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ncrstrs-blog · 6 years ago

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— elle.

And she heard a thud.

That’s when Elle realised her body was on the ground. Her shoulder and half of her chest burned, a sting mostly caused by her own unmeasured strength when accidentally colliding into the shadow that appeared in her path.

Chocolate eyes looked up in confusion. Her body wasn’t supposed to easily yield to pressure, she was supposed to be strong. But then again, as weeks and months went by and she excelled in avoiding ripping human necks from their bodies, she grew weaker. Sometimes, she wondered if she was killing herself. Yet she knew there wasn’t such an easy way out of this life.

“No, it’s…” Elle trailed off for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She did worry about her lack of strength. “I’m alright.” She began to prop herself, slowly getting up. “I’m fine,” straight up, at last, she calmly looked at him. “All right? I’m so sorry, I don’t think I was paying attention.” Sounding slightly apathetic, Elle’s mind wasn’t truly there yet. It was on the ground, next to her pride and her concern about how long she would last on these terms.

“um, jesus, i’m sorry,” he started, offering her a helping hand, but she had already gotten up on her own. he stood there awkwardly, hands still raised in front of his body- though they slowly lowered back into his jacket pockets. “no, i- um, i wasn’t paying attention. it’s fine, really, you don’t have to... apologize.”

he hastily sucked in a breath, letting his eyes drop from her face and to the floor, darting across the room in hopes that he would find something to say, she would find something to say, or she would just walk away. would introductions suffice? did she really want to know his name after he had just knocked her to the floor because he couldn’t be bothered to watch where he was going? probably not. he shouldn’t introduce himself.

“um, i’m noah,” he started, though his voice was something just above a mumble. usually, he wasn’t really this nice, but for one night, he would allow himself to be... one night. “figured you’d want to know my name just in case you want to tell your friends about the jerk who knocked you over in the bar... you know. um, a formality, i guess.”

#𝒊𝒏𝒕. → elle fitzgerald.#𝒕𝒉𝒓. → scene one.

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ncrstrs-blog · 6 years ago

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— billie.

After her last drink there Billie had decreed the tavern a good place for a post run drink. It wasn’t crowded with party people like Armana- not that she minded that- and it offered a chance for her to interact with a new circle of people. Of course, drinking in itself was just habit now. An excuse to hang out where the humans hung out, a vested interest in any drink that bubbled on your tongue.

She registered the vibe of the room- people in big coats rubbing their hands together, and realized that she was probably a bit underdressed- a hoodie over a sports bra wasn’t quite enough to protect from the cold, probably. But that was alright- she’d been running, no one wore big heavy layers to do that.

Billie was just heading over to the bar, and saw an excuse to play a little trick on someone not quite paying attention- wyitch, she could tell by the smell. She nudged past him just as he was taking his first step, and pretended that the impact had made her stumble. She threw her hands out to steady herself and huffed, leveling him with an irate glare. “You ever look where you’re going or am I special?”

okay-- he knew he didn’t bump into her that hard. he had barely even felt her bump into him, never mind see her, but apparently it happened. there was a small pang of anger that felt warm in his chest, but it diminished after he told himself that there was no use in starting a fight. there was nothing much to start it over, anyways. this was his fault. probably.

“you can call yourself special, if you want. it’s not every day i bump into someone in the bar. usually they’re the ones bumping into me..” he eyeballed her. his voice was quiet, but loud enough to hear over the idle chatter of the patrons around them. “..i just wasn’t paying attention. long day. do you want an apology?”

did he come off as condescending? rude, even? it wasn’t intentional, but being soft and nice wasn’t ever really his strong suit. not for a while, at least. he let his hands fall from their defensive position, awkwardly hanging at his sides, making him look more gangly than he intended. maybe she’d take pity on his obvious discomfort and leave him alone without too much of an argument.

#𝒊𝒏𝒕. → billie reed.#𝒕𝒉𝒓. → scene one.

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ncrstrs-blog · 6 years ago

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— alastair.

god he wanted to laugh, laugh hysterically so and for the world to see. surely he was going mad. tempting as his maddening thoughts were, he soon could tell he wouldn’t need to do much. the fellow he had bumped has taken matters into his own had.

now, the code of his familial mantra was to uphold defensive measures only to fanged creatures. there are exceptions to this and alastair always ends up conflicted. it’s the tale of a no sin is greater than another. however, in a mundane mind, that concept isn’t so easy to swallow. the man was most definitely a wytch, a ‘rather proficient one,’ alastair thought. no matter, he didn’t have a reason to consider how tainted the man was. not when he intervened so quickly.

