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Slender hands fluttered over the laptop keyboard, fingers causing the only audible noise in the room. The young woman was enraptured in her story; hazel eyes glinted with intensity behind thin-rimmed glasses as she delved deeper and deeper into her imagination. She didn’t just think up her characters, their lives, and their tragedies. Annabel Elyse Blair, better known — or she will be better known — as Anna Blair, her pen name. Her long fingers paused in their flight as she thought about the fame that her first book would bring, she was already a quarter done with it, after only four months — she was that excited about the work she was putting out into the world. It was a zombie apocalypse novel, aptly named Dead is the New Alive. It had a young male as the protagonist — a hot rock star who had women falling at his feet left and right. Initially a bit vapid in her mind, he had evolved into a deeply complex person, developing a personality on his own it seemed. Annabel leaned back in her soft, fluffy chair, her hand on her chin. Her back protested in the form of a couple of loud cracks, she had been writing for over four hours without a break. Sighing lightly, she began to read over what she had written, scrolling up to the beginning and expecting it to be passable at least.

‘His knuckles grazed the guitar lovingly, the gentle caress as intimate as one could get. Tryson’s friend, Andrew, averted his eyes. Nobody but Tryson himself understood the connection he had with his music, not even his closest friends Andrew Glenn and CeCe Maine, his band mates, got how he felt about his music. It had pulled him out of his tragic life, it made something of him — something to be admired, to be loved. A smirk graced his lips as a couple of squealing girls approached him and Andrew, their dark eyeliner smeared slightly by the sweat that they shed during the concert. He loved fame, but not for a selfish reason — at least he thought it wasn’t that selfish — it was because it gave him a reason to live. And the girls’ smiles honestly touched his heart as he signed their shirts, even adding a sweet ‘Love’ in there. The girls thanked him, squealing in joy and running off. “You’re far too nice, Try.” Andrew said from behind him, his dark eyes humorless. He was the hardest of the three; others found him unapproachable and intimidating, Tryson found him entertainingly deadpan. “I know, Andrew. But I can’t help it.” he gave his friend a charming grin before opening the band’s van, their logo emblazoned on the side, ‘Finding Skylines’ and putting his guitar in gently. On the other side, Andrew had put in his bass. “Hey! You guys! Wanna help me here?” CeCe’s voice sounded impatiently from the door of the concert hall. Sighing dramatically, Andrew went to go help her. The brunette at the door gave him a stunning smile, revealing white teeth beneath black lips. She always did have an affinity for very dark make-up. Andrew and Try helped her load her drum set into the van and they sped off, driving off to their next gig in some far-off state, the van making a dark silhouette against the setting sun.’

Annabel allowed a smile to pull at her lips, her warm eyes glinting with mirth as she took in the introduction to her story. It was a bit slow, but her plans for the story were great and she would make them happen if it was the last thing she did. She had amazing things planned for Tryson and his little group of friends. She set to typing once more, a smile broad on her lovely face.


* * *


It had been a long, hard, exhausting day. The brunette wiped away a few stray tears that escaped from her closed eyes and collapsed into her designated writer’s chair. There was nothing like writing out her feelings —especially such feelings that culminate after being dumped so harshly. She placed her fingers on the keyboard and began to write in a complete frenzy, stopping every few moments to wipe her eyes in a harsh swipe.

‘It was a complete massacre; dead bodies littered the concrete around the small group consisting of the previous popular band. CeCe was using her drumsticks as weapons, impaling them through the eyes of the previously alive creatures that were slowly surrounding them once more, her lipstick was smeared, her long hair a tangled mess. Andrew was tiring, his face a portrait of exhaustion as he swung the broken neck of his bass, bashing the nearest creature and knocking it into the ones behind. Tryson was the one going the strongest, his beloved guitar had been long ago broken, the strings nearly all gone and inside, he mourned for it, on the outside, he knocked it into the nearest zombie’s head, the already brittle skull caving in to reveal a dark pink mush — what was left of a person’s brain. The zombie collapsed but was quickly replaced by another. “We have to keep moving! They just keep ******** coming!” Tryson shouted at his companions, swinging the broken instrument once more before breaking out into a run. The streets around the three were deserted; the only seemingly living things were the walking dead behind them and the band members themselves. At least the creatures were rather slow moving — for now. Try stumbled into an empty house, followed closely by CeCe, but Andrew merely made it one step into the house before something yanked his foot out from under him. A hand that was mottled shades of yellow and green had clamped firmly onto the young man’s leg, and was currently dragging him out of the house. “********! Andrew!” With a cry, CeCe followed both zombie and Andrew, and Try hesitated for a moment before running out after them. He had hesitated for a moment too long, it seemed for the dead b*****d who had grabbed his best friend was now dining on said best friend. Andrew’s screams chilled the young man’s blood as he could only stare at the scene before him, CeCe was trying to pull off the zombie and managed to succeed only when the thing had finished eating her lover’s throat.’

Annabel paused, her fingers poised over the keyboard as she bit her lip gingerly. It was too cruel, what she was about to do, but her novel was supposed to be one of horror, not one of butterflies and happiness. Sighing softly, she adjusted her glasses and began to type again, her tears and sadness long forgotten since she was now immersed in Tryson’s situation, and his was so much worse than her own.

‘Andrew was clearly dying, but Tryson knew that his death wouldn’t last for long. With a sudden burst of energy, he bashed in the skull of the horrid creature before it managed to get a bite out of CeCe too. The girl didn’t say a word to Try before rushing over to shake Andrew in an effort to wake him up. The singer was about to tell her that it wasn’t a good idea when his former best friend grabbed the girl’s slender wrist, Andrew’s eyes were empty, save for a strange sort of lust burning like a flame. “Andrew!” Cece cried out in joy, not realizing that her lover was now a member of the growing undead. She was helping him up. She was helping him up. This was not going to end well at all. He ran up to the two figures, one wobbling and the other smiling with pure joy. “Cece!” was all Tryson could get out before the creature wearing Andrew’s skin clamped onto his neck, Andrew’s suddenly sharp teeth breaking the skin and tearing a good chunk off. With a sharp cry, Tryson pushed off the zombie, who was now snacking on the meat he had managed to get. He picked up the broken instrument and prepared to strike. “More…” the Andrew-zombie breathed, and Try hesitated at the familiar tone of voice. Even as a zombie, Andrew sounded pessimistic —as if he wanted more, but knew he wasn’t going to get any and he knew better than to hope. “Sorry, ‘Drew.” He let his swing loose and the sound of the guitar neck meeting flesh and a shrill scream simultaneously happened. ********, he had forgotten about CeCe, who had just seen Andrew die twice in five minutes. “CeCe, CeCe! Breathe!” he dropped the guitar neck next to Andrew’s body and hugged CeCe, who was hyperventilating into his shoulder. They couldn’t stay there; her scream most definitely attracted some unwanted attention. He pulled her into the house and they huddled together, CeCe sobbing softly while Try himself shed a few tears for his lost friend, his hand on the hot wound on his neck — wondering when the change was going to occur.’

Anna stared at the last few words, wondering if she was making Tryson too girly. Shaking her head, she decided that it was a normal human reaction, even for a tough guy like Tryson. Sighing, she finished typing up the page, detailing how the zombies spread through the U.S., an unstoppable epidemic. While she clacked away on the laptop keyboard, she didn’t notice the screen fizzle with a blue spark that trailed from one end of the screen to the other. “This is going to be a great book.” Anna murmured to herself, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she shut her laptop and decided to go to bed.


* * *


Another day, another twenty pages to write. At least, it was in Annabel’s opinion. Pulling her long, black hair in a neat bun, she settled into her writer’s chair. The fluffy fabric enveloped her as she pulled her laptop down from her desk and onto her lap. She had gotten the most amazing idea ever and she needed to type it before she lost it completely. Opening the laptop, she resumed where she had left off the day before.

‘At some point, Tryson had drifted off, hand on his still-bleeding wound, head on the hard floorboards and CeCe’s sobbing serving as a sort of monotonous lullaby. When he awoke the next morning, he was disoriented; light streamed through the broken blinds and blinded him. Blinking, he looked around only to find his one companion missing. “CeCe?” he breathed, looking around for any sign of the slender girl. Rising to his feet, he looked outside to see her hugging the corpse of their former friend. Overwhelmed with frustration and an aching sadness, he ran out the door to go and get her. As soon as he stepped outside, however, he was met with a frightening sight. A circle of the undead surrounded the house and CeCe, swaying on their feet precariously. Eyes wide and frantic, Try tried to inch towards the girl, but the movement triggered a terrible reaction. The zombies descended on them all at once, and he lost sight of the best friend he had left. “Cece! No!” and so, he was stuck fighting off the grotesque creatures with his bare hands, for he didn’t even have his instrument with him. The former band member raised a fist and struck at the nearest zombie, and was shocked to discover that his hand went straight through the skull. Even though the zombie’s skull was brittle, Try doubted that it was that brittle. With a cry of disgust, he pulled his hand out and watch the creature fall, even though it was replaced by another one, a female this time. With a shout of rage, he grabbed the thing’s head and yanked, amazed to see it come clean off. The face of the thing was still moving, much to his horror and he chucked the head away from him. What was happening? Why could he do this all of a sudden? The wound on his neck tingled and began to sting. Could it be…?

Anna had to stop typing, for when she raised her eyes, she saw that her laptop screen was flickering with blue light. Brow furrowed in confusion, she reached up and smacked the side of the screen with her open palm, and when she did, the screen flickered once more before it just stayed a dark blue. “Oh ******** no.” she breathed, not wanting to lose all the work she had just put into her novel. Besides, the last time she had saved was around ninety pages ago — ninety pages that she was sure that she just lost. She hit the screen once more, the computer not even flickering this time. Taking a deep breath, she placed her fingertips against the screen, and the world went dark for a moment as she felt a pulling sensation on her entire body. When Anna opened her eyes, she realized with a shock that the area around her was a smile blur. Touching her face, she confirmed that she had, indeed, dropped her glasses. Murmuring curses under her breath, she felt the ground around her, crying out in victory when she felt the thin wire frames. When she raised them to her eyes, however, she was met with a terrifying sight: bodies. Dead bodies. They were strewn all around the room in which she was in — they were all drenched in blood and some of them were drenched in something even more disgusting. The writer put her hand against her mouth, her stomach threatening to push up the meal she had eaten, since now that she focused on it, the room was filled with the smell of decay. Holding her stomach, she made her way to the door, trying to escape the house full of stinking bodies. How could no one notice this?

