#mu:task

[r3m3mb3r-m3-n0t]

Name: Elias Hart

Age: 25

Species: Aware

Circle: Mortalis

Known Relationships: Connor Talbot II (Boss), Matthew Coleman-Reyes (Roomate), Esmeray Talbot (Friend?), Sebastian Harker (Boyfriend???) Thaddeus James (Indebted to), Cameron Kiskadden, Kel Trebond, Chloe Li (A-Team)

— What's your name?

He eyed Kel with a grin, deciding not to comment on how embarrassing it must have been to ask such a silly question to the people they knew, “Elias Bartholomew Hart,” a pause “I’m kidding. Elias Sullivan Hart.” He fiddled around in the kitchen, darting this way and that before plating a piece of freshly set pie and placing it in front of the other, “Coconut cream. Tell me how it tastes. Tweaked the recipe and I’m wondering if it’s too much coconut and not enough cream. Eat it before it melts.” He pulled out the chair across from Kel and plopped down into it as if it was the first time he stopped moving that day, as he breathed out it seemed the apartment sighed with him; both settled comfortably into their bones. He made no move to hide how he stared pointedly at the recorder placed perfectly in between the middle of them, “Is that necessary? Will this be played for the court?”

— How do you know Tabitha Spencer?

He shook his head, a long and drawn out movement for an emphasis that others wouldn’t get to see, “I don’t. Didn’t talk to her during the party. Watched her. Listened. The only reason I know of her is because I’m friends with Bash. Though. From what I’ve gathered. She doesn’t seem like...” his gaze fell to the recorder and he snapped his mouth shut, teeth making an audible click “Doesn’t matter. Just useless conjecture.”

— How do you know Jose Alves Cruz?

He sucked air between his teeth and raised his shoulders to his ears, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrowed, “He’s the mayor?” He looked towards Kel, silently asking if that was correct, “I don’t follow politics, so I don’t know much- Oh! He’s Jo’s dad. Dodgy dude. It seemed like-” gaze once again fell onto the recorder, “It seemed like this was the type of event he was used to. Bodyguards and all.”

— How do you know Hollis Fiala?

The gleam in his eyes dulled as he set his jaw, every muscle in his body tensed as if he was about to pounce with claws out to tear through even the tiniest sound, “They’re a circle leader.” And that was all he had to say.

— Did you see the shot happen/what happened that night from your perspective?

“I did not. But I heard it.” This particular question had caught his full attention, words waiting on his tongue for the chance to spill out when no one could catch them “There were two shots, but only one bullet. Not because it was lost or lodged into something. It was. Not. There. There was no second bullet. A perfect distraction if you ask me, cause the crowd to rile…u..p” His gaze snapped up to meet Kel’s, eyes wide with realization before it was quickly distinguished by an awkward laugh, “Uhm. Everything was Chaos. It was good that Hollis’ healing went well. They’re lucky it was just the shoulder, honestly one of the best places to get shot.”

— When did you get the invitation for the party/know you were going to work it?

He hummed, “In the mail. I can’t recall when. Probably around the same time everyone else did, that’s how the postal service works. Mine was different though.” Elias reached into a wooden stand hung up on the wall and plucked out the invitation, giving it to the other, “Mr. Thaddeus was rather adamant on me coming. Why, you may ask? I don’t know. The group didn’t even need me, you had two other capable healers. Suppose I went to watch someone get shot again.” And leave with nothing, is what he wanted to say but decided against it.

— Did you go with someone?

“Kind of.” He fiddled with the edge of the fraying tablecloth that hung precariously off the table, put there minutes before Kel walked through the door in a poor attempt to spruce it up, “You were there. Don’t you know?-“ He cut himself off, remembering a bit too late that this was all a formality, “You, Chloe, Matthew, Lilith, Bash, and Cam. I didn’t go with someone specifically though. Which was for the best, it was a terrible night. Everything was off, we did everything right. From the looks of it, it seems like…” he sighed, “It was weird.”

— Do you own a gun/have you ever owned a gun?