the real dilemma lied in the fact alastair did not have any of his weapons handy. none. out of the countless and various guns shelved in his home, and car, he didn’t even have a handy shotgun to rely on. for one minute too long, the two stared at one another but the movement of shards and bottles being stepped on meant they needed to react. now.

he doesn’t speak but instead gestures with a nod for the man to follow and can be soon found sprinting to his car. he drove a black jeep wrangler, a few years old, with the paint worn-down from the years of neglect. for tonight, it would do the trick. the two were quick on the feet and alastair had the car running in a less than a minute, opening the passenger seat from inside. before driving off, he rummaged through the bottom of his seat for a hand revolver he has hidden. quickly taking it, he notes how he has barely used it since arriving in maitland so he’s positive the magazine’s full.

he positions the revolver tightly on his left hand while the right kept to the steering wheel. the car began to back up from the tavern then; with his vision focused on the back, something tells him the bartender has decided to conclude the altercation. the car’s backing up into the narrow street leading to the highway when it comes to a screeching halt. a ‘thud’ heard and the impact of the vaympire’s strength hurtling down on the vehicle’s felt instantly.

mind over body, the revolver’s quickly pointed the vaympire with bullets firing directly to the lower abdomen and right shoulder. his aim was off by a long shot but the man was still forcefully reeling himself back from his drunken state. this time, he openly laughs.

the vaympire gathers himself once more as the dull pain settles, giving alastair enough time to back up an inch more and swerve the car around. the bartender’s angered has peaked by now but alastair’s foot on the pedal has dealt a screeching noise of it’s own as they drive up the road. maitland’s highways are surrounded by forests and steep hills, among other terrains. there was not way in telling whether the road they were headed led to the inner depths of the woods or into deadwood. not to mention the darkness enveloped them almost instantly with only a few streetlights to guide them.

he’s breathing heavily as he attempts to drive both fast and straight. he didn’t bother to check on the stranger he had strangely met minutes ago. “so… we’re being chased.” the corners of his lips quiver as he attempted not to laugh. “any ideas on how to get this bloke off us?” in his own american accent, the word came out a tad butchered but he has been reminiscing of a past as of late, and old habits die hard.

it was safe to say that noah had not felt this much blood pulse through his veins since he was in his late teens. everything went by faster than his mind could process and he was gripping at the side of his seat as the car pulled away from the building, vampyre overhead. he couldn’t gather himself quick enough to react, and he felt useless; but then he remembered this guy had a gun. he started the fight, why should noah have to contribute to it? maybe he had started the actual fight, but there would have been blood shed either way.

the booming of the shots made his eyes feel like they were rocking inside of his skull. he had never been so close to the shots of a firearm. he owned one, but he didn’t use it. he didn’t see much of a need when he had his defense at his fingertips. when all was momentarily silent, car speeding off into what noah knew was the depths of maitland, he gave himself a moment to gather himself into something of a person again. he tried to keep his eyes on the road.

“i... no? just.. just keep driving.” noah looked over at the man, bewildered, did he expect him to do something about this? he was the reason that this entire fight broke out in the first place! he wanted to get more mad than he already was, hands slamming down on the dash in frustration, magic flying from his fingertips in contempt- he wanted to yell and yell and yell and then yell some more. but he didn’t. he hated using any sort of spell in public, but it was first instinct. things could be worse, and one of them could be dead, so he tried to look on the positive side.. though he couldn’t find much of one.

all of the events that had just gone down in the past minutes were now a blur in his mind. he had remembered getting into the car (instant seat belt), frazzled and hesitant. he remembered the ringing of his ears after the shots of the gun, but he can’t visualize the moment in his mind. all of the sensations lead up to now, and now was the moment he would like to stay in.

“don’t laugh, this isn’t funny. we’re heading towards the woods. i live out here.” he wasn’t too keen on sharing his home whereabouts with a random person, but he was out deep in the woods, so it wasn’t like he could sniff him out. he stopped for a moment, looking down at his lap, then back to the stranger. he was sober, but this man was not. at least, not sober enough to drive them to their safety. “no, wait. stop. you can’t be driving. stop the car, i’ll drive. there’s no point in us shaking him off if you’re just going to get us killed by crashing into a fucking tree anyways.”

#hi..... Um..... i Love them.#noah is BIG mad but also his Brotherly^tm instincts kicked in #𝒊𝒏𝒕. → alastair gatley.#𝒕𝒉𝒓. → scene one.

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ncrstrs-blog · 6 years ago

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— alastair.

