquerade ball, and it was half-past campus curfew anyway, all of the lights in the halls were off, so Vincenzo could only see through the light of glass walls and windows. It was a bit dark still, but in a better clearing of skylight, he saw the piano.

He slid onto the seat, tearing his mask back off, and the alcohol was finally taking effect. The room felt heavier, and his mind too light, his eyes taking a picture of the scene only for the camera to shake in the middle.

Looking at the instrument, he thought of a song to play, and unscrewed the top of his flask again, taking another swig.

Rum.

He swallowed, and it tasted almost sweet. The song came to him at once.

Putting the drink back, he placed his thick fingers on the keys of the piano carefully. Without much thinking, they guided themselves across the instrument, pressing deep into each note as the song readied for his words.

vibes - you can either listen to the lyrics or read the poem, whichever works

From a mothers breast
Dropped a liquid white
It fell like tear drops
seeped into the earth
In the dirt it hardened, calcified
It formed my bones
Dying before birth
I rose a skeleton….
I rose a skeleton.
Skin and flesh grew onto the surfaces like mold
My skin is blue
My face is pale
My only chance to glow happens under moonlight

So don’t blame me for being nocturnal
Don’t blame me for loving the truths that only come out at night
They’re just like me
The things you don’t talk about
They’re all I have
So when I have no one to talk to
I’ll tell my piano about us-

Before he could finish, footsteps sounded nearby. He looked up from the keys, and shining in the distant golden sparks from the ballroom, Vincenzo saw a woman in a beautiful navy dress, with a skirt covered in glitter that twinkled like stars. She seemed like she was lost, or perhaps confused. He wondered what she was running from, and Vincenzo could not discern her identity from far away, but as soon as he stopped playing, he saw her turn to face him. Her mask was gradated, with the brightest blue on the bridge of her nose, and her eyes were dark; piercing as they met his.

“Are you looking for something?” He asked, his serious features clear for her to recognize.


@Mouschi Esther
Mentioned:
@kristi Amani
@madilnel Ren
Hope this is good :face_with_peeking_eye:


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“It can be.” He responded with a suggestive smirk. His dance partner was right, it was still early in the night and so much could happen. With the way that the taller man was holding his waist, he hoped that whatever did happen to him tonight involved him. His own arms were wrapped around the man’s neck. As they danced and he got more comfortable, and more tired, he leaned on him more and more. At one point, he was tempted to put his head on his partner’s shoulder but even though he had decided he was being bold tonight, he thought it might be too forward. After all, they had only just met and he didn’t even know his name yet.

He tried his hardest to keep himself from blushing while the man was complimenting him but he was unable to stop a shy smile from tugging at his lips. The smile became a smirk as the man teased him by saying he wouldn’t give him his name. “Giving me the Cinderella treatment? Are you going to run away at midnight?” He teased back. Though his hint of his name sounding like the word ‘song’ made Tae pause to think for a second about what his name could possibly be. “Wait. Is it an English name?” He asked, thinking of his own non-English name. He was hoping that he would at least be able to get that much from him if he won’t tell him what his name is.

Tae laughed a little when the other man mentioned having scared himself with his appearance but he couldn’t deny that it made him a little sad because he thought people wouldn’t want to talk to him. Then he mentioned meeting a fine guy and Tae blushed when he told him that he was talking about him. “Well, I definitely found you mysterious but I don’t know that scary is a word I would use. Especially now that I’ve gotten to know you. I think you are the farthest thing from scary.” He reassured him. Tae was usually more of a reserved person and so he found something about the man’s rambling to be comforting since he didn’t have to speak as much. “I think the film you’re thinking of is Harry Potter but anyways, my favourite genre of music is alternative. I really like Avril Lavigne but lately I’ve also been into this Korean band called The Rose. I don’t sing but I do play guitar.”

