Chaos existed beyond these walls tonight, but as with much of the time since the gala, that door was designed to shut it all out. Zera was good at being alone, making for herself a cave out of anywhere. Things of the mortal world had long lost its meaning after they came for her and her family, but being dead had brought a new perspective.
No, that wasn't quite true. Something else had. "We must get that 'fever' down," she teased with a soft tsk toward the woman on her couch, "what kind of medicine do you want?"
It was that time again. The full moon, he wanted to get home immediatadely. He didn't forget the last time-and even if he's in a different vessel, Finn wasn't that much of a risk taker. Yet the psychic was on edge. Finn ran into a random building the minute he heard a howl. He looked around pretending he wasn't scared.
the night was eerily quiet , which was never a good sign in new orleans . the moon would be out soon , the hunt would be on . doors were locked , some boarded up to keep the monsters out , but boy were they wrong . the oea was back at their best again , hunters scouting every space they could think of for their hidden victims . it was quite a skill for the witch to blend in so easily , weeding her way through groups , spells muttered to put them fast asleep . the wolves could come out to take their revenge without retaliation , or they could chain the hunters right up as they've been for years . coming across somewhere she more than likely shouldn't be , the hood from the cloak was pulled down , surveying the room in interest . " well this won't do . "
Laine readied herself for a long night, helping herself to a glass of wine as she checked through all her supplies one more time. The last thing a hunter wanted to run out of on a night like tonight was bullets. Securing her belt around her hips, slipping knives into sheaths, holstering her smaller guns, it was nearly time.
"A rare moment when you're almost on time," she mused as her periphery spotted her partner for the evening's festivities. Grabbing her rifle, she cocked it as she warned before he started on his smarmy, pseudo-charismatic shit, "say less."
Wolfsbane weakened him, the taste bitter and vile, even diluted. It burned, his stomach churning, even after days of preparation. As if he started early, this would all hurt less, but that was a thought for a fool's comfort.
The chains dragged across the ground as he moved. The cellar was damp and dark, not the woods where he'd have preferred to take this. However, safety was of utmost importance tonight. Even that comfort was missing from his first turn. He knew he had to find a state of calm, to accept it, but he paced anxiously instead. "When I say go, I need you to go," he reminded her, "stay in the compound, you'll be safe."
This was between him and his father. A battle still raging long after the embers of the home they shared were dimmed to dormant ash. The last of his father's power over him was realized: they were the same monster. They would break the same, twist and contort the same, scream the same. Look at me and trust me when I tell you, that you are not the same. The last pain his father would cause...this is the last pain his father would cause.
"I know violence..." His body shifted, shoulders rolled as if to battle the tension or to ready itself. His temperature felt too high, like he was burning from inside out. Let it in, he reminded himself, let it swallow you.
His fathers' fist collided against his jaw, his chest, his arm extended in self-protection, the assault continued unrelenting.
His body held on, a living memory, the imprint on his skin. Scars told their stories, and what healed left invisible marks.
"I know violence..."
A grab of a collar, a swing...hands around his throat, squeezing until oxygen no longer flowed.
The body remembered.
"I know violence..."
Jabs from more delicate fingers, the way it radiated through him. He'd been beaten so many times, and yet, that had caused the most pain.
"I know violence..."
A sensation in his jaw, a crack perhaps, something else broken. The cycle returning to his family.
"I know pain." He gazed up, unable to see the moon from here, but he could feel her. "So come on," he breathed, begging for it to begin. To be over.
"It doesn't stop, does it?" He finally asked for confirmation he didn't need. There would be no blacking out, no escaping somewhere else, he would feel every second of it.
Without warning, his arm twisted, snapping in multiple places at once, and he screamed. Crumbling to the ground, feeling everything begin to shift inside, he braced himself with his other hand as he gagged on the feeling his organs were rearranging. "Billie--" he begged, choking out between groans of agony, "go get her...Riley, please. I--I need..." As chain scraped against the concrete, he reached for the shirt instead, the one she made sure he had, the one with her scent, collapsing with neither arm to hold him up. "I'm sorry," he mumbled as his lip trembled as violently as the pull of the moon on his body, "I'm sorry...but it--it hurts."
