Closed The Azure Festival

The winter masquerade is here and everyones invited!

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The Diamond of Kalea is located on Kalea's extreme west coast and called as such because its completely made of a crystalline substance called Skyglass. Home of the Alvina of the Stars, cultural mecca of knowledge seekers, and rife with Ethaefal, this remote city shimmers with its own unique light.

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The Azure Festival

Postby Madeira Craven on January 26th, 2019, 4:02 am

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They were clumsy and unpracticed, Madeira unwieldy with her ever changing center of gravity, Jomi with his complete lack of rhythm. But even as they stepped on each others toes and bumped chest and hips, they managed to do so with grace. This was not the first time they had danced together, and Jomi knew her possession-broken body like she knew the pull and currents of his soulmist. She could never manage such a feat with a flesh-and-blood man, but with her most powerful ghost she swung and danced and thought just maybe she looked beautiful doing it.

When Emma joined the fray, balanced on the jut of Jomi's narrow hip, she adjusted herself so she had each of their hands. This felt like family, she thought as she laughed her way through the fumbling of the new steps. A broken family, perhaps. Each of them fused together with the frayed threads of the true homes and families they lost, but family all the same.

Looking into his calm black eyes and the relaxed currents of his materialized shroud, Madeira thought perhaps Jomi felt it too. But a glance over her shoulder changed that. Suddenly he was that bitter walled-off creature he had always been.

"Hold the kid, I've got somewhere to be."

Emma was thrust into her arms, and her skin rippled with gooseflesh as she was suddenly in full body contact with the freezing electric storm that was soulmist. She just had time to register the Kelvic's scowl lifting into that wolfish smile she knew to fear before he vanished.

"Jomi!" Madeira hissed through her teeth, but the ghost was no longer close enough to hear her. "Gods dammit all".

"Where'd Jomi go?" Emma whined as she was put down, a dangerously teary pout on her face.

"Well..." Madeira sniffed deep of the cool, heavily spiced air. A whiff of ozone was dissipating around them, but deeper into the crowd she could sense that subtle electric ripple of a blinking ghost. "He's gone looking for trouble." She reached for the little ghost's hand, and Emma automatically wrapped her fingers through her glove. "Lets go retrieve him." And remind him that misbehaving ghosts get ghostnailed to the floor, was the unspoken promise.

Following him was easy. The ghost was not even trying to hide himself from her, though he was otherwise unmaterialized and thus invisible. But following him through an excited, dancing crowd was proving a challenge. Madeira held tight to little Emma's burningly cold hand as she was bounced around the dance floor, pulling herself along by the burning sense of the nearing ghost.

So focused was she on finding the ghost (and throttling him when she did) she did not consider exactly where they were headed until she felt the change in Emma's soulmist. The dejected little girl, upset with the disruption of their dancing fun, gave a little jolt of tingly anxiety down Madeira's arm as her shroud picked up its swirling pace. Glancing back at her, she saw the girl smiling nervously and retreating behind the bouncy curtain of her hair.

Oh petch.

It was the pretty, sparkly boy the girl was so enamored with. He was dancing with two women on his arms. The first was graceful in a sleeveless satin dress, with silver chains in her glassy violet horns and her beauty shining straight through the oddly appropriate okomo mask. The second was shuffling along to the music in elegant black silk and a featureless white mask from which poured guileless laughter in a honeyed voice.The trio was the epitome of what the festival should be: carefree, joyful, beautiful...

Was that Savis?

It was only a moment. A flash of silver, a familiar timber, the pallor of the woman's hands, suddenly it was all so familiar. What threw her was the sound of her laugh, until she realized she had never heard the Nuit laughing with anything but wicked amusement or complete distain. But in the arms of the beautiful man and graceful woman, she seemed so... happy.

Oh petch. Jomi you wouldn't...

Perhaps she was the only one to see the tiny tremble in the boy's hands, and the way they seemed to tighten and release. Like someone was trying them on for size.

Don't you dare.

And like a pervy spiders she saw a pair drift lower and lower. She picked up the pace, towing shy little Emma along, her cheeks already burning with stung embarrassment.

Don't you do it.

