Snow Bird

Snow Bird is an RP character for Children of Athoria .

[orion-gray-blog]

Sing One More Song Mama FB308 || Snow & Orion

[orion-gray-blog]

How did she do this?! There was no way they could appear related, not with her skin white as the brightest snow falls. The guard seemed convinced, somehow. Orion couldn’t fathom the why. What was she to imprint such a blatant lie without challenge back? Fear crept up his spine, feeling another bruising grip to his arm as he was tugged and pulled away from the only person in this entire place that could save him. His eyes lingered on the guard’s face– staring with shock on his young face as they let him be taken away. Dragged roughly, with fake claims further off her tongue.

Orion’s magic ignited in his veins. Runes etched down his wrists. Carving into delicate skin with black lines wrapping around like iron cuffs. His mind expanded to slow the world down, though nothing outside of it was affected. Orion was seeing it from a different perspective. A Third Eye opening within him to catch the aura’s of all the passing people, and in seeing how empty the one was holding his person. 

“You don’t have a soul–” he gritted out, tugging on his arm for release. “I can hurt you worse than I did before if you don’t let me go. I want nothing to do with you– I don’t care who you are. It changes nothing! You killed my mom, but you won’t kill me.” 

A staff materialized in his hand for the first time ever. The runes of his magic igniting in a faint purple glow before the magical artifact summoned into his palm. The child couldn’t handle the magical draw of the weapon, the size of it alone taller than he was. But he grasped it tightly, the milky hue of his eyes haunting. Feeling as if his blood was boiling under all his skin made his lips tremble.

“You hurting me only makes me stronger. What are you? Why her?!” 

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

There went that boy’s tongue, again. Snow dropped the boy, staring at the staff silently; her blue hues narrowing to thin slits. Right here, in broad daylight? She scowled softly and stepped back gently, studying the boy silently for a second.

Then, she simply turned and began to walk away--pursing her lips thoughtfully, before she called, “If you want answers, you should follow.” She wasn’t a fool--she wasn’t going to try to take a staff from a boy who couldn’t possibly control the thing. And she wasn’t stupid enough to stand so close to him while he wielded it; especially if someone decided to pick issue with the kid.

He wasn’t her problem. Except... Isn’t he sort of your problem, Snow? You killed his mother, the voice in her head reminded her. You’re supposed to offer a safe home; a safe place... Yet you’re walking away. She slowed to a stop, turning to glance over her shoulder.

“Put the toy away. I’ll take you for something to eat--food, or something.” She could care less what the boy was; but she didn’t want to see him get himself killed.

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

There’s Always Trouble || SWP: A Bend in Time

[president-verin-blog]

Verin sighed a noise of annoyance at the London street. His dark gazed lifted up and down the alleyways while he walked. A cool confidence always followed the incubus, but he couldn’t shake the strangeness of the situation. He knew of some gifted human who could glamour their faces to appear different. He also knew the Fae could play such games, but this all reeked of himself. To the point he was convinced someone knew more than they were letting on. Maybe an old associate of Hell out for a quick vendetta against the incubus, or something more dire. 

The lead he had lead to a certain mortal captured like the fool he was in the Jails of England. Verin wanted information, but he was settling on his murder. Bribes could come easy, he knew of a few guards he could perhaps convince with his unique being if he had the time– but for once Verin’s mind wasn’t on sex. Vengeance and anger burned hotly in his gut, he wanted this loose end to perish as quickly as possible. 

He stood now, behind the woman bent forward in the shop window. His eyes carted up her pale neck, lingering darkly around to see what she was looking at. The Incubus knew her kind well. Found their services sometimes okay to indulge in when he didn’t spare the time in the Dream Realm. She humored to play coy and seductive, but it would not work on the likes of him. His sneer painted a reminder to his impatience, a tight curl of his fists to quell the rage enough he didn’t make a scene in the street. 

“I can put ten of those on your fingers,” he said without delay, hearing her words as if they hadn’t been whispered but spoken loudly in the few steps apart. “For a certain price– what is a whore’s price to do bidding beyond your profession.”

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Snow glanced at the reflection of herself in the window, as she pushed away from it, to face the man speaking to her. Her lips parted, as she eyed the man up, “Depends on what you want done.” She spoke, promptly. Blue hues flickered to study the male in front of her, and slowly she settled on the window-sill of the store, her head tipping to one side.

“I’ll kill for two-hundred gold pieces, or a gown worth that much. I’ll break into someone’s home for fifty-six pieces, or a nice ring...” She hummed in thought, before she gave another shrug. “There is not too many other things, aside from the proffered service, that I have been asked to do. I do believe anything more than that would require... another form of payment.”