He made a choked sound that was immediately covered by a forced laugh, “Uh. No. Never. They’re dangerous.” He pushed away from the table, picking up the dirty plate as he walked towards the kitchen sink, “Though. I suppose they’d be needed now more than ever.” The dish clattered amongst leftover silverware, “I’ve shot one before. Weird bonding exercise with my college hockey team.” Facing away from Kel he shut his eyes tight and white knuckled the edge of the counter, maybe he said too much?

@midnightunderground-npcs

[midnightunderground-hq]

MEMORIES OF MAGIC AND WHERE TO FIND THEM

While any other individual will only meet ten or so unapprehended murderers in their lifetime, the average inhabitant of the Midnight Underground will interact with ten-or-more fantastical beings on any given day ( and even more if you know where to look ). When the preternatural is all around, it begs the question: how long can one exist in untouched bliss before the fantastical consumes them? 

This task, if you so choose to accept it, will require some introspection...

We humbly ask that you paint a pretty picture of that very first time— you know the one. For those having gone through life unawares, this first is about that moment when your eyes opened. Fantastical beings had existed in the corners of your vision for so long, and then they’d suddenly come front and center. 

For those on the other end of the spectrum...if memory serves, we all remember that first bit of acne that comes with pubescence, the menarche, the works. When did you realize that you were something other than human? Had you always known?

Now let’s not forget those in between. What happened when? Was this your first encounter with the preternatural? How did you react & how did you cope? They say children acquire languages the easiest, I assume such is the same where magic is concerned...if you were thrust into this world at a later age, was it difficult to navigate? Has time eased these hardships? There are so many more questions I could ask, but then, I don’t wish to overwhelm you. 

I don’t need to be made privy of your entire life story ( trust me when I say I’ve seen it all firsthand ), but I’d like you to highlight this one moment and tell it as you remember it, I’m always wishing to see the perspective of you younglings— moreover, it’s the topic that I’m most interested in at current.

As I’m sure you all know, tasks are not mandatory but highly encouraged for character development and more! Where these are concerned the world is your oyster as far as formatting— you can do anything from self paras, to visuals and all that falls in between, just make sure to tag all tasks with #mu:task upon posting! As always, we look forward to reading! 

Yours faithfully,

[magic-by-nora]

His Ex

A strong mental ward can take up to ten days of work to complete, or so other wizards have told her. It’s about the thoroughness of one’s work, to ensure there is not a piece of the mind’s potential that is untouched. No one has ever believed that Nora could make one in half that time, but she was used to them not believing in her. For this special occasion, she gets started on it early, unsure of how constant headaches as of late would affect her turnaround time. 

It doesn’t, but it does allow her to take her time as she ensures that no one will be able to pierce her thoughts or feelings on the day of this wedding. Especially Esme.

Anger brewed deep in her as she began the preparations and sat herself in front of a mirror for the next several hours, an arrangement of star anise, marigold, and other carefully measured ingredients laid out around her for easy access. Why did it have to be Connor? Of all the people in the Underground, why him? Nora already knew the universe hated her but this was a low blow even for them. The thought of them being together had only just formulated in her head, still foreign and uncomfortable, but she could figure out where to put it. For Esme, she would figure out how to fit him back into her life. And now they’re getting married. 

Marriage was never on the table between her and Connor, not in any real seriousness. They talked about it in the way middle school children pretended they knew what they wanted to be when they grew up but between arguments, Nora always knew in her gut that she couldn’t marry him. But the unspoken truth never stopped Catherine Talbot from whisking her away any time she saw her, and asking how she felt about a spring wedding before the heat got the best of them, and about the various wolf traditions around it and how Nora should consider not inviting her family if they were skittish about them. Nora was used to these types of things from family members (any time she had dated someone for more than a month her aunts and uncles would tease that they needed to check her hand for an engagement ring) but the way Connor’s mom gripped her arm and the eager look behind her eyes frightened her. It was an expression she was becoming increasingly used to seeing in her own mother’s eyes. A wizard added to their pack would be good. A wolf child with her powers would be better. A branch of her life Nora was grateful that she would never have to walk down, but the carefully crafted invitation at the corner of her desk kept whispering at her what if. 

She burned the invitation before even starting with the wards on her third day. 