Too late, by the time she reached the Eypharian each hand was sunk deep into a squishy handful of ass. Yet before the boy could be unfairly slapped by either rightfully indignant woman Madeira had him by the collar of his silky blouse. Emma made a squeak of alarm as her master both pulled down on the Eypharian's collar and kicked the back of his knees to make him kneel. She stood over him from behind, in full wrathful Spritist mode, haloed by the colourful lanterns that hung over the revelries.

"You're alright, sir. You've been possessed. If you'd stay right there I'm going to preform a holy exorcism the likes of which this stupid ghost has never seen."

Glancing up, she caught Savis' eye and cleared her throat uncomfortably, fully aware this was her fault for bringing the two warring undead together tonight.

"...Hello, Savis. You look wonderful tonight."
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The Azure Festival

Postby Haneht on February 2nd, 2019, 10:20 am

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"It is," nodded Haneht, "I don't supposed you've danced much." Her initial reaction had him worried, wondering if he might have done something he shoudln't have. Lifting her might have been a little extreme. Was she more fragile than he'd imagined? The sight of her hanging like a ragdoll in midair had brought an unwitting, sneaky little smile to his lips, but underneath the surface of amusement and carelessness, he too began to fluster. Savis however, made no move to address it. So all was well, right? They were still friends?

Friends in spite of the short time they'd known each other. In spite of him being all that he was and was not. He lingered on the notion for a while, having never quite wondered how they'd even gotten so comfortable to regard each other as such. Just a simple letter and a little walk through the Trails. Haneht had been desperate for a friend, someone who might hold no grudge towards him and understand the odd ways in which he worked. But desperation didn't make a friend out of someone just because.

He reckoned it was fitting, however. That he would choose someone from a vastly different plane of existence. Someone others would overlook, avoid, shun. The youth had never been one to stick to the status quo, and it always was the littlest, and often strangest of things that held little to no weight that Haneht seemed to notice more. Whether it was due to his ever fleeting attention, or his quirkful, unpredictable nature, the Eypharian's gaze was an endlessly shifting kaleidoscope that never quite seemed to see the world for what it simply was. Marched to the beat of his own drum, he did, and in doing so he'd found a most unlikely companion. Someone he'd known for not more than two seasons, and yet found himself unable to hide or withdraw from as he did, could, with most. And tonight, even when lost amidst the high and intoxication of the festivities, he remembered the life of enslavement she'd confided in him of. The fun she must have been denied of, the simplest of joys she might've forgotten, flavours that must have faded over the course of her longevity.

It spurred Haneht on, fanned the flames that gave him the excessive vigour he was always running wild with. This year's Azure Festival was to be unforgettable, not just for Savis, but for all whose paths so much as crossed his. "That's the way, ladies. What's a festival without a good spin? Best way to flaunt your gowns too, if you ask me." Encouraged the boy upon noticing Savis' applaudable attempts at keeping up with him. The bard was doing well enough on her own, and seemed to have embraced the rhythm that moved her feet, hesitation and restraint freeing themselves from her very being. The fabric of her dress swirled with and about her like flowing water. Smoothly, he took hold of each woman's hand to spin them both with his uppermost pair before the little circle reformed once more. "And if they're looking at us, I believe it's with envy. Or awe. We're quite the sight for sore eyes, you know? Especially the pair of you," added the brunet intrepidly, tossing a quick wink in the Lethaefal's direction. His partners' inexperience was easily recognised, but amongst the crowd hardly stood out. In a celebration, the genuinity of one's enjoyment was what truly mattered.

And the nuit's laughter certainly showed just that, supplying him with a silly chuckle of his own, very pleased to see his... friend, and the pleasant stranger he'd reeled in enjoying themselves. "I suppose you're both acquainted somehow?" Haneht was intoxicated, but not so that he'd missed the subtle displays of familiarity the women had exchanged. "How about a drink after this?" The tingle that ran down the length of his spine distracted him momentarily, and was mistakenly disregarded as a rush of adrenaline. Perhaps the rest of earlier's booze kicking in. "On me, whenever you ladies--gh-" A guttural sort of choke interrupted his line of speech, abruptly halting the Eypharian in his steps. The chill in his spine returned with the force of a tidal wave accompanied by a momentary lapse in his consciousness as he struggled with something. For- control? Immediately recalling the effect of Savis' unseen magick, he assumed his friend was up to some sort of playful mischief. And while with most incidences, he might've submitted and played along, the lack of control he suddenly had in his lower arms was disconcerting, an interruption to his genetic engineering that both baffled and unnerved him. Enough so that even the alcohol in his blood ran shockingly cold. A dry, confused laugh broke from his throat in a burst of air, and he turned to the nuit with a silent plea and displeasure in his eyes as the arms tensed and strained by his sides. Cramps? His hands trembled. When had they last done that? "Sav? I don't-" Oh.Where were thosegoing?

