#plot drop 003

[agnesisolda]

starter for @nylathriasoulseer.

where: haven

when: current timeline

note: my wiiiiiife!

It was difficult to be quicker than a dragon, and Nyla seemed to have ancient friends in high places; a steel dragon at that. Agnes peered up anxiously at the sky, awaiting their inevitable return; she was best as a healer waiting within the wolf city, where dozens went off on their own for recovery efforts, who would be waiting to mend those injured? So, diligently, quietly, Agnes sat, eyes peering up at the sky every so often, or to the shore in hopes Nyla was one of many recovered. Agnes did not waste much time when Nylathria was recovered, standing to dust off her dress, appointing another healer to take over within the makeshift recovery area crafted for this more grievously injured, the genasi wanted to assure herself, from her own credits, that Nylathria was okay.

"You said you'd only be gone less than a week," teased ruefully, Agnes hands came out as though the elvhen needed to be steady, squeezing her arms in appreciation but also in the sake of the tangible fact that Nyla was here, in the flesh. It seemed true that they would spend however long it took to save each other from the darkness which lurked, but Agnes was ready for the challenge.

[theonxepialos]

starter for @napoleonxfalon, @blademasterdior.

where: dior's bedroom gasp

when: current timeline

note: whoever would like to respond first uwu, and hope dis okay!

Dior had been recovered, but in any sense Theon had felt he had ultimately failed what Napoleon had more or less begged for from the assassin. He was rather good at accomplishing contracts which involved in the dispatching of others - murder, violence - but the Kossith were a mystery entirely. Their ship proved impossible to locate, technologies that Theon certainly could never fully understand, until one fated day, that which aligned with Arishok's death, provoked a promise. Druids who could shift and others who possessed flight had reached Haven with the news of the ships demise, but also the fact that there were still survivors out there in need of recovery.

A few days had passed since the first news of the ship wreckage had filtered through Lysara, and each day Theon checked the gladiator's ludi before milling out for the day, hoping to obtain whispers of more recovered, or whereabouts to where some may be stranded. Theon was more useful on land as opposed to the open sea but it seemed the incubus needn't worry nor fret any longer. For the first time in many weeks, it seemed the gladiator was indeed home, and he was not alone either.

Theon was intruding simply by allowing himself inside, but he felt further like an intrusion when he realized - though he should have expected this - that the other within was indeed the Sinarian changeling. Skulking inside, there'd been a moments pause where Theon wondered if it'd be better for him to turn the other way, as though he'd never been here at all, but there was this insistence that Theon needed to physically see that Dior was indeed alright.

Though a silent creature, stealth his friend, Theon didn't wish to startle them, and his voice was strangely low, arms crossed as he lingered in the doorway of Dior's personal chambers, "I told you he wouldn't die." His eyes flickered towards the changeling before shifting towards Dior, assessing the gladiator quietly.

[celayawitcher]

starter for @freydis-freydat.

where: why the kossith ship of course

when: current timeline, not long into squatting on the liberated ship

note: as chatted about! muscle moms do the unexpected! use stronk arms against mystical barrier *gasp*

Many had attempted to rest after a day of futile attempts against the barrier keeping them within. Various methods were tried; many attempted to fly out, others simply jumped, some even ventured to try some stretch of teleportation or dreamwalking before being promptly shunted back within. Celaya pondered on the a'dam that they'd each been liberated from, how their powers were worked over and over until practically exhausted. She wondered then, if each attempt could only serve to unlock some source of potential yet tapped into and Celaya was grateful to find that Freydis was still atop the highest level of the ship, seemingly looking out at the coast that stretched out endlessly beyond their prison-ship. "You should attempt to rest yourself," there was some part of her that would rather save any embarrassment from further futile attempts, but another piece of Celaya knew that Freydis, too, would extend herself past normal exertion if it meant freeing everyone on board completely.

Celaya's hand went out, slowly, as though she would eventually touch the border that would strike her back.

[dhruvxmehta]

for: @nicocastillo location: after the funeral

It seemed unfair that the world moved along when he could not do so. Dawn signalled for a new day and forced the darkness of night to not linger around any longer, for past to stay in the review as it took the day forward. Yet, Dhruv felt stuck, clinging to memories that could only now be in the past. To move forward was impossible but everything started with a shift. Paws turned back into feet, fur to skin, and as he got ready, donning a black suit, the pain of needing to face a reality was far greater than the turn back into his human form.