When their relationship fell apart, Nora knew he would never be able to leave her life completely, not while she was in the Underground, but the city was large enough that she could feasibly stay away from his sphere and she could stick to hers. They could walk by each other once a year and then forget the other existed in between that. It wasn’t perfect but it worked. And she wouldn’t lie and claim she didn’t enjoy making him sweat a little any time they happened to be at the same party.

Esme deserves better. A thought that solidified in her mind the moment the fae admitted her feelings for the wolf. Admittedly, there was nothing excessively wrong with Connor, but, in her eyes, there was nothing right either. He was a good guy, but his own baggage would always get the better of him in the end. Connor never knew how to let things go, even when she begged him to. And Esme deserved someone as vibrant as she was, who wouldn’t drag her down with his traumas and fears. 

But he gave up his wolf for her. Hypocrite to the end. How many times did they scream at each other because he knew her magic would kill her one day and here he was doing the same thing. But at least he did it for Esme. At least Nora knows that he loves her. It helped ease her anxieties for her friend at the very least. Unfortunately, it also meant that he was mostly responsible for bringing her back and she had to be grateful to him. But she has gotten so good at hating him…

By the end of the fourth day of her casting of the ward, the guilt had already mixed in with the hate. She couldn’t help Esme. She created another mess that Connor had to fix. Connor who always made a problem worse by choosing the most dramatic of solutions. He gave his wolf for her. There were a million other ways they could have fixed this problem but of course he chose that. And it’s her fault. Because she couldn’t go with them to the fae realm to bargain for her life. Because she asked Esme to take her to the fae realm in the first place. Because…. The ward would prevent that from seeping through as well.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Any past, good or bad, she had with her best friend’s fiance shouldn’t stop Nora from being anything but excited for Esme to be marrying someone she loves. It doesn’t matter that it was Connor as her husband and that this only came about because of her foolish mistake.

But it does. It does fucking matter. And a small part of her that she has tried so desperately to lock away believed that he would show Esme the darker parts that she had never seen in Nora. The reasons why they would have never worked out. The selfishness that Nora chose to embrace, lest she start drowning. He could convince her for once that Nora really wasn’t worth her time… 

The ward finished right in time, strong and firm over her thoughts and emotions for the next few weeks. She would be safe during the bachelorette and the wedding. And no one will be able to see anything beyond her happy smile for a friend she loves so dearly. As she prepared for the festivities to begin, she thought that maybe it wasn’t even needed–that her anxieties got the better of her and she really would only be happy for Esme today. She caught a glimpse of the gray dust on her work table. No, she is very grateful for these wards. 

[esmerays]

[ Night Falls and  Hermia Looks Upon the Moon... ]

If then true lovers have been ever crossed, It stands as an edict in destiny.

She shouldn’t have been left to her own devices— not since she was pulled back from the edge of nothingness; not since her essence had morphed into some dark cloud, weighing her down as the days passed.

Rumination had become the new standard for the faerie, her mind supplying endless reminders of the guilt and self-hatred she felt following the queen’s second attempt at an execution. Hers had been a droplet disturbing still water, its ripple effect an unending stream of tribulations for the people in her orbit. Theirs were a most unfortunate gallery of faces.

It would be best to leave them behind— it would’ve. 

As it was, Esmeray should’ve left long before the consequences of her actions contaminated the people she loved. Before she’d ever even grown these mortal attachments. 

What should have been an outlier quickly became the norm, as the peri collected all forms of love in the Greek ethos ( though she’d never truly been able to grasp philautia ). Before she’d realized it, Esmeray had spread her poisoned affections around the Midnight Underground like the very blight she’d released on the Ezania flowers in her homelands— she was destined to destroy all those things she touched.

Mother Below, she should have made off when she had the chance. Why hadn’t she done so all those days before? Why had she even allowed these people to sway her thoughts in another direction?

Had she been steadfast in her convictions, she’d have avoided this. 

Happiness with the wolf was nothing but a castle in the air, and the daydream was slowly becoming a waking nightmare. The pain he’d been feeling was manifesting itself as a lingering discomfort in her bones, made greater by the knowledge that she was the sole reason for the wolf’s ailment— it would make her ill, but maybe she was deserving of this punishment. She’d carry this part of the burden without complaint; Connor’s suffering was now her own. 