---
He finally became quieter again, convulsing on the ground. "My girls," he mumbled, as the closeness of Riley filled his senses in combination with the shirt he held firm in his grip. He did it all for them, the best of him. Shifting his weight across the floor, he laid his head in Riley's lap, trying to get a good breath but he couldn't fully. The breaths were short, labored, quick. The urge to fight was too strong, to not let it take him. "Is it ironic that I feel like I'm on fire? That's ironic, right? Is it funny? A little...?" He couldn't stop shaking, tears making track after track down his cheeks as he blathered away in near incoherence.
His breathing became a hyperventilation, and he could feel more coming. "No...no...no," he pleaded, jerking away from her as the bones cracked, joints popped out of sockets, an unspeakable pain all the way down his back. From somewhere visceral, the power of his own screams seemed almost raised him off the earth. "Stop! Make it stop," he cried, "it hurts, it hurts, it hurts..."
They were too far gone now, and there was no return. The time had felt like half a dozen eternities. "Go," he finally demanded, looking up to meet the eyes of his best friend. The other half of his soul. He fought to hold it back as long as he could, but he knew. His uncle was right. He knew what he had to do, and though his mother had been speaking of her ring in the moment, he heard her still: accepting this won’t mean you’re being beaten.
"It's time." With a sense of unusual calm as if they lingered briefly in the eye of the storm, he could only mouth the words, "I love you." Eyes closing, he felt the moon and in the same way he'd learned to let magic flow through him, he allowed it to take him. He let it in. His body thrown back like it was going to be folded in half, ankles twisting, wrists snapping, spine contorting and reforming, the sounds of breaking created a cacophony paired his own piercing cry as it filled the room. When his eyes reopened, they had found their shift to glowing golden.
That's how you got here, how you escaped him because you're too full of life for darkness to take you.
From deep within, he pulled from all his strength and released a final guttural cry until it transitioned into a growl, wordless and untamed. All that was Briggs Mikaelson became something else. He clamored on the chains, fighting his own captivity. The moon at its apex in the sky had at last swallowed him whole.
But he had learned something that night: he hadn't known pain at all. Nor had he known his own strength.
Given the distressing events of the gala, you might be concerned that the OEA numbers have since dwindled, but fear not their plan had always been firmly in place. With the full moon rapidly approaching and a room full of unpredictable supernatural in attendance, they had anticipated an onslaught of newly triggered wolves to be joining those ranks this full moon. Encouraged it, even.
The OEA have since finished burning their deceased, ironic, no? and the higher ups have brought in new recruits from all over. Despite the curfew currently being null and void however, it doesn’t mean that you’re safe to be walking the streets tonight.
The full moon is here and it is guaranteed to be a rough one. Witch activity will be at an all time high and those subjected to the werewolf curse will have to find somewhere safe to turn, because the OEA will be out for fresh blood. Here’s a friendly reminder for our vampires too, stay out of the way of the wolves, there might be a cure for the bite walking the streets – but is it really worth the risk?
For our members of the OEA, tonight is a celebration. A hunting party if you will. You're tasked with exposing locations being used by the werewolves and of course, tasked with eliminating any supernatural on sight.
Happy full moon everybody, let’s all try to survive, shall we?
OOC information:
We’re back but don’t worry we’re going easy on you this time. Kind of.
We’re excited to be posting our first full moon mini event, which unlike regular events it won’t be compulsory to pause any outside threads. As usual, post your starters with @exitiumstarter and you can tag threads with exitium.fm001 for ease of tracking.
We can't wait to see what plots you wonderful lot bring to the dash and if anybody has any questions don’t hesitate to throw them our way.