A sly smirk settled upon her ruby lips as she tipped her head to one side, staring up at the sky. “I work alone–and at night.” Because for one, the sun was an irritating creation and she wished it gone; and two, the nighttime was when she was more likely to stumble upon some fun. After all, Snow had enough riches to live like royalty... Yet she enjoyed prostitution for one or two reasons–the secrets she learned about those who used her services; and the sex.

“Payment is half up-front; the rest after.” She ran a hard bargain for someone that had such an innocent face.

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

There’s Darkness Here || Mahalath

[knight-mahalath]

If Mahalath could compare any place on Earth to Hell, it would be the slums. The shanty town was a place of suffering, only the most poor and unfortunate dwelt there. It was a breeding ground for those like her, those born of the dark. Each of her Lord’s coveted elements reigned in the wretched place. Famine, illness, death, and war stalked every corner. It was no wonder her prey chose to flee here. 

The poor fool betrayed Seryth and their cause. She had to send them back ‘home’ before they could run to England and swear fealty to Oblitus Inferno. The last thing Belial and Verin needed was a Seryth refugee, feeding them all of her clan’s secrets. Now Mahalath and the traitor were caught in a game of cat and mouse; one that she was winning.  

As always, the demoness stuck to the high ground. There was no better way to hunt than from above. But she had to be careful where she stepped, one wrong move and she might end up sinking into someone’s home. The slums were so decrepit that none of the buildings were properly kept. It was a wonder the place was still standing at all. 

Finally, her eyes set on something promising. It was only for a moment, but she caught a glimpse of a moving shadow. And Mahalath wasn’t the only one to see it either. A young girl followed the movement to a dead end where her prey was no doubt hiding in plain sight. Shadow Demons were always tricky, they could render themselves invisible as well as any Phantom. 

Just when confusion claimed the girl, Mahalath watched an ink-black hand jut from the wall, clutching the stranger. The assassin saw her opportunity and leaped from her perch, diving right into the fray. 

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Snow froze, growling under her breath as she felt something grab her; struggling against the hold it had. Her brilliant hues were searching the darkness around her to find... well, the owner of the grasp; and upon finding no tangible creature that could have a hold like such on her, she struggled more.

Her movements stopped abruptly when she caught sight of the woman, who dove between whatever creature had held onto her, and herself. Snow stumbled backwards with a low growl, eyeing the strange woman as she spoke, her tone harsh; control was waxing. “What was that? There was nothing there!” 

The debate was in her head, as it always was: Should I run? Should I stay? Find out what it was? Do I care? Yes I care. Sure. It attacked me. Probably some kind of demon or something... The thought of demons in her territory; the Slums, was an upsetting notion--one that she understood could mean chaos. 

Little did Snow know, she had stumbled right into a demon. Her nostrils flared as she stared at the stranger, clearing her throat as she took another step backwards. Rage boiled underneath the surface of her eyes, swirled within that blue color, coiled in her throat, begging to be released in the form of words...

Or something worse.

She curled her fingers to her palms and stated quietly, “Who are you? What, I suppose is the correct phrasing, are you?”

[orion-gray-blog]

Sing One More Song Mama FB308 || Snow & Orion

[orion-gray-blog]

Tears burned down his cheeks, catching along his chin and tasting salty on his tongue. The world was a blur around him from them, barely able to see straight. Running into people’s shoulders with hard collisions. Scrambling, with seeking fingers for purchase to a guard– someone he could trust. He sobbed, but bit back the noise. Swallowing it down like a difficult potion until he finally saw someone in heavy armor. The man who had pushed him away from the cart of goods, Orion’s stomach growled in thought of something so sweet and delicious in the mists of his grief. 

“Sir! Please help me, she killed her,” he barely got the words out. The towering man lifted a brow down at him. Orion fell to his knees. He’d beg if he had too. 

What now? The booming voice of the Wayward Guard made his shoulders shake, and his body shiver. He couldn’t gather his head or tongue to speak more, desiring to sink in on himself. Bravery was hard when all he could think on was her face. How dead her eyes looked. How life and her soul had given her body the light Orion needed more than anything. His Mother’s love was the only good thing in his life. This horrible city…with these horrible people. 

“A girl, she killed my mom,” his bottom lip trembled, and he wished greatly he could speak louder. That he could explain better. “Please…” His eyes grew to an impossible size when he saw her, and pointed a finger towards the woman. “That’s her– she did it! She did it!”

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Snow stopped short, sighing audibly. “Sir, please forgive my younger brother—he’s being dramatic. Our mum died a few months ago, and he’s yet to let her go. I apologize for any inconvenience.” Hah. She could care less if the brat inconvenienced the guard.

