#c:lucian

[m0n0lithical]

Yes hello emergency services? Please send help my OCs are causing me mental distress because I love them so much.

[pollysheedy]

Closed Starter for : @lucianriviera Location : The Primrose Hill House  Timestamp : Late Morning, Tuesday, November 13th, 1888

Polly was having the most terrible dreams. 

In them, they were still in The Ripper’s grasp, still fighting to free themselves, the blade still cutting hot stripes out of their flesh. 

In them, there was nowhere to run. 

There were times when they weren’t dreaming, and those were better. When Polly wasn’t dreaming, it felt like they were floating on a cloud. They were safe and warm, the gentle heat of a warm lump of something beside them, enough to anchor them to .... wherever they were. Their eyelids were too heavy to open, and it still hurt. The pain in their neck was indescribable. But before it became too unbearable, someone would gently lift their head, and pour water past their parched lips, and the dreams would come again. 

They had no idea how long it had been since they had opened their eyes. It could have been hours, or it could have been years. They recalled a story they had heard years ago, of a strange little man who had fallen asleep in a mountain, and woken up to find themselves old and grey. Perhaps Polly, too, would find that their hair had turned white, their bones wizened and weak. Perhaps that’s why it was so hard to move. 

With all the strength they possessed, Polly opened their eyes.  There was another pair staring back. 

It took a moment for the world to come into focus, and in that time, Polly tried to cry out, but all that emerged from them was a choked sort of sound. Their brain seemed to be slower than normal, their vision hazy, and it took them a moment to realise that they were looking at a dog. It took another moment to realise that they knew the dog. She was Lucian’s, which meant he was near. 

It took another moment for the realisation to dawn on Polly that if they were here, it meant they weren’t dead. The recollection of their crawl through the gutter, in what had been so assuredly their final moments, and if they had the strength, they would raise a shaking hand to clap to their mouth in horror. They didn’t know how they had made it, but a million questions hit them at once, and there was only one man who could answer them. 

Polly tried to call out. Lucian. Their mind could form the words, but they couldn’t get them out. “Ahh...” Polly hissed. They couldn’t speak, seemed to have lost the ability to, and that made them frown. There was only one thing they could do. Their arm felt like lead, but they managed to free it from the warmth of the blankets, placing two fingers in their mouth and blowing with all of their might. They hadn’t been certian it would work, but if the high, shrill whistle they managed to produce didn’t bring Lucian running, the barks it instigated in Omari would. Good girl. Thought Polly, though she couldn’t say it. Keep barking.

[dayanitas]

Closed to @lucianriviera​ Continued from: x

The proposition was blurted out of the blue, a spur of the moment suggestion that Daya simply could not hold in any longer. The reasons for such an offer were twofold, both things she had carefully considered before, and now, it seemed to be the solution to her problems. Two birds, one stone. 

The first was the enigma that Mister Riviera was himself. Dayanita had been working with him for some time now, and would continue to do so. He brought steady work her way, was easy enough to work with, and didn’t speak down to her like some of her other clients did. On the surface of it, there was nothing wrong with the man - but Daya’s gut was telling her something wasn’t right, and her gut was rarely wrong. He was a little too slick, a little too ... much. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and honestly, wouldn’t care, but for the fact she was bored. The request was a test, of sorts - how much can you actually do? And how far will you go?

The second was her husband. The esteemed ambassador was hiding something, that much Daya knew, and the answer was within the cabinet. She was sure of it. Still, until she got inside, there was no way of proving it. 

“You look strong,” Daya shrugged. “I’m sure if you boot at the lock with enough force, it will give way.” Would he do it? Or would he take the easier, quieter route of picking the lock (if he could. Daya wasn’t sure of that, or if he would offer that information if he could). “What reason does any wife have to look at her husband’s private things? He’s hiding something. I want to know what.” 

[pollysheedyarchived]

Closed Starter for: @lucianriviera​​ Location: The Britannia Pub Time Stamp: Early Evening, Saturday, September 7th, 1888

There were few people in Polly’s life that they would put their trust in, wholeheartedly, and ask for nothing in return. Lucian was one of them. He had already given them so much, and the only thing they had in which she could repay him was loyalty. Hard won, but unwavering. They had never stopped for a moment to think about the irony of it - that they, who was suspicious of most, who was always looking at what others wanted from them, did not regard him with the same caution.

“How long can they keep us here for?” They mused. Their fingers drummed at the wooden table, anticipation and anxiety all at once. They’d never done very well when they were cooped up in one place. Their stomach let out a low growl, and they flushed a little in their embarrassment. “Do you think there’s any food going spare?” They’d been hoping to grab something before night fell, but there seemed to be little chance of that at the moment. 

[prcy-evrtt-blog]

location: Night club date: 12th of July, 0:34 am closed to: @lucian-delacroix

The day was heavy with emotion. The late king was buried. Everyone of importance were there. Officials, The Delacroix family and their anchors. And so Philippe and Percy as well. Words had been spoken about the king, all of them touching a nerve with the members of the family for certain. Per request, Percy was tasked with making sure that no rebellious saint could interrupt this pivotal moment in the nation’s history. And so much to their despise, the anchors and other present Saints, were powerless. Though it was an official order, Percy was still on the receiving end of unhappy glares. But he stared right back, unafraid. They couldn’t harm him. But there was something out of the ordinary. The young prince. Of all the saints he was negating, the prince seemed to be among them. Percy kept his eyes on Lucian for the entirety of the funeral, curiously. 