After the smaller ceremony between herself and her betrothed, Esmeray had sequestered herself to the velveteen loveseat in the small room, pulling her knees to her chest as she tried to calm the torrential rains of her mind. 

So soon as they’d performed their liturgy, the flowers of their bond began blooming in her heart: tulips, alstroemerias, sunflowers and roses, forced through an endless cycle of blooming and wilting. It wasn’t anything she’d ever felt before, but all those things she’d felt for Connor had been firsts.

Moments of happiness, jealousy, ecstasy and anger. There was elation wrapped in trepidation, and a sense of mourning for those customs she’d never partake in, she’d never—

Her thoughts stutter to a stop as her ears were filled with a familiar sound. 

Esmeray and her brothers had spent the colder seasons running through the halls of the castle, causing chaos and hiding in the aftermath. When she’d pushed the bounds a little too far, Nesim and Fahri would hide their little sister in the kitchen cupboards, with the promise that they’d find her again when the fires had settled. 

After some time one of them would come looking for her, rapping their knuckles against the wood in a rhythm the three peri kinderlings had created amongst themselves— it’s the very same sound that has Esmeray tripping over herself to get to the door. She’d hoped her brothers would be in attendance, but had tempered those expectations before this moment. 

When the faerie makes it to the door, she nearly pulls it off its hinges, Nesim’s name falling from her lips before she’s even caught sight of the person on the other side of the door. Hope breeds eternal misery after all. 

The person that greets her isn’t her dear Nesim nor her darling Fahri; instead, she finds herself face to face with the Fae Heir, looking smug as ever, “did my selves do the tappings in the corrections? I am in the rememberings of the knockings that your selves and your brethren did the partakings of, theretofore,” the naiad pushes past Esmeray before she can even think to close the door, “the puppy boy has not done the runnings from your selves, still? These would be in the likings of your primary bindings...though and all, my selves are in the attendances, yes?”

She would have strangled them then and there— would have ripped them apart with her bare hands had she released herself from the shackles of her self control. 

But she couldn’t. Love weighed her down, kept her on a short leash. 

If she hurt Hollis now, then Esmeray wouldn’t be the only one hurting from the consequences of her actions, and Mother Below, she’d hurt him enough. More than she’d ever wanted to. So she forces a smile, clasping her hands and nodding her head, “courses, I am in the tallest of gratitudes, thus.”

The Heir looks pleased with themself then, smile growing wider as they set themselves down on the loveseat Esmeray had previously occupied. If the bride to be is confused, it shows, “do not do the holdings of the shockings. I am inside the taskings of the observances...your selves will not do the fleeings once and again, yes? Our selves are in the knowings of the endings theretofore. Do the behavings, thus, I am in the wishings of the bindings of the tallest happinesses.”

[clemxjohnson]

Name: Emmett Johnson

Faceclaim: Peter Gadiot

Age: 36

Circle: Mortalis

Occupation: Hunter/Mechanic

Clementine will be the first person to tell you that her brother, Emmett Johnson, is not a bad person. He’s simply a man trying to make the best he can of a world he was thrust into unwittingly as a child. Emmett is the first child of the Johnson’s, the only one born of their flesh and blood, and he was always a good kid. An All-American football star in High School, an Honor Roll student since Middle School, and the pride and joy of the Johnson family. They were picture perfect.

Until they became aware. 

Now, that wasn’t Emmett’s fault. It was the fault of his Father being in the wrong place at the wrong time. An incident with seeing a Werewolf turn, a near fatal attack, a rescue by Damian Harker; Frankly, it was all a little blurry. Emmett had never been given the full story, only small bits recounted by his Mother and Father, and the bits he could hear them talking about from the top of the stairs. 

Damian promised the family safety if they were to follow his instructions carefully, and not question him. That he would not allow some Vampire or Werewolf to get to them. To turn their son. To turn any of them. They’d be safe if they were to allow themselves the protection of the Mortalis clan. 

