#not viewable ic

[jujulebee]

((god shes just sooooooooo shaped

[thatmonroe]

📝 About Hubie, but specifically about gardening :>

[…] were it not for his packed schedule. It does surprise me, how Hubert manages to find time in his nights to dedicate to others. Even the tree I gifted him on Christmas - is is in full bloom, now. I wonder if that is part of Fina's influence on him, or if the both just naturally connected on their innate desire to nurture that which surrounds them.

I need to remember to bring him more flowers and plants, whenever I am invited over. I also wouldn't kill him to add a bit of green to contrast with all the neutral tones in his haven.

A strange thing, when a Ventrue emotes. I needed to borrow Fina's bike - I suppose I should have […]

(Text around drawing: In my head, I've named her Célinne. There is a frenchness to her]

[fancyratvanity]

One more day

The sun reaches my bed

One more day to spend alone again

[midnight-blue-blood]

Eavesdrop?

A conversation lost in the soft chimes of a purple house made store front.

"...The first time you've approached me in nearly three months and it's to ask after some random child, Regent? I wasn't aware your people had such interest in the local sewers."

"Well, of course he is from the sewers! What else could he be? My, is there something you haven't told us? A secret, perhaps? If you doubt my word so, please feel free to meet with Jericho."

"Why, he is already engaged! He looks after signorina Vicario's rather extensive library. It does keep him busy. I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to find a free spot in his schedule..."

"He's a sweet boy. I'm not certain how I feel about these accusations, given how he assisted in pulling our friends out of a literal fire. You should perhaps be more careful..."

[psyxxchic]

Eavesdrop?

Highway is...do you know personal security details, how they're always looking out for danger even when they seem relaxed? I don't think I've ever seen him truly let down his guard, but it's not necessarily...hm. Not closed off either? He's not unfriendly, quite the opposite in my experience - Oh! Have I shown you his puppets? They're delightful little things, it irritates me that he gets made fun of for them sometimes. Do you know how rare it is to find someone with such a serious deportment and past, someone nearly as old as I am, who still has whimsy?? Anyway. I call him Caretaker because that's what he does, he takes care of people. Often, I think, at the expense of letting those people very close to him. It's deeply relatable.

[emberoops]

Ember sighed, sitting at the desk in his office, and wondered quietly what he had been thinking when he had revealed himself as divine to the world. Surely there was a better was to do this - one that didn't hurt so much.

Today, like most days, had been dedicated to learning the intricacies of foreign policy. It was tedious, dull, and often heartbreaking work, the sort that made his head ache. His attention waned by the early afternoon.

It didn't help that the world was still so broken. He wanted to fix it - but had no idea how to solve most problems. Evert system seemed terrible, but no easy or simple solutions presented themselves. It was enough to make Ember consider, yet again, giving up. No one could stop him.

Another voice called for Ember in despair. Without thinking about it, he sliced himself a little thinner, and sent what he could to help.

It never felt like enough. It was all far too much. Ember felt tears try to well up, only to be met by psionics and flame. They dried nearly instantly. Ember laughed dryly.

He got everything - love, wealth, power, fame - and yet he didn't even keep the ability to cry. Somehow, the scales balanced all wrong. How could he be so unhappy? It made no sense.

Ember dragged his hands down his face, and pushed away from the desk. It was time to do something else - there was little enough brain power left for learning.

[the-road-from-calvary]

📝

I do not know if it is my imagination, but I do feel like Prince Lehmann has softened somewhat. While I do not imagine he will ever stop admonishing the fledglings about the perils of entanglements - nor should he, given. The Perils. - he has seemed less fatalistic and more tolerant of my antics.

How much is an indulgence of me, and how much some softening due to Mr Herrington's situation? Or some other angle I cannot yet discern?

Not that I would say such, either way. I am sure if I made a public note, it would be a prompt to remedy it. Especially if it is a softening on behalf of his childe, it would be a pity to be the cause of said softening ending.

