#itsagraywcrld

[frigid-vitality]

@itsagraywcrld ↙↙ prev.

“Yeah?” Saint rhetorically asked with a short nod of his head, his brow furrowed as if were truly invested in this woman’s story. It was difficult not to follow the local media about certain crimes and situation when you were directly involved in them. He’s seen Eloise Gray’s name float around a bit, and her most recent article was hitting too close to home.

In fact, there had been a time where Saint attempted to tail Eloise’s vehicle. Not to necessarily cause her any harm, but to gain certain information about the young woman -- such as the car’s license plate. He was more than certain that this was Miss Journalist. Not seeking the woman’s permission, Saint leaned over and extended his arm through the opened window a flicked on the car’s interior light. A rude gesture to make, but this man was adamant. Now, she could see his face a bit more, and he could see hers.

“New, huh? Yeah - This ain’t the place you wanna be at during this time of night, lady. Bad things tend to happen quite a bit in this part of town...” He added in a way that could be either taken as a warning or a threat. “I noticed that you’ve been parked here for the past ten minutes or so. Didn’t seem like you were lost.”

His words may have painted him as a skeptical, but he allowed a smile to fashion to his face in any case. “You want me to point out the way that you need to go to get outta this area? I mean - ... you gotta learn how to drive in Detroit. This city can be not so nice to pretty things like you.”

[embraced-chaos-archive]

@itsagraywcrld

Camile handed the other woman a small business card. "My name is Camile Asher. Are you Eloise Gray? I was hoping to ask you a few questions." The card shows her name as she said, as well as that she was a social worker. 

This must be about Lana's adoption process. It was only natural this would be part of it all. Various kinds of interviews with potential families, their relatives, and friends were all common followed by home studies as well. Eloise's relationship with Lana as well as her relationship with Landon made her a natural point of contact in the process.

"I was hoping to talk to you and your son if that's alright?" 

[isitmeurlookin4]

【ｅｌｏｉｓｅ　ｇｒａｙ】 cont! @itsagraywcrld

Sometimes shadows move in broad daylight. Swift and overcast on the particular interest of the day; Joe had a gift. He knew how to move, weave and blend in with those around him. Whether personally this became aware to him is a debate for another time. His is precious. Down to a science inside his head there is no wasting it as he used up every bit.

He had eyes on her long before his head decided to wax poetic. Funny. Wasn't he just reminiscing about a past that went awry? Nothing ever good comes from dwelling but those nightmares have other things to say.

Joe watched beneath the shroud of a dark blue baseball cap. Obscuring his face enough with an angled dip of his head, the ever persistent bookstore manager pursued at a distance. In view on the street now with his head down there is one item he carried: an umbrella.

All this city does is rain but you brave it with nothing more than a dark blouse and jeans. Did you pick out that color to be modest in a downpour? Says a lot about you Ms Eloise Gray. You think ahead.

And that's right. I know your name. I make a habit of finding out anything I can about people I find interesting. Would that excite you? From some of the stories I've read penned by you I can sense your craving. Everybody wants something out of life. You're no different.

The rain is what made a difference. Clouds opened up, speckling the sidewalk where his pace grew steadily. With one hand he slid the cap off, stuffing it inside his jacket now. The umbrella popped open with a quick motion and that was Joe's introductory object. Making haste to reach closer behind the distracted redhead, Joe purposely knocked against her arm in the rush for cover from the storm.

" I am so sorry , " rushed apologies covered his tracks. " Couldn't see where I was going. Nasty weather got me. Here. It's pouring. " Offering her cover with the umbrella, he gave a warm friendly smile.

[chaos-is-us]

@itsagraywcrld​ said

“ so why’s it so important anyway? ”  (Angélica to Dorian uwu )

As Angélica questioned him, Dorian was arms deep into his backpack, pulling out several books and notebooks - and everything else in between in haphazardly way. With each thing he pulled out, he just shook his head.

“Because - I need them, Angie! My Cheez-It socks? I wear them every game! I won’t be able to throw right without it - and now? Now, I can’t find’em! They’ve gotta be at home. I - what - I gotta get them!”

[anderson-details]

@wynterlanding​ @itsagraywcrld​

[goldnfortune]

The thrill of a treasure hunt always grabs Callum Anderson's attention. Able to afford some of the bigger mystery lots was always a plus. He knew what he wanted. Searching for old, sometimes traditional pieces but mainly his heart rests with Greek relics.