As the dancers began to disperse, Tae felt a tap on his shoulder. It was his dance partner, who was offering for them to go somewhere where people won’t be looking at them. He had an idea of what he was suggesting and he was curious to see if it would go in the direction he was thinking. “Well, we could always go up to my room. I could show you my record collection.” He suggested with a mischievous grin. There were some other…activities that they could do in his bedroom but he decided to keep it PG13 while there were people who could overhear. The other man took Tae’s hand and lead him away from the ballroom but after a moment or two, turned back to him looking confused. “I take it you’re new here, then?” He already had a suspicion about this but it was hard to tell with the masks and even if he wasn’t, it was entirely possible that they just hadn’t interacted before for whatever reason.

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@cordyx - Seung-Min

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Renlin
So the speech was probably not the best idea. Now he sat in Adrian’s office, feeling not so out of place. Did this mean they were on a first-name basis now? Renlin had been escorted in by a professor, who seemed uninterested in Renlin’s attempts at small talk. He had tried to lighten the mood with casual questions about the professor’s summer, any adventures he may have had, or even jokingly asking about retirement plans. But the professor was not having it, maintaining a stoic demeanor throughout the short journey to Adrian’s office. So here he sat now, in the presence of the man in charge, listening intently as his name was spoken.

Renlin chuckled nervously. “Oh, you know how it is, sir. Just trying to keep up with the family reputation,” he replied, attempting to downplay any notion of his own accomplishments compared to his sister’s. Renlin smiled wryly, nodding. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it,” he said, trying to maintain a casual demeanor despite the tension in the room.

“I like you Renlin. You ask the right questions,”

Renlin shifted slightly in his seat, a hint of surprise crossing his features. “Thank you, sir. I try to stay curious, you know?” Internally, Renlin chuckled at the irony. Curious? Was he really? Most people probably thought he had rocks for brains. But there was a spark of interest in him, buried beneath layers of nonchalance and sarcasm. It was true that he often found himself pondering about the mysteries of the world, in his own unconventional way.

Renlin’s mind wandered to the mysteries that often filled his dreams. Strange, unsettling visions that he dared not share. They were his problem, haunting him in the dead of night and leaving him restless come morning.

Few knew of these nocturnal secrets, and Renlin preferred to keep it that way. The things he had seen, the horrors he had witnessed. Sometimes, he wished he could erase those memories, wipe the slate clean.

The speech, unplanned and spontaneous as it was, felt like a manifestation of those subconscious musings. Whatever the reason, Renlin couldn’t deny the nagging suspicion that his dreams held the key to unlocking some greater truth.

Renlin leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable as he contemplated Dean Adrian’s words. He crossed his legs casually and rested his hands behind his head, adopting a nonchalant posture despite the seriousness of the conversation.

Renlin mustered a grin, trying to inject a hint of humor into the tense atmosphere. “Well, you know me, always keeping things interesting. Can’t let the party get too dull, now can we?” He offered a playful wink, hoping to lighten the mood despite the gravity of the situation.

Renlin quirked an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are we censoring what people can and can’t say now? Where’s our freedom of speech?” he quipped, adding a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Renlin feels a bit apprehensive about saying too much around the dean, cautious not to reveal too many of his thoughts. However, he also maintains his trademark confidence, ensuring he doesn’t sell himself short. What’s the worst that could happen to him? He could disappear too. If that were to happen, he’s confident he has people who care enough about him to do something about it. But Renlin is just a guy who likes to talk, hopefully, this is what the dean knows him for as well.

Still he maintains an air of nonchalance, as if he’s not too concerned about the outcome of this conversation. It’s a subtle display of assurance, a silent assertion that he’s not intimidated by the dean’s authority.

“What’s it like being in power here? Ever think about who’ll take over after you? Aurora, I’m sure is a strong contender. Would she though? Do you have a favorite student you’d recommend? Just my opinion, but an Umbra member would be ideal.”

Renlin’s words spill out in a casual yet probing manner, his tone carrying a hint of mischief as he navigates the conversation with the dean. His questions, though bold, are delivered with a touch of irreverence, suggesting a certain audacity in challenging authority. As he speaks, Renlin’s body language remains relaxed but attentive, his posture signaling both confidence and a readiness to engage in further discourse.