She stooped down to pull the boy up by his left arm, her grasp rough—most likely bruising him—but she could care less. “Come on. Father will worry if we are not home soon.” She spoke, smiling pleasantly to the guard as she added, “I am sincerely sorry—he’s addled by insanity, I believe. Claims to see her, our mum.”

That should discredit any hope of the guard helping the brat. Should the guard turn away from them, she’d allow a harsh smirk to cross her lips; ruby tone only standing out against her pale skin. “Now come on, we’ll stop and get something to eat, too.”

As she spoke those words; she found herself wondering just how hungry the small creature in front of her was. She was certainly going to get him a meal or something—she was not that cruel; well… at least, she was not feeling so cruel currently. She knew how great meals could be to those who had little—she had seen the faces of the children in the orphanage light up when she brought some sort of delicacy for a meal.

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

There’s Always Trouble || SWP: A Bend in Time

[president-verin-blog]

“I feel like I have said this so many times Verin,” Sabnac’s hip rested against his dresser. Watching the incubus comb all his hair back and slip on a hat. Verin was dressed in layers of black fabrics, and leather armor. He never knew what trouble could arise while heading into the capitol. The Demon King would surely attempt a capture should it be recognized. At least he assumed so. Verin can count on one hand how many times he went to London, and none of them ended very well. 

“Your worrying never ceases to amuse me friend,” Verin’s sharp teeth curled into a thin smile. “You can come along if you want too. But I think we will stand out if we are seen together as we usually are.” 

“Just let me send a few trusted men into the city to check out these rumors. It makes no sense– you’d not be there. It could be a trap. Does Baalzebub have ally’s in London less the King? Seryth wouldn’t attempt a reach here I don’t believe– but with that ghost of yours coming by to collect those phantoms in our care I can only–”

“Sabnac,” Verin’s tone stopped his sentence mid way. “Your worrying has officially gotten on my last nerve.” He narrowed a pointed look towards Verin, and shifted forward to equip him with his own personal dagger on his hip. The incubus rarely got his hands dirty, but if someone wanted to play with his reputations than they had been be ready for vengeance. 

“Do you believe this is linked with the Royal Guards sticking their noses in those two warehouses?” Sabnac asked, walking by his side while they made their way down into the foyer. Verin nodded. 

“Who ever this person is posed like me well enough to get inside information I am privy to have them know. I will handle this. Let Belial know of my whereabouts. I will be gone for seven moons, meet me at the East gate of London when the last sun sets. If I am not there, you can enter the city with ten of your best men,” Verin added the last piece to give his friend, and main guard to his estate a job to quell the need to follow. Verin smirked at the eye roll, and with a blur of supernatural speed. Was on his way to London.  

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Snow gazed across the street she stood upon—she was seeking out a new mark; though whether she would find one was not up to her—it was up to her next mark. She was dressed lavishly, in a powder blue gown—a gift from a rather frequent user of her… services. Her fingers were adorned with silver rings of the gentlest variety.

As she wandered through the crowd, taking care to stand out—though if her dress did not cause her to stand out, her scent probably would—she never made any attempts to hide what she was. She took great pride in being an abomination. Just as she took great pride in killing and maiming… Ah, a sinister little smile claimed ruby-colored lips as she found her next mark.

She would not approach him—she was above begging for things; and often chose blackmail instead—it was less degrading, in her mind. She carried herself toward a shoppe window, gazing into the window quietly, humming to herself… She would not approach him—unless she had too. He was a handsome fellow; but something about him…

Drew her toward him; made her want to break her own rule—and she had never wanted to break her own rule, before. The thought caused her to purse her lips as she gazed into the shop window, shifting her weight gently.

“I wonder how that gem would look upon my finger…” she whispered, tapping a thin, petite finger against the glass gently.

[orion-gray-blog]

Sing One More Song Mama FB308 || Snow & Orion

[orion-gray-blog]

Magic filled out in his veins. His parents had said that he might not contain it. That it was always a risk when witches conceived with non gifted. But he could feel it come to life, twist as a darkness in his gut. Orion was small in size from being malnourished, but the woman’s cold hands on his skin made it feel like the hottest sun. He thrashed angrily. Feeling the bruises from the men earlier ache down his arms. Her soothing voice did nothing for him. She shouldn’t be able to carry him like this! He was a child– but he was no boy. 

“Murder!” he snarled in her face, scratching at her porcelain skin like a deranged feline high on feral instincts. Orion’s eyes were a milky white now, his iris’ wide and consumed in rage. “MURDER!” he screamed as loud as he could. Waiting the guards to come. They were here! He walked past them just a moment before for trying to steal bread. They would help him right? They will arrest her! Kill her if necessary! 

