I made Colette, so might as well make Zelos Eris too.
I love the freckle option<3
almost home
ojovivo
KIROKAZE

PR's Tumblrdome
occasionally subtle

Product Placement

shark vs the universe
Fieri Frames
Color Me Curious
Mike Driver
$LAYYYTER

Origami Around
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

@theartofmadeline

#extradirty
Sade Olutola
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
official daine visual archive
Today's Document

oozey mess
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Cameroon
seen from Uruguay
seen from Finland
seen from Brazil
seen from Iraq

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands

seen from Malaysia
seen from Indonesia
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Canada
seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Pakistan

seen from United States
@narcissistic-miko
I made Colette, so might as well make Zelos Eris too.
I love the freckle option<3
Ok guys, so itâs been a while but with the FW verse returning, Iâm interested in getting a little more involved this time around.Â
Now a lot of these muses have been in the gallery for a while, so itâs kind of silly to do âfirst meetingâ threads constantly, not to mention that those threads never seem to go anywhere. If youâre interested in discussing potential interactions and forming a relationship between our muses (be it a positive or negative one), please hit me up!Â
Places Eris frequents (if your muses is here a lot, theyâve probably talked): The portrait room where all the loved onesâ images are (beneath abyss of the deep), the hotel's bar and dining area, the poolside deck, the hotel lobby, the daytime gallery
Places Eris is rarely found (if your muse is usually in one of these places, they may not have met): The kitchen (she canât cook), the library, hotel hallways (where the guest rooms are, if your muse rarely comes out of their hotel room, they probably havenât met. Eris is never in her room.)
Here is her profile for more information about her.Â
One murderer down, one to go. Breeze had already been âpunishedâ by dying, but Mary was still set on justice for Breezeâs killer. Eris watched and listened as the debate went on, refraining from offering any commentary despite the fact that as one of those who didnât need sleep she was among the most lucid members of the âjury.â His story was that love was the motivation. Mary had promised to let the killers walk free if they got away with murder, though Eris didnât doubt she would gleefully punish the wrongly accused before revealing the truth. Her âfriendshipâ was a twisted one, and her âfriendsâ were just pawns in her game.
Staring down at the tablet featuring the suspectâs faces, Eris thought over the list of people she would die for...or kill for. Very small, nearly identical lists, but the common motivating factor was love. She turned the power on the tablet off and flipped it face down. She wasnât voting this time. If it truly was a sacrifice made for love, she wasnât going to be the one responsible for denying Breeze the wish for him to go free. Mary would mete out her own justice either way.
As for the guy with the melting face, well...living artwork seemed to be a theme in this place. Sheâd heard the stories about the group being chased by a woman in red, a red eyed creature crawling out of a frame, saw the mannequins all around the hotel. The fact that there were two of that particular person had apparently never struck anyone else as odd, but now it was pretty obvious that one was a fake. She glanced around the room looking for other obvious duplicates, probable painted companions for the weeping man.Â
Theyâre falling apart all around her, people in various states of disarray as they attempt to keep themselves awake. Some have constantly shaking fingers, a nervous twitch developed after practically converting their bloodstream to caffeine. Other drag themselves along sluggishly, barely coherent, or even conscious. Some seem to see or hear things that arenât there.
Sheâs among the few unaffected, her fingers tracing an idle circle on the crystal glimmering just below her collarbone. Angels didnât have to sleep, didnât have to eat. She didnât have to cling to the laws of humanity anymore. She watches them struggle and laughs to herself that she finally has a chance to be worth something. Arenât âangelsâ supposed to be benevolent beings?Â
Theyâre a danger to themselves and one another in the kitchen, but they still need to eat, need to obtain more of that precious caffeine to fuel their failing bodies. She barely knows her way around the place, but maybe she can figure something out. Sheâs seen plenty of people younger than herself in this kitchen, so how hard can it be? Sheâll manage something.
Or maybe she could offer to guide them to one of the few remaining vases when they invariably fall asleep and lose petals. They wonât trust her to take it herself, who would hand their soul to a stranger? But they might accept a shoulder to lean on, an encouraging companion to keep them moving when they can barely manage one foot in front of the other.
Eris is watching the dolls and eyeing the mannequins and just generally being all
âBut thatâs none of my businessâ
((So this program has a feather brush. Perfect for angelic skills like Judgement (or holy song/angel feathers, but I donât think Zelos gets those, so neither does Eris)))