@astxrism

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Copy of Black Minimal Motivation Quote LinkedIn Banner (1)
Inessa couldn’t help but shake her head. How dumb could Renlin be? she thought to herself. She chuckled inwardly, knowing all too well the answer to that question. Despite her fondness for him, she couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to be the older sibling. Renlin had a knack for getting into situations, often leaving Inessa feeling like her eyes were going to pop out of her head from all the eyerolls she gave him. It was a dynamic they had perfected over the years.

Renlin had rarely needed to save her. She was calculated, methodical in her approach, while he was reckless, often diving headfirst into situations without much thought, clearly. She prided herself on her organization and planning skills, while he embraced chaos and spontaneity.

Inessa couldn’t help but see the contrast between them as a sort of yin and yang, complementary forces that, despite their differences, somehow balanced each other out. While their approaches to life may have been vastly different, there was an undeniable synergy between them that had endured throughout their lives.

Yes, Inessa couldn’t deny a sense of relief that someone else had saved Renlin this time. While she loved her brother dearly, constantly rescuing him from his own recklessness took its toll.

Inessa welcomed the change of pace, grateful that someone else had stepped in to take care of him for once. The opportunity to speak with an old friend. Arya’s words brought a smile to Inessa’s face, appreciating the compliment. Inessa couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in Arya’s presence.

“I’ve been navigating,” Inessa responded, her tone measured as she chose her words carefully. She maintained her usualness. Inessa was always determined to project an image of self-assurance.

It had been a while since Inessa had last had a conversation with Arya, personal reasons have kept them apart. However, in this moment, she made a conscious decision to set those reasons aside. Recognizing the value of their friendship and the opportunity for connection, Inessa chose to prioritize their bond over any lingering reservations.

Inessa couldn’t help but exhale a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, a genuine smile tugging at her lips in response to Arya’s observation. With a nod of her head, she acknowledged the truth in Arya’s words.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Inessa replied with a chuckle, appreciating Arya’s ability to find humor in the situation. “But I suppose that’s just Renlin being Renlin.” Inessa’s response carried a hint of fondness, tempered with a touch of amusement at her brother’s antics.

“I think that’s why I love it here so much,” Inessa chimed in,a glint of appreciation in her eyes. Despite the occasional chaos and unpredictability, there was something undeniably captivating about the school, a vibrancy that kept her coming back for more. Inessa found comfort in the dynamic nature of their surroundings, relishing in the vibrancy of their shared experiences

@CerealKiller

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image

⋆⁺。˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚。⁺⋆

Freya had to just stand in bewilderment as this girl suggested alternative subjects. Could she not hear what she was saying to her? “I don’t…” Freya tried, but then gave up mid-sentence. She really wasn’t sure how else she could phrase it in a clear way. As this masked girl glanced up, Freya looked around, trying to find the nearest exit to plan how she could get to it. Though she didn’t have long enough, as the girl quickly met her gaze again, keeping Freya in this very dysfunctional conversation.

Before she knew it, the two of them had found an exit route and were standing outside. Although, the girl had tried to travel solo, which Freya would have let happen if she hadn’t hit her head in transit. Well now she definitely couldn’t be alone. So, alas, the two of them stood and this girl deemed herself unhelpful in Freya’s search for where she could walk her back. “You’re… cipher. Okay,” She repeated in wonder as to how that information can be utilised. Nothing. Nothing was coming to her here.

Her train of thought was interrupted by this girl as she asked for the nearby toilets. Freya had been mid-focus, and she instinctively went to say ‘Not now,’ until she looked up and realised the urgency of the situation. Instead, Freya wasn’t able to give any answer, and she had to think a little more on her feet. Which found her stepping forward to pull the girls curls away from her face as she leaned forward and let out clearly immense volume of alcohol she had been consuming.

When it seemed to be over, Freya stood back up again. Now they were back in the same predicament as before. Where to get her to. “So… do you need to- where could we…” Freya tried, talking around in circles. Getting her somewhere was more crucial considering she was injured. “I mean my room isn’t far from here,” She suggested, scratching the back of her neck slightly. Though she wasn’t sure why she was making it an open debate, considering this girl was in no place to make any input. “Come on, it’s this way,” Freya told her, making the decision, as there didn’t seem to be any other choice.