The street was deserted.
Quite literally, there was not even a sign of anyone living there at one point. “Hello? Can someone help me?” she shouted into the emptiness, her voice echoed for a few seconds and she waited. After a few seconds, a small figure appeared at the end of the street. “Excuse me!” she shouted, running up to the slowly limping figure. As she got closer, however, Anna noticed that there was something very wrong. It was a little girl, she could have been cute, if it weren’t for the huge gashes that ran diagonally across her face, one of her eyes was missing, and her white dress was covered in congealed blood. Blinking in confusion, Anna looked at the girl that was slowly coming towards her, arms outstretched as if wanting a hug. One hand was missing, the other was merely a mangled piece of flesh hanging off the bone — this couldn’t be happening. The writer slowly figured out what this girl was, and why the street was so empty, and why the bodies were everywhere. ‘Zombie apocalypse.” it couldn’t be though, this sort of thing only happened in novels and movies. That’s when Anna began to run away from the small zombie who was now chasing her — quite fast too, it seemed for it was quickly gaining on her. Annabel felt her ankle twist in the heels she was wearing and she felt herself go down, the girl jumping on her and trying to bite her.

That was when something pulled the girl off of her.

Someone was more like it. She couldn’t see the person clearly, but she could tell it was a male. The girl and the man grappled for a few seconds before the guy grabbed the head and pulled it off, sending showers of blood a few inches from Anna’s legs. The writer was still in shock, trying to process everything when someone pulled her up from her shoulders and began to gently shake her — he was saying something too, but the novelist couldn’t hear. All she could focus on was the wound on the man’s neck, gaping and oozing blood; a bite. Anna screamed shrilly, wrenching herself away from the man, knowing that he was probably dead and was about to eat her, and she began to run. Closing her eyes, she wished to be home, writing and drinking tea — but as she entered an abandoned gas station, she knew that it wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. Anna felt her eyes fill with tears as she adjusted her glasses and backed up into the glass counter, all the while thinking that zombie apocalypses couldn’t happen. That’s when she heard shifting from behind her and she turned around, coming face to face with the mangled face of a zombie. “Hun…gry…”

Annabel screamed.



OOC

So sorry for the very long wait! :C
Click on the image below for Anna's outfit~ :3

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

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Sitting there at the kitchen table that was not her own, Amora’s mind began to wander. Mainly to the fact that he had smiled! Genuinely too, but what pained her the most was the fact that it looked like he couldn’t get the smile out at first — it looked rather awkward and out of place. That is, until it finally came out full force — he really did have a dreamy smile. She had placed a hand beneath her chin and leaned on the table, looking rather like a schoolgirl with a crush — a small, sweet smile on her lips, when Jay’s voice knocked her out of her daydreams about his smile. She turned towards him, ready to tell him that he should definitely go to work — she didn’t want to get him fired — when she caught sight of his bare chest. Flushing deeply, she swiftly turned away from him, and aimed her words at the wall instead. “U-uhm, it’s alright. You should definitely go to work, I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. I’ll see what I can do about my clothes, I don’t want to you to worry anymore. Right now, you should go to work, and we’ll figure it out later.” she had always been rather shy around guys — to the point where it was embarrassing. No matter how prickly her personality could be, she always got easily flustered when it came to men — especially if she liked a certain one. Patting her cheeks lightly to make sure she wasn’t still blushing, she turned towards him with that same faint, dreamy smile. “If you’re really honest-to-God offering your abode for one more night, I can’t refuse. I’m so sorry if I end up putting you out.” She lowered her eyes in shame, she would rather stay with this young man than go to a shelter.

What happened next was almost too much for her poor heart to bear.

All at once, without any word of warning, he walked up to her, pulled her to her feet and into a warm hug. The heat, she could feel the heat again, rushing to her face and probably making her beet-red. She was awkwardly stiff, not sure whether to return the hug or just let him hug her, all she knew was that he was very warm, and he smelled lovely — a strange mixture of soap, deodorant and coffee, it all made for a very exotic scent. She was still confused about what to do when he pulled away — much too soon, in Amora’s opinion — and grabbed her hands once more. All the while, she was aware of the flush her face held, and instead of looking at him, she looked at her hands and arms as well — an effective way of hiding her embarrassment. Amora couldn’t tell if he was lying, saying that he wasn’t disgusted by her habit — hell, even she was disgusted by herself every time she saw her scars. She barely noticed when Jaiden left to go get something and left her there standing alone, her arms still outstretched, eyes filled with tears as she stared at her scars. ‘…you’re still the same girl I picked off the road’ he had said it so kindly, well-meant no doubt, but he had hurt her. She didn’t blame him, he had no idea that she didn’t want to be the girl whom he had picked off the road in the middle of the night — she wanted to be a normal girl, with a normal family, and a normal chance to meet Jay, and talk to him normally about perfectly normal things.

All she wanted was to be normal.

Amora visibly flinched when she heard Jay’s voice so abruptly, she hadn’t even noticed him come back. Nodding blankly, she watching him leave quickly — mentally thanking the higher powers that he didn’t stay longer and notice the little details like the tears in her eyes. Quickly rubbing her eyes with her sleeve, an idea hit her like a semi — she would go back to the mansion and get the things she needed, so she wouldn’t have to worry Jaiden about getting her clothes. The smile returned to her face and she rushed outside to talk to Jay. “Listen, you should go to work. I’ll hang out here until you come back — maybe watch some T.V. or surf the web, if that’s alright with you, so don’t worry. Just come back safe, alright?” it wasn’t technically lying, she was planning to surf the web — to find out exactly where her house is, and where exactly she was. Mapquest did some amazing things. Amora stayed in the driveway to wave at Jay as he drove away, but rushed inside as soon as he was out of sight — she didn’t want to be seen by a nosy neighbor. She worked fast, sitting at the home computer — which was very nice and modern — and typing at the speed of light. She found her house in the matter of seconds, and it wasn’t all that far away either. Five or six miles at the most, but it would be a real b***h to walk nonetheless. So she did what any girl would do in this situation.

She called a taxi.

The taxi arrived in a matter of minutes, which Amora was thankful for — she was feeling kind of antsy. She explained to the taxi driver how she would pay him after he took her to her destination and back, and helped her carry her luggage. The great thing about being rich was that there was nothing that money couldn’t solve. As the man drove her to her house, she realized she felt horrible about half lying to Jay — she hoped that he would understand that it was all for his sake, so he wouldn’t have to do unnecessary things like buy her clothes when she had a walk-in closet full of them at home. Biting her lip, she realized she had a problem — how was she going to get in without her mother noticing? Her father was probably away on business, or working, so she wasn’t worried about him, but her mother was always at home. It was going to be tough getting around her. Before she realized it, they had arrived. Thanking the man, and with another promise of coming out as quick as she possibly could, she headed inside. Or rather, she proceeded to climb over the brick fence her father had ordered to be built around the property. Climbing it really was no problem, she had learned all it’s nooks and crannies when she was small and more of a troublemaker than she was now. Scurrying like a monkey, she breached it easily and began walking towards the house casually, trying to be like a ninja and not let any of the servants see her. Reaching the front door, Amora opened it slowly, knowing that it was always unlocked.

That’s when she was caught.

“Miss Fee!” you could see Amora visibly cringe at the sound of her closest maid, Maya, calling out to her. “Shhh, Maya please! I don’t want Mother to know I’m here!” she hissed, her eyes widening in fear. Her maid waved a hand and shook her head. “Mrs. Fee isn’t here right now, she went to a conference with Mr. Fee. They won’t be home until late tonight.” Amora sighed in relief, slumping against the nearest wall. “I’ve come to pack up a few of my things, Maya. I won’t be staying long. But tell me, has Father called the police yet? Or something?” Amora would never in hell admit it, but she was hopeful that her father cared enough for her to sent out someone to look for her, even if it’s just the police. The maid shook her head sadly, looking at the girl with sad, brown eyes. “No Miss. Fee, not that I know of. I don’t think he’s even noticed your absence.” Amora sighed and nodded, just what she would expect of her father. Well, she wasn’t going to come crawling back to him, if that’s what he wanted, the sadistic a*****e, she was going to make the best of her situation and hope that Jay doesn’t decide to kick her out soon. Maya attempted to get where she was staying out of her, but Amora kept quiet, if her father found out about Jaiden, he would probably personally go murder him with an axe. The maid left after a bit, and let Amora do her packing. She went through her bedroom, picking out the essentials, or what she titled as essentials. Make-up, her hair straightener, lots of clothes and accessories, some electronics and most important of all, money. She grabbed at least seven or eight grand out of the small safe she had beneath her bed, and stuffed it in her pockets and in her bags. Lately, she decided to get herself presentable before she left the house. She straightened her hair, changed her clothes, put on make-up and what she thought was a decent disguise — lots of bright colors and a pair of glasses that looked remarkably like Jay’s.

It was time for her to leave, and she felt no regrets about it.

Amora simply walked out the front door with two suitcases, and four small bags in her hand. She walked out the front gate this time, seeing as how Maya was so kind as to let her through, and the taxi driver helped her put her stuff in the car. She wasn’t at all sad to leave the mansion, she actually preferred Jay’s quaint house to her own. Wrapping her slender arms around herself, she held back a shiver — so much emptiness and hurt was lived through at the Fee Mansion. They arrived at Jaiden’s house once more and the young girl paid the taxi driver ninety dollars, hoping that it was enough. The driver thanked her and helped her carry her things inside, for which Amora was very grateful for. The taxi left and the girl, now having done what she needed to do, felt a bit purposeless. Sighing loudly, she sat on the couch, pulled out her iPod and stuck the earbuds in her ears. She turned on the song full volume and listened as “Knives and Pens” by Black Veil Brides blasted through to her brain. She felt groggy, since she hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before — but she didn’t want to fall asleep. She wanted to stay up so she could maybe prepare dinner for Jay a bit later, as thanks for the breakfast this morning. But the more she thought about not wanting to fall asleep, the more she drifted off, the chorus of “Knives and Pens” was acting more and more like a lullaby. And as much as Amora hated to admit it, Jay was swirling around in her brain — even she could no longer deny it, she liked him. It’s been a day and a half, maybe, and she already liked him.

That’s when she drifted off to sleep.

Amora woke up with a start three hours later, her iPod still blasting music, but the earbuds were far away from her ears. Sighing, she decided it was a great time to start dinner — the only problem was that she had no idea what to make. Amora was the type of girl to be lost without a precise recipe, dictating what she should put in and when. Sighing, she began to look through the shelves for a cookbook, but found none. Deciding her best option was to look through the helpful internet, she headed for the computer and began to look up recipes — she had found the perfect one, hopefully. She still had no idea what Jay liked to eat, so she would make a variety of dishes and hope that one suited him and his tastes. She needed to write the recipe down, so she grabbed a piece of loose paper and began to look through the drawers of the desk for a pen. Opening the top drawer, she found something that she wasn’t expecting. Picking it up hesitatingly, she saw that it was a photo of a young woman. It seemed to be rather faded in some parts from how much it had been handled, but Amora could easily tell that the girl was a beauty — she seemed to be very happy. Realizing it was more than likely Jaiden’s, she put the picture back in the drawer and shut it. He already had a girlfriend, of course. How could she have ever thought he didn’t? A guy like him, of course he had one. Then it was stupid, what he was doing, letting a strange girl live in his house with him — what if his girlfriend finds out? Amora was surprised when small wet spots appeared on the paper she was holding — tears. She felt hurt without even realizing it. Wiping the pesky tears away quickly, Amora began to write down the recipe to make dinner — she would stay, but she would be frigid. She would give him no ideas that she wanted to be anything more than a roommate to him, even though it was true.