Hands darting up immediately, Haneht was bewildered to find that only four had followed his will. The lowest pair sank past their waists, from what he could feel, and if he could feel them then why could he not move them? His voice grew increasingly stern, uppermost arm grabbing at her wrist callously. "Wait, hang on a tick, Sav, Sav. Petching wait!"

It's not her, some part of him rationalised. Then who, or what was he to blame? Rampaging hormones? "I- hrk!" Someone had him choking once more by the collar before he could so much as apologise for something he had and hadn't done, and he caught his balance as he reeled back, biting his tongue only to have his legs give in forcefully. Move. Get up. The faintest taste of copper bled - quite literally - into his mouth, but Haneht was much too flustered to care, eyes wide and frantic as he twisted his upper body to look behind, instinctively forcing himself to get up. Reaching for his fan, the Eypharian was dismayed to find that he hadn't brought it along this time, anger settling in in place of fear and helplessness as he rose to tower over the Spiritist. Recognition was swift, with how much of an impression her attire and swollen belly had left on him. The woman from before. And if she's here, then- The little phantom girl from before came into view, misty and small and shy as ever, and the sight of her doused a figurative bucket of water over him. Shocked him into awareness once more, before he could unwittingly lash out at someone... Oh.

Savis.

He already had.
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The Azure Festival

Postby Savis Maren on February 7th, 2019, 9:01 pm

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Savis Maren was truly having a ball. The Nuit who deemed herself a princess was thrown into the fray, dancing with two of her best - and only - friends in all of the world in a healthy mix of laughter and movement. The nuit was slower than her compatriots, but they seemed to lead her well enough, with the Eypharian being less animated than he'd be normally. Savis Maren did not pry into his aura as she might have in other circumstances, still shouldering the warning he'd given her, but she answered his question without throwing the lash of her thoughts at the emotionally delicate Eypharian.

"Much? Try never! You think any sane person would dance with the dead?" she asked, her words well-intentioned and followed with high and mellifluous laughter. The Nuit realized that the breadth of her emotions were difficult for others to realize, and worked to demonstrate them more and more. Laughter was an ally, a smile a friend to her endeavors as she sought to bring others into the mindset of the undead. More and more she relished in the company of her fellows, with it all culminating in the end of the season with her willingness to indulge in such public festivities. Savis reflected, realizing that she'd turned into quite the sociable being as she listened to the Eypharian's encouragement.

The Nuit's feet moved in a passable attempt at keeping up, but more than once she stepped on the Eypharian's toes as he led them through the dance. So tempted her undead flesh was to redden at the praise, over and over uttered by the delightful Eypharian who seemed unconcerned with the reality of dancing with the dead. At Haneht's askance, she nodded in affirmation.

"Lady Mauriel is a dear friend of mine," she stated, taking up the royal tone she'd rehearsed over and over, committing the facade to memory before winking at the Ethaefal. A narrow smile caught upon her features, and she nodded graciously at the invitation for a drink, knowing full well she wouldn't partake in it. At least his heart's in the right place, she mused, chuckling softly before the Eypharian seemed to choke on his words. He halted entirely, and the Nuit, midway through motion, sputtered to a stop as she looked over the Eypharian with worry in her silver eyes. Then, he called out to her questioningly, then ice grew into his tone and the Nuit pulled away from the incredibly rude Eypharian, her smile withered away.