Shoving against her arms, he inhaled a gasp. The air around them displaced. A chill marking the ocean mist. Orion placed both hands on either side of her face. Forcing every particle of magic he had in his youthful self to make in her mind sound like a thousand bells had gone off at one time. An explosion of noise so violent it surely would kill a human– if she was. The second he was free from her tormenting grasp– he ran for help.

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Those eyes… He’s not human like the woman. He’s just a chi— And then, sound exploded inside her mind—the child’s grimy nails left marks against her porcelain flesh, and she snarled in pain, fingers losing their grip on the boy.

She stumbled, shaking her head—gasping raggedly. That explosion of noise was great—the boy had great power… She growled low against her fist, as she steadied on one of the containers, blinking back the tears that had flooded her vision. Her nose was pouring blood, she could taste her own iron-dappled nectar upon her lips, and she wiped her face with the back of one hand, growling.

Damn child. You’re mine, little mouse. Don’t think you’re getting off so easily… She growled under her breath as she struggled to compose herself. After a few moments—enough time for her prey to get out of her sight; but not out of her scent—she was moving, prowling through the streets, tracking his scent.

“Come out, come out… wherever you are,” she murmured, as she weaved through people—ignoring everyone and everything, but that scent.  She was lucky she hadn’t lost total control—the boy was playing with fire; and he did not even know it.

She was not exactly playing it safe, the boy was her target, and then she had to decide what to do with him when she found him. “Perhaps he’d make an addition to the orphanage… Skills like that, he could be a useful ally someday…” But who would ally with someone they saw kill their mother? That, was the ultimate question—the breaking-point of her thoughts.

“Perhaps death would be better suited… Little brat.” She muttered. Porcelain flesh was stained with blood—as her nose still had not stopped bleeding, and she just could not be bothered to wipe her face every few minutes. The scratches the boy had given her, marred her lovely features with, would fade soon enough—but for now, they were red and angry.

[orion-gray-blog]

Sing One More Song Mama FB308 || Snow & Orion

[orion-gray-blog]

Fists curled around the edge of his tunic, twisting the rough fabric against his palms. Because he knew those shouts. Knew that men could be rough with women when they weren’t entirely careful, and understood that his Mamá was someone who sometimes came home with bruises he didn’t like. He swallowed the fear that bubbled up his throat. Taking steps towards the docks, and the containers with which he saw the basic iron rings of her hand first. Her wrist followed, and her shoulders– until her lifeless face starred at him with deadened eyes. 

Shock overwhelmed the child instantly. Lips shivering, and legs trembling as his eyes went to an impossible size. His chest constricted to scream, but he could only collapse to his knees. Crawling over and placing his hands on her chest, running up to her neck where she was barely bleeding anymore. Orion barely realized the woman standing there. Grief struck him like a runaway bronco, barely able to breathe.

“Mamá…” the word died in his own throat, laying his head down against her breast where blood clotted down the side of his cheek. He closed his eyes. Thinking about all the steps he took to get here. That if he had just walked faster…if those men hadn’t grabbed him to taunt him with their jabs and pokes to steal his things. If he could just make more coin so she didn’t have to live in this horrible place. If his Father– damn him– cared enough about his family to work harder to get them the hell out of here. It all boiled to tipping point and Orion squeezed his eyes shut and released a frightening loud scream for help. 

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Snow had been gazing upon her kill—her fingers brushing the rest of the blood from her lips, when a boy stumbled into the equation. Her eyes darkened, considerably, and she hissed through her teeth, “Don’t you dare—” but then, he did. She snarled lightly, and raised her hand to hit the boy—but there was a moment, where Snow’s conscience broke through; just as her hand flew.

Fingers curled into her palm, inches away from coming into contact with the child’s head. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and leaned to try and scoop the boy up. If she were successful, she’d carry him over one shoulder, murmuring to herself, “He’s just a child.”

“Didn’t think she had a child.” But she knew that even if she had known the woman was a mother, they would still be where they were right now—after all, Snow was a monster, was she not? Tol could control her—tame her—but she could not control herself, half the time. Nor did she really care to try.

“What’s your name?” She inquired, tipping her head to try and gaze at the child. “I’m Snow.” She would pause, and then speak softly, “She is gone and there is no point in waiting for the authorities... I doubt they would do much for you, boy.”

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Bio for Doppelganger  Double Trouble Event for October

AGE: 1016

SPECIES: Hybrid

JOB/ROLE IN REALM: Prostitute

BASIC APPEARANCE: Snow dresses in skimpy outfits—revealing and unnecessary.