‘you’ve had enough, buddy,’ the bartender repeated to alastair, a fixated look pointed at the man. he could understand the worry, the suspicion, but looking around, even if belligerently, he was perhaps the most sober person inside the tavern.

one woman playing darts with three others shrilled every time she even came close to the border of the target. another drunk could be seen babbling to someone seated at the bar but who was clearly accompanied by another. the nocturnal bar wasn’t known for holding restrictions to their clientele. the difference? the bartender could smell fresh blood through it’s predatory senses. no point in spoiling their dinner, right?

a sneer, he was about to confront the man when he was bumped into by a unfocused man. eyes locking on his features, he shook his head as a response, getting up from his seat and throwing his jacket over his shoulder. of course, accidentally or not, the jacket slightly grazed the bartender’s face in it’s swift move. resulting in the bartender to bare it’s fangs slightly at the man. alastair lazily turned around, half-lidded eyes stared at the man with no intention of explanation. instead, he simply said, “oops.”

the response he received from who he had bumped into was not exactly what he had expected, but he would take it. the split second of eye contact threw him off, but he pretended it didn’t happen. he had gotten into one or two verbal fights with people here before; usually drunken idiots who either couldn’t keep their hands to themselves or were somehow threatened by his looming existence, but nonetheless- he was never quite unnerved by it. what did make him nervous was the growing anger of the bartender behind the man, his stance becoming increasingly offensive.

“oops.” was all he heard before he watched the bartender both lose his temper and lunge at the man in the same moment, fangs ablaze. it all seemed to happen in slow motion, though realistically, noah knew he had about a two second window to either make a run for it or do something to keep either one from shredding the other apart.

against every instinct and moral he held in his body, he let himself spring forward near the bar counter, hand outstretched, palm burning- incendia- sending the bartender crashing back into the wall behind the counter, glasses and bottles tumbling off of the shelves and shattering onto the floor below them. though he was powerful, the aftershock would always hit him like a punch in the gut, causing him to stumble back a bit.

he almost didn’t want to face the man he had protected (if you could even call it protection when the bartender was already beginning an attempt to pull himself back up), but he looked to him immediately in a mix of anger and something akin to desperation. it was almost a silent urge for him to either get out or do something- after all, he was kind of the one who started this fight.

#using magic against bartenders since 2010 #𝒊𝒏𝒕. → alastair gatley.#𝒕𝒉𝒓. → scene one.

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ncrstrs-blog · 6 years ago

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open! when: any time where: nocturnal tavern, maitland

on the occasion that noah was both free and taking a break from hunching over and slaving away at a pottery wheel, he found himself at the tavern. normally, he would let himself sit outside and clear his head, but it was cold.

as he walked into the tavern from said cold, he let himself think. he stood by the door for a moment as he thought about what he exactly wanted to do here, but just for a moment. finally, turning to go and grab himself a drink- he either came very close to bumping into someone, or outright knocked into them (he was too into his own thoughts to process what exactly had just happened). he wanted to get mad, but he knew that it was really only his fault.

“hey,” he started, backing up a little, hands slipping out of his jacket pockets in case of needed defense, “sorry.”

#the classic bumping into someone plot... its always one of my favs #feel free to assume connections since he's born+raised or u can come to me to plot beforehand! <33 #𝒕𝒉𝒓. → scene one.#also he's not outside i just like this gif. JKSDFKF #wither.threads

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ncrstrs-blog · 6 years ago

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i. overview

Species: Shadow Blooded Wytch

Full Name: Noah Carstairs

Birthday & Age: October 2nd, 1989 / 29

Level: Sorcerer

Occupation: Freelance Sculptor & High Priest of Church of Night

Neighborhood: Forest Living, 1 bed 1½ bath cabin - lives alone.

Residency Status: Born & Raised in Deadwood

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

ii. personality

+ loyal,creative, resourceful, &protective

- self depreciative, critical, manipulative, & impulsive.

iii. about the species

most wytches are in fact born wytches. this is a genetical gift that is passed down through generations, however, not every family member receives the gift. while some think that wytches are a symbol of dark magic - but that is not always the case. wytches have a choice, while dark magic does exist - it is not something a wytch needs to perform. dark magic can be extremely dangerous and life threatening and is quite difficult to control. wytches are by all accounts human, they just possess a special supernatural ability. this ability starts to manifest itself around the age of 12, though sometimes sooner - and in others, it happens later. though wytches are considered to be ultimately powerful - they did, in fact, create vaympires and weyrwolves… though this was through the use of dark magic.

iv. the past

there was rage, and there was anger, and there was everything that a child should never be exposed to. the first eight years of his life are remembered to him as messy, as dark, as angry and unfair. he looked at other children with smiling bright faces, who held their parents hands when they walked down the street, and he remembers the jealousy. he remembers wanting to hold his father’s hand but being too afraid. he remembers the gentle humming of his mother’s voice when she washed the dishes, but these things were all still tainted with fear. all he wanted to do was to protect his mother from his father, from his voice, from his hand, from his anger, but he was just a child, and who could he protect?