⋆⁺。˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚。⁺⋆

@Kristi Thalia

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Ballroom || with inessa


As Inessa’s words washed over Arya, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of ease settle within her. her eyes lingered on Inessa, noting the genuine smile that graced her friend’s lips in response to her words. The sight brought a sense of satisfaction to Arya, a subtle confirmation of the connection that still existed between them despite the passage of time and the reasons that had kept them apart, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had bound them together. After all, they remained friends for all these years for a reason, the bond is there.

“Navigating, huh?” Arya echoed, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue as she met Inessa’s measured response with a knowing nod. She understood all too well the complexities of navigating the intricacies of life at Ninth House, not to mention life in general, each twist and turn presenting its own set of challenges and opportunities.

Arya’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she nodded along with Inessa’s assessment of Renlin’s antics. “Renlin’s always been a wildcard,” she agreed with a grin, her voice laced with ever so slight remains of fondness barely left in her for her friend’s brother, despite his penchant for dramatics and… all the rest of it. “But I guess that’s part of his so-called charm.”

Despite the occasional chaos and unpredictability, Arya found herself nodding in agreement with Inessa’s sentiment about Ninth House. There was something undeniably captivating about the dynamic atmosphere of their surroundings, a vibrancy that kept her coming back for more, like a moth drawn to a flickering flame. Arya’s gaze swept across the ballroom, taking in the familiar faces and the whispered conversations that filled the air. Each interaction held the potential for intrigue, every corner hiding secrets waiting to be uncovered.

As she moved through the ever changing crowds, Arya’s steps were deliberate, her senses attuned to the subtle shifts in energy around her at all time. Arya remained acutely aware of the underlying sense of caution that permeated her every step.
“It is a place like no other,” Arya murmured, her voice carrying an air of intrugue laced with underlying resentment.
In a place where nothing could be trusted and everything held the potential for deception, with secrets lurking around every corner, Arya knew better than to let her guard down. It was a lesson she had learned the hard way, a reminder that in Ninth House, one must always be prepared for the unexpected, and nothing could be taken at face value.

You would all come to understand that at one point or another.

“Want to go check out the bar?” she suggested, taking her mind off everything and trying to simply enjoy the party


@Madilnel

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Lyra


Upon hearing Ayla’s reassurance, Lyra nodded in acknowledgment but still harbored lingering doubts. She responded with a soft-spoken yet probing tone, expressing her worries while trying to understand Ayla’s perspective.

“It’s just… Ayla, I know you’re trying to reassure me that it’s nothing, but… with everything that’s happened… I can’t help but feel uneasy,” Lyra said, her voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. “I mean, after what happened… we can’t ignore the possibility that there might be something more going on. What if it’s connected to… to Lysander’s death? We still don’t know what really happened to him, and if there’s something dangerous going on here, we need to be careful.”

Her gaze lingered on Ayla’s face, searching for any sign that her cousin shares her concerns. Despite Ayla’s attempt to downplay the situation, Lyra’s remained vigilant and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. “I just, I really hope you’re right that it’s nothing”

Upon feeling Ayla’s hand in hers and hearing her words of reassurance, Lyra’s nerves faded a bit, and she offered a faint smile, grateful for the connection and understanding. She found comfort in knowing that Ayla is there for her, even if they both struggle to articulate their emotions openly.

“Thank you, Ayla,” Lyra replied softly, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “It means a lot to know you’re here for me. And I’ll be here for you too, always.” With a gentle squeeze of Ayla’s hand in return, Lyra conveyed her appreciation and solidarity, drawing strength from their shared bond amidst the uncertainties that lie ahead.

Lyra knew that her cousin sometimes struggled showing her emotions, so it meant a lot for her that Ayla had been able to confide in her that she felt the same way. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way sometimes, Ayla. It’s reassuring to know that we can be honest with each other about our struggles.” Lyra spoke softly, her voice gentle and supportive. “It means a lot to know that we’re not alone in feeling this way. We’ve both been through so much, and it’s okay to struggle sometimes.” She put a reassuring hand on her cousins shoulder.