It was too good to be true, she mused, her silver gaze suffused with a similar ice until she yelped out as a hand firmly clutched at her ass. She attempted to push back on Haneht's chest, but before she could, a heavily pregnant Madeira moved with a quickness she'd never seen from her. She pulled Haneht back and down onto his knees, explaining to him what had happened and sure enough, Jomi was nowhere to be seen. The Nuit found it in her heart to forgive Haneht, but the anger did not subside. It moved from the lively Eypharian to the cold and callous specter, a being who Savis was grateful to no longer share direct accommodations with. Madeira then turned her attention towards Savis, complimenting her on her dress.

The Nuit looked to the Spiritist, raising her skirts up and crossing her legs in a curtsy before moving towards Mauriel and looping an arm around the Ethaefal's elbow.

"Of course I do," she answered, her high voice layered with a crisp tone.

"I assume this is your mongrel's doing?" she asked, speaking particularly loud in order to rattle at the ghost still buried deep within Haneht's skin. The Nuit knew of the ghost's power of possession, the unwitting target for it at one point, though with her it'd been an unsuccessful venture. Haneht looked so uncomfortable, forced to the ground and laden with a fear that visible marked his face. The nuit was glad for it, in truth, for the Eypharian's quick blame on her and his vile tone had the Nuit filled with a rage that she didn't quite understand. She turned away from Haneht, half dragging Mauriel with her before she reconsidered her course. She leaned towards Mauriel and whispered in her ear,

"That's Madeira Craven, the Spiritist whose property my lovely little Castlette is located on. She's a close ally of mine," she added, avidly avoiding the usage of the word 'friend'. In the moment, the only one she truly felt was a friend to her was Mauriel, and she spoke in hushed tones as she kept her ardent glare fixated on the callous and insensitive Haneht.

Friends. One way or another, they always find a way to disappoint,
she reflected, the bony fingers of her free hand clenched into a fist. There was a heavy sadness in her introspective thoughts, one kept hidden by the fire she was far more comfortable with releasing.


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The Azure Festival

Postby Mauriel on February 8th, 2019, 2:41 pm

Even although to the outside observer Mauriel's body would be moving a bit jerky, not quite following the rhythm, her soles not quite hitting the spots she would be aiming for, she instantly got so carried away in this dance that she thought herself the goddess of it, feeling every percussion ripple through her body, convinced her immersion was reflected back to those watching. Haneht's eyes seemed to validate her delusions, as he showed nothing but admiration for both of the ladies he had the pleasure of holding, and sought to affirm them with every movement, expression and word. He spun them around, holding them by their hands above their head, and Mauriel followed his lead a bit clumsily, tripping as she was going back to rejoin the circle. Nervous laughter escaped her as she did so, and coupled with the boy's affirming words and his gentle touch returning to her back, it made blood rush to her face. Grateful for the mask, she danced a bit more shyly after this.

What was it about Haneht? The Ethaefal was ashamed of how he made her feel. It felt immature, exploitative. He was such a closed off being, very obviously traumatized and emotional, and equally as obviously trying to hide it. A normal boy does not try to kill in the middle of Lhavit over a petty insult. His character made his youth even more apparent, although Ethaefal's own mind was young in some ways, it was still the eldest here in others. But knowing all that, she still couldn't help her attention lingering a bit too long on the hand that held her close. Realizing how unresolved all of the feelings from their previous encounter were, how crazy she still felt for seeking out her assailant, how deviant and unhealthy her desires were, a tinge of regret for ever approaching started tainting her mood. Her dancing slowed, widely off-rhythm now, as she sought to escape the physical and wall herself off in her thoughts.

Just as she was spiraling down into such thoughts, Savis decided to use her name. "Hello, Haneht," she could not resist greeting back, a wide smile hidden behind the goat face. She diligently returned the wink from before, evermore playful. Whether she was grateful for the distraction, or perhaps enjoying the tiny bit of momentary power this surprise gave her in the interaction, she was unsure. A cold burn went down her spine, and she had to hold back a frown.

A twitch in the Eypharian's hand made her worry. She did not know how unhinged he was and worried this was a tic in response to his stormy emotions. He started yelling nonsense at Sav as he let go of them, and Mauriel gasped, ready to go off on him. The Nuit was but dancing and politely conversing! She did not know the nature of the relationship the two shared, but she did know is that the last thing Savis needed was somebody she considers a friend giving her shyke for no reason. While quite oblivious to many things in her own little bubble, Mauriel was smart enough to figure out that doing such a thing to an ex-slave was insensitive to say the least.