She had thought she was prepared for the outcome of Maryâs game, but she had miscalculated horribly just how twisted the child was. An execution might have been predictable, perhaps she could have even guessed that it would be painful after Maryâs gleeful delight in breaking bones to punish those who had broken her rules before, but this was far, far more than she expected. Disgust warred with horror on her face, the orange fragmented shards of her wings becoming more and more visibly defined as the execution dragged on. Sheâd lost the focus to control them, too transfixed in the events unfolding on the stage.
This wasnât a game, despite Maryâs gleeful proclamation and apparent enjoyment of the spectacle. Eris shuddered and cast her gaze over the audience as the âshowâ ended, finding revulsion and fear in all directions. If any of them had considered Mary a friend before, they were likely having second thoughts now. The redhead searched for familiar faces in the crowd, feeling suddenly all too alone and vulnerable.
There were children here, young and impressionable, and Mary had forced them to endure that spectacle. Eris knew all too well the sort of strain death could put on a young heart. She wondered if these children had anyone to turn to, anyone to soothe them as they inevitably cried over the horrors they had just seen. Waiting for the dismissal from Mary, she fingered the petals of her rose lightly. Would mental trauma cost someone petals?
Before she called toward him, the albino was hugging his knees, while thinking about home. Oh, how he wanted to go home! And smell the freshness of the forest and the smell of the dirt roads. Being cooped up in here made him be miserable, and it certainly didnât leave a good impression on him. While he desired more playmates, thisâŚthis wasnât how he wanted to get them. Heâs fortunate to have met with his best friend, butâŚbut she⌠Something had happened to her, and his mother too.Â
He peered over toward a woman, and she seemed to notice him, causing him to lift his head up from his knees.Â
âH-Hello,â He replies meekly, waving a bit with one of his hands. Her question causes for the boy to shake his head immediately, âand..a-and I havenât, when I woke up the announcement had come on and h-hadnât gotten a chance tooâŚso I rushed hereâŚâ
âD-Do you know where I can get some?â
The urge to reply with a smart alack remark would have prevailed if sheâd been talking to anyone closer to her own age, but some protective feeling stirred inside her at the sight of someone closer to her sisterâs age. A brief thought crossed her mind that she was expressing her worries by transferring them onto someone else, but she brushed it aside.
âThe kitchen here seems to be open just about any time.â She hadnât been over there yet herself today, with the chaos from the announcement on her mind. âIâm sure we could find something if we headed over there.â There were usually a few people who knew how to cook hanging around too, which came in handy for the people who didnât know their way around a kitchen well.  She offered a hand to help him up, along with a reassuring smile.Â
âIâll walk with you, ok?â
âE-Excuse me!? I didnât mean anything like that!â Yashiro stammered quickly, raising his palms in a gesture of surrender.Â
âY-Yeah⌠thatâs a good idea.â He agreed before backing off a few steps. âI didnât see any of the hotel rooms either, but if the layouts are all similar, they should be easy enough to navigate anyway- or even draw your own map for.âÂ
She laughed at his reaction and debated the merits of admitting she was only teasing him, but that would spoil her fun. Instead she gave him a coy wink. âItâs all right, not everyone is man enough to admit what they really want,â she said lightly. She glanced back at the gallery map again.
âI fail to see the need for a map of the hotel rooms, unless you intend to keep track of which rooms are occupied by whom.â Good luck getting that list sorted out. It wasnât a task she would want to undertake, considering how many people seemed to be here. The few times Mary had called them all together, Eris hadnât managed to stand near anyone she really recognized from the previous round up. âThough that does make me wonder if thereâs a guest roster somewhere. Does this hotel even have a front desk?â
//To those I owe a reply for chapter one and/or chapter zero: do you want to keep or drop the thread?
@dxysoffxte @indigoblues1412 @recklessmoon @butyoudidntdie @whiteravenandblackdove
A life for a life, a childâs simple portrait of justice. She may have said âpunishmentâ, but Maryâs decisions were black and white, not bogged down by the details that an adult would take into consideration. There might have been plenty of debate among the other people trapped here, but in the end someone would die. It was all a matter of casting a vote, choosing whose life they were going to cut short. Broken bones were the punishment for taking mere items, how could Mary demand less for taking a life? She called this a game, but she held their lives in her hands, because she had all the cards and all the power. There was nothing to keep their roses safe if Mary decided to enforce this judgement.
Eris wound a loop of thread around her fingers, playing catâs cradle idly as she listened to the deliberation, watching the faces of those accused for the crimes. She jerked her hand sharply and the thread broke, a small smile curving almost imperceptibly on her face. They would cast their votes, and Mary would cut the threads.
It was time to play Maryâs new game with all her friends.
Thread Tracker
the-king-of-the-wind:Â disillusioned nobilityÂ
what-you-must-do: hole in the wall
v; Fabricated World:Â general thread tag, verse tag, muse update
resolutiontime recklessmoon indigoblues1412 taintcdpetals butyoudidntdie dxysoffxte whiteravenandblackdove petitdouxcoeur