A small smile painted her face as she continued talking, “I want to do something to honor his memory here at the school, something that celebrates the person he was and the love we still carry for him in our hearts. It won’t erase the pain, I know, but maybe it’ll give us a chance to come together, to share stories, to create something beautiful out of our memories.” Lyra’s idea was not merely fueled by a desire to celebrate her brother, no, especially since he had joined Ninth House, Lysander had gotten more distant. Maybe through the memorial, Lyra would get a chance to know who Lysander was in his years here, and who knows, maybe even get some insights in what lead to his death. “I’d love for you to come!” She said, her voice carrying a hint of happiness once again.

Lyra’s excitement bubbled up within her, fueled by the reassurance and support of her cousin that they were going to have an amazing time. The prospect of exploring the school, meeting new people, and delving into the mysteries of magic filled her with a renewed sense of purpose. “Absolutely!” she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I can’t wait to see what this school has to offer. Meeting new people, learning new magic - it’s all so thrilling!” Despite her caution relating her safety, Lyra’s eagerness to embrace the opportunities ahead shone through, her heart brimming with curiosity and determination to make the most of her time at Ninth House.

Lyra understood Ayla’s desire for a stronger drink, acknowledging the weight of their shared experiences and the need for some form of release. However, she also recognized the importance of moderation, especially considering the gravity of their prior conversation and the unfamiliar environment of the ballroom.

“Absolutely, Ayla,” Lyra chimed in with a gentle nod and a warm smile, her eyes radiating understanding and support. “I completely understand the temptation, especially with everything on our minds.” She gently reached out to place a reassuring hand on Ayla’s arm. “But hey, how about we start with something light, like a glass of wine? We can dip our toes in the fun and see where the night takes us!” Her tone was light and cheerful, infused with a hint of excitement. “And no matter what, I’ll be right here by your side, making sure we both stay safe and have a good time. Sound like a plan?” She finished with an encouraging grin, eager to make the evening as enjoyable and comforting as possible for her cousin.


Ayla - @Tina.G

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» Ballroom «

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"We still don’t know what really happened to him, and if there’s something dangerous going on here, we need to be careful.” Ayla’s plate was full, so she had never really dug into Lysanders case. It really was a mystery and Ayla wondered if Lyra ever looked into it, if she ever got somewhere with it. Ayla was honestly glad the conversation had headed this way, she could definitely come up with a more logical reassurance to Lyra’s fears. “Okay,” Ayla agreed. “That is a good point. We’ll be cautious. Cautious is helpful, Lyra. Not paranoid, though. Paranoid is just another word for distracted.” Ayla was worried it sounded more like a bad omen. A warning. So she continued on, “so anyway, it’s important to remember that we can’t control everything that happens around us, but we can control how we respond to it. Speculating about connections to missing students or any possible dangerous situations will only lead to unnecessary stress and anxiety. You aren’t looking for trouble and I hope you’re not subconsciously seeking it out either. The law of attraction is very real, Lyra. We’ll face our battles as they come.” Ayla tried her best at a sweet, small, and comforting smile.

Thank you, Ayla, … It means a lot to know you’re here for me. And I’ll be here for you too, always.” Always. It echoed in her brain. Ayla smiled, a rare expression of genuine warmth crossing her features. “We make a good team, Lyra. Remember, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. We’ll navigate through this uncertainty together. Come out stronger on the other side.”


“I want to do something to honor his memory" Ayla felt her stomach clench, and she forced her face not to twitch a single muscle. She wished the mask hid the lower half of her face instead of the upper. She was not ready to face this right now and… "…I know, but maybe it’ll give us a chance to come together, to share stories, to create something beautiful out of our memories.” Ayla nodded along vigorously, appropriately, using Lyra’s wonder and awe to fill her. “I’d love for you to come!” Ayla knew not everything was about her. Ayla knew not everything revolved around Alexander. She also knew she was a hypocrite. “Yes!” It came out in a breath, and was apparently perceived as relief. She didn’t miss a beat. “Yes! I’m so glad you invited me, I didn’t want to impose by asking!” Yes yes, of course that was the only reason she sounded relieved. If she believed it, it could be true.