As she started moving towards the undead, Haneht's petching touch reemerged, this time closer to where Mauriel's mind involuntarily desired it. Her eyes widened in shock. She saw that Savis suffered the same fate and dispelled any notion of clumsy drunken advances, chalking this up to an act of anger. She reached to push him away, although he was decidedly bigger and stronger, but before she could he fell to his knees before her.

"You're alright, sir. You've been possessed. If you'd stay right there I'm going to preform a holy exorcism the likes of which this stupid ghost has never seen." As Mauriel's attention shifted confusedly, from Sav reaching around her arm, Haneht on the floor, the figure who rightly put him there, and an attempt to figure out what was going on, she had no idea where to look first. The confident gaze of the extravagantly dressed blonde, unmasked, made her feel somehow reassured, though she did not understand her words. Her dark dress made of quality velvet and embroidered extravagantly spoke of power, perhaps even nobility. Coupled with her stance, Mauriel was almost sure of it. Oddly sure, given her inexperienced with the world of the higher class. Savis introduced her as Madeira Craven, the owner of the Infinity Mansion, further solidifying Mauriel's analysis.

She took a step back from the boy, pulling Savis along. She was still afraid, both of him and whatever was happening to him. Following Savis' hushed tone, she inquired, "Which mongrel's doing, Princess? What's going on?"


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The Azure Festival

Postby Neologism on February 18th, 2019, 12:35 am


The night was filled with the egos that were brought after the relief of a masks anonymity. Not all citizens wore them of course, but those who did always seemed braver, less interested in the social repercussions of their actions. Still not everyone wore a mask, and it seemed their sense of self were not the least bit damaged by that fact. The amount of self-importance that hung in the air on that evening was a tempting playground for some mischievous types. What better a way to knock someone down a peg than to bring up their greatest weakness, or perhaps their greatest shame?

A lone figure found itself walking into the Azure festival, nose ripe with the scent of the brightest ego they could find. They were dressed just nicely enough to blend in with the crowd but were mundane enough so that not a single person would have looked at the figure twice. Flitting through the crowd, taking the hand of a young maiden and leading her into a twirl before moving on towards the next elderly man and bowing as if he was king, the figure was searching for someone who thought themselves just a bit too high.

Like a blood hound after a fox, the mischief maker discovered what they were looking for, and boy were they prepared to feast. Six partygoers seemed in the middle of some spat that had simply interrupted their festivities moments before. To the outsider, it seemed almost an execution, with one strange creature kneeling surrounded by the others. But the executioner was the last person the mischief maker would have expected, a pregnant woman whose child clung to her thigh…. Only it wasn’t quite a child but the soul of a dead girl manifested in the misty form of ghosts. Interesting. They thought, taking in the scene. Silently the figure sauntered up beside Mauriel, gently tapping on the Ethaefal’s shoulder.

”Hello sweets,” The figure took on a voice that was eerily familiar to the immortal, one that she had met in her Akvatari form not too long before, still in the company of Savis beside her. It was the Crone. Her voice and face and form were exactly as they remembered them, although the ancient woman was dressed finer and seemed not to hobble nearly as much as she had in her shack, it was clear that she was them. To the aurist who would look closely they would find the familiar presence of her aura, only it seemed a soft copy of it, at best. The figure’s face was now recognizable to both Mauriel and Savis should they look, seeing the androgynous and ancient face of the Seer they had connected with earlier in that season. Had she come to collect on the debt they owed? But what could the Crone want out of a situation like this. With a relaxed familiarity the Crone brushed Savis’ hand with the lightest of touches, although she already had the women’s attention and then looked forward to the scene before them. ”Watch this.”

The figure did not give the two ladies a chance to react, walking right up to the executioner, which the mischief maker had now realized was not actually intending to kill the kneeling form before her. ”No, actually, you won’t.” The figure confidently contradicted the Spiritist, drawing the woman’s gaze to themselves for a tick and placing a soft hand on the woman’s arm to hold her back. There was no pressure behind it, but just as he had done with Savis and Mauriel a connection was suddenly established. While Savis and Mauriel would still see the Crone exactly as she was, Madeira would see someone else. To Madeira’s perception the person before her stood tall and proud with a haught to his voice and a disdain in his eye, it was her father. ”Let me take care of it, sweets.” Again the voice, figure, and face all resembled him nearly exactly. Should Madeira reach out for his aura and she would find the flavor of her father on it, although she had not known the auristic magic when knowing him, it would feel familiar as her father should. This aurist would be too low level to find any discrepancies in his aura to tell her otherwise.