She began to cook, and that kept her mind off of other matters that shouldn’t even be her business.



|| OutOfCrack;; ||

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

The dream that Arcadia was having was no longer a dream— it had become a horridly vivid nightmare. No longer was her dream about princesses and a heroic, redheaded prince, but of murder and rage. She was running, being chased by a dark figure, a figure that stayed with her no matter how many spells she flung at it, no matter how she tried to evade it. All at once, she felt herself trip, getting a mouthful of grass that tasted vaguely of lemon. The figure towered over her, her eyes wide with fright. The figure suddenly became bright, and she was face to face with Tristan Weasley, his face contorted in murderous rage. He had his wand pointed straight at her heaving chest, and she shook her head desperately — she knew exactly what was coming. “Avada Kadavra!” his voice was shaking, and a green light came from his wand — he had meant it. The light impacted with her chest and it was only then that the raven-haired witch woke up with an audible gasp, eyes wide, chest heaving with panted breaths — a fact that was mirrored in her nightmare. To say that the witch was frazzled was an understatement, part of her usually silky black hair was plastered on her forehead, and the rest was a matted mess. Her covers were on the floor, accompanied by her pillow; her sleep had not been calm, and apparently neither had her body. Getting her breathing under control, Arcadia bent down to retrieve the fallen bed items and tossing them on the bed, she had forgotten that she could do magic in her muddled state.

Taking in a shaky breath, she estimated the time to be in the early morning — no earlier than when she usually woke up. Pushing her hair off her face, she decided to take a long soak. Padding silently to the public baths with a towel in hand, she made sure that no one was around before doing a non-verbal locking spell on the bathroom door — she didn’t want anyone to barge in unannounced and find her naked in the bathtub. She stripped quickly and dived into the bath, not wanting to take the chance that any wandering ghosts could see her. She spent a long time in the bath — at least half an hour before she decided that she was clean; of all the sweat and lingering dark thoughts left by the nightmare. She exited just as quickly as she entered the towel around her before another minute could pass. Gathering her nightgown and wand, she clutched the towel tightly as she snuck back into the dungeon. Once inside, she changed quickly, her soft hair was drying into soft curls and she waved her wand, straightening her hair effectively. It was still very early when Dia finished getting dressed, and she had time to kill. She settled herself into her favorite chair, facing the shimmering lake. It was barely a few minutes after sunrise, and the lake was coloured an almost-purple. That’s when something splashed right next to the wall, sinking straight down and into the blackness below. The witch blinked in confusion. ‘How very strange…’ she was pondering this when it happened again — the splash was louder this time, startling her out of her thoughts. Just as the rock disappeared into the darkness, the bell tolled, waking the Slytherins still slumbering above her. Grimacing, she settled back into her chair, not really wanting to hear the babble of students so early in the morning.

Voices drifted from the dorms, and that was when Arcadia decided to get a move on. She stood up from her chair gracefully, brushing her skirt out swiftly. The petite brunette thought that she was early, but much to her dismay, there were already people in the Great Hall — mostly Gryffindors. Her grimace returned, but disappeared just as quickly when she caught sight of one redhead she was beginning to get well acquainted with. Much to her surprise — and chagrin — that was when Tristan turned his head to look straight at her. With a light blush, she quickly returned her eyes to the Slytherin table, where Avery was sitting — a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. Just as she was approaching the table, someone knocked straight into her, arms locking around her neck and hands were placed over her eyes. Sighing loudly, she inhaled some of the strong flowery perfume that was so familiar to her. “Good morning, Edythe.” Arcadia’s tone was bored, but a smile was threatening to pull at the corner of her lips. A girlish giggle came from behind her and suddenly, she could see again. “Good morning Dia, dear!” Arcadia was shocked when her cousin looped her arm around her own, the difference in heights made the sight look rather comical. Raising a dark eyebrow, the brunette looked up at the Malfoy, her eyes glinting with amusement. “And what, may I ask, are you doing?” Edythe shot her dark cousin a cheery smile before dragging her to the table, Arcadia just managed to make out a distinctly disappointed look on Avery’s face as Edythe settled herself between them. “I’m just making sure you’re having a good morning!” a pause as the platinum blonde leaned in, her lips against the brunette’s ear, “And making sure you don’t end up near that damned Weasley again.” The raven-haired witch blinked slowly, trying to keep the surprise off her face — why in the world would she care about her and Weasley? It’s not like Dia liked him. She could barely stand the ginger. Nodding her consent, Edythe stayed by her side the rest of the time, pigging out on food while Arcadia daintily ate two pancakes and drank a cup of mint tea.

Breakfast was soon over, and it was time to go to class. For her — and not Edythe, thankfully — the class was Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was her best subject — or rather, one of them — and she was a master at dueling. A smile pulled at her lips for the second time that morning, or it was before Edythe yanked her into one of the nearby hallways. “Listen, Dia. I don’t want you anywhere near that disgusting blood-traitor. Do you hear me?” her eyes were deadly serious, and Arcadia rolled her icy eyes. “Yes, Edythe, I promise. I will avoid him every chance I get — you won’t get any complaints from me.” The blonde scrutinized the witch’s expression, trying to figure out if she was mocking her — which Arcadia was, a little bit — before nodding. “Good.” Edythe turned away, a smile on her beautiful face, but Arcadia stayed where she was for a few moments longer, simply confused by the sudden interest that her cousin suddenly developed about her and her Potion’s partner. ‘Potions! Class! Oh, Merlin’s colourful robe, I’m going to be late!’ she thought in a panic, turning with a swish of her robe. She rushed around two corners, and at the third, she nearly ran into the very ginger himself. She stared at him for a second before he went around her and entered the very class into which she was heading. Professor Lupin directed a few pointed words at Tristan and herself and the witch couldn’t help but colour pink in both anger and embarrassment — she was going to KILL her stupid, ditzy, blonde cousin later! She shot Professor Lupin a deeply apologetic look and he smiled slightly in response. It was only then that she noticed that there were only two open seats, on the border of the Slytherin-Gryffindor dividing line — right next to each other. Arcadia grit her teeth, her eyes blazing with repressed fury — her cousin was SO dead. Worse than dead, for death was too quick. She was getting tortured.

“Alright, seeing as it’s the first day of a new term, we’re going to take it easy today. I’ll separate you into pairs and duel.” Arcadia felt the tension from her shoulders loosen slightly. Dueling was easy, she could handle it. “Miss Lestrange, Mr. Weasley, seeing as you two were late, you will be partners and duel for the class.” Oh, it just got better and better. The raven-haired girl couldn’t help the devious smile that spread on her pale lips; she was going to have lots of fun with this. She needed this to unleash some of this rage that was bubbling like heated water inside of her. They both followed the teacher’s instruction, and Dia bowed low in order to hide the smirk that graced her lips. The look on his face was priceless — he was absolutely terrified, as if she was going to kill him right then and there. The witch nearly rolled her eyes, she wasn’t that cruel. The memory of yesterday’s comparison between flames and his hair sprang into mind and she knew her first spell. “Confringo!” the power of her voice rendered her classmates silent as they took in the duel before them. The ginger dispelled the fireball easily, but Arcadia didn’t slow down. ‘Expelliarmus!’ she shouted in her mind, and Tristan’s wand went flying. The witch barely registered Lupin’s chastise as her eyes followed the young man, trying to reach his wand. “Impedimenta!” the witch thought for sure that it would be her last spell, but he somehow evaded it and rattled off the petrifying curse. For a brief moment, she thought of the flash of green light, his shaky, enraged voice from her nightmare and it distracted her — the curse impacted not with her chest, but her hand and she felt herself go stiff and fall, the hard floor no doubt bruising her back. She was shocked, struck by her own stupidity. That stupid nightmare got to her, it made her lose this duel — it made her look the fool. Not to mention that it was Weasley’s fault as well, her hate for him renewed with her shame. Arcadia felt her shame increase as the ginger came over to free her from the horrid curse, and even offered his hand — as if she would touch him, the disgusting Weasley! — which she pointedly ignored.

Arcadia didn’t really care about the stupid house points — everybody knew that either Slytherin or Gryffindor won every year, sometimes even trading off, and it was Slytherin’s turn — she cared about her wounded pride. The bell rung and she bolted like a startled deer out of the room, nearly tripping more than once. She heard Tristan’s voice behind her and decided that he was mocking her; he must be, as revenge for her snotty attitude yesterday. To her horror, she felt her eyes tear up, her vision blurred. She hadn’t cried since she was ten, and her body decided that it was okay to cry now? She grit her teeth and made her way down to the third floor bathroom, pushing students out of her way — she couldn’t let anyone see her in the state she was in. She barely made it into the empty bathroom before she went into a stall and promptly began to sob quietly — she hated to be mocked, she hated to be ridiculed, and she hated to be embarrassed. Her crying ended quickly, having only lasted around five minutes, and she quickly fixed her makeup — she was angered by the fact that she couldn’t cover up the red lining her eyes, or the glassiness left over. Hopefully nobody noticed — especially not the stupid blood-traitor that was the cause of the whole thing. Sniffling quietly, she left the bathroom and hurried up the stairs, trying to make it on time — but much to her horror, she was late for a second class. As she walked in, she apologized sincerely to Professor Vector, who took in her student’s red and puffy eyes and instantly forgave her — even though Arithmancy was her worst subject. Why Arcadia had chosen to take the advanced class was beyond her — it was beyond the young witch herself. Sighing softly, she made her way to the only empty seat, careful to avoid Tristan’s gaze and strategically placing her long hair to hide her face — she couldn’t have him noticing that she had been crying. That would be mortifying. But speaking of mortifying, Vector announced loudly that they had to work together with the person sitting next to them — meaning, she had to work with Weasley. For the moment, she had completely forgotten about keeping her eyes out of sight, since they were currently as wide as they could go with complete horror.

Why was her luck so bad? Just. Why?

