#&. casper

[mavenlockwood]

❛   Heroes always get remembered, but you know legends never die

@casperhahn

[mavenlockwood]

@casperhahn​

“Dude, check these out.” Maven says eagerly, weaving through the busy crowd back to Casper’s side with her prize in hand. She opens the small plastic shopping bag, pulling out the little pins that she had just bought from one of the vendors, a mischievous grin on her face as she shows them to her companion. It’s a medium-sized pair of cat and rooster pins, in the colors of a rainbow, and she holds them like they’re made of gold. “Get it? It’s a cock and pussy.” She actually giggles a little bit, because sometimes Maven has the sense of humor of a ten year old. “Come on, which do you want? Or you can wear both, and we can go get some more.” She herself already has a bisexual butterfly pin against her shirt, but there’s always room for more. Especially for funny ones. 

[aellateresi]

“What are you doing here?” The words are sharp, accusatory, but Aella is startled as she stares at the man in front of her. A shifter, though that matters little in face of the fact that it’s an unknown man currently found within the home within the forest. It’s a place the other dryads have found, safe from the outside world, and she is intent to keep in that way. Her hand reaches for the blade at her side — the axe Aella usually swings is not within reach, but the dryad is never truly unarmed, despite the strange rules this age has put into place. “Who are you? How did you find this place?” ( @casperhahn​ )

[mavenlockwood]

❛ bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing. ❜

Maven snorts, undignified and unladylike, and doesn’t even deign him a glance in reward for his fatuous statement. “Yeah? Well then ours must be just fucking peachy right now.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s the smallest little smile against her lips regardless. If nothing else, Casper can always be relied upon to be entertaining, even in an unlucky situation. “Now put down that damn camera and come help me get this open, or else we’ll be stuck in here until they come with the keys in the morning.” 

[corrxna]

☩ a dream my muse has about your muse

@casperbordeaux​

☩ a dream my muse has about your muse

The clock had just ticked past four o’clock in the morning. Delicate moonlight streamed through paper thin curtains into the young witch’s bedroom, as she’d forgotten to pull them closed before shutting her eyes for the night. It was an early night filled with nothing more than the company of herself and the occasional family member or two. Friends were occupied, and Corrina had not sought them out for any kind of outing. Everything was very, very quiet. Still, she found peace in it, relishing in the alone time to just be.

She’d been occupied by a deep, sound sleep for some hours now. Nothing had bothered her awake or disturbed her dreamless state. A black nothingness occupied her mind. Gradually, a bright white overtook it, placing herself in day-like clothing in the middle of a tundra. Not a tundra, but a vast, bright wasteland that eventually became the space of The Frey. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she’d dreamed of The Frey plenty of times before. A place she spent a tremendous amount of time growing up and even still, to this day, it’d been the subject of more than a hundred of her dreamscapes, she was absolutely sure of it.

Normalcy overtook her. Besides the eerie emptiness of the magical, black market, all seemed exactly the same as the last time she was there. Regular stalls and booths lined the halls; scattered throughout were her favorites. Even the occasional familiar face flitted by, seen standing at their respective stalls before disappearing a moment later. A look of fear on their faces. Corrina did nothing but furrow her brows and glance around, aiming her gaze at anything that would give her a clue as to why her fleeting company was just that. She felt but a singular presence, one that was off putting at best but impossibly hard to put her finger on.

Quick figures sped around her, flying from Frey stall to Frey stall, hiding behind their contents. It seemed she had misjudged the number of people or things present. These games came to an end far quicker than she anticipated they would, her judgement alarmingly off during this time. Casper Bordeaux rounded a corner. He stood far from her, just staring. No movement came from either of them as they both stood staring uncomfortably at the other. She couldn’t do much, considering he wasn’t doing much. Waiting for him to do or say something was an enormous waste of figmented time.

She blinked, and suddenly it was no longer Casper who stood before her. Noah, the eldest Bordeaux, took his place. But then she squinted, narrowing her gaze in on who she thought was the monster once more, and he was Casper again. Casper, then Noah. Casper, then Noah. Their appearances morphed into each other and back again, and again, and again. Each and every time she blinked or squinted or rubbed her eyes. And still, nothing was happening. The initial jolt of fear that blazed through her chest was gone just as Noah appeared the third time, the effect wearing off quickly after she realized this would go on forever.

Her eyes shot to both left and right sides of her, as if she’d find someone to ask a meaningless question to. Subtly, but surely, the figure of the brothers moved closer. Inch by inch, but they hadn’t moved a muscle. Their gaze was unwavering and unsettling, and still they morphed from one to the other. She felt her heartbeat accelerate with every inch closer they moved. Casper, then Noah. Three times, four times, ten times – until he stood only a few yards out. The form permanently changed to Noah, dark veins rushed from beneath his eyes and fangs protruded from a cheshire smile. He lunged at her, a scream ripped from her throat the same time of his impact. There lay her ceiling. Her plain, off white ceiling.

Elbows came to rest on knees as she desperately pushed herself out of her laying position, hands wiped past tired eyes and knotted hair. Her eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings of her bedroom. A moment was allowed for short and incomplete contemplation of the nightmare. She stood, allowing her heart to decelerate as she slowly reached the window sill. She pulled the respective curtains to a close and enveloped her room in darkness, the way it should have been the first time.