Ninth House | Official RP Thread

[Madilfill]

Inessa had barely gotten the room back together before Lyra showed up. She barely had time to absorb what had just happened with Tae, or the strange satisfaction she’d felt in letting her more biting words out. Now, she had to switch gears, pretending that everything was perfect, just like her neatly slicked-back hair, freshly dyed dark, a decision she made in the span of an impulsive moment.

The new hair felt symbolic, like she was shedding something from before, though she wasn’t quite sure what. She looked at herself in the small mirror, her pony pulled tight, her appearance polished and controlled. She felt like a walking contradiction: her outer self composed, while inside she simmered with confusion, a fire she didn’t know how to put out.

Lyra was already in full rant mode. Inessa listened passively, nodding when needed, all while trying to force her thoughts back into place.

“Like he’s brushing it all under the rug because his team won,” Lyra continued.

Raising an eyebrow, she turned to Lyra, catching up. “I don’t think he even knows who Kiki is, and he’s excited. I’m happy for him, though it should have been my team. We definitely had harder questions and put in more effort.”

Her words came out sharper than she intended. Maybe she was still thinking about Tae, or maybe she was just tired of always hearing about the same complaints. She quickly added, “But hey, that’s just how it goes, right?” forcing a smile to smooth over her sudden defensiveness.

Lyra barely seemed to notice the shift in Inessa’s tone, continuing on about how things had been unfair and how she couldn’t decide what to wear. Meanwhile, Inessa’s mind wandered again, thinking about how easily she could switch roles, from being the dutiful student and sister to the one with dark thoughts, hidden behind that polished exterior.

Inessa perked up when she heard Lyra’s words, her heart skipping a beat. Forget the angel idea, I’m joining the dark side tonight. It felt like a jolt of electricity, a sign that maybe Lyra knew something. Did she? The smile on her face felt stiff, like it was barely holding things together as her thoughts started to spiral.

Tae couldn’t have told anyone, could he? The words from earlier replayed in her mind, and a brief flash of panic washed over her. Was this Lyra’s way of hinting at it? Had she somehow found out? But no, it was impossible. The conversation with Tae had just happened. There wasn’t any way he would’ve had time to say anything. Right?

Before she could get too lost in her worries, Lyra stepped out in her outfit, a sleek black slip dress paired with matching wings and a headband that gave her an effortlessly cool, slightly edgy look.

“Hot,” Inessa managed to say, her voice a little shaky but masked with a grin. She watched as Lyra did a small twirl, clearly satisfied with her transformation. Inessa, trying to push the doubts away, stood up and grabbed her own costume.

Her outfit was the complete opposite: a short, pristine white dress paired with long white gloves. She added a pair of oversized black sunglasses and chunky headphones that rested on her ears like accessories. Adjusting them to sit perfectly, she turned to Lyra with a playful grin.

“If you don’t get who I am, I’m not sure we can be friends anymore,” Inessa teased, trying to sound lighthearted. The small laugh she let out felt like armor, a way to hide any lingering insecurities bubbling under the surface. Inessa knew if there was a theme, she was not going to half *ss it, but go all out!

With one final glance in the mirror, Inessa smoothed her dress and adjusted her sunglasses. Lyra, already at the door, her dark ensemble contrasting sharply with Inessa’s glowing white. Inessa felt the pulse of anticipation ripple through her. Whatever weight she had been carrying from earlier seemed to lighten just a little with the thought of the night ahead.

The two of them stepped out of the dorm and into the cool night air, their shoes clicking against the pavement as they made their way to Umbra. Tonight, the plan was simple: let loose, have fun, and, maybe for a little while, forget everything else. Inessa shot Lyra a quick smile as they walked, feeling a surge of confidence returning.

@Jass lyrraa
@Caticorn tae tae mentioned

[Kristi]

[[౨ৎmusique ౨ৎ ]

During the Hunt

As competitive as Amani was, she found herself in an unfamiliar state of inertia. The fierce, electric pulse that usually surged through her veins, the hunger for victory and domination, was strangely absent. How unlike her. But the dreams—oh, the dreams—had been clawing at her, suffocating her in their cryptic urgency, pulling her deeper into a world that felt both distant and impossibly close. It was as though the voices that haunted her slumber were not merely fragments of a restless mind but something older, darker. They whispered to her, gentle but relentless, begging her to listen… but to what?

She couldn’t tell you. And therein lay the problem.

The uncertainty gnawed at her like a fever, coiling in her temples until it became a dull, persistent throb. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t muster the energy to be who she was supposed to be—the Amani everyone knew. She had even—God forbid—considered reaching out to her family, something that felt both shameful and dangerous. Surely they would understand, help her interpret the meaning behind the nightmares. But no, even the thought was met with resistance from within. The dreams themselves seemed to hiss at her for even considering it. And that familiar, rational voice in her head—the one that still clung to control in moments of chaos—warned her against it. Her parents wouldn’t understand. They would be concerned, of course, concerned enough to whisk her away from Wyndham and lock her behind the gilded bars of their protection.

No. That couldn’t happen. She could not leave Wyndham. Whatever was unraveling inside her, she would solve it here. Alone.

Amani exhaled, tilting her head back, letting it rest against the rough, cool stone of the courtyard wall, her eyelids fluttering shut. The hum of students in the distance, the low murmur of their voices, the scuff of feet on pavement—it all seemed a world away, muted beneath the persistent pulse of her own haunted thoughts. She stood on the edge of something, she could feel it—just one step away from some terrible, unknown revelation. But what? What was she standing on the brink of?

The dreams had started to blur the line between waking and sleep. They were not merely disjointed flashes of fantasy but something much more vivid, much more real. She would wake from them drenched in sweat, her heart thudding as though she’d been running for miles. Dark places, shadowed figures that dissolved as soon as she tried to focus on them. And always, always, that feeling of something looming just beyond her reach, of something coming for her. And that voice—so familiar it made her shiver.

Please, remember. Help me.

Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against the strain. The feeling of helplessness made her blood boil. She wasn’t one to let life slip through her fingers. No, Amani was the master of her fate. She bent the world to her will, not the other way around. But now… she felt adrift, powerless in a way she hadn’t known before.

Not that she would let anyone see that.

Pushing herself away from the wall, she straightened, forcing her breathing to slow, her jaw to unclench. The scavenger hunt. The next clue. Focus on that, she told herself. Maybe the task would distract her, give her something tangible to latch onto. She turned sharply, her mind already racing ahead, the mental map of Wyndham spinning in her thoughts as she set off toward the next location.

But then—impact.

She collided with someone, a solid, unexpected force that jolted her out of her reverie. Her reflexes kicked in, and she snapped, the words flying from her lips before she could think. “Watch where you’re going!”

Her heart pounded with the sudden rush of adrenaline, her frustration flaring. But then her gaze flickered upward, and everything in her world slowed, her breath catching in her throat.

Him.

Her brown eyes widened, fear and anxiety twisting in her chest like a knife. She stepped back instinctively, her pulse quickening for an entirely different reason now. The face before her, the one she had spent years trying to forget, now brought a flood of memories crashing over her—memories she had buried so deep she thought they would never resurface. But there he was, standing in front of her, the ghost of her past, dredging it all up with one look.

In that single moment, it was as though the years melted away. She was back in high school, standing beside him, their laughter echoing in the hallways, their hands brushing as they passed each other notes. He had been everything to her once, her confidant, her anchor. And then—that day.

She had gotten sick. A sickness that spiraled into something far worse than anyone had imagined. She had fallen into a coma, lost to the world for what felt like an eternity. When she woke, so much had changed. They told her of his betrayal. They said he had done things while she lay unconscious, things she could hardly believe—but the look in his eyes when she confronted him afterward, when she returned to this world, had been enough. The cold, distant gaze. The silence. He had let the school—no, let her—fill with hate, with anger. And she had let it consume her, because what else was there to do when the person you trusted most turned out to be a stranger?

She swallowed hard, her throat dry.

She wanted to run away, but it was too late, their paths had already crossed again. Well, no, he had crossed her path again, she was here first, he had not been in this school before, she would know about it and now he was sure–dark hair, slightly bruised(whoever did, was an angel sent from heaven) and dark eyes.

“What… are you doing here?” she asked, her voice strained, laced with the bitterness of old wounds.

---

@idiot.exe

[eunoia]

★・・・・・・★ ⊱♥⊱ ★・・・・・・★

★・・・・・・★ ⊱♥⊱ ★・・・・・・★

Taes room

★・・・・・・★ ⊱♥⊱ ★・・・・・・★

The sun dipped low in the sky, painting the ancient library in hues of amber and gold. Dust motes danced in the air, their gentle waltz a stark contrast to the tension that hung heavy in the atmosphere. Ayla stood among the grand shelves, her brow furrowed in concentration, her usual spark dimmed by disappointment. They had been so close—close enough to taste victory, yet painfully distant from its grasp. The forbidden wing had remained just that, a mystery sealed behind layers of caution. They had arrived too late, the sound of jubilant exclamations from another team ringing out as they unlocked the door to triumph, their laughter slicing through Ayla’s heart.