He sat rigid and somewhat motionless through the service. His eyes dry in the sea of tears despite feeling the pain of the loss, despite feeling the ache of all the things never to come, jaw locked in all the emotion, he couldn't cry even if had wanted to, even when he knew he should. There was so much love in the room and his own poured into the mix. Why was the measure of love loss? It wasn't fair.

The Hensley's, especially her parents hugged him once the saw him. Kitty often joked that he was their first grandson, and they really did make him feel like he was part of the family too. And he returned their hugs will equal amount of affection. As they parted ways to speak to other guests, Dhruv made his way out, stopping only when he caught sight of Nico. "Hey," he signalled to him, "Quick word? Won't take long."

[70yearsofwinter]

@untamedtempest called him out.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛ well, someone's cranky today. ❜

ㅤ"I'm not cranky," he lied, and the tone that was attempting to be dismissive about such a ridiculous notion betrayed him so badly and so immediately that even he paused, chewing on that. It wasn't like he was known for being a ball of sunshine, so it had seemed like a point he could sell, but not even his usual resting bitch face could save him from this one. "Fine. Maybe I'm a little cranky. It'll pass. What's on your plate today?"

[devilselbowhq]

On June 8th, 2125 at 8:27 a.m.,  Afterglow Research Solutions arranges a press release with WDER and The Daily Burn — after a week of working every minute of every hour of every day, Dr. Felix Estrada and the research teams at Afterglow laboratories are proud to announce that they have officially developed a viable antidote to the cicada toxin that promises a 95% success rate in eliminating the toxin from afflicted patients with very little in the way of adverse effects. There were five human casualties during clinical testing of the antidote. Families of those lost have been informed of their loved ones’ passing, the only explanation given being that the fatalities were a direct result of complications from the toxin. We offer our sincerest condolences, but there was nothing that could be done. No mention of the trials is made and, as a result, Afterglow Research Solution provides no compensation to the families of those affected.  Afterglow Research Solutions, in conjunction with the East Atlantic Governance, strongly advises that anyone exposed to the cicada toxin seek immediate treatment at the clinic in town or at the hospital facility on the compound. All doses of the antidote will be administered free of charge, an unspoken attempt by Afterglow PR to negate the negative press fostered by the corporation’s utter lack of solution at the start of the crisis. In spite of what was expected to be received as good news, the crowds of protesters that have gathered outside of the Afterglow Compound gates do not disperse with the announcement of an antidote, continuing to block the gates and demand answers. Why did it take so long to find a cure? Why are there not more details regarding the casualties resulting from the cicadas? Instead of answers, protesters are met with tear gas deployed by soldiers from the East Atlantic Army that remain posted along the wall surrounding the compound, an attempt to clear the gates for the ill and injured to get through. Members of the Silver Lining still present at the protests usher the crowd away from the gates and provide first aid to those hit by the gas.  The very same morning, several miles north  at the gates leading into the town of Burnington, a gruesome discovery is made. Five bodies, all strung up on the wall — they’re identified as Children of Mothman, two bearing the clear physical symptoms of the cicada attack and three others with visible bullet wounds indicating their demise — and each with a shamrock emblazoned on their chest. The Governance works quickly to remove the bodies once they’re discovered, but not before their remains are seen by hundreds — anyone attempting to enter the town, really, given the location chosen to display them. And with a bodies, a  clear message has been sent from the Shamrocks to the Children of Mothman so that there remains no question of the consequence of messing with the population of their town. EAG officials have yet to release any further statement regarding details on the identities of the victims or their cause of death but there are murmurs that the Night Mother will soon make an appearance to give a public response to the events.

To the residents of Burnington and beyond — stay alert and stay safe.

[fyrenxsolon]

starter for @freydis-freydat.

where: haven

when: a week after freydis was recovered and home safe n sound

note: as discussed

"Freydis!" The dragon was of course elated to know of her wellbeing, but there was need for confirmation. It'd been a week since he'd been scouting for Haven, recovering those lost at sea; though once Solon had recovered Prince Ikaros, the dragon had returned to Avalon to ensure a comfortable return for the other. Fyren had known Freydis for her valor and bravery, if anyone could handle what the Kossith had upstarted, it was the shieldmaiden; but that was no excuse for the pink dragon not to see her at his earliest convenience.

Time warped rather differently, both for elvhen kind and dragon, so a week felt rather immediate for Fyren, wrapping his knuckles on the door. "I do hope you're home and not already on your next adventure." It was later in the day, evening bugs chittering and a small wind picking up as the sun drifted below the horizon; Fyren had noted the warm glow of lanterns lit within Freydis' home and he waited presently at her cabin doorstep.