She’ll wear anything once. Oftentimes, Snow’s “lovers”—often married men—buy her beautiful clothing and jewels, as well as pay her a fee, to keep her quiet. Her hair is always down; never up, and she is often seen wandering the streets—attempting to lure yet another man into her “trap”.

PERSONALTY: Provocative. Outgoing. Easily Excited.

Snow is a very provocative female; she is often seen to be confident due to her outgoing nature; though at the same time, she is easily overexcited—and this can lead down paths they shouldn’t. She will often target married men—or men who appear to have riches. She’s not above targeting women, either.

MAIN PLOT FROM THEIR REALM: Snow is a prostitute who favors neither men nor women—only money; and finery. She roams the streets of England, looking for her next big con. Though she’s got money; she enjoys letting (rather, making) the people she sleeps with buy her nice things to get her to stay mute about their night together. She does not sleep with the same person twice.

[orion-gray-blog]

Sing One More Song Mama FB308 || Snow & Orion

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Snow appears 17; she is actually well into her ‘hundreds’.

Snow had stepped onto a boat. She had stowed away, not wishing to explain herself; as to why she wanted aboard a shipment full of goods and wares to England. That would have been hard to do–right? She had stayed seated below-deck, with the cargo the entire boat-ride. Though, at one point, a sailor had stumbled upon her form… and well, she was not exactly a happy camper during this moment; but he made a nice snack. She had stowed the sailors body in with some cargo–he would be found for sure.

But who would guess she had anything to do with it? She was just a little girl–how she hated being referred to as little–on the docks. She could hear when the ship docked; because the men began to prepare to unload the cargo–she knew she had to move. And, so, she did; once again her thankfulness was toward the abomination that she had become, all those years ago. 

As she rose to the deck, and swiftly exited the ship entirely, she blended in with the people around her–to some extent. She had dressed in very plain clothing, despite owning finer things that were acquired on her travels (though Snow does not currently travel in the present-time, travelling was once a very large part of her life). 

She pursed her lips. She was not certain how Tol would react if she managed to find him; though she could not stay too long from the orphanage, Carissa wouldn’t be able to handle the children on her own–Carissa being an ex-orphan of the orphanage; she was a werewolf, who currently believed strongly in Snow and Tol’s cause–so she had gladly given her time to watch the children and allow Snow to seek out the ‘masked man’. 

A huff passed her lips as she closed her eyes–taking a soft breath. The kill from the cargo-hold had only stirred her hunger more. How does Tol do this? She thought inwardly, as she stalked through the crowd–only pausing when the lilting voice of what could only be some kind of angel met her ears. It became her mission then, to seek the owner of the voice out… And there, near the end of the pier–furthest from the docked ship, was a woman.

No, a Goddess. Snow’s blue hues studied the female, as she slowly moved closer. The woman had luscious curves, and beautiful hair–though Snow was not truly focused on the beauty of the woman in any sense–but rather… the scent she wore. She’ll be mine.

The promise was made. Snow would linger in the crowds around her, watching the woman with thoughtful eyes; waiting for her to start heading elsewhere. This was much too public of a place for her to feed. 

[orion-gray-blog]

“Don’t touch me,” he growled and managed to shove the man away from him. Drawing a dagger with a icy sneer. “I have nothin’ on me less this sack of a tunic, and you are wearing a something more than aye.” 

The rotten teeth from the old sailor grinned to show off wooden pieces lodged in the many holes of his mouth. Orion’s heart hammered. This was why he didn’t travel this close to the docks without friends. It was safer to move in numbers, especially as a kid. He didn’t say more. Just backed away, taking his leave while the man shared a laugh with his friends. Maybe they were just fucking with him. It was hard to know when the liqueur filled their bellies more than substance. Orion wasn’t pursued, but a grimy hand-print had reddened a bruise on his bicep. 

He shook the limb to remove the numbing sensation from being dragged into that house. The ocean was getting louder, and he was surprised to not hear his Mama’s voice already. He ducked under various shipping crates, pully’s and dolly systems hulling massive shipments into the air where they landed on countless carriages. For the time of day the place was hopping, and he hadn’t realized he might be able to steal a little something if he stuck to the crowds. Maybe just a small little treat. 

“Outta here!” he was shoved before he could get close enough, the guard pressing a heavy armored palm against his back with a firm expulsion nearly sending him onto his face. He was barely skin and bones as it was, but Orion caught his hand around a flag pole baring the King’s symbol and glared the man’s way. His nose bled. The guards left nostril oozed a crimson line down his face, and Orion twisted his thoughts. Demanding his barely there magic to further hurt the man. But it didn’t do more. Only a line of red that Orion watched drip onto the cobblestone, the guard seemed more annoyed than hurt. 