[mushroompollution]

Elliot exhales a heafty sigh as he flops onto his bed, fresh and clean out of the shower. "Swear it's impossible to relax in this town. Even the water feels weird," he complains loudly.

Leo sits on the floor beside him, back against the mattress and to his master, a book propped open against his raised knees. He's silent as the young nobleman goes on.

"We should've got some street food before we came back to the apartment, there's no fuckin' DoorDash here or anything!"

Again, only silence. Elliot sits up, crossing his legs and propping himself up with an elbow on his knees. "What's up with you anyway? You've been all mopey since we got to Fianna's."

Leo feels his chest tighten. He stares down at the pages without reading. "...you don't have to keep up the act here, Elliot."

"Eh???"

"I mean. you don't need to put on a smile for the kids anymore. aren't you sad...?"

Elliot's brows knit tighter, his expression changes from mild annoyance to genuine confusion. "Sad about what?"

"...about Sophie..."

Now it's Elliot's turn for silence. "What are you talking about?" he finally asks, slowly. "Sophie was adopted. Isn't that a good thing?"

That tight feeling turns to a sharp pang inside Leo's chest. His stomach twists.

Sophie died, Elliot.

The words catch in his throat.

didn't she...?

"Leo? Are you feeling okay??" Elliot crawls forward, to half hang off the bed, trying to get a better look at his servant. "Do you have a fever or something?"

The sour taste of bile burns Leo's tongue. He swallows it down and swats away Elliot's hand as he tries to feel the back of Leo's neck for his temperature-- he knows better than to try and move those messy bangs.

Leo closes his book.

"I think I'm just... tired... it's been a long day," he says quietly.

Elliot is quiet again, propping his head up on one hand, stretched out on his belly as he stares at Leo with a concerned look. "I swear, sometimes you seem like you're on a totally different planet."

"I'm going to take a bath." Leo winces at his own tone, sharper than intended. But he stands up, sets his book on the bed beside his friend as he heads to the bathroom without another word.

Elliot watches in annoyed confusion as his valet disappears.

As the door closes behind him, Leo presses his back against it, clutching a hand to his stomach. His breathing comes uneven, teeth nearly drawing blood from his lip as he bites back tears and bile.

"did I really... mishear sister Fiona...?" he gasps to himself. "Elliot wouldn't lie to me..."

On shaking legs, Leo walks across the bathroom to draw a bath, passing the mirror without so much as a glance. He sits on the tub's edge, waiting until it's ready to begin to undress, staring down at his own, small hands.

Elliot would never lie to me.

His breath catches in his throat, a sob threatens to break free.

Tomorrow, he would ask. He would confirm with the nuns at the orphanage what was true or false. But either way, he knew he could never believe that Elliot would lie. Not to him.

so i must really be--

Those familiar old whispers fill his mind like static, and he grits his teeth. His hands clench into fists against his knees, nails biting into his soft palms.

--losing it.

[therealslimstrider]

==> You're definitely clued into some shit happening.

==> Unfortunately, you have your own shit happening and you can't help anyway.

[bromineiscandy]

CkJsw7PDsGZsdXRuaW5ndXIg5a+m6amX5LiJ5Y2B5LqM

[Video Attachment:

The video starts blurred, slowly focusing on the pale, ghoulish face of Null as they fiddle with the front, muttering to themself and someone off camera about the state of technology and how difficult it is to manage these things. Their face is partially obscured by a black gas mask, hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and their eyes do most of their emoting for them. Once the view is focused there's a monotone voice of confirmation off camera and Null's brows raise, looking and sounding content with an, "Excellent!"

They take a few steps away from the camera, clapping gloved hands together as they begin to speak, a young woman standing towards the back revealed by their movement. "Recording for purposes of scientific study in the event that subject Honey Bonnie Azrael should perish before being able to recall and detail her experience in inbibing my vitae. The purpose of this experiment is to engage in a low level bond with the young..."

