#ofchemicalgardens

[xelessarx]

@ofchemicalgardens​​

It had taken a lot of convincing. A lot. And some tea, that was probably the best tea that Ely had ever had, but that was beside the point. Eladrins were not high on his list, ever, but ones that had been banished from court? Well, that was a different story. Elessar had done his best to weave half truths for the Eladrin, the one whose very presence made the faiman feel warm. It was stupid, the season that this one represented. Spring, new life, the same thing that Elessar’s power craved. Levent didn’t know who his parent was, neither did Elessar, and that was at least one of the few things they had in common. The faiman picked up another artifact now, looking it over, “Alright, I’m here. And I know what you’re going to say –” He didn’t want to hear the I told you so from Levent, even as he turned towards the fey, “I want to see what my ability can do.”

[archeolcgist]

who? @ofchemicalgardens where? the museum

Evy had been invited to the museum to identify some frescos found in a recent tomb. Interesting work, but finished too quickly and leaving her with the desire to do more work. Sadly, she has no influence in the museum and no projects to finish back at the university. The dig is also closed for the weekend to avoid overworking her fellows, so she is left with too much free time on her time and no one to bother. Andreas is busy training and things are still tense with Noa.

She is sighing and wandering the museum, when her eyes fall in the Art History section and inspiration suddenly strikes. With a new goal in mind, she starts walking towards the curators office, a thrill of victory filling her when she sees that Caliskan's office has the light on. Moving towards the door, she begins knocking rhythmically to annoy the eladrin.

"You there, Caliskan? Still wrong about burial rites in the late Roman empire?"

[preyfm]

location: gas station status: @ofchemicalgardens​​

A low hanging sun streams the last of its yellowing beams through the large glass windows that surround the gas station. A hallow radio station plays through the speakers, something repetitive enough that Micah could have sworn it was playing each time he stopped by, but he’d be thankful for it because without it there would be that ever present silence that seems to cling to Skull. A silence that sinks into his core and settles in his bones, like a winter ache that one just can’t seem to shake. 

It’s near empty, but that’s not uncommon for a gas station in the middle of nowhere when it’s this far from tourist season. ( Not that Skull even had one of those if you asked Micah. ) It was only natural the only other person wandering the isles caught his attention, and an inevitable fact he was going to go up to him once he realised who it was. 

He causally drapes himself across Rhine, looking over his shoulder to whatever it was the other was looking at. “I’m thinking red vines and vodka, are you in?”

[duskfellhq-arch]

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