[casimirnoctis]

starter for @sakkarathekeeper.

where: where are you mom !

when: current timeline

note: surprise! let me know if this is okay

When all quieted for the day, Casimir found her, a matronly figure for the dhampir, one who instilled compassion and care within him despite how foreign such feelings were to a creature as himself. "Sakkara," there's hushed worry in his voice, the foolish fact that he should have understood she was indeed missing. A Keeper did not often follow a nomadic lifestyle any longer, but there'd been plenty of times over the years where months of no contact was normal for those of their age and lifespan. He didn't mention that now, it was no use to offer this information which was likely extended from distaste over the entirety of the situation. Another useless thought - I'm sorry - popped into his head.

What death and mistreatment she'd likely seen, what worries she'd had. "Anivia has been waiting at home for you last I checked."

[ryujinseaborn]

starter for @robinxofxstars.

where: progress day

when: day 2

note: heyyyy how yall doin

Ryu knew that Robin was never one to miss a celebration, whether it was pirate centric or otherwise, and it was part of why the pirate captain attended. It was easy to slip into a crowd, go somewhat unnoticed when the entirety of Eterna seemed to be amassed in presence. Eventually, he stumbled onto Robin, the cambion tucked away in the corner of one of Eterna's various bars; it was empty enough considering most were sprawling through the streets, watching chariot races and joining escape rooms. "I should have known to find you here," Ryu clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, "We're supposed to be celebrating Lysara's progress," Ryu continued with his grating sarcasm, slipping into a chair and kicking his feet up, "And you're often the life of any party so why are you tucked away here?"

[lotharx]

starter for @alessiathepath.

where: perhaps journeying back from the cove

when: after our red hand quest since im such a flop

note: lmk if its okie <3

His respect for Alessia was not a vapid result; they'd entered the intemperate Wastelands together and he'd been a part of -what was once considered- a suicide mission to save her and the others who'd fallen prey to the darkspawn who'd ravaged Nornwatch. Perhaps through each hiccup and stumble, she'd proven herself time and time again of a strength that he was honored to be around. She also didn't trust easily which was rather humorous to him; there wasn't much beyond the surface to Lothar - irascible, considered some mindless brute. He'd argue he was a tenth smarter than what others made him out to be, but that was the extent of his protests.

"This Lord Soth," he's quiet as they walked; despite what the entire group had been through, Lothar has never been interested in philosophical group discussions, "What they had done it's not something I've faced before." He should not have been charmed, but this had been different; something of a possession and though he felt bad for striking against allies, Lothar was mostly concerned with ensuring it wouldn't happen again. "Have you ever been unfortunate enough to scrap with anyone else like him?" Alessia had a knack for creating a false image, but Lothar felt wise enough to know, especially after such battle, that she was considered the definition of a warrior, too.

[adrianvoll]

starter for @alrikhart.

where: we're floating

when: current timeline, not long after everything went kablammy

note: let me know if this is okay uwu it aint much but its honest work

Adrian awoke, the blistering sun overhead and the familiar, cruel sound of waves lapping alongside him. He felt about a half-step away from being truly seasick and his head, amongst the rest of his limbs, ached considerably. Adrian had remembered brainstorming with Freydis, a means of hoping to unlock some way to stop this instance of trouble; the boat imploding. It should have meant their end, but apparently the Fates continued to tease Death.

Adrian sat up and whatever piece of debris he'd been situated on nearly capsized, jolting Adrian further awake before the realization set in that, the only thing which had kept him from tipping over completely was the weight distributed on the other end of the debris.

"Alrik?" There was some surprise in his tone, through everything he'd not seen the runeknight and a deep worry set in as to who else had been upon the dreadnought that he was truly unaware of. "Did you-" in the very moment, it wouldn't matter if the other saved him by yanking him onto the bit of metal that served as their float, but Adrian would pocket that for later when they got out of this mess.

[bunnywalkcr]

who: bunny / self-para when: november 06, 1990 where: the walker estate ; 7:10 am

Bunny is at the kitchen table when it happens.

Morning sunshine slants in through the wide window above the sink, illuminating the glassware in the china cabinet and settling on the polished floors in buttery stripes. At one end of their long wooden table, Mr. Walker sits with the newspaper splayed open, hiding his weathered face. At the opposite end, Bunny cradles a steaming cup of coffee in a chipped yellow mug. Aside from the gurgling of the coffee machine and the rustling of turning pages, the kitchen is quiet; it is just the two of them.