The lights shone in different, bright colours for about 0.3 seconds, in a catchy rhythm, matching the music. There had been multiple shots and songs that made his ears ring. With the heavy emotion of earlier in the day, Percy needed an outlet. And this was the only one he knew to work. In his company, the prince. Around them, many more guests who wished to be near said prince. The combination of the heat, the dancing and the dry-sucking alcohol rendered Percy thirsty. He leaned in. “Want another drink?” He asked the prince.

[raphaelarider]

Raphi was more than nervous to be joining her first yoga class, but the school psychologist recommended it in response to the girl’s lettting on about nightmares she’d had in the past few weeks. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door swiftly, only to see a familiar face just finishing up at the sign in table. “Lucian?” Raphi called, rushing up to him, “what are you doing here?”

@lucian-tremaine

[sulley--sullivan]

“Hey...Satan?” Sulley knocked on the door before letting himself in, holding up a bottle of bourbon. “I come in peace. Just wanted to see how you were before you chucked another shoe at me,” He tried to bite back the smile he wanted to put on his face, but it was time for the two men to get back to their bro days and bond. “I was thinking...why not have a night on the town? Like old times? Just pure Tremaine and Sullivan debauchery. What do you say?” 

@lucian-tremaine

[lillian-tiger]

Most would know better than to cock an attitude with the male - it was just common knowledge, but most didn’t have to see Nessa in the state she was in either. Popping a hip out she looked towards him. “Well.. fancy seeing you. Thanks for gracing the public with your face.” || @lucian-tremaine

[queenxvanessa]

“So then we’d have to go through the Mayan Ruins of Chichen Itza in order to find the hidden temple,” Nessa whispered as she casually leaned into Lucian. “Mum said it’d be best to go at sunset and it might take us a bit...so we could head out now?” 

@lucian-tremaine

[m0n0lithical]

I'm not playing HSY yet cause I'm waiting for...well, everything to be fixed, but I did make a few 'what they looked like as teens' for a few OCs. In order is: Lucian, Amie, Preda, and Marielle.

[pollysheedy]

Closed Starter for : @lucianriviera​ Timestamp : Sunday, October 7th, 1888, afternoon Location: Saint Botolph’s Church

The church was always packed on Sundays. As a child, it had been Polly’s favourite day of all, with plenty of opportunity to to dip light fingers into deep pockets. Old habits die hard. They had hung around at the back of the church throughout the service, and when it was over, and the people lingered to talk to each other, to the vicar, Polly took their fill. Their on pockets now laden with a wallet, a pocket watch and a handkerchief, there was finally, finally, little they could do to distract themselves. It was time to descend to the depths below. It was time to see Lucian. 

There was no guarantee that he would be in, but somehow, Polly knew that he would have been waiting for them to come. That was the thing about Lucian - there was nobody quite so capable of being everywhere and nowhere at once, and whenever Polly wanted him, there he seemed to be, waiting to welcome them back to the halls of their childhood. 

As expected, the children were milling around, comparing their treasures for the day. Polly smiled fondly, remembering when they were one of them. In many ways, they still were. A little older, perhaps, but just as lost. They hoped that their lives would turn out better than Polly’s had. They hoped for more for them. 

Approaching a small wooden box where the spoils could be deposited, Polly surrendered the wallet and the watch, as they had many times before, handing over what they had to the collective. They were keeping the handkerchief, though. They’d sell it on later. 

They turned, and there was Lucian. As they expected. Always where they needed him to be. Polly nodded a hello, wringing their hands anxiously. Waiting for something, an invitation perhaps. 

“Decent turn out today,” they jerked their head upwards, to the churchyard above. “You’ll have done well.” 

[lucian-king]

“ i find it hilarious that most people believe i do not have much of a sense of humor. contrary to belief, i’m quite funny---even indulged in some standup comedy here or there when i was a bit younger. didn’t get far in though, bought a comedy club instead.”

[pollysheedyarchived]

“What did you find out?”

Polly recoiled a little, Lucian’s question clearly stirring something in them they didn’t want to discuss. Their face had paled a little in the early morning light, but they cleared their throat regardless, stammering over their words as they spoke. 

“It’s Annie Chapman. Older girl, lives up on Dorset Street,” their speech was quick. The faster they spoke, the quicker they could get it over with. “Opened up, she was. Insides thrown over her shoulders. I got as close as I could to Hanbury Street, but the police are all over the place turning people back.” Their hand idly went to their own neck, tracing the skin there with shaking fingers. “There’s a few who saw it, though. Tried to cut through Finch Street and up Spelman, and there’s a younger copper there telling anybody who’ll listen about it. Reckons her throat was slashed too, like the last one.” 

They only glanced up at him as they finished speaking, and it became very clear that Polly was trying not to cry. Whitechapel had never been the safest place to live, and certainly not a haven for those like them, but this was all far too close to home. They had laughed with Annie Chapman only a week before in The Britannia, and watched as she got into a scrap over a bar of soap or something similar. The whispers that followed them everywhere these days had been fervent since even before the news had broken, and they couldn’t shake the feeling that they were warning them of some sort of impending doom, a fate they couldn’t escape from. 

“I’m afraid,” they admitted, voice little more than a whisper. 

[aj-writess-blog]

tag drop for lucian masters

[sulley--sullivan]

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Tremaine. That’s nice you want to fuck your girlfriend relentlessly, but we’ve got better things to talk about than your mediocre love life.” 

@lucian-tremaine

[unsteadyxmuses]

tag drop for lucian masters