Remembering her eyes with a jolt, she looked away, her hair back in place. The class ended right after, for which Arcadia was grateful for. Tristan left before her, leaving her to take her time without fear that he would see her red-rimmed eyes. It was lunch, but she wasn’t feeling hungry, all she wanted to do was to go back to the dorms and take a nice nap, but she realized with a jolt that Edythe would probably be there, either lounging around or waiting to pounce on her. Sighing loudly, she left the classroom and headed outside, needing the solitude that only nature could offer — besides, there was someone she needed to see. She approached the Forbidden Forest, stopping just at the edge. Clearing her throat, she sang a quick five note melody — the sound of lovely, clear and high. Moments later, there was the sound of galloping hooves quickly approaching and Arcadia took a couple of steps back. A unicorn came thundering out, stopping just a few inches from Arcadia’s face — the unicorn was gorgeous, with a gleaming white coat and a black mane and tail, the horn a shining silver, it’s honey-coloured eyes intelligent and happy. Arcadia had first met the stunning beast in her first year, when she got lost in the Forest after wandering around one night in curousity; she always did have a gift when it came to animals. A genuine smile lit up the young woman’s face as she embraced the beast, wrapping her arms around the neck, beginning to sob softly, trusting that she was completely alone — most of the students were in the Great Hall, eating lunch, or in class. Besides, no one in their right mind would wander so close to the Forbidden Forest. “Oh Hithwen, I’m afraid that I’ve been completely shamed! My pride is so wounded that I’m afraid I’m going to bleed to death right here!” she cried, lifting her face from the unicorn’s neck. The beast whinnied and nuzzled her hair, trying to comfort her. Her antics made the young woman smile once more, and she stroked Hithwen’s neck softly. She didn’t notice the soft rustle of disturbed grass until someone behind her broke a twig, the snap startling the petite witch so badly she let out a sharp gasp, which in turn startled Hithwen who whickered in annoyance.

Tristan was there, staring at her and Hithwen in turn, with a bewildered — but awed — expression on his face.

Arcadia wiped her cheeks quickly of any tears, knowing that her eyeliner was probably smeared and her eyes were red and puffy once more. “Yes, Tristan? What do you want?” she tried to make her tone as clipped as possible, but was mortified to hear her voice crack on more than one word. Swallowing slowly, she turned back around to run her fingers through Hithwen’s mane; he should leave when he noticed that she was ignoring him. However, Dia’s luck was on a deteriorating scale at the moment, so no such thing happened. In fact, he actually came closer, offering his hand to the Unicorn in order for her to deem him ally or foe. ‘Deem him an enemy, Hithwen! He’s the one who shamed me, he is an enemy! A stupid, blood-traitoring, Weasley! An enemy!’ she thought at the unicorn frantically, trying to send her the message. Unfortunately, the stupid animal decided he was a friend and let him touch her — which he did, exceedingly gentle. Arcadia kept on brushing out what little tangles her friend had with her slender fingers — and apparently, Tristan had the same idea, for he began to do it as well, without the witch even realizing it until his fingers brushed against hers. It was as if she had been burned, for she withdrew her hand with the same speed as one injured would. It had been a mere touch, a simple brush of fingers against her hand, yet she couldn’t help the violent blush that spread on her cheeks, her flustering state obvious. Her entire countenance was one of shock and embarrassment as Tristan’s dark eyes never left her face. She reached out and gently patted Hithwen on her back, the signal for her to leave — and simultaneously, both beast and young woman fled, one towards the castle and the other to the dark forest. Dia felt the vague feeling of guilt for leaving the ginger alone like that, but she needed to regain her breath — and her senses.

How could have she gotten so flustered over such a stupid thing? And from such a stupid person? It just didn’t make sense, no matter from what angle she analyzed it from. The bells tolled, a signal to all students that the period was over — meaning she had to go to class. With him. Her luck really was terrible, and getting worse by the moment. She needed to brew some Felix Felicis, or something. Sighing loudly, she stopped at the third floor girl’s bathroom to check her face — she didn’t look that bad — before continuing to the sixth floor where Advanced History of Magic was taught. She rushed in, thankful to see that she was the first one in. She seated herself farthest away from the Gryffindor side, in the very last row where the teacher’s droning voice could not reach her. Slowly, the other students began to trickle in, and she didn’t look at them, knowing that would do something she would regret if she saw the stupid redheaded boy that bothered her so much. Instead, she focused on the stone wall beside her, studying it with deep concentration. She heard the chair beside her slide back and she thought it was probably Avery, since he had the same class and always sat beside her — instead, she was met with the entirely unwelcome sight of Tristan. ‘I’m going to die. I am going to die. No, Weasley’s going to die. That’s it.’ she thought In horror and desperation as stared at the ginger in front of her as he settled in the chair, her face cautiously blank, but she couldn’t hide the flicker of unease in her gaze. Thankfully, that was when Professor Binns floated through the blackboard, eliciting some cheers from both sides of the room. How comical it must look, Tristan being the only red and gold in the sea of silver and greens. At that moment, Avery came in and looked for his usual seat — occupied by the pesky Gryffindor. His eyes turned hard and he glared murderously at the redhead, and Dia could do nothing but give him an apologetic look, tinged with desperation. No such luck, Avery didn’t save her, but instead sat down two rows in front of them. Binns began his lecture and immediately, the brunette began to feel sleep creep on her — her nightmare had disrupted what little sleep she got, so she was exhausted and she closed her icy eyes. The next thing she knew, she was being gently shaken from the soft surface she was currently leaning on. A familiar voice said her name and she jolted awake, lifting her head and coming merely centimeters from Tristan’s face. The blush returned, and inside, she was screaming, but on the outside, she merely cleared her throat and stood up slowly. “S-sorry, Weasley, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” there was true remorse and embarrassment in her voice as she reached over and gently wiped away his shoulder — Dia was thankful she wasn’t a drooler — and Weasley jsut gave her a charming smile and waved off her apology.

Her next class — Muggle Studies, taught by Justicia Kittredge — went by quickly. A simple lecture about one of the stupidest creatures in existence, in Arcadia’s opinion of course, and it helped the Weasley stayed far away from her. She hated Muggle Studies with a passion, and only took it because it was required before she could graduate. She barely paid attention, and only turned in homework when her grade depended on it. It was truly the only subject she didn’t really care about. Dinner was a relief for the young witch, and she left the class with a small smile on her face — no chance that Tristan would approach her there again; not without the Slytherin’s jumping on his case. Oddly enough, she didn’t see Edythe anywhere, nor her potion’s partner — Nick, was it? — but Dia quickly brushed it off and settled down at her table, taking a tentative sip of pumpkin juice as she looked around, not really knowing what she was looking for.








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[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

It was simply absurd, the way Arcadia Lestrange’s mind kept drifting off to one certain Weasley boy who seemed absolutely determined to get close to her — in all honesty, it was more inconvenient and irritating than anything else. Taking another sip of pumpkin juice, she thought about the smirk he had given Avery back in History of Magic — it was definitely rough and unpracticed but it could make any Slytherin proud. ‘Or jealous.’ she thought with a small smirk of her own, her icy eyes glinting with concealed amusement. Of course, this didn’t make her like him more, or at all, she was merely thinking about a fact. Reaching over, she grabbed a piece of bread and nibbled on the edge, still looking around the Great Hall. It was then that a flaming head walked through the doors — or rather; it was all she could see, since Tristan was so tall. It was as if her body reacted by itself, for she instantly sat up straighter, her eyes following the red hair until it disappeared behind a mass of bodies sitting at the Gryffindor table. Shaking her head, she turned around to face the feast in front of her, her expression dark and troubled — what was wrong with her? Why was she paying such acute attention to the filthy blood-traitor? The thought was going to bother her for a long time, she could tell, and her mouth twisted in a concentrated grimace. That was before someone tapped her on the shoulder and made her turn her head in surprise, only to find no one there.

“Hey ‘Dia.” a familiar male voice made her turn her head again, this time to the left. Arcadia found a grinning Avery, looking very self-satisfied. She gave him a brief glare before returning her attention to her pumpkin juice. “You know Dia, the pumpkin juice isn’t going to start talking to you, so you might as well stop looking at it as if it has all the answers.” He said with a smirk before grabbing a goblet of his own. The slender brunette gave him a scowl so pronounced it looked pretty much permanent. “Listen Av- Nicholus,” she corrected herself, the name reminded her of the Potter boy, instead. Damn Gryffindors, taking over everything that she once took comfort in. Avery gave her a beaming smile when she used his first name, and she sighed, a slight blush came across her cheeks — Avery might be arrogant, but there was no doubt that he had good looks that only a pureblood could have. “Never mind.” He gave her a knowing smirk and helped himself to a leg of chicken and began to scarf it down — much to Dia’s disgust. For a Pureblood, he had disgusting manners; then again, so did Edythe. She watched him eat for a moment more before deciding that if she watched anymore, she was going to throw up. Grabbing another piece of bread, she gathered her things and got up from the table. “Oi, Dia! Leaving already?” Avery said, a spoonful of vegetable soup halfway to his mouth. She gave him a disgusted grimace before she stepped over the seat. “Yes, I have class after this, so I have to go get ready.” she turned and left the Great Hall with quick steps.

Arcadia has always been a very responsible witch, so she made her way to the Slytherin common room in order to her do her homework before heading off to Astronomy, knowing that if she didn’t do it now, she was going to be far too tired to do it later. Saying the password, she made her way to her favorite chair and collapsed in it, taking out her homework and quill. She breezed through the homework she had — all except that damn Arithmancy homework assignment she was going to have to do with Weasley; just the thought of it made her stomach hurt —and she still had time to spare. Sighing loudly, she leaned back in her chair and yawned loudly, figuring that she should probably get up soon and make her way to the Tower. Emptying all of her unnecessary supplies, she left with just a piece of parchment and her quill with everlasting ink, knowing that she was probably going to need it to chart stars or some other menial task. The raven-haired witch had been nearly at the Tower when she realized that she didn’t remember if she had actually put a quill in her bag or not, and had promptly started looking through it when a voice made her look up, and just in time too, for if she hadn’t, she would have run straight into the blood-traitor she despised. She very much wanted to walk by him and ignore him, but it seemed that he had blocked her exit with his body — he really did have an imposing stature. She supposed she was going to have to listen to him, since she could see no way out of this. She tried to keep her face neutral, devoid of all emotion — she didn’t want him to see the contempt that swirled in her mind, accompanied by anger. His words, however, surprised her, and she couldn’t manage to keep the flicker of shock from her face.

Was he… Apologizing?

The witch listened to his words with an impassive look on her face, trying to ignore the funny feeling in her stomach when his hair caught the last shining rays of the sun from the window — the colour produced was one of flames and darkness. She was doing well until he mentioned making her cry. ‘He saw!' she thought in absolute horror and confusion — why would he apologize in the first place? And why in the world were his manners so… immaculate? He should be gloating. The inadequate Gryffindor winning a duel against the master Slytherin, then reducing her to tears. Her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before she shook her head, facing the portraits on the wall; some of which waggled their eyebrows suggestively at the two. She couldn’t help the blush that coloured her cheeks before she responded, trying to keep her voice steady. “Don’t worry about it Weasley, you’re not the reason I was crying anyway.” However, for the life of her, she could not think of an excuse, so she instead pushed past him — which is what she should have done in the first place. She was no longer surprised to find him following her — which would have made sense, since they had the same class, except that class didn’t start for several hours — why wasn’t he hanging with his dim friends? They reached the Tower, where Tristan promptly went over to the edge and leaned on it. Arcadia, however, stayed closer to the exit — heights made her queasy. At least, that’s what she told people, if they asked, but really, they made her want to bawl and cling to the nearest person — and since the only other person there was Tristan, she was so not going near the edge. At all. For any circumstance. No.