Emmett can vividly remember the way he stood, standing like a Superhero, chest puffed, head held high, commanding attention and power— Emmett wanted to be just like that, too. He wanted to be able to protect his family, and he wanted to feel strong and powerful. Emmett wanted to be a Hunter, just like Damian Harker was. Of course, he was Eight, so that was basically out of the question. Though, he never stopped dreaming. Never stopped preparing. Playing with toy weapons, and earning his archery and shooting patches at Boy Scouts before anyone else. He did what he could to make himself noticeable and indispensable so Damian would want him to join his Hunters.

But, two years later, when Damian Harker entered their home, it wasn’t with a letter of invitation to proper training. It was with a little girl slated to become his little Sister. At the time, the explanation of who she was, and why his parents were so weary to take her went over his head. 

The Orator’s Child. Unwanted. Half Vampire. Malleable. 

It wasn’t until he was older, staring down at Clementine in her crib as fangs tore through teething rings that he realized that Damian had brought a little monster into their home. Though he was right about one thing, she was malleable. It didn’t take long for their parents to teach Clementine that she was not to extend her fangs in anyone's presence. She was not to drink the blood of any human, or she’d be seen as a vicious monster. She was not to expose her status as Supernatural to anyone under penalty of death by those in the Midnight Underground. Who knew if that was true, but it was good enough to keep Clem out of trouble. 

But, it never felt like enough. It never felt like a good enough reason to let sleeping dogs lie. Which is why, when Emmett turned Sixteen, he took matters into his own hands. He approached Damian Harker with a proposition: His continued silence on the Matter of Clementine, as well as his Parents’, for the ability to become a Hunter. 

Extorting someone as powerful as Damian seemed dangerous, but with a smile, Damian agreed. Emmett would become a Hunter, and Clementine’s identity would remain a secret. 

Emmett is not a natural born Hunter. He doesn’t get the advantages of strength that people in the Kiskadden Clan might. But, he was young, and trainable, and that seemed good enough for Damian who took Emmett under his wing. He was taught how to use different weapons, how to face down the dangers of the underground with a brave face. He was taught the history of the different Monsters of the Underground, and all the ways they could bring him or his family harm. But, more importantly, he was taught how to defend himself against it if it ever became time to do so. 

They did not Hunt for sport. They hunted to survive. But, there was an unspoken order to things, one Emmett could not break. And, so he didn’t. But, that didn’t change the underlying prejudice he held against some of the more volatile creatures of the Underground. People like his Sister, but who hadn’t been taught correctly. They hadn’t been warned that they were lethal, and taught to be as benevolent and passive as Clementine was. If they could all just be more like Clementine, life would be better for them. 

That was a job for him, now. To keep Clementine, and everyone like her, aware of their place in the world. 

[connortalbot]

Task 000: Peripheral Vision

Of Cain and Abel Of Caleb and Aron Of Connor and Austin

Name: Clifford Austin Talbot

Nickname: Austin

Faceclaim: Henry Eikenberry

Age: 22

Circle: Night

Occupation: Bartender at Filthy Fenrir

Clifford, or Austin as he prefers to be called following the horrifying realization due to his peers that Clifford was the name of a fucking huge red dog, is the second Talbot son. As such, the pressure resting on his shoulders feels like feathers compared to the two tons that lay heavy on his brother. Austin has never known worry or strife and if Samuel could look forward and see his ancestor he would spit on the ground in disgust. This boy is, for lack of a better word, a real problem.

Equal parts ignorant and charming, Austin spends his days doing what he wants: playing pretend that he is someone important. He all but runs Filthy Fenrir when his father’s back is turned. And then on his days off he’s prancing around the strip, drinking shots to show off to girls he claims to want equal rights for -- as long as he gets a kiss out of it. Why his parents bother to indulge these fantasies is anyone’s guess. Perhaps they just don’t want to deal with him today. And who could blame them.

At nine years old, when presented with this little baby, Connor’s nose had wrinkled and he had passed the boy back to his mother with a simple and easy, “I don’t like him.”

It had been charming at the time in that way children are. Of course he didn’t want a brother; did anyone when they had spent nine years as an only child? But as the days went on and their relationship fractured instead of fused, it became clear to everyone the two would simply never get along. When his parents were off running their pack, Connor was attending parent teacher conferences for a 7 year old who kept biting his classmates, standing on desks in attempts to start a revolution, and trying to kiss girls on the playground. It was no wonder that animosity formed.