To Haneht, the most unlikely of faces appeared before him, Ahnouk. The rest of the group could not see the face that appeared to Haneht as they were still viewing the person that the figure had presented to them. She was not dressed in the same Eypharian clothes she had died in, but rather wore a similar androgynous garb that all the others could see as well, only her body fit exactly as it should, four arms and striking eyes and skin. She kneeled before her brother, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder and rub it softly and reassuringly. Her voice rung out exactly as he had remembered as a young boy when she spoke to him, although the rest would still hear the voice that the figure had presented to them individually. ”Don’t panic, sweets.”

However, looking through Haneht’s eyes, Jomi would not see the Eypharian’s dear sister. He would hear the same words of warning not to panic, but they would ring in the familiar and heart-wrenching voice of his beloved Edith. The figure’s eyes would take on the shine of his bondmate in life and all other aspects of her figure, face, and voice would appear exactly as he remembered them. Only he could tell that his beloved focused on him when she spoke the next words. ”Leave him be, sweets. Please, come with me.” Her soft seductive tones spoke to his protective urges and beckoned him from the body he possessed. As soon as the ghost willingly left the Eypharian’s form, the figure would straighten up, look him directly in the eye and then take a single step back so that she could reach Madeira’s hand. Without malic Edith, who Madeira saw as her father, reached for Madeira’s fingers, holding them lightly in her own and then reached forward to put her other hand where Jomi’s chest should have been. ”Dare not enter him, or anyone else, sweets.” She said simply, a powerful surge of hypnotism lacing the figures words. Savis would see a falter in the Crone’s aura as this magic surfaced, since the Crone herself did not know this manipulation of djed, the underlying aura of the mischief maker flared through for an instant to use this magic.

And then, without much more warning, the Figure dropped Madeira’s hand, took two large steps back so that they were no longer in the center of the group. They seemed to be waiting for some sort of reaction to their entrance which lasted all of ten ticks, interrupting the scene before them. Each individual would still see the face that the mischief maker presented them, with a sly smile hovering on the edge of their lips as they soaked in the reactions which fueled the purpose of the mischief maker’s meddling.

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The Azure Festival

Postby Jomi on February 26th, 2019, 3:47 am

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Having control of only two of the Ephyrians arms the ghost could only watch helplessly as Madeira's unseen hand pushed on the back of Haneht's neck, forcing him to kneel.

"You're alright, sir. You've been possessed. If you'd stay right there I'm going to preform a holy exorcism the likes of which this stupid ghost has never seen."

The lower two arms arms on the golden man crept up his side to hover near his temples as the ghost flipped off the spiritist behind him with both hands. Jomi's existence was sustained solely by the Lady Craven's spite and frustration. She'd win, a master spiritist was stronger than any ghost, but by the name of any god that was listening he was going to make her work for it.

"No, actually, you won’t."

Jomi froze in place, both of Haneht's lower hands trembled in stunned silence as both the ghost and Ephyrian locked eyes with the stranger in their midst. Only it didn't look like a stranger.

A decade had changed Edith not at all. Sweet and sly, brown hair and freckles and a thief's long fingers. All of it exactly how he remembered his bondmate, the love of his life, the one person he defied death for.

"Leave him be, sweets. Please, come with me."

Jomi was not gentle with his exit.

The ghost tore out of the Ephyrians body with the force of a hurricane. Soulmist lifted off his skin and ripped through his muscles with a sad, desperate urgency leaving both man and ghost torn and ragged.

Jomi rushed to reconstruct his pooling soulmist. The ghosts transparent brows knit together in concentration as he pieced his preferred form together from the ground up. Pulling his mists in tighter to his core and creating the illusion of form and solidity.

”Dare not enter him, or anyone else, sweets.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind Jomi questioned this gift. He questioned why Edith, years after she watched him die, wasn't more surprised to see him. Or why she seemed to look through him, as if he were a stranger. Or why in gods name she insisted on calling everyone 'sweets' when she had never used that nickname before.