Bunny takes a sip of coffee that burns her tongue. Good, she thinks. Her father always hated when she interrupted his morning ritual of coffee and the Cardinal Chronicle. Usually, her mother was in the kitchen, with them, spooning minute portions of yoghurt and granola into a ceramic bowl; but this morning, she'd left early to deliver a bouquet of sympathy flowers to the Avalons — leaving just Bunny and her father in the quiet of the kitchen.

Bunny studies her father's large, creased hands as they grip either edge of the newspaper: the black hair below his knuckles, the thick golden band of his wedding ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. Hands that had stroked her hair as a child and pressed against the back of her forehead to assess a fever. Hands that had trembled against the cold metal edge of a hospital bed, ghosting toward her without ever making contact. Hands that had waved away her tears and pleading words.

Her eyes drift from those hands across the front pages of the newspaper, the black bolded headline above a grainy portrait of Avalon Rivers. Almost everyone that had grown up in Cardinal Hill knew the Rivers name; and families in the know ( like the Walkers ) knew of the other-wordly power they possessed. The magic of their bloodline. To lose such a figurehead ' was already a blow to the community, ' as her father had said. . .but for Bunny, it raised more questions than anything else.

She takes another sip of her coffee, her hands encircling the mug. Her thoughts flash to Bishop, and a shiver runs down her spine — would he know things she didn't? Things about the suspicious death of Avalon Rivers? Suddenly, she needs to see him.

Bunny is preparing to abandon her coffee cup and make for The Captain's cottage when her father flips a page of the paper, and a new headline catches her eye.

WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE HIDING.

But its the picture below that unsettling title that freezes Bunny in her tracks. She knows at once that it's her — except it's not her, but something from a nightmare. Her pointed face draws down, too far, mouth hollow and open; only gaping blackness where her lips and teeth should be. Her eyes are white and pupil-less, her too-long fingers are twisted in her hair.

In her horror, Bunny is unaware of how her own expression shifts; a mirroring of that grotesque portrait. She hears a scream and stumbles back, the chipped mug slipping from her hands. It shatters on the floor, and hot drops of black coffee splatter her bare shins. It is only after this that Bunny realizes the scream came from her.

When her gaze snaps back to the paper, she's startled instead to see her father's watery blue eyes peering at her from above his spectacles. The paper rests open on the tabletop, and Bunny's horrified eyes drop to the newsprint, scanning the headlines.

"Bunny?" Her father asks, cautiously, his brow creased. She tears her eyes from the paper to look at him.

"I'm. . .It's. . ."

"What's wrong?" He asks, and there's an undercurrent in his tone that sets her on edge. Like he's anticipating a meltdown from her and doesn't quite have the space for it in his schedule.

Didn't you see that? She wants to scream. But she only shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. She wants to flee the kitchen, to fling open the front doors and race to Bishop at their grandfather's cottage. But there's chips of glass on the floor and a puddle of coffee on the linoleum. She snatches a dish rag and stoops to the floor to clean up her mess.

"Nothing. I'm sorry."

[theonxepialos]

starter for @napoleonxfalon.

where: dior's ludi tee hee

when: current timeline, maybe a half step back in it but yk

note: as discussed uwu, let me know if dis works

He'd barely been back from Ankhuria for an entire day before the whispers of what the Kossith had done were mingling through the streets of Lysara. No matter if one was hidden in the underground, or walking through the market square, news of the Kossith claiming Aventia was the only bit of news that filtered from one person to the next. There was little idea to how many were truly taken, but Theon wasted little time in scouting for those he needed to keep accounted for.

For as often as he'd kept tabs on Dior, the assassin had never fully crossed the threshold into the ludi, though he was certain the current appearance of it hardly lived up to the picture Dior had once loosely painted. It was as grand as described, though any gladiator's it was once teeming with was surely far less than anticipated, and Theon had to wonder if they were either taken or if they'd thus scattered at the news.

Theon walked through the ludi, he relied little on stealth to conceal him as it was ultimately barren, walking up to more personal quarters where he'd assume any clue as to where Dior currently was. Presumably taken, but there was a small sliver of hope that the gladiator had fucked off to Avalon much like he'd done when Aventia had first fallen.

Dior wasn't the only person which Theon was anticipated seeing within the ludi, crossing over into the part which housed the infamous gladiator, a sprawling mansion that he broke into with ease. Surprisingly tidy, though that was based on the fact that it seemed not entirely lived in, Theon glancing over any papers, any strewn clothes or equipment as he made his way to the stairs, pausing at the top of them.