Things only got worse for them when Austin was allowed to coast by at the local university studying philosophy.

When people would ask him where his younger brother had run off to, Connor, not even bothering to look up from his book, had replied, “Am I my brother’s keeper now?”

Whether the younger Talbot does what he does because he genuinely wants his brother to like him or he simply likes seeing him seethe with rage is anyone’s guess. The fact of the matters is, Connor wants nothing to do with his brother’s rash and stupid decisions. And yet he is the one always cleaning them up.

Now the pain comes from years of pent up discontent. Only when Connor looks at him these days, the same age he was when his life well and truly fell apart, there’s a strange sort of familial worry there, a protectiveness that becomes increasingly difficult to ignore. He wants nothing more than to keep him from making the mistakes he did.

Hopefully, he can.

[desertsiren]

TASK 001

Ollie has never seen a real siren with these colors, but the drunk locals seem to love the look!

[ohnotalec]

Alec’s Emergency Bag

1. An actual backpack 

2. A gallon of water

3. A medium bag of  Protein Powder

4. Protein bars 

5. A Lighter

6. A change of clothes

7. A small bottle of vodka

8. His phone and portable Charge

[mckinleyroleplay]

Just a quick reminder that we are not opening for interactions until Monday, September 10 but because we’re all excited about getting this place rolling we’re going to have a little askbox activity throughout the weekend! The main will reblog specific askmemes onto the @mckinleyonair blog and if you would like to participate, simply reblog the meme so other members can be sure to send you lots of asks! 

Please try to participate as much as possible, so that everyone gets asks for all of their muses (yes some of us already have a lot)! We think this will be a fun way to get muse flowing for your character right before we kick off, and to showcase what your muse is all about to other members!

[magic-by-nora]

Name: Mateo Navarro

Nickname: Matty

Age: 43

Faceclaim: Oscar Isaac

Circle: Mortalis

Occupation: Hunter of the Navarro clan

Mateo had never known his father. His uncle had told him that he was strong, stronger than most other members in their family who had indulged in their gift. He had lasted longer than everyone else before him, an impressive three years, and the family thought that maybe he was blessed to surpass the curse. But he had lost his mind shortly before his son’s first birthday. His uncle had been the one to end him.

“Just because our name is cursed, it doesn’t mean you are.” His uncle’s favorite words to him and the mantra of the Navarro clan.  Based in El Paso, Texas, the Navarros have prided themselves in being the strongest of hunters due to the nature of their family curse. After all, how many hunters have heard the call to power and said no? Others are quick to remind them that it might be the fear of insanity that prevented them from reaching for said power, but that was neither here nor there. Still the connection they once had to magic had them attuned to the supernatural world around them and even though they can no longer access those powers, they vowed to use their lives for the betterment of others and their own.

That was how things were for the Navarros. You ignored the whisper, the call to something dangerous and consuming. It was a constant presence until the curse and all that comes with it would eventually fade from your mind, usually before you left your teenage years. And once it passed over you, that’s when your real life began. All Mateo wanted was to join his aunts, uncles and cousins in the family business, pushing away the hum of magic and reaching for a different sort of weapon. 

The family trained to fight those who abused their powers specifical, mostly within the Power circle, but they made sure other creatures still saw their end once if they deserved it. But their most important task was finding other Navarros, ones who could not deny the temptation, and put them to rest. It was a somber affair, but an honor to be chosen. And every few years, one would be chosen to leave the home base and track down any other Navarros across the world to release them of their misery. Some were against these trips (particularly because there were rumors that not all who were slain had reached insanity yet), but the vast majority agreed that it was a necessary kindness.

Mateo yearned to be chosen for such an important task and trained with a fervor. He wore every scar as a badge of honor and pushed himself beyond what any hunter was capable of. His ruthlessness was off putting to some, but he believed it necessary. He would not allow more children to be orphaned due to the recklessness of powerful people. 

He refused to ever set his weapons down, not for the woman he claimed to love or the three children she gave him. Not even when she threatened to leave him if he went on yet another year-long journey to kill members of his own family. He was a hunter. He was a Navarro. 