Figures. “[Righteous pig],” he grumbled in Spanish. With a grumpy fold of his arms he made his way to the water. Trying his best to stay out of the way. 

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

The woman had moved. And Snow had followed the enchantress. The woman had started past her; closer to the docks, and Snow had simply reached out and grabbed her. The ruckus was too loud for anyone to truly pinpoint the woman’s shout and before long, Snow Bird had pulled the female behind one of the large containers.

It’s so public… Ah, hell. I don’t care. Tol will clean up. She thought to herself, as she covered the woman’s mouth with one, small hand. Fangs met flesh, and those blue eyes closed. Her senses were hyper focused on the woman in her arms, as she fed—the crimson life force was like a sweet, sweet candy—she could not get enough.

She had not been paying attention to ensure that nobody was watching her, however, which once she realized this, she stepped away from the woman. The singing enchantress of the port fell to the ground in front of her, and Snow pursed her lips, tongue peeking from her mouth to lap the leftover taste.

She almost felt guilty—but then, at the same time... She felt satiated. For now.

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

"If I hide, you cannot see me--but if I stand still, in a crowd, you will not see me.” 

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

There’s Always Trouble || SWP: A Bend in Time

@president-verin

London, England

Snow Bird stared in disbelief at the man before her. Her nostrils flared. “Tell me again?” She inquired, staring the male down. He appeared much older than she—though, she did not age. She reached a finger to trail across the male’s cheek, “What are they saying?”

The man, a boy dubbed ‘Hunter’ by Snow, stepped backwards. “They’re sayin’ you’re there—that you’re causing trouble.” He murmured, shifting his steps. “I left as soon as I heard the claims they were making, because I know you’ve not gone to England—not lately.” Snow chewed her lower lip, that intense gaze staring at the man. “No… I’ve not been to England in a while—I simply reach out through the ‘grown ones’ and the allies to learn of anymore hybrids…” She hissed through her teeth.

“But I’ll be going now. You watch them.” She waved a hand toward the run-down building behind her; as they had been talking in an alley. “Tell them I’ve gone off to England—tell them I’ll return soon enough, not to worry.” The man began to protest, before her bright, illuminated gaze locked on him again. “And keep the peace.” She growled, the warning low in her throat.

Hunter was left to watch as Snow stalked off, his eyes wide. “She’s not happy, is she…” he mumbled, as he turned to stare at the orphanage he was supposed to watch after. “…Why couldn’t she just get Tol to deal with it?” He grumbled, as he stalked inside the run-down place.

Snow Bird did not pay mind to those she passed, as she stalked under the cover of darkness, to find the best place to shift—to change into the form she adored the most; the one she wished to reside in the most, if she were able to pass in normal society as such.

The forest was welcomed; it was a second home, if not her primary residence at night (usually on nights when Tol was away; which was quite often). She stretched her legs as she disrobed, tying her clothing into a knot with the twine she had kept her hair up with, before she allowed the shift to take over.

She welcomed the pain—pain kept her sane; as sane as she could be, forever locked in this body. She was silent—disciplined over the years to bare the pain silently as possible—despite a few whimpers and moans. Her shifted form, the Garou that she adored, towered roughly seven feet and some inches tall…

The focus was skewed—she could hunt; she could kill… Bloodlust loomed just at the edge of her mind—yet Snow focused on her purpose—to clear her name before she could be confronted by Tol; or revealed in the furthermost parts of England. Her contacts would surely drop her if her name was tarnished.

Clawed fingers claimed her clothes, and hugged them to her chest as she bounded through the forest—she was heading toward the ports. It took her a while—but a lot less than it would have taken if she had walked, or ridden a horse; or even a carriage. The sun was rising in the sky as she came upon the salty scent of the ocean. She stopped a few yards from the ports, to redress herself after shifting from her Garou form to her human—the size difference was almost laughable.

Dressed once more, Snow Bird paused to slip a small vial of potent lilac scent from the pouch she wore around her neck, and she rubbed her throat and wrists with the scent, before sprinkling some throughout her hair. She was paranoid about being found out—putting Tol, the children, her contacts… all of them in danger. So, she attempted to mask her scent.

She slipped from the woods, blazing blue hues seeking a docked ship—probably docked for the night; but she could work with that, couldn’t she? She grinned slightly as she found one—a little rickety, but it would certainly do. She stood in front of the ship, waiting to see if she could hear anyone onboard. Hearing nothing that gave tell of anyone aboard being awake, she stepped onto the ship, and moved below the deck—into the cargo hold; which was mostly just empty crates or wares they’d bought in Athoria to take to England. Commerce was key to the economy, right?