Ayla realized how not joking she was once Lyra responded. “But hey, how about we start with something light, like a glass of wine? We can dip our toes in the fun and see where the night takes us!” Ayla nodded along, a pleasant smile plastered on her lips. Yes, see where the night takes us. She thought. She also thought trails where made to veer off of. Cliche, rules were meant to be broken. “And no matter what, I’ll be right here by your side, making sure we both stay safe and have a good time. Sound like a plan?” Her grin was contagious. “Yeah, lets start there,” she pulling Lyra near the bar.

As Lyra and Ayla made their way to the bar, the atmosphere of the gothic but ethereal ball enveloped them in a sense of mystery and intrigue. The soft strains of haunting melodies floated through the air, blending with the murmurs of conversation and laughter that echoed around them. Ayla couldn’t help but be captivated by the beauty and darkness of their surroundings, the grandeur of the ballroom punctuated by the subtle hint of danger that lurked beneath the surface. It was a place where secrets whispered in the shadows and forbidden desires danced in the moonlight, a world that seemed both enchanting and unsettling in its allure. Maybe she could get used to drab.

As they reached the bar, Ayla’s eyes swept over the array of crystal glasses and shimmering bottles, each one holding the promise of a new adventure. The intoxicating aroma of rich red wines and exotic spirits mingled with the faint scent of incense, creating an intoxicating blend that teased the senses. Ayla turned to Lyra, her own smile mirroring the contagious grin on her cousin’s face. “Let’s start with a glass of wine and see where the night takes us,” she echoed, her voice laced with a touch of excitement. But then, all of the sudden, a thought occurred to Ayla. “Wait–you can drink, right? I could have sworn you just turned twenty.”

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@Jass ✦ Lyra

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Dante


Dante listened intently to Celestine’s reflections on 60s fashion, finding her insights intriguing. As she spoke, he couldn’t help but be drawn in by her passion and depth of thought on the subject. “Ahh, infatuation with the 60s, you say?” Dante mused, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I must admit, it’s not a decade that I’ve given much thought to, but hearing you talk about it makes me see its appeal in a new light.” There was something about the Swinging Sixties that in fact blended well with who Dante was, the outspokenness of the era, the way it pushed boundaries and had rebellion at its core. The freedom of individuality, so essential to the 60s, was Dante highly valued.

He nodded thoughtfully as she described the sense of timelessness embodied by the fashion of that era. “You’re right, timelessness is indeed a state of mind. And you, my dear, seem to embody that perfectly. Your dedication to your unique style, your meticulous routine - it’s all part of the charm,” Dante said with a playful smile.

He couldn’t help but smile at Celestine’s detailed description of her fashion routine. “Quite the elaborate process,” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “But hey, if it brings you joy and empowers you, who’s to say it’s too much? Besides, I’ve always believed that confidence is the most attractive accessory.”

Dante’s playful grin widened as he responded to Celestine’s suggestion with a raised eyebrow, his tone light and teasing. “Hmm, a plastic imitation, you say?” he repeated, feigning offense with a playful glint in his eye. “Well, I’ll have you know, that this trusty jacket happens to be genuine leather, thank you very much.” He ran his hand appreciatively over the supple material of his jacket, emphasizing its authenticity and he straightened up, adjusting the collar of his jacket with a touch of pride.

“But hey,” Dante continued, his grin turning mischievous, “I’m always open to a bit of style advice, especially if it comes gifted by a persuasive woman like yourself.” He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, his tone conspiratorial. “Maybe I’ll consider your offer if you can promise me it won’t clash with my rugged charm.”

Dante’s initial reaction to her story of the man being in danger was a reaction of uncertainty, a flicker of doubt as he considered the possibility that Celestine’s story could be real. His mind raced with questions, contemplating the implications of her words and the potential consequences of the situation she described.

As he processes Celestine’s story however, Dante’s skepticism gradually gave way to a growing sense of amusement and understanding. He recognized the playful twinkle in her eye, the mischievous smirk that hints at her true intentions. A smile spread across Dante’s face as he realizes that Celestine is simply teasing him, weaving an elaborate tale for her own amusement. He might chuckle softly, shaking his head in amusement.