Her mind spiraled, grappling with the rawness of defeat. “I really thought… we did well,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, the flicker of hope extinguished too swiftly. The lingering traces of exhilaration transformed into a winding ache that constricted her chest, a stark reminder that none of her efforts—a carefully curated plan, endless hours of research—had culminated in the victory she so desperately sought.

Ayla forced a smile, the kind that never reached her eyes, turning to each teammate in turn awarding them with a “great job,”, and “you did amazing!” or some variation with a high five to hide her disappointment. She nodded to them with a quiet grace. “Please excuse me,” she said softly, her voice steady but thin, like fragile glass. Her teammates nodding as she stepped away from the light-filled space, moving instead into the dim sanctuary of her room.

Once inside, she shut the door, the sound echoing softly in the stillness. The facade crumbled, and she pressed her palms against her cheeks, warm streaks of tears spilling over to track down her skin. This was not merely about a scavenger hunt; it was about her relentless pursuit of excellence, the driving need to be the best, if she had still been noble to lead and inspire others. The thought of letting her team down twisted like a knife in her chest, and with each breath, the weight of her thoughts drew her deeper into despair.

---

Bzzzz

An hour had drifted by in a haze of bittersweet thoughts, the afternoon sun now a reluctant whisper against the sheer drapes of Ayla’s room. As she sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling a journal filled with unspoken words and dreams, the quietness was abruptly interrupted by the familiar ping of her phone.

Ayla reached for it, her heart racing at the thought of any new notifications. The screen illuminated her face, and she felt a jolt of electric energy as she read the message: “Join us tonight! Celebrate our scavenger hunt victory! ” The sender—one of the winning team members—had graciously invited everyone to a gathering in their honor.

For a moment, her heart sank; yet, nestled somewhere within that familiar ache was a spark of defiance. This was their moment, not hers, but that did not mean she had to sulk in the shadows. Who knew who had loose lips when they were drunk?

She charged toward her closet, flinging open the doors with a rush of anticipation, her fingers diving through the myriad of pastel garments that hung elegantly in rows—blush pinks, buttery yellows, soft lavenders. Tonight was not a night for somber colors or muted palettes. No, tonight demanded boldness, an audacious celebration of life, whether in victory or in defeat.

Sparkly skirts and airy blouses cascaded from the shelves, and soon the floor of her room was a kaleidoscope of colors—a burst of sunshine. She tossed her favorite pieces aside, landing on a pastel blue dress that flowed like water, a reminder of her resilience. She grabbed along some additional pieces.

On the vanity, her makeup lay waiting. With a fierce determination, she gathered it all—shimmering eyeshadows, a brush of blush, and her favorite lipstick. She shoved everything into her bag. Plus, her stuffed lamb.

When she felt ready, an electric current coursing through her veins, Ayla marched purposefully toward her cousin Tae’s room. She knocked with confidence, giving him a quarter of a second before barreling in.

“We are going!” There was no room for hesitation, no time to waste lamenting her earlier disappointment. Tonight, she would reconnect with joy, share in laughter, and embrace the energy of people celebrating their achievements.

★・・・・・・★ @Caticorn | Tae | just pretend she’s still blonde here ★・・・・・・★

[raviola]

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Vinnie Clone || After the hunt with Amani

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He could say nothing after she pushed him away. It felt like he had been standing on the very edge of the rooftop, so when she pushed him, he would not be able to stand up. He said there was nothing to risk, but now he knew he did risk something, and he lost it. The sliver of a chance there was that one day they would be alright, that they’d be assigned to be in a group together, and she’d laugh at a joke he said to someone else was gone. He no longer felt like an enemy, just a creep. Who she’d probably think to have never seen her as a friend anyway, and she had reason to believe that. Everyone knew he was an asshole, so he deserved the karma. There were no words left to say. He watched the words he poured out to her grow moss, get old until she would walk away.

Her eyes seemed to redden, as she stood still. Neither of them dared to speak, and the fuse of Vincenzo’s impulses had blown out. There was no stupid thing left to start, he would just let her walk away knowing the truth about how weak he was, and believe even more what everyone else did. He could not console her as he did when Azriel would mistreat her, or when he saw her struggles that she refused to talk about. It would be wrong to touch her again, so he let her go.
At least he knew how it ended now.
In a sunken voice, his mind asked her to do what he should have done.
Walk away Amani, let it be over.

“It’s not September twenty-eighth,” Amani whispered. He furrowed his brow. What was she going to say? He didn’t even think of possibilities, he did not think he wanted to know.

Thud. He felt her body hit his, and her slender arms wrapped around his back. She felt small, and warm, like something he could so easily hurt. But he wanted to protect her, and take the weight off her shoulders, so he put his arms around her as well. So he held her because he knew she needed it. And honestly, he had been waiting for a chance to since the day she left.

“I didn’t forget,” she blinked, and he let her keep going, listening as he smelled her shampoo.

“Well, happy… thing,” he whispered into her raven hair, grimly smiling.

Briefly, Vincenzo pulled away, and when she backed up, he cupped her cheek, wiping the tear of her chin with the stroke of a thumb. They met eyes again, and he remembered how she probably felt in that moment, likely the same way he saw her. Unarmed, like her petals could fall at any moment, praying he would handle her gently. She was probably embarassed that he had seen her naked. He never cared about that, because he liked showing off his body, but she had still seen something. Something private in him that existed… only for her. He thought she may have built it herself, because he had never known it before.

“What does this mean?” Vinnie sighed, grasping for something. “What are we doing here,”

He was supposed to hate her, and he did. Even with his fingertips on her cheek, admiring her beauty, he still did. He hated the way she ignored him, he hated the way she thought she won, but she did. She disarmed him, knocked down all his defenses and saw his shed core, as brittle as leaves, as pale as the moon. He hoped she would not shatter it. And the ache in his chest begged that she would not give him the necessity to shatter her.

---

@Kristi

[Jass]

---

---

Lyra paused, noticing the sharpness in Inessa’s words. It wasn’t like her to be so defensive, and the forced smile didn’t escape her either. Something’s up, she thought. For a moment, Lyra’s frustration ebbed, replaced by concern for her friend.

She softened her tone, pushing aside her own feelings for now. “I get it,” she said, her voice gentler this time. “It sucks when you put in so much effort and don’t get the win. Your team did deserve it.” Lyra gave Inessa a small, understanding smile, hoping to ease the tension a bit.

Lyra shifted her weight, pulling her jacket around her a little tighter. “And I know Renlin’s probably just caught up in the win, but…” She hesitated, then took a breath. “I don’t know, it’s just been a rough day. For me. Maybe for you, too?” she added, her tone softer now, more inviting.

She didn’t want to push too hard, but she hoped Inessa would feel comfortable enough to share if something was bothering her. “If you need to talk, I’m here, you know?” Lyra’s attempt at connection was sincere, her prior frustration giving way to concern for her friend.

When Inessa called her “hot,” Lyra froze for a moment, caught completely off guard. She had never really seen herself that way - sure, she could put an outfit together, but hot? That word felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else, not her. She was so caught off guard, that she had totally missed the shaking tone in which Inessa had spoken.

She blinked, trying to play it off with a laugh, but there was a flush creeping up her cheeks. “Hot?” she repeated, the word awkward on her tongue as if testing it. “I mean, I’m usually more of a… cute kind of girl.” She tugged at the hem of her dress, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, as if the compliment had placed a spotlight on her.

But as she looked at Inessa, who was grinning and clearly meant what she said, Lyra felt a small, unfamiliar flicker of confidence stir inside her. It was strange, but maybe there was something empowering about the way she looked tonight. “Well, I guess I’ll take it,” she said, her tone softening into something more playful, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Thanks, Inessa. You’re not too bad yourself,” she added with a wink as Inessa was now wearing her costume and had put on the oversized black sunglasses and chunky headphones. The moment Inessa stood up in her pristine white dress, the contrast between their outfits was striking, and Lyra couldn’t help but break into a genuine smile.

As Inessa teased her, Lyra’s eyes lit up in recognition, catching the playful hint. “Oh, please,” Lyra said, her voice warm as she folded her arms with a knowing smirk. “Princess Mia from The Princess Diaries? Of course I know. You totally nailed it, Inessa!” She did a small clap for her friend, feeling some of the tension lift in the room.

“And seriously, you look amazing. Totally giving me ‘post-makeover Mia’ vibes,” she added, her grin widening. Lyra sensed the hidden nerves beneath Inessa’s playful teasing, but she didn’t want to push too much. Instead, she let her praise flow freely, hoping to boost her friend’s confidence. “Honestly, the sunglasses, the gloves? Iconic.”

As they walk toward the party, Lyra could sense Inessa’s shift in energy, feeling a bit of it rub off on her too. Glancing over, she gave Inessa a small smile before speaking. “You know, I wasn’t sure I could pull this off tonight,” Lyra said, adjusting the strap of her dress slightly, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability mixed with a playful tone. “But honestly, walking next to you like this? I think we’re about to steal the show.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air on her skin. “Honestly though,” she added, her tone softening a bit, “I’m kind of glad we’re doing this. I need a night to just… let go for a while. No overthinking, no guilt. Just fun. You with me on that?” Lyra’s gaze flicked to Inessa, her smile a little brighter now, but there was a vulnerability in her words - like she needed reassurance that this night could be a chance for both of them to escape the weight they’d been carrying.