As night fell, so did a chill that made Arcadia shiver. She watched Tristan with wary eyes as he looked up, his hair falling in a strange cascade of red and orange. Venice? He was talking about Venice. She had never been to Venice. She recalled the time her mother and her brother had gone there on a trip, but failed to take Dia with them, instead leaving her at the mansion to entertain herself. Her expression changed from a barely concealed wariness to one of admiration — she wanted to hear more about Venice, since her mother never really told her anything about it when she got home. Then he had to ruin it by mentioning how poor he was. Of course, that left the question of how exactly they had managed to afford such an expensive vacation. Sighing softly, she took a couple of steps away from the door and made her way to the middle of the Tower, her dark hair gently rippling with the new found breeze that carried with it the smell of the wilderness that surrounded the castle. “Venice… I wish I could say that I have been there…” her full lips twisted in a bitter smirk. “Unfortunately, my mother left me behind that trip. I have, however, been to Barcelona. Lovely place, the architecture was simply amazing.” she smiled to herself, remembering how the men there were so polite and kind. “It was beautiful.” she ended simply, her eyes wandering to the dark sky above them — pinpricks of light breaking the dark expanse; the stars Professor Sinastra would have them chart later, no doubt.

The rest of the time spent on the Tower was spent in silence, mostly looking up at the sky — as if they weren’t about to do that in class anyway. Pretty soon, kids were filing in, yawning and looking proper stupid. They had obviously slept a bit before coming up to class, and Arcadia felt slightly jealous — her last nap was in Binn’s class, which felt like ages ago. She couldn’t help the slight yawn that came from her mouth as she looked around for the professor. Sure enough, Professor Sinastra set them to draw the stars. Sighing softly, she moved over to her previous spot, near the door — there was actually a little bit of warmth seeping from inside the castle there, but still, it wasn’t enough. The night had gotten more than a little cold, and at the altitude they were at, it was enough to get Dia shivering. She had completely forgotten about how cold the nights got now, even if they were not yet in autumn. She drew for a little while, her keen eye picking up the shapes of the constellations easily. Frantically drawing, she filled the whole parchment and even a bit of the back, and deeming that enough, she put her parchment to the side and tried to keep herself warm by wrapping her thin arms around her own torso. It didn’t help much and she shivered. She was too busy focusing on keep warm to notice a tall figure walking towards her. Something warm was suddenly draped over her shoulder, which made her jump in surprise. “W-wait, what?” she breathed as he left, not even waiting for her to thank him. How rude! She was going to have to find him later to thank him and give him his scarf back. She pulled it closer to her and a familiar smell hit her nose — books. The smell of new books accented with a slight twinge of cinnamon. Cautiously, she sniffed the scarf, its hideous scarlet a burden on her eyes — it was indeed coming from it. ‘Huh. Who knew a blood-traitor could actually smell good.’ she thought wonderingly before getting up and giving her parchment to the professor, who excused her. She left the Tower quickly, wanting to reach the dorms before anyone saw her with the scarf on — and for some reason, she didn’t want to take it off.

She reached the dungeons in record time, before anyone else got there, which was extremely lucky considering that she wasn’t the only one who left the Tower at the same time. She changed quickly, gently folding the scarf and bringing it to her face once more, smelling the sweet scent of books and cinnamon before putting it on the windowsill next to her bed. She didn’t even spare a thought to anything before she snuggled in between the emerald green bedcovers and went to sleep. She didn’t dream of the prince this time, instead she dreamt of a dark knight, with armour as black as obsidian, that killed every creature in his way; slicing and beheading. There was a white knight as well, who had armour as white as clouds on a nice day, who spent his time recusing maidens and helping cats down from trees. At some point, both knights met each other, and they had an epic fight — one of clanking swords and bleeding wounds. They knocked each other’s helmets off, revealing Avery as the dark knight, his blond hair a sharp contrast to the blackness of his suit. Tristan was the white knight, his long hair disheveled but still bright as flames. Dia could tell that they were both tiring, their attacks slowing. It was close to the end, and Arcadia couldn’t wait to see who would win.

That was when hands on her shoulders jolted her awake.

“Dia! For Merlin’s sakes! Get up, you’re going to be late you lazy witch!” Ha, that was classic — the laziest witch in Hogwarts calling her lazy. ‘Wait… Late?!” The raven haired witch threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, shocked to discover that her and Edythe were the only girls in the dormitory. She changed quickly, throwing her nightgown on the bed messily — a sign that she was surely in a hurry. “You couldn’t have woken me up a bit earlier Edythe?” she snipped, venom lacing her voice as she pulled on her robes with a fluid motion. The platinum blonde shrugged her shoulders and smirked, enjoying the sight of the usually prim and proper witch in a fluster. “I hate you Edythe. I hope you know that.” she hissed as she waved her wand and her hair swirled into a slick ponytail. The blonde’s smirk widened as she nodded. “Yeah, I know. But there’s no one you don’t hate, Dia dear.” Arcadia threw Tristan’s scarf in her bag roughly in reply to Edythe’s jib. The Malfoy followed behind the petite brunette as she left in an angry huff. They had missed breakfast completely and now had to rush to make it to Potions on time. As they entered the Great Hall, a familiar blonde male ran up to Arcadia and pulled on her ponytail playfully, which made her yelp in surprise. “Good morning Arcadia.” he gave her a smirk that Dia was sure was meant to be a charming smile, but all she did was give him a grimace in return. “Pray tell, Ave- Nicholus, what is so bloody good about it?” she growled as Avery held his hands up in mock surrender, his smirk never sliding a millimeter as he threw his arm around Arcadia’s shoulders instead. A voice made the witch immediately throw the arm away from her — she was convinced that she was going to do it anyway — and her humour visibly improved. If only by a little bit.

The redhead had that charming smile on his face again, the same one he had given her after History of Magic had ended. “Good morning, Weasley.” Arcadia said coolly, while Edythe said nothing, but her eyes were clearly fixed on Potter. Brow furrowed, the brunette didn’t get a chance to ask her cousin about it before she noticed that Tristan had slid into place behind them, effectively cutting away Avery from their group. Dia couldn’t help the tiny smirk that slid onto her lips as she heard them chattering away behind her — she was sure that the blonde was seething, swearing revenge on the ginger and his gingery offspring. They entered the dungeon and Arcadia headed to a table in the middle of the room, putting down her things with a loud thunk as she settled into the seat, watching as Tristan took the seat beside her. “Good morning, class! Today, we are going to start brewing our lovely Pietas Diligatus potion. Now, you all need to gather the ingredients, but not until I finish telling you all the directions for today. Now, we’re going to start with the horse hairs, and each one must be pulled apart into two evenly. If you fail and put it in the potion anyway, it will burst into flames, so I will know immediately who did and didn’t take the time to carefully pull apart the hairs! You must combine the hairs with the refined cane sugar, place them in a mortar and grind them into a fine powder. Once that is done, you need to put the powder into your cauldron filled halfway with boiling water. After that, you need to grab your bamboo and cut it into five equal pieces, then extract the liquid from each piece. I won’t tell you how, that’s up to you! I think that’s all we’re going to be able to get to today, so I’ll let you all get to it! Oh, and before I forget. Next class will be scheduled at midnight in order to gather the lunar extracted ingredients, since it is a full moon, so don’t forget!” Arcadia had been scribbling down the instructions for the day with quick shorthand that only she could understand. As soon as Slughorn stopped talking, she turned to the redhead next to her, expecting him to at least look semi-interested in the lecture, since it was their grade. Instead, what she was met with was the back of Tristan’s head, as he was looking at a table behind them. She turned to see Edythe and Potter very close, and Malfoy’s girlish giggle hit her ears — which instantly irritated her. Oh, she was definitely going to have a word with her cousin later.

Arcadia had been glaring at the side of Edythe’s perfect head when Tristan interrupted her, asking what he should do. Sighing loudly and visibly rolling her eyes, she shoved the piece of parchment at him. “Go get the ingredients we need today, we can start on the potion together. I’ll go get the cauldron and mortar with the pestle.” she went off to get the tools while Tristan went off to get the ingredients. They worked on the potion without interruption. Well, mostly, at one point, they had both reached over to stir the cauldron and their hands briefly met. Again. Before Dia pulled her hand back quickly, covering her actions by turning the bamboo pieces over and squeezing them with the side of her knife — yet that couldn’t hide the blush that brightly coloured her cheeks, especially without her hair down to serve as curtain. They managed to finish the portion of the potion with half an hour to spare, and the rest of the time was spent awkwardly sitting next to each other in silence while the time passed. When class finally ended, Arcadia bolted out of her chair, meeting Edythe as she pushed her way to the small witch, acting as if she wanted to get away from Potter, but Dia knew that it was an act — they were more than a little close back there. As they made their way to the Divination classroom, the Malfoy kept her busy by talking about stupid thing right in her ear, while her irritation escalated little by little. It was only when they had sat down at their usual table that Arcadia snapped.

“So, Edythe. You and Potter seemed more than a little… chummy.” the raven haired witch’s voice was icy, her eyes never leaving Edythe’s face as it turned various shades of red all at once. “Dia, you don’t understand. It was merely potion work, nothing else.” she said, her voice wavering. Arcadia lifted a slender hand and waved off her lame explanation with a bored look on her face. “Whatever makes you feel better Edythe. Just as long as you keep in mind that you are a clever Slytherin and Potter is an idiotic Gryffindor. It’s not meant to be, you ditzy blonde.” the Malfoy lapsed into shocked silence before nodding meekly, much to Arcadia’s satisfaction — at least she realized that she was right. Pulling out her book, Dia leaned back in her chair, not even bothering to listen to Trelawney’s pathetic babbling about chocolate cake and impending doom. The class went by relatively quickly, considering that Dia did nothing but read her book and take notes, while the rest of the class stared blankly into the crystal balls in front of them — Edythe had even been balancing a quill on her nose, causing Arcadia to giggle quietly, much to the surprise of the people around her. Once the class was done, Dia and Edythe headed to the Great Hall for lunch, where they promptly sat down. Edythe began to socialize and Arcadia busied herself by grabbing a sandwich and began to nibble on it. She had gotten through half the sandwich when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was met with Avery’s smirk. “Arcadia, could I talk to you in the hall for a bit?” he didn’t wait for Dia to respond but started walking off, and since the witch was ever-curious, she followed him without a word.

They reached a rather secluded spot in the hall when Arcadia stopped walking and trained her eyes on the handsome blonde in front of her, the sandwich still in her hand. “Well, Ave- Nicholus? What did you want to talk about?” she asked, taking another bite of her food. It was then that Avery grabbed her free hand with both of his and looked Dia in the eyes, his cocky smirk gone, replaced with a look of earnestness that surprised the slender girl. “Dia, I… I really fancy you, and I think… That we should be a couple…” his voice shook a bit, but the words still shocked Arcadia to the core. Why did this have to happen? Swallowing the bit of food, she gently pulled her hand away from his grip. “Avery… I don’t think that’s a good idea.” she said softly, her brow furrowed in frustration as the blonde gently grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into his arms, leaning down to give her a kiss. That was when something shattered the silence. “Levicorpus!” and Avery was yanked away from Arcadia’s body, freeing her. Spitting curses, Avery hung upside down, his usually perfect hair mussed up and his handsome face twisted in anger. Dia turned around in surprise and met the chocolate brown eyes of Tristan, his own face flushed with anger. She looked at him with a mix of gratefulness and embarrassment as she averted her eyes, a single thought popping in her head.