“Ah, Celestine, always one for a grand tale,” Dante replied with a grin, his tone infused with amusement. “But forgive me if I find your yarn a tad… embellished. Are you simply testing the limits of my gullibility?” His words carried a hint of skepticism, yet there was still a spark of curiosity in his eyes, a willingness to entertain the possibility that there might be a kernel of truth to Celestine’s narrative. “Nevertheless,” Dante continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, “even if your story appears nothing more than a flight of fancy, it does raise an interesting question. How far are we willing to go to shape the world around us? And what are the consequences of meddling in affairs beyond our control?”

“You know what? Let’s entertain this for a moment,” he said, his voice adopting a tone of mock seriousness. “After all, where’s the fun in not exploring a good mystery, even if it’s just a figment of your imagination?” Dante playfully scanned the crowd, pretending to assess the situation as if it were genuine. “Alright, so we’ve got a potential emetic-laced drink and a dubious oil agreement,” he mulled aloud, his tone theatrical. “Sounds like the makings of a thrilling adventure, wouldn’t you say?”

“So, let’s consider our options,” Dante mused, his tone now more thoughtful. “If we’re going to play guardian angel, we need to be strategic. Direct intervention might be too risky, but subtle hints could be just the ticket.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps we could discreetly switch the drinks, ensuring our unsuspecting friend avoids the emetic-laced concoction altogether. It’s a classic maneuver, but effective nonetheless.” Dante’s mind raced with possibilities as he considered Celestine’s scenario. “And maybe we could discreetly eavesdrop on conversations, gather snippets of information without revealing our intentions,” he proposes. “Or perhaps we could plant seeds of doubt, subtly steering the conversation towards topics that might reveal the truth.”

Listening to her continuously trying to get her right in their conversation regarding gold, and fool’s gold. Dante however, he was not one to turn down an opportunity to have the last word either. Leaning forward slightly, he fixed her with a probing gaze. “Yes, gold may leave an indent, but does it always hold its value? Isn’t it just as susceptible to tarnish and decay as fool’s gold, given the right circumstances?”

Dante’s tone was light, but there was a glint of defiance in his eyes. “And while I appreciate your call for striving for gold, let’s not discount the allure of the unconventional, the allure of the unexpected,” he countered. “Sometimes, it’s the fool’s gold that catches our eye, that sparks our curiosity.”

He paused for a moment, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Besides, who’s to say what truly defines ‘gold’ in this world?” he added cryptically, as if hinting at a deeper meaning behind their conversation. With that remark, Dante leaned back, leaving Celestine to ponder his words as the conversation continued to unfold.

“Ah, the intricacies of the mind likened to a garden,” Dante mused, his tone thoughtful as he reflected on their quite philosophical conversations. “It’s a captivating analogy indeed. But are we merely passive admirers in this garden of the mind, or are we the gardeners, shaping and molding its landscape?” Dante believed the latter was right, sure the environment was often quite set, but people had agency, a decision to nevertheless shape their own lives.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You speak of admiration and serenity, yet what of the thorns hidden amidst the blooms? Are we to ignore the dangers lurking beneath the surface, the secrets waiting to ensnare the unsuspecting wanderer?” With this, Dante cryptically meant to communicate that life in general, one cannot merely try to see the positive, the good, there was no shortage of danger, of evil. He believed it was quite naive to think the way Celestine seemed to think.

Dante’s expression grew more earnest as he spoke. “And while it’s true that one may emerge from the garden unscathed by its secrets, can we truly resist the temptation to explore further?” he questioned. “Is it not our nature as curious beings to seek out knowledge and mystery, even if it means risking entanglement in the labyrinth of our own minds?” Dante knew from personal experience, especially in the context of such a fancy school as Ninth House, many people were intrigued, fascinated even, with trying to find out the mystery, the depth, no matter how risky that assignment was, at moments Dante was one of those people.

When Celestine called him out for being superficial once again, something in Dante snapped. “Ah, so we’re cutting through the pleasantries now, are we?” he remarked, a hint of irony lacing his words. “I must admit, your directness is rather refreshing. But let’s not pretend that appearances don’t matter, shall we? After all, you wouldn’t be adorned in such exquisite attire if you didn’t appreciate the attention it garners.” He looked her up and down, before landing on her eyes as he continued talking, “Or perhaps it’s all just a clever diversion, isn’t it? A shield to protect yourself from the discomfort of revealing your true self.” He knew this was quite a stab at her, who she was. Yet, Dante wouldn’t be saying it if he wasn’t truly convinced that Celestine was hiding something deeper by her extravagant appearance.