---

Inessa - @Madilfill

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[idiot.exe]

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Flashback - During the hunt - with Amani

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What a perfect plan Dominic had — wait for the scavenger hunt when everyone was distracted, and only then could he finally make his escape. It was a scavenger hunt, a mere game, and yet, not in a million years could he have predicted it would carry so much importance.

Dominic’s steps felt heavy as he followed behind his group. With a strong grip on the strap of his bag, he dragged his feet along, muted against the echo of the other footsteps.

This event he’d underestimated had turned out to be a test. Their knowledge, thinking, skill; everything would be examined. And though Dominic cared little for a rank or recognition, there was no denying how everyone’s eyes seemed to surround him. In every room, every corner he felt as if something was hovering over him, waiting for the moment he’d step away from the prewritten path. And the people, his teammates he was assigned to, in his silence would glance at him for answers. And if he spoke, they would turn their full attention, giving him no room to breathe.

As they walked across the courtyard now, if Dominic were to step away into the shadows, how long would it take them to notice? Would the headmaster be alerted, as if he’d mapped out each student’s location? Was security tighter?

No, forget that. The higher ups were the least of his concerns. Especially since in front of him was a man around his height, intimidating eyes the color of ice — the very person to have beaten him near death.

Vincenzo.

Even as a month had passed by, Dominic still struggled to clear his head of that dark presence. When he rested, mind unoccupied, he’d see flashes of that night. In his dreams when he’d let his guard down, that man would take his peace. The pain and tightness, the metallic taste in his throat and how his body betrayed him — Dominic remembered each detail as clearly as he was living through it.

Out of all the eyes which watched him, Vincenzo’s gaze was one which made him freeze in place.

Why couldn’t his escape be easy?

His mind began to spin, gritting his teeth behind closed lips. How much further would this hunt drag on? He couldn’t go on any longer.

As his team continued through the courtyard, Dominic came to a stop. For a moment, he looked around his surroundings. Was now a good time? Surely the excitement for the hunt was enough of a distraction. If he turned—

And suddenly, he felt a collision against his body. He stumbled, a jolt of adrenaline spiking in his chest. An attack?

His head snapped down, expecting the worst.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angered voice exclaimed.

Oh. He’d only bumped into someone. Something about her voice grated on his ears. Perhaps, it was how she jumped to accusations, without even bothering to look at him first.

“I was fairly certain I was paying attention,” he responded, glaring down with a sour expression.

She lifted her head, their gazes meeting. For a moment, her hazel eyes seemed so familiar, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away. It was as if memories flashed through his mind, of a person whose gaze looked so much alike… Hers.

His brows furrowed. A tightness in his chest, and his blood began to boil. Fists clenched, teeth grit so tight veins bulged on his neck. Dominic’s lips parted, preparing to speak — only to be cut off by her wide eyelids, pupils trembling in fear.

She took a step back. Had he frightened her?

In that instant, his muslces relaxed, his jaw unclenching. It couldn’t be her, she would never make that expression. Not in public where strangers could see. With a sigh, Dominic’s face softened as he looked down at the woman. “I’m… sorry,” he mumbled, the words still feeling so foreign. His foot went back as well, putting more distance between them.

Silence lingered in the air. Dominic stood still, looking down at the eerily familiar stranger. She seemed in panic, something about his appearance had set her off. He felt a heaviness against his chest, a feeling he couldn’t quite explain. His mind raced, flipping through the possibilities of the woman’s thoughts like pages, each one worse than the other. Either he’d frightened her, and his fate of being eventually feared was inescapable — or, he was standing face to face with an old… Friend.

He couldn’t say which he dreaded more.

Finally, with a strained voice she broke the silence. “What… are you doing here?”

Dominic furrowed his brows, expression twisting in confusion. Out of all the sentences he imagined she’d utter, this was not one of them.

“What?” he asked bluntly, dumbfounded by her question. “I’m… I’m taking part in the scavenger hunt,” his eyes flickered back to his group for a moment, before meeting hers. “What kind of question is that?”

The scavenger hunt, Vincenzo, and his foiled escape. All of these factors weighed on his mind, a load which slowed his steps and caused his feet to drag. And all the while his mind spun, spun and spun, with possibilities, future events, the danger that would arise. Would it be any wonder his reasoning would get clouded, leading to the assumption this was a woman he once knew?

Taking a deep breath, he stepped away. His head turned towards his group, who’d already advanced into the next corridors. He couldn’t afford any distractions. That was something he’d settled on from the start.

Yet, the weight seemed to get heavier with each step, as if something was pulling him back towards the woman. Could he really walk away, especially after the question she’d asked? At the very least, he had to know who she was.

He stopped. Turning back, Dominic faced her again. “Have we met?”

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@Kristi ⋅𖥔⋅ Amani Ditto Monet

Mentioned:
@raviola ⋅𖥔⋅ Vinnie

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[Kristi]

[[𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡]]

All white, ribbons and wings, she was dressed as an angel—or perhaps more like a dream, fleeting, bound to run away at any moment. Thalia glanced at herself in the mirror, turning slightly as the fabric swirled around her. Her sister’s voice echoed in her head, suggesting the old Cinderella costume from high school. It had fit like a glove, of course, because some things never change, no matter how much time passes. She had even brought it with her to Wyndham, tucked away with the other relics of home she couldn’t quite let go of.

It wasn’t just that it still fit—it was the symbolism. Her sister had probably meant it innocently enough, but Thalia knew better. Cinderella was a girl who ran, who left behind pieces of herself for someone else to find. If that wasn’t her, then who was it? Running was practically her signature move. And that’s why she couldn’t wear it tonight. A party like this wasn’t meant for someone to show up as their most honest, broken self. Tonight was about slipping into a new skin, playing a part. Being anyone but yourself.

Still, the angel costume felt ironic. She didn’t feel like anyone’s idea of pure or divine, but it was last-minute, and a friend of her’s had practically shoved it into her hands, insisting it would be perfect for the team’s celebration party. Thalia sighed, tugging on the last ribbon before sliding into her shoes. She hadn’t even planned on coming.

Renlin was hosting, and if it had just been that, maybe she could have skipped it entirely. But it wasn’t just his party—it was the victory celebration for he
r team’s big win. Inessa had been insistent, too, texting her relentlessly about how they had to go together, and the whole thing would seem off if she didn’t show. And then, there was Renlin. She’d promised him she’d meet up with him. It was hard to back out of that when his quiet expectation lingered over her like a weight. And unfortunately, they did have a lot to talk about, because they couldn’t end things as abruptly as they ended it earlier (in Thalia’s opinion they could, but he would probably make it a big deal, like he had made the texting thing.) Also, Desdemona was going to be there, and it would be good for her to forget Kiki but Thalia knew that it wouldn’t truly happen-Desdemona could not forget Kiki like that and Thalia worried for her intensified. After this, she decided, she would go and see if Mona was alright.

Her phone buzzed. Inessa again. She was already at the party, asking where she was. Thalia stuffed the phone into her small clutch and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

The walk to the party was a blur, her thoughts flickering between her hesitation and the strange excitement tugging at her chest. She wasn’t exactly ready to face Renlin. The last time they’d talked, things had been… complicated. They always were with him. But there was something unspoken between them that kept drawing her back, even if it felt like it would burn her alive if she got too close. Still, a promise was a promise.

As she neared the venue, she could hear the muffled bass of the music, the laughter, and the murmur of voices mixing together. The lights spilled out from the house, illuminating the garden path. Her stomach churned slightly—too many people. Too many faces. She could already see the crowd inside, the flashing costumes, the familiar faces of her teammates, Inessa probably already dancing in the middle of it all.

But Thalia was scanning for Renlin. She hadn’t come here for the party, not really. She hadn’t wanted to come at all. But he was here, somewhere, and she owed him this much.

Her breath caught when she saw him across the room, leaning casually against the wall, the familiar figure that always seemed so at ease in the middle of chaos

She took her time, her hands grabbing her pendant, toying with it as she looked around trying to scan the area for anything suspicious, something that would at least put a little sense to all her little conspiracy theories. Later, she told herself, a hand-her’s touching her forehead, flickering it and then she frowned–why had she done that? It was such a weird thing to do, to flicker your own forehead. Whatever, she muttered as she took deep breathes and before she knew it her feet had carried her to Renlin side.

She had wanted to maybe frighten him a little by going ‘boo’ from behind him but it seemed that as soon as she stepped close to him, he had turned to her, and she had smiled–at least she thinks she had, and went: “I told you I would come.” Then: “So…” She folded her hands together, “Nice party you got here,” And then her eyes flickered to his costume, they were matching–kind of, she couldn’t tell if he was supposed to be an angel or Eros.