They pause to look down at the girl, her hands fidgeting as she looks up at them. The juxtaposition of them side by side is very strange, Null looking almost completely greyscale next to Honey's pastel rainbows and glitter. She raises a hand and whispers something that isn't audible, and they nod in response before returning their attention to the camera.

"This young woman, to provide, to lend, to grant some semblance of my ability in the powers of vicissitude! An honorable desire to follow in the footsteps of my Delilah, to seek out an alternative method of learning the fine and intriguing art of flesh crafting! Ha ha ha. Ms. Azrael," They look back down and she meets their eyes again, "Are you aware of the potential consequences of these actions?"

"Yes."

"And you're a willing participant in this experiment?"

"I am. It was my idea."

"Excellent! That's my part done, no one can yell at me this time! Ha ha ha!"

Null tugs off one of their gloves as they walk off view, Honey left standing politely with her hands folded. She gives a bright, somewhat nervous smile to the camera and raises a hand to wave. After about ten seconds pass, the methuselah walks back onscreen, holding a glass beaker filled with a deep, off-color red. It emits a strange, heavy, orange gas.

"Now would you like to be strapped in for this or would you rather stay standing Ms. Azrael?"

"Oh uhhh I'll go with like, just standing, t'be honest."

Null stares at her for a full couple seconds before laughing once, handing over the beaker. "You are incomprehensible! Ha ha ha!"

Once Honey takes vitae(?)'s container, her host pulls their glove back on, leaning back against a nearby examination table and taking out a small notepad and pen. "Whenever you're ready Ms. Azrael."

Honey nods and gives one last, almost apologetic, smile to the camera before taking a deep breath, steeling herself. She raises the glass to her lips and drinks down the blood quickly, an immediate reaction almost making her choke it back up.

Null begins writing casually, not so much as flinching as Honey stumbles in place, every muscle in her body tensed and flexing as she forces herself to survive this ordeal. It's not as bad as it could be, she'd made sure of it.

She fumbles with the glass as she struggles to set it down without breaking it, falling to her knees and digging her nails against the tiles as she hoarsely gasps. The camera stays focused on her as she shakes, blood droplets misting the ground in front of her when she coughs. She's surviving, though.

The video continues for another five minutes, remaining focused on Honey as she experiences the agony of this exchange. After a full minute of no movement, Null sets down their notepad and walks over to where she's crumpled on the ground, poking her idly with their pen.

After a few seconds examination, Null laughs, standing straight and whirling around to face the camera.

"SHE'S STILL ALIVE! HA!"

They begin raving about being an extremely helpful person as they walk towards the camera, picking it up to turn it off, Honey in the background still in a heap.

Video ends.]

[jujulebee]

[thatmonroe]

📝 @the-road-from-calvary

[…] The matters of our 'nature' (what a pedestrian word - am I becoming less educated as time goes on? Christ.) ever the more pressing and, at the same time, growing in the deepest irrelevance. I need to ask her, I suppose - is a moment of synchronicity of any value if actively pursued? But alas, no foxes cross my path. No scarabs fly through my windows. I am sure there is much that Antonia sees about me, that I am blind to. I feel less need to hide from her than I do of myself. Even as I seek, seek, seek. I wonder if she would still be proud of me - my meaningless ruminations, if it turns out all I am good for is seeking - never finding. It would be antithetical to her practical blue blood nature, I assume. Ah, there is so much I need to do better at.

[midnight-blue-blood]

😌 eavesdrop women's wrongs?

A conversation lost to the roar of an indoor waterfall.

"My dear, why are you asking me about signorina Bloem? We are not exactly friends-...."

"...Ah. She did well at the salon, I take it? Very well. I suppose sharing her love of flowers is not untoward. And angels, as you may have guessed from her alterations. Ehy not gather and press flowers as a gift for hee next visit?"