he always remembered being jealous. when his brother was born, it was like his parents had become entirely new people. like the devil had momentarily vanished from their household and something, someone had graced their house with love and light. all of the rage, the chaotic dynamics of the household were suddenly gone, and it almost felt extremely unnatural. but, unfortunately for noah, the devil always comes back.

despite the odd loss he felt when his parents weren’t screaming at eachother, he was somewhat thankful. and despite the jealousy that welled in the pit of his stomach when he thought of his brother never having to endure the same rage, there was always the strong instinct to protect. if his brother fell and scraped his knee, he wanted to be the first to come to his rescue. if he was crying, he wanted to be the first to wipe his tears. he knew that the younger would never be able to count on their parents, and he always wanted to be his confidant. he wanted to be the good big brother. noah wanted to give him what he always wanted, what he always yearned for.

as he tried his best to shield his brother from the growing chaos around them, his jealousy subdued. he never felt it entirely dissipate though, but it was always overshadowed by the lingering voice of protect in the back of his head. though, it seemed that jealousy was useless. ‘It’ll get better,’ his mother said, her hand gentle on his cheek, ‘things will be better. I promise.’ unfortunately for him, and for his brother, the Carstairs were never happy people. they never kept their promises.

v. the current

the church of night is a name too familiar in his mouth, it tasted bitter and stung like venom. hail satan, hail lucifer; every time their name was spoken his insides burned hot. he knew his brother felt it as well, but he never wanted to bring it up in fear that it made him weak. he was supposed to be the one to protect his brother from this, to keep him away from the coven, but some things are just not meant to be. if it burned within him, it burned within him, and there was nothing he could do about that.

as he grew, he practiced his magic day in and day out. he never broke out of his routine. there would be days where he would lock himself in his room and practice, study, practice, study. and as always, always, always, he would protect. himself, his brother, his mother. when their parents’ relationship began to fall apart again, it came time for him to sign the scroll. he can’t quite put a name to the emotions he had felt when he wrote his name across the papers, noah carstairs,

noah carstairs was pledging his allegiance to the princes, who would have thought? he signed in the book of satan, he supposed that the opposition called to him. his brother was just 8 years old, did he know that he would have to do this too? that he had no choice? that this was how they were to live? who could ever protect him from this? noah had nobody to protect him. as of the last loop on the last s in his surname, he was too far gone. there was no returning from this.

as the years flew by, he watched the both of them descend into something akin to madness, but not quite. his protective grip over his brother vanished, and all of his efforts had suddenly amounted to nothing the night he signed his own eternal binding. noah was twenty-four then, and he had been gone for quite some time. his life in the church of night had never really settled into his awareness until that night, until he watched it all happen, until it was done. yes, there was still the two of them, and no, they were not alone. but nothing would ever be the same, and noah could no longer shield his eyes from the realities of the church around him.

high priest was not as high as anybody had ever thought it was. he knew from his second summons that he was destined for doom. those in the church around him told him he was to be great, but none of this ever felt great. nothing in his life had ever felt great. as he watched his brother fall out of his hands, and as his morals began to crumble around him, he felt rage. when he led the second summons, he felt rage. when he became everything that ruined him, he felt rage.

rage, he thought, would always be present in his life.

vi. connections

✗ JASON CARSTAIRS - oh, where to begin. jason had been a beacon of hope. simple. the days following his birth were the happiest he had ever seen their family be. years as a single child exposed him to outbursts of rage his parents had failed to conceal him from. his mother, always the softer hand, promised him things would be different. jason was different. but the carstairs were never one to follow through with their words, their promises.

✗ CHURCH OF NIGHT - he’s a direct but unknowing descendant of the wytch who made the deal with lucifer to dispose of the supreme title, hurtling the wytch community into an empty abyss. they did not ask for this life. he along with his brother did not ask to give up a piece of their humanity. but the sacrifice has been made and now he must forge the present as the newly appointed high priest after the death of it’s former priestess. he wants to usher change to the coven, refine it’s many taboo traditions, and find a shred of light to bring hope. years of traditions and culture cannot be altered so easily, so the wytch has his hands full. Will he bite the hand that feeds me?

✗ PHI PHI OMEGA SORORITY - the blood court has advised him to send countless representatives to check out the growing and new coven disguised as a sorority over the past few months. he has met the president a few times, impressed by her work ethic. but the court refuses to believe the coven has the right tools to service and not expose them to the mundane. he knows of what happens to covens who oppose the church and he’s finding him in the middle of this politic war between wytches. he will not alarm the sorority sisters yet, not wanting to cause any further hysteria.

His face claim is JAKE GYLLENHAAL and he’s played by MISHA.

#biography.

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