double my liquor

amadahy chen show me where the delicate stops I SPEAK, SO HEAR MY VOICE

[inmybloods]

─── ⋆⋅ amadahy chen is THE MIDNIGHT SOIL

you shall speak, and i shall listen. drown my in the comfort of your words, as i was once drowned in the waves of my very own, beating heart, and i will melt in your hands like fresh snow would beneath the sun, slowly, surely and to evolve into a new form of myself, that shall be life. ⋆⋅as written for @calamitoushq

─── ⋆⋅ speak into the void, earn THE ANSWER

full name: amadahy "ama" chen alias: the midnight soil age: 34/344 date of birth: november 19th gender: cis-female pronouns: she/her sexuality: pansexual current residence: eastside occupation: owner of the myre casino

─── ⋆⋅ you want it darker? WE KILL THE FLAME

midnight soil brings comfort, and yet it also brings a dampness and bleakness that often digs too deep. it never digs quite deep enough for amadahy, who finds beauty in being torn apart, no matter if it may be through violence, or through words that hit spots so deep that they itch. every other night, her hands return to the ground, and when the cold has crept deep enough into her bones, she rises anew, cleared of her darkness – no, not in the way one might think, her darkness is her light, and when it's gone, it's even darker. ama is born not long after the haven is erected, a neutral ground and haven for all species, but it's too loud for the young girl's ears, and so her family barely takes her there – until she goes there alone, for the first time in her life, at the young age of fifteen, and discovers that it was never the market who was too loud, it was always her family. in fact, the market is eerily quiet for her mind, the constant chattering which she can listen to if she wants to, the haggling, the coins and numbers tossed and turned, the divide – wait, the absolute divide, it is what rips her of her calm and sacred place, at least momentary. bloodshed takes over amadahys life, though at that age, she has long found comfort in numbers, coins and thrown chips. 137 years ago, ama, aged 207 finds herself amidst a war that destroys in the most cruel, unnecessary way, sickened by greed, terror and bloodshed. nothing quite manages to bring her comfort in these dark times, until when a few years ago, she finds the myre casino and makes it her own. numbers and coins comfort her still, as well as the conversations she can dip into like she used to during her days in the haven. even if she could return to it now, she does not dare to, afraid of destroying a vision of a place she once used to love. some things are too dark, even for her – the ticking noises raveling around her, wether it be high heels, clocks or else, they haunt her right into the deepest spaces, but what never falters, even when stepped on? what stays firm, even if crushed and turned? the midnight soil.

[inmybloods]

─── ⋆⋅ @oftragxdy ─── ⋆⋅ the myre casino ─── ⋆⋅ with jasper

"what would be your preferred way to die?" if a smile could be lethal, hers would be – perhaps it could count as it, given it sometimes gives her malice away before she even has it sorted out inside of her head. currently, her thoughts are a scrambled mess, as scrambling as the server is in front of her. poor young idiot, merely a hundred years and already fucking up so badly. amadahy releases a deep sigh, while she checks the cards inside of her hands. she has been counting, consistently, and when he spilled two drinks over jasper's and her shared table, he's made her loose her train of thoughts, and therefore, likely the game. "i wasn't asking you.", ama snarls at the young man, who is frantically trying to the wipe the sticky liquid off of the table, "i was asking him." one of her pointy, red nails directs itself right at jasper, and she offers the waiter a weak smile of condolence, for the dismissal and termination he is about to get, which he can obviously tell. when he scrambles off, he stumbles over a piece of carpet and slams himself onto the ground body first. amadahy stares at him in disbelief, before returning to their shared game.

her red lips wrap around the straw in her crystal glass, and she drags a bit of swirling purple liquid down her tongue. "bet. you've been pretending to bluff, because you've got a straight flush on your hands, and you know i cannot have a royal flush, which has you convinced i will not win, but you want me to feel safe and coddled, so.." ama raises herself from her chair and walks around the now sticky table, good lord, her beloved mahogany. sharp heels hit the wooden floor, before she reaches his chair and leans down to check his cards. "ooh, bad, bad fucking liar." her assumption remains correct, "you're not even trying, dollface, how come?" a hint of her perfume wafts into his face, cherries, lilies and vanilla mix into something enticing, "am i distracting you?" satisfaction shows itself when her pearly white teeth dig into her perfectly made up bottom lip, "darling, that's so sweet of you. as sweet as being a bad fucking dealer is, do you know how much money i've lost because of you in the last few months?" her hands find the armrests of his chair, and she leans forward, her face close to his, her breasts even closer to it – as close as they are to falling out of her low cut dress, "is that a on purpose thing, or are you just too stupid or bored?"

[inmybloods]

─── ⋆⋅ @cedricvonoctavian ─── ⋆⋅ the myre casino ─── ⋆⋅ with cedric

"interesting." the juicy cherry pops in between her lips, and ama barely catches a bit of red liquid that drips down her burgundy colored lips. the satin-finish lipstick is rubbed together after her lips trace their shape, and then her fingers are brought to her lips to be licked clean of the sticky juice. the swirling liquid in her crystal glass gives her a tempting glance, and ama takes another sip. cedric is sitting on the emerald green satin couch, and the fae has draped her body over his lap, with her ribs and her hip resting on his thighs, and her arm laying on his knees. her fingertips are pressing against his knees, over and over again, but gently. she's counting the cards the croupier is passing, which is of course, not permitted, but she's the owner – who would stop her? "king of hearts, next draw. six of hearts, then jack of spades." a satisfied clicking sound escapes her lips when her estimation turns out to be correct, and she distracts herself from the game when her interest is piqued by the appearance of a regular she couldn't care less about. "remove him.", she notifies one of her guards, and they do, leaving her to counting cards again, until she turns and twists in his lap to look up at him instead.

her dark hair spills over his thighs when she moves down on the couch, the dark red dress hugging her body, fitting like a glove. many eyes are on her, constantly – but amadahy chen is merely responding to their gazes, she's entirely focused on numbers, calculations, estimations. "do tell me.", she begins, before dapping her lips with a napkin that she simply drops onto the floor for a waiter to pick up, and one does so, coming scrambling within seconds, fear vivid in his eyes. "hush.", she complains, when he sticks around and attempts to ask a question, and the young fae scrambles on. "on a scale of 1 to 10." the fae points at a blonde man leaning against a wall near them, "how suspicious does he look? he's been looming for a few days a week."