"...I suppose you could say her sire was... hm. Unduly harsh with her in her nascent years. Yes, tragic. She is only just now coming into proper society..."

"Ah... the Prince told you? Signora Alvera is... hm. Yes. Very different, you observed well. I don't know how far we can trust her..."

"Oh, on that matter? We can trust to an extent. I think they wronged her somehow on a personal level. But I do not claim to know her mind. I don't think anyone could."

"I- her aura what? I have no idea- No- Harpy Bravinski, please- Just a moment-"

[fiendsblood]

The fabric of reality trembles at Kris' manipulations. Faint green wisps of glowing smoke begin to form in the air around Opie as the Lord of Doom decides to show off a little. Those wisps dissipate, followed by an arc of green lightning in all directions- harmless, but certainly showy.

A door appears in the midst of that lightning, which subsides once the door is fully formed. The wood of the door is tinged a smoky green, as well.

Beyond the door, an extradimensional space - a staff of translucent servants waiting to attend to Opulence's every want and whim- a veritable mansion, though woefully undecorated - and a table set as well- meal fit for a hero, or even a party of them.

A note, on the table:

" :)

Sincerely,

Kris"

Opulence brings herself a safe distance away from the clearing to avoid drawing too much attention, just in time for the door to appear in front of her. Opening the door hesitantly, she peers inside to the fantastic display of magical talent.

She gives a glance back over her shoulder. Certainly, disappearing for only a few moments would be harmless.... and she heads inside and shuts the door.

[psyxxchic]

Eavesdrop for Ig!

I've already talked about- Okay, okay. Fine, then it actually is time for bed, no more negotiating.

...Let's see, where did I leave off last time? Ah, Ig. Dr Gryder was- is - a good man, possibly the best man. We've talked about lycanthropy, haven't we? A little, okay. Well, he's had it for a very long time, longer than I've known him, and it's...well, there's nothing that's easy about a condition that's entirely out of your control to begin with, but then on top of that for it to be dangerous to others? Ig, Dr Gryder, is a healer, it goes against everything he is and stands for to harm others. You would think that he'd be devastated by that dichotomy- what? Oh, um. Contrast between two opposite things. So like what specifically makes one thing opposite from another.

Where- oh, yes. Ah, I think it did affect him, very badly for a time, and who could blame him? But he used that to try and develop a cure. To try and make sure other people with that same condition could have an easier life. It's easy, isn't it, to get stuck in feeling sorry for ourselves when something bad happens, right? A little wallowing is okay, but the best thing you can do in any tough spot is to remember that you have the tools to help not just yourself, but other people too. Hm? ...Yes, baby. You can just think of what Dr. Gryder would do.

...Yes, I do miss him. No more questions for tonight, mon chou. Time for bed.

[emberoops]

Ember closes his eyes and lets his psionics fill the room, just like Fex taught them. They reach out, and then find a piece of paper. It has been creased, just slightly, so that it is easier to feel under.

Delicacy was not Ember's strong suit, of course - but he wanted to be better at this. Of course, he progressed slowly, and yet he continued to progress.

They clamped down on the page, and carefully lifted it. This part was - well, not easy, per se. Doable, though, and easier with the cuffs than without. Ember took a deep breath, and prepared for the hard part. He carefully began to bend the paper, folding it along the existing crease, and then took a pause. Okay. That was not too bad, although it was a little bit off from the original crease, now. That was frustrating, but not the end of the world. Ember brought the paper closer for observation, even though he thought that he ought to be able to feel it.

Next step, even harder - folding from the center such that the upper edge came down along side the currently creased edge. Careful, now - no quick lines to follow. Ember felt his telekinetic grin destabilizing as he began to hold too many separate planes in his mind. (Was it his mind, he wondered.) He tried to finish the fold regardless, and it began to tremble harder. The paper shuddered, then tore.

With a sign, Ember took the next piece of paper with one hand, and creased it down the middle.