---

@Madilfill

mentioned:

@raviola

[Caticorn]

≪ °❈° ≫ ● ≪ °❈° ≫

Even though his team hadn’t won, Tae couldn’t deny that he’d had fun during the scavenger hunt. However, he couldn’t say the same for Ayla, who had seemed pretty let down by their defeat. Ayla was like an older sister to him and he didn’t like seeing her upset so he tried to comfort her before going back to his room. He had been looking forward to spending the night in his room, listening to his records and maybe even playing his guitar for a bit if his body allowed. He was definitely smoking first, he knew that much.

The first wrench in his plan had been thrown by Renlin, who had invited everyone to a party in Umbra to celebrate his team winning. Tae didn’t even need to open the message to decide that he was not going. He had learned his lesson from the sleepover and had zero interest in attending anything hosted by either of his cousins anytime soon.

The second wrench came in the form of a knock at his door which disrupted him as he was staring at the drawer of his bedside table, deciding whether he wanted to just dull his pain or spend the evening on another plane of existence. He groaned as he realized he would have to stand up in order to answer it.

“What the-” Tae thought out loud as his door burst open before he was fully upright. “Ya!” He scolded in Korean as he realized who it was.

“We are going!”

“Speak for yourself.” He muttered as he flopped onto his bed, where he intended to stay for the rest of the night. “I’m staying here.” He added to make sure she knew that he had made up his mind and wouldn’t be changing it.

≪ °❈° ≫ ● ≪ °❈° ≫

@eunoia - Ayla

[eunoia]

!! ━―━―━()━―━―━― !!

!! ━―━―━(Rens Party)━―━―━― !!

Agastya’s Private Journal

We won the hunt. The prize was an advantage, and I’m still not sure what to do with Adrian’s words. I think he was threatening us—or maybe just psycho analyzing us. We won, it feels hollow. I stood there as my teammates celebrated, their joy vibrant. Yet all I could feel was a suffocating emptiness. It’s strange to achieve something I’ve worked hard for and feel… nothing. No thrill, no rush—just a void. Maybe it’s the pressure finally releasing or perhaps the weight of expectations. Either way, the victory feels like a shadow of what I thought it would be. I need to figure out why I can’t connect to this moment.

Agastya stood before a mirror, the air thick with an otherworldly quiet. The atmosphere was fraught with anticipation, an unspoken weight that hung heavily on the edges of celebration. His fingers trembled with a strange blend of nerves and excitement as he began to unpack the remnants of a past long tucked away—a past that shimmered with energy and life, albeit now wreathed in shadows.

The corset—ruby red, its fabric taut against his slim frame—had not seen the light of day in long months. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he had adorned himself in something so unapologetically feminine. It felt like an echo of another life, one untouched by his present self, and he fought back a wave of melancholy as he rolled the black slacks, the material whispering against his skin, revealing the intricacies of his mechanic leg—a silent testament to his battles fought and won.

He stared at his reflection momentarily—a gaunt figure swathed in a bygone glamour that felt too foreign, too rich for the soft sorrow cloaking his heart. His hair, which had once cascaded straight and dark, now fluffed into chaotic curls, remnants of the chemotherapy that had sculpted his body anew. There was a certain irony in his life: the fierce spirit trapped in a vessel altered, yet still incandescent. It had been too long since he had indulged in the art of makeup, and as he dipped his brush into the palette, the colors were a promise of transformation.

With each stroke, he crafted bold lines around his eyes, channeling the iconic whimsy of Betty Boop—a character as vivacious as the laughter that had seemed to fade from his life. The familiarity of bright, sweeping lashes was comforting as he rummaged through the depths of the drawer, unearthing falsies long forgotten, their promise of drama ready to elevate his spirit. Each lash applied was a delicate prayer, a plea for joy amidst shades of memory that tugged at him.

As dabs of rouge danced upon his cheeks, a stunning contrast to the sunken curves left by countless treatments, the melancholy lingered in the room, yet hope flickered—the fragile flame of resilience igniting a long-buried joy within him. There was something exhilarating in transforming his soft, shadowed visage into a canvas of vivacity, where every stroke of lipstick mirrored a defiance against the dark.

Yet, in an unexpected twist, he reached for a pair of round, dark glasses that seemed to weigh heavy in their own right. As he perched them atop his nose, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity—how they negated the very essence of the vibrant persona he was conjuring. The glasses framed his face with an air of scholarly detachment that clashed with the sultry glamour of Betty Boop. But strangely, it was the tension that delighted him; the juxtaposition of whimsy and seriousness, each element battling for its place in the evening’s narrative.

Glancing in the mirror, Agastya felt something stir—a latent resolve against the solitude that had so often colored his days. Today, with all its intricate layers of past and present, he chose to step forth, a glorious paradox, ready to embrace the laughter and camaraderie that awaited him. In that moment, the shadows whispered to the light within him, and as the last remnants of dusk surrendered to night, he understood that he was more than his scars, more than his past—he was a celebration, and the party beckoned with arms wide open.

---

As Agastya stepped into the Umbra Coven, he was immediately enveloped by a warm, electric atmosphere. The low light flickered like candle flames against dark wooden beams, casting mischievous shadows on the walls adorned with eclectic art and velvet drapes. A rich mix of laughter and lively conversation filled the air, mingling with the pulse of music that vibrated through the floor beneath his feet.

Nodding to familiar faces, he felt a thread of camaraderie weave its way through the gathering. His teammates drifted around, each one either engrossed in their own revelries or exchanging laughter, their joy infectious. The red corset hugged him tightly, a realization grounding him amidst the sea of celebration—he was present, alive, and a part of this tapestry of friendship. A glimmer of mischief puffed its way through his somber recollections, reminding him of the good that lingered even in the aftermath of pain.

But even in the midst of delight, Umbra held memories that trembled just beneath the surface—a tapestry of solitude and bittersweetness woven into its very walls. This was the place where he had once shared hushed glances and stolen moments, sneaking away with an intensity that felt like young love painted in fleeting strokes. Dare he even use the word love? It felt too grand for a past so ephemeral, but those memories fluttered, soft like ghostly whispers, reminding him of something sweet and exquisitely longing—the thrill of a heart that dared to hope.

He shook his head lightly, chasing away the remnants of wistfulness and focusing on the crowd swaying around him. A burst of laughter caught his attention, and he turned to find a figure clad in a makeshift Spider-Man suit, colorful and unmistakable, a playful nod to childhood nostalgia. The lighting obscured much of the figure’s face, but Agastya could see the smile emanating, infectious and cheerful. He approached Mr. Parker.

“How’s it swinging, Spidey?” he grinned, adjusting his glasses as he stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

!! ━―━―━()━―━―━― !!

@Jass | Dante | the amount of time I spent on wordhippo for this in other news, sorry he’s not wearing a dress fam

[raviola]

⭒❃.✮:▹ sad song ⭒❃.✮:▹

In the crowd of students, Desdemona’s throat dried from the alcohol, and as she digested, the floor seemed to sway under her feet. She had never been drunk before. She’d been offered many times, but mom and dad said she shouldn’t, so she didn’t. Thalia said she shouldn’t, even though she was an alcoholic herself, so Mona didn’t. Thalia, thalia. She was all she could think about, all she should think about. But Thalia didn’t feel the same way. Thalia loved Renlin, Thalia neglected her. She hid her stalker pictures from Mona, thinking she was stupid, the way everyone else thought she was stupid. And maybe she was, but as time went on, she realized more and more what this was about. She realized that Thalia didn’t look out for her like mom and dad said she would, she didn’t look after Kiki.

Kiki.

Her castaway pet had died earlier in the day. The custodial workers had to sweep up her remains. They would probably have to throw out the books that fell on the little thing.
She would kill to go back, ask for another moment with her. But she was a coward, and the opportunity was gone.

All that was left of her was caution tape, sealing the space where the bookshelf fell. Lyra was so dumb, Desdemona was so dumb for trading places with her.
Lyra was meant for cryptomancy, and it was evident that she couldn’t craft illusions like Mona could. And Mona did it all to be closer to a girl who forgot she existed if she didn’t call first.

She supposed it wasn’t just her, it was Lyra wanting to be closer to her cousin too. They were both so feeble, offering to give up their talents, their potential for the people they loved. Maybe they should have been friends, holding hands and spinning in circles until the periphery blurred into nothing but sunshine.
Now, she could only look at Lyra and feel resentment.

She could cry again, but it wasn’t the time. She would cry when the ground stopped swaying, when it was quiet.

For the moment, she just took stumbling steps, looking for her friends that gave her the drinks. She wasn’t sure where they had gone, or where they had left her. The music was so loud, and since it was an umbra party, they had put up those lights that change color, turning her trek across the room, shoving between hard shoulders, into a sequence of scenes. Red, green, blue, purple.

She stumbled into someone’s chest, ruching the white fabric of his shirt with her scrunched hands. She was trying not to fall.

Desdémona pulled away, and then looked up at dark, angled features on a light-colored face. She knew this guy. He was in her group…

“Sorry.” She mumbled, and then met his eyes. He had a very soft stare, and dimples when he cracked a smile in surprise.
“I didn’t see you there,” she said, and then giggled when she couldn’t remember his name to finish the sentence. Her words were starting to slur, and her tone was lazy, but at least you couldn’t hear that she was sad. She didn’t want people to see that.
“Have you seen Connie, or Bradford?” She asked him, absentmindedly placing her palm on his chest, pressing down when she thought she might fall from the shoving behind her.
“Again, sorry. It’s so crowded here…” she scratched her arm. With that last push, she felt the hard rub of her denim costume on her skin, and the silicon pads on her breasts. Who had given her this costume again?