She settled behind a few crates, closing her eyes. Perhaps one day she’d pay for a ship to take her somewhere… but today, was not that day. She was alert, as she rested—though as the ship came to life above-deck, she was not bothered. Who would think to check the cargo hold, right?

Snow didn’t bother keeping up with how long it had been—how much time had passed. She just knew that the ship was docking soon; she could hear them talking—the excitement in their voices; and she listened as they spoke of unloading the ship after visiting the tavern. Good… Good. She wouldn’t need to rush to get off.

Once the men had left the ship—more or less—Snow went above-deck, mindful of the fact they had probably left one or two men aboard to watch their shipment. Some good that did. She thought, shaking her head as she slipped down the side of the ship, feet hitting the dock quietly. The hustle-and-bustle of the place hid the fact she had just slipped off a ship; and she started forward.

[orion-gray-blog]

Sing One More Song Mama FB308 || Snow & Orion

Wayward Harbor, England Orion is 12 Years Old

He hated this wretched place.

A frown marked proudly on Orion’s soft, childish features. Feet stomping through shit, and mud piled up grossly out abandoned houses on his way through town. He could hear people having sex in one of the rooms temporarily rented out before the tax man showed up. Wayward Harbor could barely survive under these conditions. And yet the King did nothing to help them, just taxes. The poor fighting and stealing for any scrap of food they could find. And the imagery of the stunning, beautiful ships from Athoria holding promise of goods only for the guards to lead them out to the cities and capitol. 

Orion huffed. His boots laced up his shins, and towards his thighs reeked in sewer now, but it was the shortest way to get to where he believed his mother was. He missed her. But with his Father being the cowardly man he always was, too scared to work as hard as she did– forced her to be gone for days sometimes. Singing her heart out. Being this siren on the docks that lead so many sailors to her knees just to be apart of her beautiful songs. 

The child’s legs ached from the long journey down the sloped hills. It had taken all day to get into the heart of the city. Their family lived on the cliffs overlooking the water. Far enough out that they didn’t get robbed often– though Orion had a nasty scar on his stomach from a man who cut him when he had been home alone and wanted his bread. The cut hadn’t been the worse part. His hunger always was. 

On queue the organ growled. And he prayed his mom had some coins for him.

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

Snow appears 17; she is actually well into her ‘hundreds’.

Snow had stepped onto a boat. She had stowed away, not wishing to explain herself; as to why she wanted aboard a shipment full of goods and wares to England. That would have been hard to do--right? She had stayed seated below-deck, with the cargo the entire boat-ride. Though, at one point, a sailor had stumbled upon her form... and well, she was not exactly a happy camper during this moment; but he made a nice snack. She had stowed the sailors body in with some cargo--he would be found for sure.

But who would guess she had anything to do with it? She was just a little girl--how she hated being referred to as little--on the docks. She could hear when the ship docked; because the men began to prepare to unload the cargo--she knew she had to move. And, so, she did; once again her thankfulness was toward the abomination that she had become, all those years ago. 

As she rose to the deck, and swiftly exited the ship entirely, she blended in with the people around her--to some extent. She had dressed in very plain clothing, despite owning finer things that were acquired on her travels (though Snow does not currently travel in the present-time, travelling was once a very large part of her life). 

She pursed her lips. She was not certain how Tol would react if she managed to find him; though she could not stay too long from the orphanage, Carissa wouldn’t be able to handle the children on her own--Carissa being an ex-orphan of the orphanage; she was a werewolf, who currently believed strongly in Snow and Tol’s cause--so she had gladly given her time to watch the children and allow Snow to seek out the ‘masked man’. 

A huff passed her lips as she closed her eyes--taking a soft breath. The kill from the cargo-hold had only stirred her hunger more. How does Tol do this? She thought inwardly, as she stalked through the crowd--only pausing when the lilting voice of what could only be some kind of angel met her ears. It became her mission then, to seek the owner of the voice out... And there, near the end of the pier--furthest from the docked ship, was a woman.

No, a Goddess. Snow’s blue hues studied the female, as she slowly moved closer. The woman had luscious curves, and beautiful hair--though Snow was not truly focused on the beauty of the woman in any sense--but rather... the scent she wore. She’ll be mine.

The promise was made. Snow would linger in the crowds around her, watching the woman with thoughtful eyes; waiting for her to start heading elsewhere. This was much too public of a place for her to feed. 

An Impossible Guide to: Blood Loss

Blood loss in fiction is often written very unrealistically. So here’s a short guide about blood loss and the effects to help you out a little. 

First of all: The average healthy adult human body contains around 5 litres of blood. A healthy person can lose 10%-15% of their total blood volume without experiencing any difficulties and blood donations usually take 8%-10% of the donor’s blood.