Until his daughter used magic for the first time. The resulting year was a blur of anxiety and dread, but he held her in his arms when her time came. He put her out of her misery.

One last trip, he told himself. He would make sure not a single stone was untouched and he would track down every branch of their family tree. Only then would his work be finished and he would finally let himself rest. 

It took him six years, but he did it. He had one last stop in Las Vegas before returning home but there was so much wonton corruption and misuse of power and he was still a hunter. Until he tracks down the last member of his family, one Leticia Navarro, perhaps he will help fix this Midnight Underground.

[r3m3mb3r-m3-n0t]

Task 001 - Werewolf

Truly, Elias believes he is the funniest man on earth and he knows in order to keep such a prestigious title he must put the utmost care in crafting his elaborate jokes. Yet, this Halloween he knew it would fall upon deaf ears but he’d be damned if he couldn’t giggle at his reflection in every shop window he’d pass.

Upon learning that his boss was a werewolf Elias thought of two things. The first being ‘What the absolute fuck?’ and the second ‘Holy shit I should go as a werewolf this Halloween!’ A common costume that he would never normally pick- he would rather dress as an obscure reference that nobody would understand or a pun- but the implications were just too good to pass up.

What no one else gets to see is Cassius, his younger brother, dressed the same. A wolf and his pup walking the neighborhoods scavenging for candy- a big brother trying to piece together a normal childhood for someone he loves.

[esmerays]

[ esmeray as juliet capulet ]

━━ In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. 

Esmeray’s never finished the film, okay? But she thinks she remembers all of the important bits, though she’s very much unaware of the fact that the titular characters die in the end. All the same she loves to dress up, eat the sweetest candy she can find, and gorge herself on the sweet ambrosia that is fairy wine. Glamor sits like soft gossamer on her skin, but these are nights where she wan lower its opacity, show a little more of herself than she’s typically allowed.

The faerie teases mortal eyes with the slightest shift in her complexion, eyes nearly glimmering in the dim lights while she floats through the crowd. 

She looks angelic for the most part, draped in white with those angel wings framing her. It’s a confusing sight for those who know her, but Esmeray is ever the confusing faerie. More confusing though are those purple details she’s added— anyone who’s seen Romeo + Juliet would say they weren’t parts of the outfit. Those bold enough to ask will hear something quite curious: it’s the favorite color of her favorite wolf, and there’ll be no elaborating on the topic.

[midnightunderground-hq]

IN DEFENSE OF WALPURGIS AND ALL HALLOWS EVE

Before you say it, we know it’s extremely cliche, but my dearest players, cliches make the world go round— and this’ll be a fun one, we promise! Today, we cordially invite you to join in on the unending merriment and debasement of this wonderful celebration. It’s a favorite of the people dwelling within the Midnight Underground, and for good reason. While those of more mundane origins dress up, those of our creed may opt to dress down.

Regardless of who you are ( or what you are, for that matter ), the night welcomes your oddities with open arms. It’s ever the warm embrace.

So, I must ask: what becomes of our dearest members during the night of Allhalloween? I know that a large sum of us wear costumes for the other 364 days of the year, hiding our true selves from those who wouldn’t comprehend; those who would seek to do us harm. On a night where the strange is celebrated, will you shed your snakeskin? Will you show those parts of yourself you’ve kept from prying eyes?

Considering the alternative, will you dress as something else entirely? I’ve heard of Vampires who dress themselves as Wolves and vice versa, though it tends to draw the attention of those with their eyes open. I’ve also seen some preternatural darlings dressing themselves as icons of the Unaware: there was that one lesser demon masquerading themselves as Elle Woods this past year— the limit does not exist, and as such one can go as bold, as overt, as abstract as the mind allows.

You know...you may even find some fun in dressing as some exaggerated version of yourself: a Vampire dressing themselves as Dracula, a ghost as a bedsheet with eyes ( ? ), the works! When I say that the possibilities are endless, I truly do mean it and I am a creature of my word, all dressings shall be revered, all dressings shall bring forth libations and excitement— just promise me that you’ll show us your costumes first! 