He leaned back casually, his gaze holding hers with unwavering intensity. “You’re a puzzle, Celestine, and I do enjoy a good challenge. But don’t dare mistake my playful banter for mere superficiality.”

“Arm candy, huh?” He repeated, his gaze playful yet challenging. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice low. “I wouldn’t dare confine you to such a role. You strike me as someone who prefers to be the main act, not just a side attraction.”

Dante’s tone shifted slightly as he addressed her mention of women’s rights, his expression growing more serious. “As for your concerns about women’s rights,” he said, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge, “well, let’s just say I’m more of a ‘live and let live’ kind of guy. But hey, if you want to fight the good fight, more power to you.” Maybe it came out more sarcastic than Dante had hoped for, however, yet, his last statement, he meant it. He found it quite admirable, those who stood up for matters that mattered, and this was something Celestine seemed quite passionate about.

After Celestine’s breakdown, and Dante trying to diffuse the tension, he now wanted to get through to her. He didn’t want her to feel in any way that he hadn’t enjoyed her company, cause he did, he enjoyed her company, possibly more so than he wanted to admit to himself. “Celestine, I appreciate your company more than you realize,” he began, his voice sincere. “Your wit, your intelligence, your unique perspective on things - those are just a few reasons why I enjoy spending time with you. You challenge me, you keep me on my toes, and you make me see things from a different angle. It’s refreshing.”

He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. “As for my sense of humor, well, I’ll admit, I can be a bit… cavalier at times,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “I don’t always stop to think about how my words might affect others. It’s something I’m working on, though. And I certainly didn’t mean to upset you.”

Dante’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she mentioned slipping something in his drink, a mixture of amusement and intrigue crossing his features. “Is that so?” he replied, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I must admit, I’m both impressed and slightly concerned by your resourcefulness.”

There was a glint of admiration in his eyes as he regarded her. “I wouldn’t doubt your ability to uncover secrets if you set your mind to it,” he conceded, a hint of respect in his tone. “But I’m relieved to hear that you prefer the long game. It’s much more…entertaining, wouldn’t you agree?”

When Dante heard she had misunderstood what he had meant, and once again brought up the fact he had named her before, he decided maybe the best thing to do was to directly address it. Dante’s smirk widened as he listened to Celestine’s response, realizing her interpretation of his words. “Ah, my dear, it seems there’s been a slight misunderstanding,” he began, his tone light yet earnest. “I wasn’t calling naming you bold. Quite the opposite, actually. I was referring to my own boldness in revealing myself.” Dante’s grin softened as he considered Celestine’s words. “I suppose I did jump the gun a bit when it comes to the naming, didn’t I? Sometimes I forget to play by all these rules.” With a shrug, he added, “Guess I’m just not one for sticking to conventions, you know?”

He let out a small chuckle as he went into his thoughts for a brief moment, feeling that no matter what, he would never do right in her eyes. It was quite ironic, wasn’t it? But part of him enjoyed them, the way she kept him on his toes, challenged him. offering her a small smile, “But hey, if my antics threw you off, I’ll do my best to make it up to you. Perhaps a dance to make amends? I heard I owe you one anyway” He said, referring back to how she had called him out for not having asked her to dance.

As they were waiting at the entrance gate, Dante noticed how Celestine seemed to be quite worried. “Ah, my dear Celestine, always sharp and curious,” he began, his gaze meeting hers. “You needn’t worry about being implicated in anything. As for ‘he,’ well, he’s a key player in our little escapade. A friend, you could say, though not in the traditional sense.”

He paused for a moment, enjoying the intrigue reflected in Celestine’s eyes. “But alas, all will be revealed in due time. For now, let’s just say our journey is about to become a tad more interesting. Trust me, you’ll want to see this.” After a mysterious smirk, he tapped his foot impatiently.


@cordyx - Celestine

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