‘Well… Isn’t this awkward?”

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

B A S I C S
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who am i? why, my name's zombii, and i'm looking for a good
american horror story unxun! i've been craving an AHS roleplay
ever since i finished the series but i haven't been able to find a
good partner for one just yet. i classify myself as an advanced
literate/elite roleplayer. i average out 1,700✚ on introduction posts
and 1,500✚ on regular posts — and yes this is a for sure, regular
thing. i'm looking for other advanced literate/elite roleplayers
though if i feel like you have potential, i will roleplay with literate
roleplayers. i like pretty, detailed posts (i make all of my own layouts)
so i only roleplay on private threads.

i'm craving either an oc ghostxoc human roleplay, or a violetxtate
roleplay because i am utterly convinced that they should end up
together. i'm also okay with a tatexoc human roleplay. the roleplay isn't
limited in location (as in the murder house) but can happen anywhere.
so let's get posting, shall we?

Currently;; Craving // Satisfied

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

A P P L I C A T I O N
« ✖ »___ « ✖ »___ « ✖ » ___ « ✖ »

bonjour zombii!

❤ ZOMBiiFiCATiON
❤ zombii // liia // tragy
❤ both, but it depends.
❤ oc ghost x oc human
❤ n/a
❤ my classes this year are absurdly easy, so... all the time? :b
❤ i'm in love with tate langdon
❤ mon samples

[size=16][align=center][color=color2][b](greeting goes here, along with whatever you want to call me. be creative!)[/b][/align][/size]
[list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list]
[size=11][color=color2]❤[/color][color=color1] your username[/color]
[color=color2]❤[/color][color=color1] what do you go by?[/color]
[color=color2]❤[/color][color=color1] what gender do you play the majority of the time?[/color]
[color=color2]❤[/color][color=color1] what topic would you like to do?[/color]
[color=color2]❤[/color] [color=color1] if there's a topic that's not up there that you would like to suggest, what is it?[/color]
[color=color2]❤[/color][color=color1] how often are you on gaia?[/color]
[color=color2]❤[/color][color=color1] anything else you'd like me to know?[/color]
[color=color2]❤[/color] [url=][color=blue][u][color=color1]sample(s) here[/color][/u][/url][/size]
[/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

• nickname••••••• ex superhero/villain name••••••• super power (2 max)••••••• age [24-30]••••••• 3 positive adjectives••••••• 3 negative adjectives••••••• Hero or Villain••••••• model/celebrity••••••• posting color••••••• username

text goes here
include bio, personality relationships with other characters (all capitals for names, bolded and colored with their posting color, if you don't know their names or colors just bold and put their titles. for organizational purposes) Blurb should be at least three paragraphs more is encouraged.

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

• alessa camryn fayre

• lessi••••••• obsidian••••••• umbrakinesis, zoolingualism••••••• twenty four••••••• clever, alluring, spontaneous••••••• manipulative, patronizing, bloodthirsty ••••••• villain••••••• alexandra breckenridge••••••• #683A5E••••••• ZOMBiiFiCATiON

who am i? who am i? why, i am alessa fayre, but i used to be known as obsidian — one of the baddest bitches around; and not because i was just a normal badass, but because i was one of the four supervillains who ruled gothania. i was born with the power to control darkness and shadow, as well as the ability to communicate with animals. when i was little, it was all fun and games for my parents and i, i used to twist shadows to make companions for myself because i was an only child. then they bought me a puppy, a german shepard i named lolita, and it was then that they realized that i could talk to animals as if they were people — i can convince them to do anything i want, and because of this, i much prefer being around animals than people; i could never hurt a defenseless animal. humans, however, are a different story. i was thirteen when i developed a penchant for bloodshed — i love it, killing people, making them squirm under the darkness they fear. my parents grew afraid of me, and so they left without a word. i loved my parents, honestly, but it was probably best that they left. the fun lasted for a little while, and i'm not going to lie, i loved fighting with the superfreaks, sorry, i mean heroes, ha, as if. fighting with them gave me something to do, and there was never a dull moment when we terrorized the pathetic people of gothania. that is, until the stupid people rebelled against all of us with powers, proclaiming that they wanted a normal life — one where they could have families and jobs without the fear of being killed by a villain, or squished by a car one of the freaks happened to throw. so we went into hiding, not only the evil, but the good as well, driven from our pedestals to cower in a dingy apartment. well, i suppose it's not that dingy. okay, it's actually quite nice, and i can't say i'm not modestly wealthy since i am one of the most respected authors around — in the novel world, i go by lessa ryn and i write romance and horror novels. i also have quite a sexy boyfriend, viktor kain, so i'm not exactly lonely. i wouldn't say i love him, there are a few of his traits that i consider extremely weak — he's sweet and gentle, which is not for me — but there is a darkness in him that attracts me — he's cunning and ruthless, and i love that part of him. he's also a big shot in the government of gothania, secretary of defense, or something, and he's the one that made the s**t hit the fan — the one that led the rebellion. i hate him for that, but i can't say that i would kill him for it. my life is dreadfully boring now, devoid of terror, but once in a while, i stir up a little chaos — a dog i convinced to come with me, or a mutilated kid found in a ditch; it's usually me, when i can't help myself. i used to go by obsidian, but now, i guess you can just call me plain, ol' alessa, honey.

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

speech thought

Sunlight seeped through the cracks of ebony blinds as the first rays of light shone across the horizon. A single golden ray just happened to be at the exact angle at which it hit a lovely, female face — softer and sweeter in the hands of sleep than in the grasp of wakefulness. Too bad that the light was irritating, and a hand went up to bat it instinctively away. Golden amber eyes shot open in annoyance, a tumble of dark curls framed the face in a tangled mess. Belladonna was not a morning person, and that was shown clearly by the scowl on her face. Sitting up, she half expected a lilting, harmonic voice to come from the hall as her mother twirled in to open the shutters and blind her, as was routine. It took a moment for the young woman to realize that her mother was gone, and there was no lilting voice — only the sweet scent of lavender and the musky smell of burnt sienna reaching her nose. Her grandmother was up — she had probably been up since the early morning hours, preparing incense and scented candles for the Silver String Festival. ‘Which is tonight!’ a little voice in Donni’s head reminded her as she sat up and stretched lazily. At the realization, she sat up straighter in shock. She wasn’t ready! Tying the strings was her mother’s job, not hers! She had been thrust into it by unfortunate circumstances and her mother’s flighty nature, and the festival was so important to people in the town — especially her grandmother. Just the thought of ruining it made her stomach shrivel and a hard, tight knot to form in her throat. Belladonna was not her mother, she was not gentle, graceful, sweet, polite and certainly not docile. She was sure that she was not cut out for the job. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the closed shutters as she called to mind the festivals before this one, where her mother had danced through the crown, tying together people before they even realized that they had been chosen. There was no way she was going to be able to do that. If the brunette had to step up to take the job that wasn’t even hers, she was going to do it her own way.

“Belladonna dear, are you up? You need to help the volunteers to set up the festival!” her grandmother’s wizened voice floated up to her room, where the young Maiden still sat with a shell-shocked look on her face, yet it was turning into a look of concentration. “Y-yeah, Granmama!” she called out loudly, “Though I really wish I wasn’t,” she muttered under her breath as she got up from her bed. She brushed through her thick locks quickly, her curls bouncing back, pausing only to rim her eyes in dark kohl and to accentuate her long eyelashes with a coat of mascara. She cast a sidelong look at her cell phone — the slim black phone was pretty much useless since she texted only a few people… but still. The Maiden changed quickly into a pair of comfy jeans and a tee shirt, swiping the cell phone before running down the stairs, and nearly crashed into the old lady who waited at the bottom of the winding staircase. Donni’s grandmother inhaled a sharp gasp of surprise as the young woman perched precariously at the last stair, her eyes expectant of the lecture she was sure to receive. “Belladonna! I’ve told you many times not to run down these stairs! And why are you wearing so much make up, you know—“ “‘You’re beautiful without it.’ Yeah, yeah, yeah, Granmama, I’ve heard it before.” the voluptuous brunette rolled her eyes and sidestepped her grandmother, whose face was impatient, and slightly irritated but not at all surprised. She was more than used to her granddaughter’s attitude, though she did wish she would get rid of it.

The smell of herbs and flowers was almost overpowering in the lower level, many candles and sticks of incense littered the room, along with oils and broken stalks of different flowers. Crossing her arms, she turned back to her grandmother. “You’ve been busy.” a short pause before Donni’s tone turned pleading, her eyes matching the tone she brought across. “Granmama, I don’t want to do this. I don’t even know how to do it. Please don’t make me.” The Crone’s eyes turned steely with impatience as she looked at her granddaughter. “You do know how to do it. Goddess knows I’ve told you enough times. You do know what to do, but there is something important that you must keep in mind. This festival is not serious Bella, it’s for fun. For humans and Night People alike, this is something sweet and harmless. You tie the strings for the night — pairing whomever you want together, random couples who might look cute together — and then you cut them in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less. Understood?”Her grandmother’s eyes softened as she reached up to brush a stray curl from her granddaughter’s face. “You’ll be fine, dear. You are your mother’s daughter after all. It’s in your blood.” The young witch has begun to zone out during the latter part of the speech, but it was then when she got an idea. Looking down at her wrist, she saw the everlasting shiny silver cord that threaded not once, but twice around her wrist before leading down to the ground — if followed, she knew it would lead to the local brooding vampire — and her close friend — Arthur. ‘Soulmates…’ The word was a whisper in her mind and she knew what she had to do, if binding people together was in her blood, she would make it happen — and she would definitely make it matter. A small smile graced her pale pink lips before looking up at her grandmother, complete honesty in her eyes.

“Yes, Granmama, I understand.”