âš âź âş Mylène spent her time around the gallery to her self, she occasionally was poking her head into the kitchen to get some food and not much more than that. She didnât like this place at all, and she was hoping that Ladybug and Chat Noir would appear to get them out of here. She attended the meeting, and recognized her fatherâs hat. She was scared for him, and there wasnât a single thing she could do. She didnât want to hurt anyone, the thought just made her shiver.
âš âź âş She knew that people were talking about going into the gallery at night, but that just seemed even scarier. She looked at someone and decided to finally speak up.
     âAâŚAre you going to the gallery tonight?â
There was a feeling of hesitance from the stranger, as if she almost wasnât sure she wanted to hear the answer. Eris smiled disarmingly, hoping to offer wordless assurance that she didnât mind the younger girl speaking to her.
âI am indeed. How about you?â She eyed the other girl, wondering how old she was. The gallery at night was not exactly a safe place. âIf you are, Iâd hold on tight to that rose of yours.â
ÂŚ âż ÂŚÂ Would it matter if she said she did mind? especially after she admitted she was a professional liar. didnât exactly make her more trustworthy in Mariâs mind.
        â âŚjust donât like something i drew.           itâs really nothing. â
The girlâs face was a clear rejection of the offer, so Eris chuckled and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.Â
âSorry, I guess youâre probably not really looking for sympathy or anything, are you? I sort of nosed into your business without permission.â The mention of art did catch her attention though. âYouâre an artist, hm? Iâve heard that an artist is their own worst critic.â
So theyâre going into the gallery tonight en masse, are they? Sheâs not going to miss this. Her eyes flicker around the group that is starting to gather, looking for someone who intends to take charge. A scapegoat, if things go wrong, the one everyone will pin their blame on. Some of them have armed themselves with flash lights, a smart move when the lights will be too dim to make out details. Sheâs used to moving about in the dark, but not everyone has her sharp eyesight.Â
She ensures that her rose is secure, knowing that risks will come with entering the gallery at night. Things change in there. Sheâs heard whispers of statues that move, and she knows that looking down the hallway toward the gallery at night doesnât always show the same room that is there during the daytime. Mary knows something they donât, or she wouldnât strongly suggest they stay out of there.Â
It had been some mere minutes ago since Kaito and Shinichiâs small reassuring speech towards each other when a voice suddenly popped their small bubble of reverie, a red haired female being the source.
âI canât be too sure. Iâm near enough to see the shades but far to distinguish between their colors and smell. As much as I hate to admit it, Iâm so used to blood because of cases but.. it does and at the same time does not look like one.â Shinichi gave a low hum before continuing, âI may have gone over there to check, but thatâd most likely result to punishment or worse.â
His companion added himself into the conversation casually, voice neutrally deceptive. âThere are. One of each from someone we knew. But there could be more with the piles over there making everything cluttered and unrecognizable.â eyes turning towards her, he added. âHow about you miss?â
She hadnât looked very hard, eyes briefly casting over the surfaces of the piles before sheâd turned away. Sheâd seen enough in that one glance to know that looking too closely would only bring thoughts she didnât really want to focus on. There had been a glimpse of white fabric close to the edge of one pile anyway, edged in a familiar blue and splattered in that far too bright red. The brightness against the white was what made her deny the possibility of blood, it was too red, unless it was fresh and that thought made her stomach churn.
âThere was something that might have belonged to someone I knew. It could just be a replica, or similar taste in clothing. I...didnât look very closely.â Her glance flickered around the room, looking for someone, but returned to her companions without finding what she sought. âThereâs someone important to me here already and I havenât seen them in a while, I really donât like to think about another one of my friends being stuck in here too.â
âYouâre used to blood you said?â she asked, looking at Shinichi. âWhen the room clears up a little and the people stop panicking, maybe we can go look a little closer at the stage.â They couldnât touch anything, but no one said they couldnât look. In fact, Mary hadnât even specified not to touch, just not to take anything. âIf itâs paint, the color shouldnât change, but blood...well itâs not so bright when itâs dry, is it.â
@indigoblues1412 liked for a starter
âItâs paint, obviously.â The comment might be directed at the man sheâs settled herself next to without invitation, or it might be to herself. âBlood doesnât stay red. Blood wouldnât be that color.â She didnât dare touch any of the items displayed on the stage to feel for wetness, to feel the texture of that red that stained so many, many items. Paint would feel different, wet or dry. She glanced sidelong at him, perhaps seeking validation for her comment or maybe just looking to distract herself.
âHas she got someone...something of yours in that pile up there?â There were a lot of people here, she knew that already, but the sheer number of red-stained items seemed too high.