@Madilfill Renlin

mentioned:
@Jass Lyra
@Kristi Thalia

[eunoia]

★・・・・・・★ ⊱♥⊱ ★・・・・・・★

★・・・・・・★ ⊱♥⊱ ★・・・・・・★

“Oh, no, you absolutely are not. You’re coming with me, Tae, and that’s final.” She advanced toward him, gesturing for him to get up. “We lost, yes, but that doesn’t mean we have to wallow in it. You need to shake off the defeat and have some… fun.” She said fun lightly, but something shimmered in her eyes.

As Ayla stood defiantly, she felt a familiar tingle in her fingertips—the unmistakable thrill of using her magic. She closed her eyes for just a moment, breathing in the vibrant energy of the room, and when she opened them, they sparkled with playful mischief.

She flicked her wrist, and with a soft flicker of light, her beloved stuffed lamb, a cherished possession from childhood, began to trot across the floor. It wore an innocent expression with embroidered eyes, but under Ayla’s subtle influence, its movements now had a lively bounce. The lamb, named Marshmallow, weaved around the floor, moving in a way that perfectly captured the essence of a real, lively creature.

“Look, even Marshmallow wants you to come!” Ayla exclaimed, her voice sing-song as she exaggerated the lamb’s movements. The plush toy pranced around a chair, twirling for effect, Ayla concentrated harder than she’d like to admit.

With a final flourish, Ayla’s brows furrowed, and Marshmallow took a big leap—crashing into the side of Taes bed. She frowned, before making Marshmallow try again, this time he made it onto Tae’s bed, landing neatly on the soft duvet. For a moment, it stood still, then tilted its head at Tae as if urging him to get up and join the fun.

Marshmallow plopped down on the bed, pretending to munch on imaginary grass, creating a small illusion of flowers springing up around it—a delightful distraction that heightened the charm to an almost irresistible level. Ayla sat the edge of his bed, eyes never leaving the lamb. “It’s all about perspective, Tae.” Her voice was serene, her creation taking her full focus. “Every loss is simply a set-up for a different kind of victory. And sometimes, the real prize isn’t revealed right away. I’ll be sappy and say the prize is us going out and partying.” Ayla looked up grinning, her enthusiasm palpable. She reached out to pat Marshmallow on the head, and with a small pulse of her magic, the lamb winked at Tae.

★・★ @Caticorn | Tae ★・★

[Madilfill]

Song - Nothing Compares To Yoi

Renlin was throwing a party tonight. It could have been for his team’s win, for all the teams’ efforts, or for Thalia’s brilliance in leading them to victory. Either way, the celebration was set in Umbra, and his excitement was contagious. The boys were buzzing for it. A party was inevitable regardless of the outcome. Umbra had a reputation, after all, and Renlin wasn’t one to disappoint.

He delegated most of the set-up to the younger members, who were more than eager to please. They reminded him of puppies, wide-eyed and ready to do anything he asked with a grin. Less work for him, more fun for them. A win-win.

The morning had been spent in his room with Thalia. They’d talked endlessly, like they always did. Conversations between them never seemed to run dry, and even in the quiet moments, there was a calmness that felt just right. She was on his team for the scavenger hunt, but during the actual hunt, he’d kept his distance. Thalia had been deep in her zone, sleuthing and figuring out puzzles in a way that amazed him. He’d been more of a bystander, not paying much attention to the conversations between the other girls on the team. He contributed only when needed, content to let Thalia lead the way. He wasn’t great with puzzles, but he was happy they won. Not that he would ever take credit for it.

Now, he stood in the middle of the celebration, the party in full swing. People were laughing, drinking, some a little too much, but it was the kind of chaos he enjoyed. The music thumped around them, and Renlin, nursing his second beer, felt the glass bottle grow warm in his hand. Warm beer, disgusting. He was about to finish it when he suddenly found himself face-to-face with her.

“Told you I’d come.”

His grin grew wide, excitement lighting up his face. She actually came. Thalia kept her promises. She had come. A part of him had been bracing for her absence, for that familiar disappointment. But here she was, and the air around him shifted instantly, electrifying.

She was dressed head to toe in white, looking ethereal, like an angel descended from the sky. She wore it so effortlessly, while he, in contrast, wore golden angel wings strapped to his back. Though the myth of Icarus played on his mind, wings gilded in ambition, reaching for the sun only to fall, tonight he felt invincible. The golden wings weren’t literal, of course, but people assumed he was playing the angel, and he let them.

“Welcome to my home away from home,” he said, spreading his arms wide, the bottle dangling loosely in one hand. His eyes never left her. “What took you so long? You are the guest of honor after all.” he asked, his voice teasing, but soft.

Without thinking, he looped his free arm around her waist, pulling her in closer, just enough to feel the warmth of her body against his. He caught a few glances from his friends, but he didn’t care. Right now, it was all about her. Thalia, here with him. It was like the rest of the room dissolved, leaving only the two of them in this bubble where time felt suspended.

The party, the noise, the laughter, it all faded into the background when she was near. She looked like a dream, but the way his pulse quickened reminded him she was very real, right here in front of him.

The softness of her body under his arm, the scent of her that he could never quite place but always recognized, the way her eyes met his with that guarded playfulness, it all sent a rush through him. He didn’t know what it was about her that made him feel this way, but he craved it, craved her. Every little moment, every glance, every word she gave him felt like a gift he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Let’s dance,” Renlin said, his voice low as he looked down at her. It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement, like it was the most obvious thing to do now that she was here. The thought of dancing with her, of holding her even closer, felt like the next natural step.

Her eyes met his, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if she’d go for it.Without waiting for an answer, he placed his bottle on the nearest table and reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining with an ease that surprised even him. He pulled her gently toward the center of the room, where people were already moving to the beatHis heart was beating faster now, anticipation bubbling up inside him as he led her into the crowd.

The music seemed to slow as he drew her in, one hand slipping around her waist, the other still holding hers. She fit against him perfectly, like they’d done this a thousand times before, though not in public like this. He felt the warmth of her body press into his, the rise and fall of her breath matching his. For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the sensation of her in his arms sink in.

The room was still buzzing with conversation and laughter, but none of it mattered. It was just him and Thalia, moving together in sync, like they had their own private rhythm no one else could hear. His thumb traced small circles on her back, a subtle touch that spoke more than words could. He wanted her to know how much this meant, even if he couldn’t say it aloud.

“You feel perfect here,” he whispered, so quite he hoped she didn’t hear over the music, “Just so you know, I might step on your toes a bit, but that’s just my way of making sure you stay close!” leaning down just enough for his breath to brush against her ear.
@Kristi thalssss

[idiot.exe]

[⋅𖥔⋅]═════⋅𖥔⋅═══ [ ♛ ] ═══⋅𖥔⋅═════[⋅𖥔⋅]

Outside the Party - with Lenore

[⋅𖥔⋅]═════⋅𖥔⋅═══ [ ♤ ] ═══⋅𖥔⋅═════[⋅𖥔⋅]

Dominic leaned his back against the door, closing with a clack. The loud, overly upbeat music became muffled, as if this were a wooden barrier protecting his sanity. On the other side, crowds of people swarmed, laughing so loud they were no match for the speakers. There was no room to walk. No room to breathe.

Why, just why has his plan gone so terribly wrong?

Hearing the news that his team lost, Dominic felt relief wash over him. He hadn’t gathered any attention (hopefully), and all the focus directed to the winners. Just then, he could’ve turned around, sprinting for the fire escapes or other hidden passages. Anywhere, as long as he stepped far from the prying eyes which seemed to follow in the shadows.

Yet, he stayed, peeking at the wide open gates of the elusive Room 4. It felt as if his eyes were glued to it, an invisible force dragging him to follow behind the winners. He took a step forward — and the door slammed shut.

Dominic couldn’t help but wonder, just what had he missed out on by forfeiting his chance to win? Now, as he stood in the dim hallways, lit by the neon lights breaking through the gaps of the door, he wondered, had he made the right choice? His mind wandered back to the beginning, when he first heard of Wyndham Academy. The reasons he chose it; to hone his magic, to walk through the hallways and hidden doors full of secrets. He’d be alongside peers who could finally understand him, who wouldn’t fear his magic like many before.

Like his—

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Feeling the chipping paint against his fingertips, the backpack weighing on his shoulder, he felt the tension ease from his body.

No. He’d already made up his mind.

Behind that door, in the Umbra Coven common room, were exactly the people he worried would follow him. He would never get another chance so perfect.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Slowly, he leaned off the door, taking slow, steady steps down the hallway. As he got further away, he could finally hear his shoes’ soft echo, as the silence returned where it belonged.

But — in the distance — a doll-like silhouette seemed to get nearer. Hair in two braids, a white dress obscured in shadows. Dominic’s steps slowed to a stop, his brows furrowed. Turning his head down, he continued to walk, avoiding the woman’s gaze.