Now let's get to the facts about blood loss:

Class I Hemorrhage | 0%-15% | Minimal blood loss No change in vitals, you may experience anxiousness. In almost all cases blood transfusion won’t be necessary. You will LIVE Class II Hemorrhage | 15%-30% | Mild blood loss Rapid heart beat and decrease in pulse pressure. Rapid breathing. Skin may start to lose temperature and start to look pale. You may feel anxious, irritable and confused. In most cases blood transfusion won’t be necessary. You will LIVE Class II Hemorrhage | 30%-40% | Moderate blood loss Heart rate increases. Shock. Mental status worsens. Blood pressure drops. Lightheadedness/dizziness. Nausea. Blood transfusion is necessary. If you get help in time, you will LIVE Class IV Hemorrhage | >40% | Severe blood loss Symptoms intensify. Probably unconscious. Aggressive resuscitation is required to prevent death. Losing >40% of your total blood volume may be fatal, you will probably DIE.

The chances of surviving after losing 3 litres of blood are REALLY low, the average person doesn’t survive this, so please don’t write a scene where a character loses that much blood without dying. It’s not really realistic.

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

“Trust is a fragile thing. But I am not so fragile.”

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

“There’s nothing quite like feeling the urge to destroy.”

[snowbirdrpg-blog]

There’s Darkness Here || Mahalath

Snow stared into space; her gaze fixating on the moon as she walked. She must be daft to be walking at such an hour; but alas, the slums were treacherous any hour of any given day. Why was tonight any different? Though, a part of her understood—a part of her believed she was invincible. She scowled quietly to herself,  shaking her head.

“But invincibility is a false sense of security, Snow.” She whispered the words to herself, as she twirled. She felt safest at night—the streets were usually clear; usually free of souls. Though, it was unfortunate when she called attention to herself—not as though she truly wanted attention called to herself, after all. It was a side effect.

A side effect of being what she was.

She pursed her lips, as her gaze wandered the darkened, empty street in front of her. She was thankful, for the time being. She could wander—staying near the children for so long, was simply exhausting. Yes, she adored the children—she loved teaching them. But she despised having to pretend she truly did not wish to roam the streets—to find a fresh pint of blood to splatter upon the ground. Her own masterpiece.

A shuddering breath passed her lips as she stopped in the center of the street, her bright hues had locked onto a figure that had moved; she had seen it out of the corner of her eye, on her left side. And slowly, she turned to watch.

It was a child—not one of hers; all of hers stayed inside during the darkened hours, unless they were with her. They knew better than to roam about. And because it was not one of hers, her earlier thoughts certainly applied. She shifted, taking a step backwards, and than one forward, before she managed to clear her head long enough to speak, “Child, do you not know how dangerous it is at night?”

She took a step forward, lips curving upward, into a slight smile, though not a truthful one. “Thieves and demons roam these streets, child... Sometimes abominations, as well. You are better off…” her thin fingers curled against her hips, the thin layers of her dress ignored as she dug her nails into her own flesh—to bring herself back to reality—yes. “…staying with your mother. Or whatever group you are with, currently.”

She stepped forward once more, leaning to offer a forced smile—still managing to present it as sincere. Snow’s lips parted, as the little one spoke: “M… My mum went that’a way, m… missus.” And as the child darted off into the night, the poor creature tripped.

And with the child’s fall, came the soft—enticing scent of blood. Snow shifted her weight, anxiously. She bit hard into her lip as she watched the child, eyes narrowing to thin slits as she crouched, as if to help the creature to its feet.

However, she did not move to help. She stayed crouched, fingers gripping at the dirt in front of her, and for a second, her instinct was to tackle the child—chase it, once it began to run. Hell, she would have ran too, if she’d heard the low growl that emitted from her throat.

Her breathing came in short, heavy bursts—and eventually, she shoved herself from the crouch onto her bottom, fingers twisting into her dark locks as she stared silently after the child; only the darkness before her.

“You can’t do that, Snow.” She whispered, her breathing shuddering for a moment. “You simply are not allowed to do that. Not anymore.” How many times had she said that? Hah. How many times had that actually worked? A soft chortle left her lips, and soon enough, that quiet laughter was muffled by her hands, her teeth sank into the flesh at the base of her palms.

Her gaze had captured something—or perhaps someone—else. But who? And had they seen her actions? She tensed, fingers curling against her face, as her gaze focused on the seemingly dark corner—before she began toward that corner.

She paused, staring as she found the corner to be completely empty. How odd. She stood there, studying the spot she thought she had seen something…

Snow shook her head, “I must be seeing things...”