But it didn't matter. Jomi wouldn't question it because he wanted the illusion to be real, and ghosts were not known for their strength of will.

"Where were you? I've been looking..." The ghost crept forward, his hand outstretched and unsure. He entire reason for his continued existence was steps from him, just as he remembered her. He had been fantasizing about this moment for years and now that it was here he had no idea what to do.
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The Azure Festival

Postby Madeira Craven on February 28th, 2019, 12:49 am

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”No, actually, you won’t.”

Madeira's entire being turned cold. Suddenly the proud, haughty master spiritist and mother-to-be was nothing but a child. Her tall posture curved inward, like a leaf drying in the sun, the mere sound of that voice cowing her like nothing else could.

"Father?" she choked out, eyes rising to meet that familiar blue she inherited. Was her voice always so thin and high? He will be ashamed to hear her squeak like that. She was a lady, and her every action reflected on him and his ambitions. She fell back alarmingly easily into that familiar headspace of Madeira the ward, and into the obedience her family inspired in her. She stepped back from the Eypharian as if he had burned her

Then her father took her hand in his, and in a touching display of affection he rarely showed, placed a hand directly on Jomi's chest. ”Dare not enter him, or anyone else, sweets.”

The Avalad could accept all kinds of absurdity. She did not wonder why her father was here, or why he was suddenly using endearing epithets, or even how the barely competent Spiritist was touching the ghost so effortlessly. But she did wonder why Jomi was suddenly advancing on him, a hand hovering before him as if to caress his face.

"Stay away", she warned, throwing an arm across the ghost's chest, enduring that electric current of his soulmist to keep him from moving forward. From the corner of her eye she saw Savis falling back into the crowed and slipping away. But the other two, the Eth and the Eypharian, were watching with strange looks on their faces.

Her shame and conflict was all over her face, its carrier standing grinning a few paces away as he removed himself from their midst. And all at once she could not stand how these people all stood there, gawking at him. A possessiveness, a defensive shield around her damaged mind, bubbled up from beneath, and suddenly she was facing the whole group. The feathers of her cloak flashed darkly, the magic lifting it from her shoulders like some great bird of prey.

Magic welled in her mouth and dripped like venom on her tongue as she pushed the hypnotism across all of them, reinforcing the timber of her words. "All of you, stay away from him." The dijed burned itself across the group, settling itself into the spaces between thoughts and the tumble of emotions. But the effort was weak, unsure, it followed her words but burn away in their minds, her broken will not strong enough to maintain it.
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Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
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The Azure Festival

Postby Madeira Craven on June 5th, 2019, 11:40 pm

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Grades Awarded!

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Madeira Craven

Skills
  • Politics: 1xp
  • Negotiation: 1xp
  • Dancing: 1xp
  • Intimidation: 2xp
  • Hypnotism: 1xp

Lores
  • Lore of the Azure Festival
  • Politics: cultural integration
  • Negotiation: enticing compliance
  • Emma: smitten little girl
  • Jomi: adequate dance partner
  • Craven Family: inspires obedience

Awards & Retribution


Notes


Haneht

Please contact me for your grade!


Mauriel

Skills
  • Observation: 3xp
  • Singing: 1xp
  • Play Musical Instrument- Lute: 1xp
  • Deduction: 2xp
  • Dancing: 2xp

Lores
  • Lore of the Azure Festival
  • Lore of the physical appearance of a ghost
  • The difficulties of recognizing an acquaintance at a masquerade
  • Lore of identifying a Nuit by sense of smell
  • Lore of the pleasures of wild dancing
  • Lore of Haneht's wandering hands
  • Lore of the signs of possession

Awards & Retribution


Notes


Jomi

Skills
  • Soulmist Projection: 2xp
  • Materialization: 3xp
  • Possession: 2xp

Lores
  • Lore of the Azure Festival
  • Emma: smitten little girl
  • Lore of the benefits of living in delusion
  • Lore of the Eypharian
  • Exorsicm: delayed not thwarted

Awards & Retribution


Notes
User avatar
Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1311
Words: 1103279
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 8
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (1)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

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