Her grandmother looked at her for a while, trying to decide whether she was mocking her or not — which Donni wasn’t. Technically, anyway — before she turned away from the Maiden. “Go help finish setting up for the festival; I have to wrap up the miscellaneous decorations, little things here and there.” it was brief dismissal from her grandmother, having decided that Belladonna was apparently not making fun of her. The young witch nodded before walking across the room and exiting out the front door — a smirk playing across her lips. The park wasn’t very far, and the nearly all the festival decorations were put up, the shimmering silver ribbons so closely matched the string around her wrist that the similarity was eerie. Donni lifted her wrist up to her face; the cord was translucent, the lines of her wrist fading in and out as she twisted her hand this way and that. Now, the witch was rather lazy by nature, so she merely stood there for a bit and watched as the volunteers finished setting up — she simply told herself that she would get in the way. By the time she got back home, it was eight and she had to rush and get changed into her festival outfit. It was then when her phone started vibrating violently in her pocket. Pulling it out, she read over Ro’s message with a smirk on her lips. Oh, this was going to be fun. Without bothering to answer, since she would see her best friend soon enough, she set upon dressing herself up. Her outfit was an elaborate piece of silk that outlined her curves and a matching silk sash that tied around her waist, nothing else. She stained her lips black with lipstick, added silver shimmer to her cheekbones and eyelids and painted her nails with matching silver nail polish. With the mess of ebony curls framing her face, she looked like a much darker version of her mother, who was all blonde waves and frail beauty. Sighing loudly, she pulled out the ribbon designed and charmed to bind the couples together, trying with all her might to convince herself not to do it, yet finding no reasons not to, and to be honest, she was excited. Each couple could not cut the string themselves; they had to wait for the Maiden to do it, for no other scissors or other instrument could cut through the spell. Donni cut the ribbon into five medium sized pieces before going to get her grandmother’s vials of oils used for spell casting, dabbing a finger in the vial of rose oil, she anointed each ribbon piece except for the last one — the one for Arthur and herself. Rose oil to promote love and infatuation between the soulmates, but she didn’t want to force things between her and the vampire. Lastly, she dabbed a little bit of patchouli oil on herself, to promote passion and seduction. She was going to be a sexy Maiden tonight. She smiled, her teeth looking dazzling white against the black of her lips.

Belladonna had exactly thirty minutes to get to the park, and her grandmother had already left. With no choice but to run, she got there in five minutes time — her face was flushed with exertion and her hair was a mess, the curls a mass of ink that flew behind her dramatically as she beheld each of people attending. It was rather easy, trailing the long cords to each of the couples. Some of the soulmates were already grouped together, and some were on opposite ends of the crowd. It was going to be hard to get to those, but she would deal with it. A sort of momentary hesitation shot through the crowd as they saw that the Maiden was not the usual woman, but someone much wilder, with purpose glinting in strange eyes and no depicting list in her hands. As her eyes slid over the people she was going to choose, her eyes met with Arthur’s for a brief moment before he looked away pointedly. Biting her lip, she looked off to the side, debating whether or not she was really going to bind them together. She ran up the stairs to the stage where Rowan and Echo and Ash were conversing about something and the two girls were holding coffee. Her stomach grumbled loudly, protesting the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day. Sighing loudly, she clamped a hand over her stomach and approached the group, staying closer to Ro and Echo than Ash, her fear towards the hunter evident. “Hey Ro! Echo! Ash! How do you guys like the festival so far?” a sarcastic question, since nothing had happened so far, and the most one could do was look at the decorations and say, ‘oh look! How pretty!’ She saw Ro look off into the crowd and the Maiden followed her gaze straight to a certain shifter that she absolutely loved to bother. The smile turned into a smirk as Rowan turned back to her and Donni couldn’t help but waggle her eyebrows suggestively. “Ooooh, Rowan!” she reached over and touched her best friend’s shoulder teasingly before she let her eyes run over the crowd of people, trying to find those who belonged together.

‘Rowan…’ she paused, searching until she found Ramses, the cord glinting like a beacon. ‘Ramses. They’re not going to be happy about that.’ So it went, saying the names in her head, and the cords responded, signaling the connections between those who belonged together — her pupils contracting and dilating with the calling of magic. ‘Roxy…Lucian. Fireworks galore. Jade…Devin. Interesting. Echo…Ashley.’ she inhaled sharply at that, a hunter with a Night Person? That was more than dangerous; it could prove to be deadly. Her brow furrowed in worry as she finished off the couples. ‘Arthur…Belladonna. Potentially disastrous.” she closed her eyes in resignation — she would bind them. The brunette was more than unsure of how that would work out, since there was always a sort of brooding coldness surrounding the made vampire — even though he was always very polite when Donni addressed him and tried to be friendly. She could sense that he didn’t want to be close to anyone, even so, she considered him a close friend. ‘A close friend who doesn’t consider himself my friend and who also happens to be my soulmate. Brilliant idea there, Goddess.’ she thought, a grimace on her face as she caught the vampire’s eyes once more — and once more he looked away. It was like playing a game of cat and mouse.

The Maiden watched at the Mayor began to give his little speech — it was a yearly thing and hardly anything new, but instead of people paying attention to the speech, she saw people’s eyes drifting to her. She could practically hear the humans’ scattered thoughts and bits and pieces of conversations. ‘Who is she?’ ‘Where’s the other girl?’ ‘She’s weird looking, isn’t she?’ ‘Strange eyes…’ ‘Too creepy…’ ‘Hey, she’s kinda hot...’ Disgusted, she sighed softly, she shot Rowan a quick smile that felt more like a grimace, and listened to the mayor’s little speech as she bounced back and forth on her bare feet, she wanted to get this show on the road. She called to mind the memory of her mother, who always stood by so patiently for her role to begin, and was reminded once more that she was — and always will be — different than her mother. Pushing her hair away from her face, she let the full force of her eyes hit the humans in front of her, trying to get them to pay attention so this could go much faster — all she wanted to do now was simply get the whole ordeal over with.

The Maiden looked around, the strings connecting people bright against the dark grass. Finally, the mayor wrapped up and Belladonna gave everyone a smile, her eyes meeting with her grandmother’s for a brief moment as the older woman gave her a nod. It was time. From somewhere, soft music started playing and smoke from lighted incense began to drift in, Donni stepped down from the podium. Dancing on light feet, she attempted to melt into the crowd, but people automatically parted to give her space. She felt the silk against her body, her feet connecting with the ground and grass beneath her, wind whispering to her to give away the locations of the people she was looking for. From beneath heavy-lidded, slightly glazed eyes, she pulled wrists gently from the silent crowd and tied strings, pulling them with her as she traveled. The people she chose, she all knew personally, and she tried to give them all small smiles as she tied the strings, though they came out a bit faded — even Ramses got a smile, though it came out rather sultry without her meaning it to. Lastly, with a dramatic twirl, she lifted her own wrist, tying the last string expertly to the one string that was left, the only one left alone, not anointed with oil — the one that led straight to Arthur. “The strings have been tied and will remain tied until morning; the Silver String Festival has now begun!” her voice carried in an ethereal way, on the wind. The couples faced each other, including her and Arthur. The rest of the crowd dispersed, the hopeful girls looking absolutely crushed, but the couples had expressions that could even put that disappointment to shame — including Arthur himself. Did she really make a mistake?





OOC

Click on the image below for her outfit. :3
Also, this intro was much longer than my other one, 600 words added. o.o

[ZOMBiiFiCATiON]

speech thought

It wasn’t that Asrai didn’t care about the Hunger Games — she thought they were exciting, just like anyone else in the Capitol — but she detested the killing that went on during the competition. If no one had to be killed, it would have been the perfect pastime, but the just the sight of the dead bodies — some merely children, most in their teens — made her want to cry. It could have just been her bleeding heart — no one else in the Capitol seemed to have a problem with the Games. Then again, she was caring for a reason — she was the Capitol’s main medic. It had been her mother, but then she was killed in the rebel raid, hit when she had tried to help a dying man — since then, she had always had a sort of resentment towards the rebels — she understood what they wanted to do, but in the process, a lot of innocent lives were lost and it was all their fault. She admired Katniss Everdeen, The Girl on Fire, for standing up to President, but in her opinion, she could have been a bit more subtle about the way she made herself known. Not to mention a much more peaceful way that didn’t endanger the lives of innocent civilians and kind people like her mother.

Pulling on a strand of bright pink hair, Asrai looked worriedly at one of her patients who was suffering from a blood disease — one that not even she could cure. It made her very sad, seeing as how every single one of her patients were her responsibility — and she often got too close to them, becoming their friend instead of just their doctor. Her mother never made that mistake, she was also cool and detached, but kind and caring — traits that Asrai never mastered and now she paid the consequences for it. Walking up to the bed where the man lay, she held his hand gently, feeling his skin slowly grow cold as death gripped him. He gave her one last lucid look of gratefulness as he expelled his last breath and the light faded from his eyes. Sniffling slightly, she let go of his cold, pale hand and signaled to one of her aides to come take his body away — a death was always sad, but it was happening more and more often — more and more people were getting fatally sick. One of her aides came up to her, her dark hair strangely normal against the bright colours of the Capitol. “What shall we do for him?” Wiping her eyes quickly, Asrai picked up the patient’s chart and looked through it before handing it to the aide. “Tell his next of kin, or his wife, if he has one, then schedule a burial for him.” the aide took the chart with a nod and went to follow the body. The petite girl collapsed into a nearby chair, exhaustion clearly apparent on her face — she had been sitting with the man for days, getting a mere hour of sleep a day, considering that she had other patients to attend to as well.

Asrai had just gotten comfortable in her seat, closing her eyes for a bit.

That’s when a loud slam of the front door made the small girl jumped in surprise as a young man with a hardened expression walked into the clinic, his well-muscled arm bearing a large, gaping wound on the upper part. Her eyes widened at the sight of all the blood — it soaked the entire right side of his tattered shirt, and it was sliced in several places — revealing more gruesome wounds beneath the gaps. Asrai gasped, her hair a pink blur as she rushed up to the young man, his eyes widening as he braced himself for the girl’s usual worrying. “Ko! What did you do? These look terrible!” she breathed as she peeled off the bloody fabric from his wounded chest. The man rolled his sea-green eyes in a sign of clear exasperation. “Do you really want to know, Asrai? I mean, really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow; a smirk sliding comfortably on his lips as he took in the petite girl; her frantic fluttering slowing as she went to go get medicine and needles with thread. “Uh… You’re right, I don’t want to know.” she mumbled. She already had her suspicions. She found out that Ankou was a professional killer a while ago — three years ago, in fact. Her mother had been the renowned healer then, and Asrai had been only thirteen when a young man had been carried into the clinic; his wounds had been severe and life-threatening since he had been both poisoned and nearly gutted. Her mother tended to him efficiently, but Asrai had been captivated by the young man and sat by his side day and night — until he awoke after about a week of treatment.

He revealed startlingly pale sea-green eyes, which Asrai later learned that they were completely natural, and they fixed on Asrai’s, which were back then a dark grey. She had been about to say hello when he had jumped on her, wrapping scarred hands around her throat. Her mother had told her that she had stopped breathing for about a minute after she lost consciousness, but Rai didn’t remember anything. It was only when she had woken up that she realized what had happened. He had tried to kill her! Kill her! He had been held back by two male aides, and even then, he nearly escaped once or twice. Her mother explained that he was an assassin for President Snow — and that was how he made his living; killing people. He still had to stay at the clinic for a while longer, so in that time, Asrai still remained — staring at him with curious eyes. Eventually, he began to trust her and told her that his name was Ankou, and that he was sorry for trying to kill her. They became eventual friends, and he even smiled at her once or twice. Not that you could tell right now, since there seemed to be a permanent grimace painted on his handsome face as Rai pulled the needle and thread through the wounds on his stomach. “Fae! Gentler please!” he winced as the needle got stuck and she had to pull it through with a sharp tug. “Sorry, Ko. I’m being as gentle as I can be. Jeez, if these wounds were any deeper, your guts would be falling out!” she muttered curses under her breath as she cut the thread for the last wound. After that, she went to his arm and scrutinized it for a moment before placing a small petal on the wound and bandaging it. “It should be gone by tomorrow. Same with the ones on your stomach, just be careful not to open them while they’re still healing.”