Finding a clay pot dating back to the Byzantine era became his holy grail. The auction bid went up to a staggering $1.4 million dollars. Thankfully for him he found it a steal as that is not the only piece that came with the lot. He paid top dollar for the master craft work but an added bonus.

One such bonus he left for last. As it was bigger than the rest, Callum needed to get the pot on display. Giving it a prominent place in his main artifact room when he walked through the door; he carefully settled a glass case around the object. Though the art on it is faded a bit due to time, he can still make out the depiction of Athena. The goddess of war. They could make a representation of bloodshed so beautiful. Ancient Greece had a way about them.

He smiled. Giving a nod of his head there is no denying how lucky he is to have gotten this one. Another part of the purchase is a ceramic plate. Designed much the same way but not as old. Hand painted bronze and gold.

Picking it up and sitting it on a shelf with other collectibles, Callum turned now to the box remaining. With a box cutter in hand, slicing the blade through the tape, his brow furrowed digging through packing popcorn. The bits of styrofoam threatened to spill all over the floor. Giving a heave of the object inside unsettled and overflowed several pieces over the box rim.

Callum lifted the wooden box in his arms. It was heavier than expected but he managed. Setting it on a table, he smoothed a hand down the front. A bundle of grapes carved onto each door. Giving it the look of artistic handles; other than that it was old, a bit worn and plain for the auction it was included in.

When he pulled at the doors they became stuck. "Damn," he muttered, sliding fingers along the edges before he felt a small lock. At the top holding the front doors together is a rusted keyhole. That's why it won't open. Gotta be a key. But he'll deal with that idea later.

"Eloise! Come look at the find I bought!" His smile brightened as he wanted her to see the ancient Greek pottery, turning his back on the locked wooden box.

@itsagraywcrld || closed starter

[dexdgirl]

@itsagraywcrld // For Cody

There was always a small little corner for artists to sing how they felt. Everyday she would come to the spot to hear different people sing their hearts desires. But today.. It was empty. As long as she’s lived should she sing again?.. She wasn’t near any water. At least deep enough to drown someone.. She looks around as people walked to their destination.. Not paying any attention to anything but.. 

She fiddles with her fingers and takes a deep breath. Why not give it a try.. A voice so lost in the crowd.. She began to sing her song. The people slowed down at the sound. The voice almost pulling them towards her. 

They sway to the angelic voice. In a state they couldn’t even control themselves. One or two dropping their shopping bags to listen. 

[creation-is-chaos]

[ @itsagraywcrld liked for a vampire start @ here ]

The late age heralds in a new dawn. With an endless tirade of tyranny the surrounding villages have witnessed bloodshed calling back to a time of the Great Red War, some 350 years prior. Once the Red Kingdom thrived beyond all others; kings fell to the blades of red armor plated knights. Castles imploded to the strategies of war remarkably employed by its forgotten king. Now there is nothing but a myth to it all. Tales invoke wonder and carnage of the Bloody King. His memory exists only in the spoken word of peasants and in the annals of written history among monarchs. Even then those same monarchs have decided to forget those who came before them. After all they are the past. The future is what matters.

Fear and anarchy for the common folk has concluded with the end of this latest war. No more woes. No more destruction. There is celebration aplenty. The call of the moon festival falls as the people begin their lively worship of the red moon. The one time people recall the Red Kingdom that fell long ago with vigor is now. With the preparation of outdoor feasts and oncoming traditions, many are occupied with the festivities. It is not uncommon to expect new faces passing through. Following a war it is a nice change, a passing of the guard from strife.

As night chills and torches, candles light the ways of living, one such figure enters the village. The first sign of civilization in some time. A mixture of aromas are welcoming, enticing and tempting. A dark cloak layers behind the tall man as he wanders through. Attention is not so easily dismissed. Nor is it easy for others to ignore the new and fascinating. Several young village girls continued to watch, stare in curious secret at the stranger moving towards the inn. He stops near a cart of freshly collected fruits. Lifting a hand to the elderly woman there, she notices a ring on his hand. Seemingly black is its jewel until the fire light catches its surface creating a ruby shine. She takes gold coins from his slender fingers, eyes a bit wide at the amount he has offered but she allows him to take his fill of what she offers.