He could hear her footsteps against the marble floor, echoing from the walls like an eerie symphony. Just what was her costume meant to resemble? A doll? Perhaps haunted? Feeling an uneasiness in chest, Dominic peeked up beneath his eyelashes. What if it were an actual doll—

“Lenore?” he asked without thinking, confusion evident in his tone.

[⋅𖥔⋅]═════⋅𖥔⋅═══ [ ♛ ] ═══⋅𖥔⋅═════[⋅𖥔⋅]

@Caticorn ⋅𖥔⋅ Lenore Ferrel

[⋅𖥔⋅]═════⋅𖥔⋅═══ [ ♤ ] ═══⋅𖥔⋅═════[⋅𖥔⋅]

[Kristi]

[[౨ৎmusique -click ౨ৎ]]

clone-after the hunt

With his hands wrapped around her body and her wrapped around his, Amani could not help to feel that they were simply enduring and committing the longer and more everlasting form of death. Right now, being with him like this, smelling the scent of his cheap cologne and of his cigarettes, she thought to herself… this is my Enzo—My Vinnie and she pressed herself harder to him, as if itching to be even closer. She didn’t know how much she had missed being like this with him, when jokes were just jokes. Perhaps, if she still didn’t have her dignity, she knew that he would cry and ruin his shirt, so they pulled away.

He had pulled away first, she thinks, or maybe it was her who pulled away first, but Amani took a step back, and he took one forward as he cupped her cheek, and he wiped something off her face. Amani blinked rapidly, her face heating up as Vinnie’s thumb brushed against her cheek. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying, and the dampness on her face felt foreign. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out as he wiped her skin with that gentle, almost absentminded care. She tried to swallow whatever lump had risen in her throat, shifting her eyes to the side, avoiding his gaze.

Her hand twitched at her side, unsure whether to brush his hand away or leave it there. But instead of acting, she stood frozen for a moment, her body rigid. Her heartbeat was louder than it should be, and she hated how it made her feel so… exposed. She inhaled sharply, more out of reflex than necessity, and let her gaze fall to the ground, pretending like she hadn’t just noticed the raw, vulnerable edge she’d unintentionally shown. Her throat tightened, and she clenched her jaw. A quick, shallow breath followed, as if steadying herself, though her eyes remained fixed anywhere but on his face.

Though, her eyes quickly snapped back to his face when he had asked his question, that one created a thousand thoughts that spiraled in her head. She parted her lips, as if to speak, then closed it and pressed them tightly together.

Amani let out a shaky breath, her eyes still avoiding his. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, the words getting stuck in her throat. What were they doing here? She didn’t know how to answer that—not without saying too much, not without admitting to things she wasn’t ready to face.

“Being stupid,” Amani let the words hang in the air for a moment, feeling the weight of them settle between them like a fog. She let out a soft, humorless laugh, but even that felt forced, thin against the tension building in her chest. She shook her head slightly, staring at the ground again as her arms instinctively wrapped around herself, as if trying to hold everything in.

"All this is meaningless, you’re holding… we’re holding unto nothing,

There was a part of her that wanted to say more, to explain herself, to confess something real. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—because that would make this too real, too messy. She wasn’t ready for that. Not now, not with him looking at her like that, like he was waiting for some kind of answer that she wasn’t sure she had.

“We keep doing this,” she added, shaking her head, “Going back and forth, pretending like it means something. Like it’s not going to end the same way.”

Her eyes darted up to meet his, and for a second, she felt raw—like he could see right through her, like he had always been able to. And she hated it. Hated that he could still make her feel so exposed, so uncertain, when all she wanted was to build walls around herself, keep everything neat and detached.

But here they were, standing in the rubble of all the walls she thought she’d built. And she didn’t know what to do next. “You know this doesn’t last, Vinnie.”

She rubbed her eyes, as If extremely worn out, “When I go to bed today, I’m going to wake up the same as always, hating you, wishing you would disappear, and I’ll go back to being myself and Azriel’s fiancee, and you will continue to despise me for all I said today and did, like I will continue to despise you for everything we’ve been through.” Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to keep going, her tone sharpening like a defense.

Amani’s hands fidgeted at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling as she struggled to maintain her composure. She could feel the weight of her words settling between them like a cold barrier, the kind that couldn’t be crossed.

“I don’t know what this is,” she continued, almost to herself now. “But it’s not real. Not for me. Not when I have a life waiting for me, responsibilities… Azriel, my future. And you… you’re just part of the past I can’t shake off. But I’m going to keep trying.” Then, almost as if talking to herself she said, “But I think I’ve been doing this wrong, as obviously no matter how hard I try, you keep coming near me, so I think…I think that’s how it can truly work, to be as indifferent to you as ever.” With that, she took a step closer, and standing on her tip toes, she kissed his neck. It was strange to be doing this with him, but it was the way to truly be indifferent to him, for him to simply become one of the many people she bedded, and not a best friend, not a brother. Still, she wouldn’t kiss him on the lips, that was just too personal and she never did that with the one’s she did not like.

---

@raviola

[Jass]

---

At the Umbra Coven | Renlin’s Party | Agastya

---

Dante spun around at the sound of Agastya’s voice, a broad grin already tugging at his lips. He was still buzzing from the scavenger hunt, the adrenaline mixing with the carefree atmosphere of the costume party. The makeshift Spider-Man suit clung to him in all its colorful, slightly ridiculous glory, but that only added to the fun. It wasn’t about looking perfect - it was about embracing the moment.

With a dramatic flair, Dante extended his hand, mimicking the iconic web-slinging motion. “How’s it swinging, indeed?” he said, his voice playful and light. “Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, making sure no one’s causing too much trouble at this after-party.” He threw his head back slightly, pretending to survey the room like a vigilant hero. “No evil stands a chance when Spider-Dante’s on the scene.” But then, in true Dante fashion, he immediately broke the act, laughing at himself, the easygoing warmth of his chuckle cutting through the theatrics. He winked, the mask resting around his neck, revealing his playful expression.

The upbeat music and laughter of the crowd swirled around them, but Dante’s attention was fully on Agastya now. With a half-turn and a cocky grin, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, “But between you and me, I think I’ve earned a break after that scavenger hunt. All that running around? Even Spidey needs a breather.”

He struck a goofy pose, one hand on his hip and the other raised in a mock web-sling, holding the ridiculous stance for a beat too long. His eyes sparkled with mischief, perfectly matching the playful vibe of the evening. “You, though,” Dante continued, as he observed Agastya’s costume, "You really went all out, huh?” Dante exclaimed, his voice light and teasing, but with an undercurrent of genuine respect. The sparkle in his eyes mirrored the joy Agastya seemed to exude, and he couldn’t help but grin at the sheer boldness of the look. "Dude, your Betty Boop look is on another level!” He chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “I mean, I’ve seen some wild outfits, but you’re absolutely killing it!"

With a playful glint in his eye, Dante offered, “Just so you know, if anyone gives you crap for looking too fly, I’ll web-sling right over and throw down for you,” he added with a playful wink. “Seriously though, man, you look awesome. I’m here for it.”

---

@eunoia

[Caticorn]

≪ °❈° ≫ ● ≪ °❈° ≫

“I’m not wallowing, I’m avoiding my cousin.” He corrected, looking right at her while making it very clear that he wasn’t moving from his spot. He didn’t need to use names. She knew who he was talking about and that his refusal to attend had nothing to do with their loss. “My bruises are barely noticeable now and I’m not looking to get more. Not right now at least.”

Tae tried (and failed) to stop himself from smiling as Ayla animated the stuffed lamb she brought with her, which was apparently named Marshmallow. He watched as it made its way from the floor onto his head and he couldn’t deny that it was hard to stand his ground with it staring at him. He pulled himself into a sitting position, trying to hold onto the last shred of his willpower, which a small, stuffed lamb was quickly stealing.

“Noona, your lamb is cute but it’ll take more than that to convince me.” He lied as he made eye contact with her. He was confident that he would never hear the end of it if he let her win so easily and he was determined to make her fight for it at least a little longer.

“My perspective is that the last time I went to an Umbra party, Renlin almost killed me and I don’t have a death wish.” He responded, not caring if he was being a buzzkill. Yeah, it sucked that they lost and Ayla’s attempt to turn it into something positive was admirable but he was not at all inclined to attend an event being hosted by the person who despised him most. There wasn’t a single part of that which didn’t spell out ‘recipe for disaster’.