Eventually, he stood at the doorway of what was likely the master bedroom, grand windows currently blocked off with curtains, the bed stationed within the middle, Theon coolly crossed his arms, leaning on the door frame, "-Part of who I expected to find here," his tone held a edge of disappointment, the only clue of worry to note that Dior was not here and that the one curled up within was instead Napoleon. "You weren't interested in inspiring peace with the Kossith?" Theon was mildly irritated that Dior had found himself within Aventia, presumably fooled into believing the Kossith were nothing to fear. Theon hadn't been sure what to expect of them, but from the conflicts with Astoria, from their obscured claim over Itzcoatal, Theon had steered very clear of Aventia since their arrival.

[celayawitcher]

starter for @theportaraceli.

where: why the kossith ship of course

when: current timeline, not long into squatting on the liberated ship

note: as requested!

Araceli seemed distant, withdrawn, the very antithesis to the bold woman Celaya had come to recall. The noblewoman of Aventia would normally be seen as to taking charge in moments as this, especially as those liberated attempted to break down whatever mystical barrier remained in their way. On the third day, Celaya spoke to her, walking up to Araceli who'd been tucked away within a corner of the ship, "I think it wise we all work together." Translation: your mind could be useful when it comes to this. Celaya wasn't sure what truly could be affecting the noblewoman, what she could have been forced to endure or act out, what trouble she was meant to conspire within those captured; they were freed now, somewhat, and they needed all hands on deck.

[eriksvn]

CLOSED　　���　　two kings casino ‎‏‏‎ ❛ fire and ice gala ❜‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎/‏‏‎ ‎@anyapetrovv

And in the blink of an eye, a night of fun twisted into a nightmare. Nikolai used his handkerchief as a improvised mouth scarf after the grenades were thrown - red smoke quickly extending throughout the room. Finding Alina was his only goal, leading the man to venture into the crowd, the sounds of gunfire being overlaid by screams of unadulterated horror.

His green eyes burned intensely, the compromised vision prevented him from advancing on his path, being pulled by the flow of people hurrying towards the emergency exits. The hitman dragged himself to a nearby area, leaning against the wall and checking the inside pocket of his suit for his pistol. Nik managed to get back to his feet, now facing the long hallway - the soft lights were the only thing identifiable through his blurred vision.

That was when he felt the cold touch of metal against the back of his neck. The man turned around with a quick movement, his hand gripping the pistol under the barrel, pushing upwards towards the stranger. Upon hearing the heavy noise of the weapon hitting the ground, Nikolai kicked it away, turning towards the figure that had attacked him, close enough to identify some features. Big green eyes, arched eyebrows, plump rosy lips, dark brown hair. And there was also that perfume - a characteristic fragrance that constantly haunted his memories.

"Ana?" he asked in disbelief. The man couldn't help but lower his own weapon, his entire body weakened due to the heavy feeling of betrayal.

[aurelientrader]

"I like being the mouse that slips away just in the nick of time, Isak," it's deadpanned this time, no fluent sarcasm or half-truths, eyes flickering up to the strigoi's. There was a silent game here, even if the Doctor would never much admit to it, and while Auri relished in said game, their patience was grated ever thin as time went on. There was half a beat where he wanted to clarify further that maybe this time he wouldn't entirely mind being caught, he had half expected it at this rate.

"What do you think we're looking for?" Auri is batting their pretty eyelashes at this point, walking across the space they had created, sitting on the plush fabric Isak had already gotten comfortable on. "As opposed to everyone else here?" Those who vied to be bit, to fill the space with blood and venom through a mutually considered, fang-driven pact. Now it was Auri's turn to bite back with is words, "Intellectual conversation?" The ytried not to snicker at that, doe eyes looking over at Isak's as they raised a brow at the strigoi.

"And you thought you'd find it here of all places." There's the slightest hint of amusement to the usual deadpan as Isak leans back a little to situate himself in the corner of the couch, his arms spreading across the back of it. His eyes take in the elvhen in the softer lighting and it's strange to see him outside of the office, like a baby deer walking on two legs instead of four. Something about them seemed almost out of place, like he could easily convince himself that Aurelien was actually some kind of hallucination. It is neutral ground, vampire frequented place or not, this felt like some kind of stalemate to whatever game was going on between the two of them. Or at least it felt like Aurelien had let him have a peek behind the curtain. "I don't come to places like this." He admits, ears tuning into the voices outside the room in the tavern area. It's such a strange concept, people flocked to be fed on and flirt to these sorts of establishments. "So maybe we're both looking for something different."