Please remember, tasks are not mandatory but highly encouraged for character development and more! Where these are concerned the world is your oyster though I suggest that, with this particular task, you have something like a mood board or a collage ( some visual medium ). Really whatever your heart desires, just make sure to tag all tasks with #mu:task upon posting! We look forward to reading/looking at what you have in store! 

Yours faithfully,

[midnightunderground-hq]

THE FACES WAITING WAITING IN YOUR PERIPHERAL

You didn’t think we were alone around these parts did you? I know they’re background characters in your life, but they might be front and center to someone else...to themselves at the very least. All the same, their names are escaping me. I fear I might be worse off in the memory department than the lot of you.

With that in mind, wont you fill us in on the details? The Cicerone and I will sit back while you go and take the lead with this one.

I wonder what the other members of Mortalis get up to, the Nights, the Powers and the Wilds. Though I’m well versed in the lives of our esteemed members, I know nothing of those notable inhabitants that linger elsewhere ( even their names are lost to me and it’s entirely too trite ), but this is why we have you all, yes? I’d love it if you were kind enough to fill our garden with those much-needed flowers.

Please consider a few things about the inhabitant you wish to highlight, who they are and what role they may play in this machine we call the Midnight Underground. Do they work at one of our known locations or somewhere else? Have they lived and blossomed in the Midnight Underground or elsewhere? If they’re new to the scene, I wonder what brought them here— I’m a sucker for all the juicy bits, you know.

And speaking of the messiness of life in our small city, are you highlighting this person because you owe them a debt? We do thrive on exchange, after all, and it wouldn’t be too surprising to find that you’ve added another to our list; Carmen wont like it, but it’s what she’s here for after all. 

...Am I getting ahead of myself here? Seems like I might be. Whatever the case, feel free to take what you wish from these words and abandon whatever sparks discordance. 

Remember that tasks are not mandatory but highly encouraged for world building! Where tasks are concerned, the world is your oyster though we usually have some suggestions— this particular task can be structured any way you can think of so long as it includes some blurb regarding your NPC and the main information ( Circle, species, age, name, faceclaim, AND occupation if any ). And please make sure to tag all tasks with #mu:task upon posting! 

Before that though, I ask that you speak to myself and the Cicerone for a soft little vetting process. If you have any questions regarding this please let us know, we look forward to reading what pretty things your minds have conjured! 

Yours faithfully,

[midnightunderground-hq]

Here are some preliminary tags as we finish up the blog

[magic-by-nora]

Nora put on her best dress once before for the Orator, though she hadn't realized who it was at the time.

Back then, all she had to her name was a ticking time bomb, the dress her mother hand stitched for her quinceanera the year before, and, according to her grandfather, a wish. He mentioned the name to her once when she had came home with dried blood and tears on her face, his only form of condolence before her mother whisked her to the bathroom to change. Moira Devlin owes this family a debt. Had her grandfather any sense, he would have schooled the girl in what a debt was instead of letting little Leticia Navarro walk up to the most powerful woman in the Midnight Underground and demand her help. But Leti had already felt the cold sense of nothingness grip her brain, leaving her dumb long enough that she missed her stop on the bus. She had no intention of feeling it ever again.

To Moira’s credit, she hadn’t tossed the sixteen year old out the minute she heard her name like all of the others Leti had seen before. She heard the girl speak, gave her a smile that Leti considered kind and then gave her exactly what she wanted: hope. Only then did she toss Leti away to the cold, her debt paid.

Cruelty was Leti's reasoning at the time for such an act. How else could you explain abandoning a teenager to the murky waters of the Midnight Underground? Nora knew now that she would have done the same. It wasn't personal; it's how the Underground works.

In the years since then, as Leti became Nora Lucas, she felt the Orator’s eyes on her, a chill that only she could summon from her. Nora spent every day wondering whether Moira would tell people who she truly was--if she would snatch the life Nora tried to build for herself away. The relief that filled her once she heard of her passing was tantamount to the hope that that same woman once gave her.

So, Nora dressed in her best dress once more for the late Orator and carefully put on her make up. She would only say kind words to those who askeed and plaster on a mournful smile for those who didn't. For better or worse, Moira Devlin taught her how the Underground worked.