≪ °❈° ≫ ● ≪ °❈° ≫

@eunoia - Ayla

translation

Noona = older sister/female friend

Mentioned:
@Madilfill - Ren

[astxrism]

{ After the hunt / with Adrian }
‧˚₊•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Aurora hesitated outside her father’s office, her hand resting on the doorknob. It had been years since she felt truly comfortable in this part of the buliding. The heavy oak door loomed before her like a portal to another world, one full of secrets she never wanted to uncover and tasks she never wanted to do. Adrian Dear had called her here after the scavenger hunt, his voice too sweet, too measured… He never invited her to his office unless he had some hidden motive, but Aruroa could never deny.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the usual heavy drapes drawn to keep out the sunlight. Her father sat behind his desk, his posture impeccably straight, a cup of tea already waiting for her in front of the chair he had clearly set out. Maybe that’s where her fondness for tea came from, Aurora thought of those early days when things were simpler, when family moments felt less like staged scenes and more like genuine connections. She barely remembered those days, it all felt rather like a dream than something that actually happened… but they were there. Back when she was still a child and life was less complicated, she and her parents would sit together, sharing quiet moments over tea. It felt almost warm back then, as though there had once been a version of their family that functioned like the ones she’d seen her friends have. But now those memories felt distant, like something she had imagined or watched from afar, the warmth replaced by the cold calculation of his every move.

“Aurora…” he greeted with that smooth, authoritative tone, motioning to the seat across from him. “Sit.” She crossed the room slowly, her heart tightening, trying to ignore how small she felt in his presence. Her fingers brushed against the cool leather of the chair as she pulled it out, sinking into it. She straightened her posture, trying to look composed while her hands gripped the arms of the chair a little too tightly. He gestured to the tea. “You should have some. It’s a special blend I had prepared just for you.” She hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on him. Despite everything, Aurora still admired him, still loved him. How could she not? He was her father. No matter how cold or distant he had become there was a part of her that longed to trust him, to believe that he cared for her, that he had her best interests at heart. She wanted to see the man she used to look up to… But trusting him had become difficult over the years, and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to be ten steps ahead or maybe it was the feeling she couldn’t shake - the sense that behind his smooth words and practiced smiles, something darker always lurked. Yet, even now, as she was sitting at his desk a small part of her clung to the hope that this meeting would be different.

“Do you ever wonder…” Adrian began, leaning forward slightly, “About Arya?” Aurora stiffened. The name hit her like a punch to the gut. Arya, the girl she once called her closest friend, the girl her father had forbidden her from seeing years ago. Pulling Aurora out of high school so she wouldn’t be anywhere close to the girl, something she could never understand… The tension between her and Arya had only resurfaced once they both ended up at Ninth House. Seeing her again had been… complicated. The conversations they’d had since then were strained, colored by the rumors her father had spread. But why would he bring her up now? Aurora looked at her father, trying to read his expression, but his face was as composed as ever. “Why are you asking?” She asked quietly, her hand tightening around the warm ceramic of the tea cup. She could feel her heartbeat picking up.

Adrian took a slow breath, his fingers tapping once against the desk before he spoke. “Because there’s something I think you should know. Something I’ve kept from you for far too long.” He continued, his gaze never leaving hers. “Arya… she’s not just some girl you used to be friends with. She’s your sister.” Aurora felt the ground beneath her tilt. Her sister?.. Her mind couldn’t make sense of the words… They couldn’t. How could Arya be her sister? They were nothing alike, and her father had been so adamant about keeping them apart. Why? This was all before her mother… Was it?

“I… don’t understand… Why are you telling me this now?” Aurora managed, her voice barely above a whisper. Adrian leaned back, watching her closely. “Because it’s time you know the truth. Arya’s mother…” His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. Aurora’s stomach twisted tighter. Of course, there was more to it. There always was. She felt a rush of emotions… confusion, anger, disbelief, but more than anything an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Why did he hide this for so long? Why did he force her to stay away from someone who was her family?

“And you kept this from me… For what-” “For your protection. There were… complications. Things you wouldn’t have understood back then.” Aurora wanted to shout, to demand an explanation that made sense, but the weight of everything was pressing down on her, making it hard to think. Instead, she looked down at the tea, the steam still rising from the cup. She lifted the cup, taking a long sip, hoping it would calm the chaos inside her.

{ Renlin’s party / with Arya }
‧˚₊•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Aurora stood in front of the mirror placing the final feather in her hair. The costume was perfect - black beaded dress that shimmered under the light… She was dressed as a flapper girl from the 1920s, the epitome of elegance and rebellion, feathers crowning her red hair, a thin string of pearls draped loosely around her neck. She adjusted the feathered headband one more time, her fingers lingering as she looked at herself. Tonight wasn’t about the party. It wasn’t about the music or the laughter she could already hear faintly from the courtyard. Tonight was about Arya.
A mix of emotions she felt after the conversation with her father hadn’t settled in yet. She had spent the whole evening replaying his words over and over in her mind. Arya, her sister? It still didn’t feel real, and the only way she was going to make sense of it was by confronting Arya herself… What if she already knew about it?

With a deep breath she smoothed the sides of her dress and turned away from the mirror. The black sequins glittered as she moved, as she tried to remind herself of the role she was playing tonight - carefree, just another student enjoying Renlin’s party… But beneath the costume her heart raced. As she left her room, the hallways filled with students in vibrant costumes, with laughter echoing. Aurora walked through the crowds, making her way to the Umbra Coven quarters, her mind focused. She wasn’t here to dance or mingle, even though she knew people would expect her to, she didn’t even say hi to anyone on her way there. The music was louder as she entered the courtyard, and her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar face. And then she saw her.

Arya was dressed as Cruella, her dark hair streaked with an ivory white, framing her face. She stood out even among the vibrant costumes. She was leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, a drink in her hand, watching the party.Aurora couldn’t help but wonder if Arya had always felt out of place, just as she herself often did. The two of them hadn’t spoken much since Arya had arrived, Aurora tried to be friend with the girl again but the wish of her father was still in the back of her mind.

“Arya… Can we talk for a moment?” Aurora called softly as she reached her, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation around them. She knew this wasn’t the ideal time nor the ideal place but she couldn’t let this wait any longer. After everything her father had told her… how could she?

---

‧˚₊•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹


@CerealKiller - hi

[astxrism]

{ It’s almost morning time }
‧˚₊•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The night had been a blur after Aurora’s conversation with Arya.

Aurora had stayed at the party longer than she intended. A few drinks had made their way into her hand… nothing heavy, just enough to take the edge off. She didn’t want to think about what her father had laid on her shoulders earlier. The party had been in full swing, with students laughing and talking. Aurora had managed to lose herself in the energy of it all for a little while, distracting herself but no matter how hard she tried to focus on her surroundings, she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her.
From across the room she felt his gaze - Hayes. He was standing by the edge of the room, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes following her every move. It was unnerving… It always was. She didn’t even see him arrive at the party, but now that she noticed him, he was always there. Aurora’s heart raced a little faster, but she told herself to calm down. He’s probably just curious, she thought, trying to rationalize his attention. It’s not like they ever had any real reason to talk. Not like they liked each other. However… there was a moment when Hayes approached her, a drink in his hands… A one he called truce. He tried to speak to Aurora about something important but she couldn’t stand one more big conversation.
It was all getting too much.

---

The crowd had thinned now, most people leaving the Umbra Coven’s common room as the music died down. Aurora decided it was time to leave too. She wasn’t drunk, not even close, but something felt off. Her head was lighter than it should be and her legs felt shaky as she walked through the halls toward her room. She brushed it off as exhaustion or maybe the effects of too much stress from this long day. But as she continued walking her vision blurred slightly and a deep unease settled in her chest… Every step felt heavier, like something was pulling her down and as much as she tried to steady herself by leaning against the cold stone wall, it wasn’t enough. Her heart raced, she was nothing but confused. What was happening? Her hands trembled as she pushed herself off the wall trying to keep going but her legs wobbled beneath her. Aurora could feel herself starting to panic.

Why do I feel like this? she thought, her head swirling with fragmented memories. She hadn’t drunk enough to pass out. She wasn’t even that tired just… overwhelmed.
She stumbled, her legs giving out beneath her, and her world tilted. She reached out, trying to find something… anything… to steady herself, but there was nothing but air.
And then… arms caught her.
”Hey, easy there,“ Hayes mumbles, his voice low, filled with worry she could not hear. He tried to steady her as she slumped against him. His grip was firm, holding her up when her legs refused to. She tried to speak, to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy and the world around her began to dim, fading into shadows. Through the haze, she felt herself being lifted. Hayes was moving, carrying her, but where to? Her thoughts blurred together, and all she could do was cling to the sensation of being carried, feeling small and vulnerable.

Father… The thought drifted through her mind, fading as quickly as it had come. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, pulling her deeper into the darkness.

---

{ Morning after the hunt / with Vinnie }
•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•

Adrian paced his quarters, his wife by his side.
Both of their hearts raced as they glanced at Aurora, lying unconscious on the couch, her black flapper dress slightly rumpled. The medics had been in and out, their faces showing nothing but concern, but no one could determine what was wrong. He felt a pit of dread in his stomach, this wasn’t just a case of excessive partying.

“Adrian, we need answers,” Aurora’s mother, Lorain, said, her voice shaking slightly as she hovered near the couch, brushing a stray hair away from Aurora’s face. There were tears in her eyes, worried written all over her face. “She’s been like this for hours and they can’t find anything wrong with her!" Adrian forced a frown, masking the turmoil beneath the surface. This is serious. He let the worry seep into his expression as he glanced at Aurora’s still form. “It could be something related to dark shadow magic,” he suggested, leaning in slightly as if the idea had just occurred to him. “I’ve seen its effects before. It can be unpredictable.”