With that, she put away her supplies and gave Ankou a small smile. “And try not to get hurt while you’re still healing, okay?” She knew that there was a good chance he wouldn’t listen — he almost never did. Ankou merely rolled his eyes and gave her a small smile in return, which made the Medic beam brighter. “I’ll try, Faery.” he said as he got up off his seat and winced once more as the stitches pulled. She wrapped her arms around his torso and gave him a gentle hug, which he returned with a squeeze. It reminded that pink-haired girl of when her mother died, where Ankou just held her for days on end as she cried and cried into his chest, all the while he just cursed the Rebels. That was another thing they had in common — their disdain for the Rebels. Asrai for her mother, Ankou for making her suffer like they did, because he never really cared for Snow, not to mention that Rai’s mother was a one of a kind person that could never really be replaced. He still hated them, even though now he worked under the command of the new government; which was made especially for the Rebels’ cause. He let the slender girl go and looked into her pink eyes — the exact absurd shade of her hair. He missed her mousy brown hair and her deep, gray eyes, and was actually disappointed when she got alterations. “Tomorrow is The Reaping, Fae, and there’s a good chance that I’ll be picked, and if I do, don’t you dare take my place. I can survive, you don’t stand a chance.” he said, his voice grave. Rai’s eyes narrowed, her pupils becoming thin slits with anger — another alteration. “You can’t stop me, Ankou Ubel. Actually, if the opposite thing happens, and I get picked, and you don’t, you can’t take my place. Promise me.” Ankou looked pained, but figured that if he promised, she had to promise the same thing. “I promise.” Rai smiled and nodded. “Good. Then I promise too.” Ankou smirked and gave her another quick hug before turning to leave. “Goodbye Ko! And thank you for coming to the Roane Clinic!” she shouted, to which Ankou raised a hand in acknowledgement.

That night went by peacefully, with no nightmares or interruption to Asrai’s sleep, even though the mere thought of the next day brought a deep feeling of dread. She awoke, got dressed in her usual mix of pink and white — her favorite colours. It’s not that she didn’t have a partiality for black as well, but she wanted to look relatively bubbly and happy on such a bleak day — even if it wasn’t the truth. When she finished getting ready, she left the clinic with a happy bounce in her step that she really didn’t feel. She stared at the ground, the multi-coloured pebbles that adorned the cement reflected the sun and provided little rainbows that much improved Asrai’s mood — that is, until she reached the congregation of people gathered around the pedestal that had been set up solely for the grim occasion, the girl standing at the top was beautiful, in an unhappy way — but then again, who was truly happy at that moment? Surely no one could be so cruel. So the pink haired girl stood passively, her eyes following the tribute up to where they had been called, the various people surrounding her cried out in sorrow, and some even began to cry, but all the medic did was stand — a sad look on her face as each name was called. There was a name called that visibly shook the young woman on the pedestal, and Asrai couldn’t help but look at the tribute — he was beautiful, in a dark, feral way. Long dark hair that was tired back from his face, muscled physique that held grace and power that nearly matched Ankou’s — nearly, but not quite. He was beautiful, it was true, but he also had a strange sort of depth to his eyes that made the pink-haired girl shudder. The last name that was called was the one she had been fearing so, “Ankou Ubel Grifyth.” the young woman’s voice was shaky and Asrai couldn’t help the sharp cry that flew from her mouth as her best, and only, friend went to go join the tributes. She was about to shout, “I volunteer!” when Ankou’s clear green eyes met hers and he gave her a sharp look, reminding her of the promise they both had made. And so Rai resumed her silent standing, except this time, she had tears running down her cheeks, smearing her makeup a bit.

Desperation was painted on her pretty face as she listened.

Yvaine continued with the girls, her voice no longer shaky, but not as confident as how she started. She read the names off one by one, and when she reached the sixth, Asrai thought she was going to pass out. “Asrai Fae Roane.” a terrorized look fell upon her tear streaked face as her eyes met Ankou’s, which was a mask of pure fury mixed with helplessness. Slowly, she made her way to join the other female tributes, some of which were already making their way to the City Center. Once she was there, she embraced Ankou with shaking arms, and was surprised to see that his own were trembling as well. “What will I do Ko? I'll die. I don't know how to defend myself!” she cried into his neck, tears sliding down her face again. “It’s okay, Fae. I’ll protect you. I promise, my Faery.” he whispered in her ear as Yvaine continued reading the names. Then the twelfth and final name was called, and it gave Asrai a twisted sort of satisfaction to see the girl fall to the floor in shock, knowing instantly that her own name had been called. “Yvaine Marie Snow.” someone read the paper, her voice strong and clear — but with a very distinct sad tone beneath it. It was karma, for having such a wicked grandfather, and Asrai smiled — a small, sad smile that seemed severely off place with the tears that ran down her cheeks. Ankou must have caught sight of her and he pulled her into his arms once more, and after that, walked arm in arm with her when they were dismissed. It was then that she realized with a start that the assassin beside her was supposed to leave before the girls’ names were even called, but he didn’t — he waited to see if she would be called. Her eyes filled with tears as they entered the City Center and the mansion that belonged to the Snow family. Once in there, both Ankou and Asrai waited silently, watching families say goodbye to each other, and they grabbed each others hands solemnly, for they were indeed, the only family they had.

For both were totally, and completely, alone in the world.





OOC

Click on the image below for her outfit. :3

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⋙ corbin beckett santimier ;; mr. weatherman


ah corbin. well, i should say beck, since that's what he likes to be called, but in any case, i usually call him "mr. santimier" i've always been a polite girl, and until he tells me i can call him anything else, mr. santimier he shall stay. this guy drives me absolutely crazy, and there's no doubt that i have the same effect on him. you would call me conceited, i'm sure, but i have indestructible proof. it always gets so hot and humid when i'm around him, and this leads me to shed a few items of clothing, which always makes it worse. when we're together, you can literally feel the sexual tension, or so i've been told, my attention has always been drawn to much harder things. i have to be honest though, this isn't just a physical thing; a one time ******** kind of fling. sure, he gives me an insistent tingling in my nether regions, but he also gives me butterflies in my stomach that always seem to come back whenever he's around. of course, we can't really do anything because a.) i have a sweet, loving, sexy boyfriend who would be absolutely devastated if i cheated on him, and while i am a villain, i do have a small, loose set of morals and i am not unfaithful, and b.) he has a girlfriend. a high maintenance, b***h of a girlfriend, but a girlfriend nonetheless, and i'm not about to sleep with a committed man. i'm a very selfish girl, and i've never been particularly good at sharing anything. especially not my hunk of a man. it's really too bad, we could have rocked each others world. of course, if we both happened to drop our partners... well, there's no telling what could happen.

⋙ elise scarlet andrews ;; seductress


elise is, and has always been, my best friend. we met in high school, and she, being one year older than me, taught me the ropes of how everything went. of course, there were times when we did our own separate things — while she was off ******** the star quarterback in the projection room above the auditorium, i was off reading in the library, or if i was feeling adventurous, making out with one of the punks underneath the bleachers — but in the end, we were always there for each other. we mutually thought up of the idea of being supervillains, when we found out that both of us were special, so we went into a life of crime and blood. now that it's all over, we spend all of our time at each others apartments, drinking cocktails and complaining about how boring life is. she is one mean drunk, i'm telling you now. she also has a habit of throwing things — i lost many a vase in her drunken stupor — but then again, she's lost many a picture frame under my drunken state. shopping with her is always fun too, since her job as a model pays well and my job as an author also brings in a pretty penny, we never go without what we want and crave. the thing about ellie is that she treats me like a little girl most of the time, and she's always looking out for me. i think she thinks i'm really innocent when it comes to things she's "experienced" about. little does she know that i've had quite a few sex adventures too. i've always had a problem with her little boy-toy by the way, he's too lazy and indecisive for ellie, he's so indecisive that he can't even be in a proper relationship with her and i never got along with him. not even when he opens doors for me. nope. never.

⋙ kameron grant tanner ;; scathe


kameron is... interesting. i think the most interesting thing about him is his personality, which is so alike to mine — we both get worked up over the slightest things, which has led to small altercations in the past. nothing too bad or to the point where it's ruined things between us, it mostly consisted of sarcastic comments from him and flippant retorts from me. there are times when we've been in the same room and my eyes just drift to him, and i stare; and what's really awkward is that he looks back and sees me staring and it's just embarrassing. but the really funny thing is that there have been a few times when i've been the one to catch him staring. i have no idea what it is — curiosity? attraction? — but it's like we're drawn to each other. sometimes, we run into each other, and things just feel awkward between us — like we'd be completely silent and then he'd try to make small talk and while i'm a very polite gal, i can't handle small talk and niceties, blech, so i like to shake things up a bit and let my flirty or cruel side show in order to make him get flustered. i'd like to be friends with him, but i honestly don't even know how to go about it. maybe he'll take the first step and make things easier for me.

⋙ tyler louis burdekin ;; the bomb diggity


this kid — because i can assure you that even if we're the same age, he is still very much a kid mentally — irritates me. he's so... clingy. and just because i've called for him for tech support once or twice to figure out something on my computer and the fact that i try to be generally polite to him, he thinks we're friends. uhm, hello! i wonder if he understands the whole, "i'm a villain, you're a hero, so we have to be enemies" thing. we can't be friends. but i have to admit, he's sort of adorable, and at moments, he reminds me of one of those sweet, cute puppies that just stay attached to their moms because they know nothing else. and sometimes, when i think of that, i just want to give him a big hug! ...ahem, but regardless of that fact, he's childish, talks too much and is simply annoying. i wonder if there's some way i can get rid of him? without hurting him of course. i mean, he's too cute to die my hands. i mean - well, you know what i mean.

⋙ alexandro daniel gomez ;; kanyx


alex is a hero, it's true, but i can't help but feel attracted to him. it's nothing like the attraction i have to beck, no, not even close, it's mostly a curiosity towards him. i mean, he's attractive and all, but i don't think i'm willing to let go of ellie for him, i mean, i know that she likes him and everything — even though in my opinion, that's a big no-no. i mean, a hero and a villain? recipe for absolute disaster. i feel sort of guilty for being on such friendly terms with him, but i can't help. and that daughter of his is adorable! she's like a little kitten. when push comes to shove, i know i'll leave him alone, especially for beck.

⋙ reserved


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