Lorain’s eyes widened. “You think someone did this to her? That it was intentional?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, but we need to be cautious. If this is the work of shadow magic, we need someone who understands it.” He let the tension linger, watching as the medics exchanged worried glances.
But they need someone who wouldn’t talk.
Who wouldn’t ask questions. This was not time for everyone to worry about Aurora.

Adrian knew he had to act fast. “I think we should call Vnicenzo. He has a natural talent for shadow magic. He might be able to help,” he said, keeping his tone steady. “Russo? He’s just a student!” Lorain protested, doubt written on her face. They both keep their voices low, a conversation they wanted to have with one another… Without medics listening. “He’s more knowledgeable than most,” Adrian insisted, maintaining an air of authority. “We need to try everything we can.” “What about Jesse? Adrian! I don’t trust anyone else coming that close to our daughter! Jesse knows our daughter!” He stepped closer, invading her personal space, eyes blazing with intensity. “This isn’t a game. We need someone who can handle this situation properly." Lorain glared at him, her fists clenching at her sides. “You think I don’t want to keep her safe? You think I trust Russo with her life? We don’t know him! Jesse is reliable and he would never let anything happen to her!”

There was a moment of silence, the two of them only staring at each other before Adrian straightened up and turned to a professor that just walked into the room. “Go call Jesse and Vincenzo, tell them its urgent and I need one of them to help me.”

---

One word to describe the situation - tension.
Adrian and Lorain sat in the room, Aurora’s, what seemed like a lifeless body, still on the bed.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Vinnie stepped inside. The young man’s confident demeanor felt like a refreshing moment they needed right now, his eyes immediately landing on Adrian and Aurora. Adrian’s lips curled into a faint smile, a flicker of hope rising. “Vincenzo… Thank you for coming." He said, trying to keep his tone steady. “We need you. Aurora… she’s been affected by something, something dark." He glanced at Aurora, who lay pale and still, her chest rising and falling gently. “She hasn’t woken up since the party last night."

•┈┈┈ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ⋆˖⁺⋆ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ┈┈┈•

@raviola - finally

[raviola]

Vinnie

Wiping away her tear, Vincenzo observed the way that the streamline stained her makeup, shedding away the brown and rosy pigment on her cheek. Her mouth hung slightly open, as if behind her pearly front teeth, she had something to say, but she found nothing. She was still trying to compose herself, and he sensed that if she had spoken, her voice may have broke. The thought hit him in the chest.

He thought that it would feel good, that it would set him ablaze to watch her fall apart. He would finally have proof that she cared just as much as he used to, he could rub it in her face that it was too late for her, that he would leave her and never go back.
But it was too late for the both of them.

Opened from a music box, she was like a porcelain ballerina, twirling as they realized that the chimes were winding slower and slower. Inside, she might have felt like she could shatter, in despair of her song ending, but he could not see it through her still, hand-crafted face.

When he was away, he must have missed half of the tune.
How he regretted not being there to hear it, resisting her withdrawal until he got her back.

And he could wind and wind on the key, but it was not his to play.
She was not his to save.

Perhaps this was why he desired to possess her, because it was the only treatment that fit her condition. If she could not speak, or make love, then he could steal her from her proprietors, and place her on his windowsill to lean on at night, watching little sparks fly and remind him of the girl she could have been.
Because he knew that they did not have the choice to bring her to life. She would never be by his side, so he decided to keep her under him.

Knowing that they were not supposed to be there, it was clear that neither of them could stand that embrace any longer. Their bodies were rigid, feeling no conduction between their hard bone and muscle. Amani could tell, when she laughed, humorlessly, and he could not laugh with her. Instead, he grimly shut his lips, staring just the same. He had no reply to give her, because she was right. They were being stupid.

She tried to avert his gaze, but he did not back down.
Instead, he tried to memorize her features while they were close, so he could remember her. He knew this would be over soon.
Their recent fun was bound to expire when she left the rooftop, so he tried his hardest to take a picture with his mind, so he could place how her nose used to remind him of a bird, and the color of her lips became more pink in the center.

One of those days, on the bench outside the conservatory, there would only be a crow, haunting the place for her.

“All this is meaningless, you’re holding… we’re holding onto nothing.” she replied, to his wordless conversation. “We keep doing this,” Amani added, going on.
“Who cares?” He cried, genuinely. But his next words forced him to sober.
“Before you go and carry out your… responsibilities… don’t you want something real? Even if half of it is arguments?”

That last question was a plea. He was not sure if she knew it, but Vincenzo’s life would soon change drastically as well. After graduation, he did not have a family to come home to. He was unsure how often Adrian would want to see him, how long Renlin may be able to stand him visiting. He would be alone, in sickness and in health, promised to no one but himself. It was certain that there would be no Amani, and the other girls at Wyndham had already written him off as bad news, so he saw no point in trying again. If he was doomed to at least another few years by himself building his career, sleeping with no one for any longer than his goals allowed him, was this not as close to love as he would get? Her insults, her resistance, her quiet moans as he kissed her ear. The stupidest part of it was that was all he could ask for.
He just needed more time.

And if she had not been listening before, Amani had heard him then. Her hazel eyes soon darted to his blue ones. It made him feel at once ancient, and so young; brittle bones and bright eyes.

“You know this doesn’t last, Vinnie.” She replied, and he felt his chest hollow for a second. She hadn’t called him Vincenzo, and immediately his lip dropped. He had something to say, something not even he was sure of but his mouth began to move, and she cut him off. If she had already felt hard, with her throat and body blocked off, then she was squeezing harder through herself, forcing out words that he could tell were anything but natural, although maybe they should have been.

”When I go to bed today, I’m going to wake up the same as always, hating you, wishing you would disappear, and I’ll go back to being myself and Azriel’s fiancee, and you will continue to despise me for all I said today and did, like I will continue to despise you for everything we’ve been through.”

Before, her words may have caused him sores, when they were attacks on his personal life. Now, it was all about her, and he saw that, so he would be intransigent. “No you won’t.” Enzo insisted, irritated not because it hurt but because she kept telling him the same story. “And I can’t hate you after this either, but I never really did.” The man shook his head, concentrating on what mattered, his voice starting to raise.
“Why did you hate me? What did I do to deserve that?”
“I don’t know what this is,” she ignored him, talking almost to herself now. “But it’s not real. Not for me. Not when I have a life waiting for me, responsibilities… Azriel, my future. And you… you’re just part of the past I can’t shake off. But I’m going to keep trying.”
“How long has this been on your mind,” Vincenzo’s voice was gritty, so much so that he had to toss his dry frustration and ask the most important question. “Amani why did you leave?”
“But I think I’ve been doing this wrong, as obviously no matter how hard I try, you keep coming near me, so I think…I think that’s how it can truly work, to be as indifferent to you as ever.”

She got closer, and he felt her lips touch his neck. She wasn’t answering his question, like she wanted to distract him, or distract herself. But how ugly could the truth be that not even she could face it?

He could now see only the side of her head, and her kisses under his jaw made him instinctively want to admire her, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Amani…” he said in a sober voice, not permitting himself to feel the pleasure of the up-and-down movements of her mouth.
“Amani…” he tried again, but she wouldn’t budge. She knew he had no objections other than his question, and presumably, she had no desire to answer, only a wish to forget. It was a wish they shared. He didn’t want to forget her, but he wanted to forget what she said to him, all of the bad things.

He shoved his arm under her chest, and gripped her by her throat, pulling her up into a hard kiss. With his hand around her neck, he pulled her closer until her body was up against his, and her feet swept slightly under them. He felt the satin of her green fabric on his clothes, and guided her hands onto his torso so that she could balance herself again. Maybe she did not want to touch him so much, maybe she did not want to touch him at all, and it was just something inside her taking over. He felt unsure, and indifferent. If she could not tell him what he wanted to know, then she would give him what he needed.

@Kristi Amani

[Caticorn]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: ✦. ☽ .✦ :☆ﾟ. ･ ───

Lenore could hear the music from the party at the other end of the hallway. It was loud and celebratory, drowning out the sound her heels made as she walked towards it. She supposed that she couldn’t expect anything less from a victor’s celebration and it let her know what she could expect once she finally entered the event.

Alas, the winning team was not her own but she knew better than to dwell on the disappointment of the loss, even though this time she didn’t have the comfort of knowing she could try again next year.

As per the instructions on the invitation, she had put on a costume before leaving her room, dressing up as a character from a movie that she had loved as a child - Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. She had even found the perfect red bows to finish off her pigtails.

When she got closer to the door to the Umbra common room, she encountered a man. He was apprehensive, looking down at the ground as they entered each other’s vicinity. Upon further inspection, she realized that she knew him and she smiled at him. He recognized her as well, greeting her with a confused tone.

“Nic!” She responded as she moved closer to him, a subtle excitement in her voice. “The party is that way.” She had noticed that he was walking away from where the party was being held and even though she was making a statement, there was a question embedded in it, wondering where he had been trying to go. She also wondered who or what had him so on-edge but that could wait. At least for the moment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: ✦. ☽ .✦ :☆ﾟ. ･ ───

@idiot.exe - Nic