#rrp:event

[hadrianmordecai-blog]

Devil’s in the Details | O

Hadrian had left Amory with Eva and her devilish devices to roam freely throughout the Festival. If he had it his way, they’d be hauled up in their room with a Do Not Disturb on the door instead, but alas, appearances must be kept and the devil was in the details. It wasn’t that he was an innately peaceful man. Given what he was, violence and destruction had been his middle name for a long time, but they had a life here. A life that took centuries to build and mould. A war wouldn’t stop or hinder it, but it would certainly be a nuisance, which was exactly why Hadrian had been such an advocate for the Accords during their inception and why he was here still, maintaining those appearances. 

A gust of wind kicked the back of his fur lined coat against his legs as Hades tugged the lapels tighter. Of course, the Vampire couldn’t feel the wind, or the chill of the night, but a human would. A heavily tattooed hand dug around the inside breast pocket to find a cigar, 24k gold lighter and cutters. The leather cuff around that served as a finger grip was an old mahogany with a gold letter A embossed with delicate calligraphy into the thin material.

You could say many things about Atticus Altair, that he was the finest cigar merchant this side of the border was most definitely one of them. His opinion of the merchandise irrelevant to the fact that it was his son who does the buying for Amarillo Imports. 

A flicker, sizzle and a few pumps later and the tip flared to life. Eyes as clear as diamonds glanced out across the broad expanse of Roseville, taking in the sights of all that Floriade had to offer. The best way to maintain peace after a tragedy, was to remain open and receiving to communication... 

...Regardless of how little he gave a fuck.

[aureliusshepherd]

winter flowers || open

It wasn’t intentional, really, but it occurred to Aurelius, as his boots crunched down snow gone off-white and compressed by the passage of countless feet, that he hadn’t been downtown in months. There simply wasn’t much to draw his attention there. The few locations that were open past sundown weren’t exactly competition for staying home. But Floriade, well, the festival was probably the only time of year when Aurelius could be counted on to make an appearance downtown with at least reasonable consistency. After all, he couldn’t count on Hadrian’s promises of dragging him along behind him being nothing but empty threats. He knew his brother. He’d do it.

As he crossed the nebulous line into the festival proper, a delineation marked only by the increasing level of lights and intricate floral decorations, interspersed with banners and streamers and all things festive, Aurelius took in the scene before him with care. It wasn’t that Aurelius didn’t like the festival- it was undeniably beautiful, and in the Accords it commemorated a thing he supported, but it also came with an inherent implication that he was supposed to talk to people. Which was somewhat unfortunate. 

A child with a bright smile and a crown of flowers offered him a purple flower from the bunch cradled in his arms, and Aurelius smiled down at him, his vague displeasure at being prodded out of the house vanishing in favor of something gentle as he accepted the stem. He twirled it idly between his fingers for a moment, letting the deep purple petals blur, before looking back to the boy, “An anemone... thank you.” 

And he moved on, continuing to let the ebb and flow of peoples’ movements pull him further along the street as he diverted his attention to tucking the stem into the button hole in his coat’s lapel. He was just straightening the flower when a person appearing on the edge of his periphery had him stopping abruptly to avoid walking into them, gaze flicking up sharply from the flower. 

[amorymordecai-blog]

Turtle Doves and Olive Branches | Open Starter

If there was a downside to the evening’s extravaganza, beyond the tightrope most appeared to be balancing, it was that the lights blocked out the stars overhead. There was a very brief time in her life where she couldn’t imagine being without the sun. Amory’s adolescence was spent in that glorious golden light, savoring every ray with the knowledge that, someday soon, the yellow glow would become a source of instinctual terror. 

After her transition into vampirism, Amory didn’t miss the sun as much as she expected she would. The moon and the stars were breathtaking, marvellous things, illuminating the night sky with a silvery iridescence that put daylight to shame. And, with a vampire’s eyesight, the visibility of each constellation was nearly blinding in its brilliance. 

The absence of those stars now was just shy of tragic. Amory sighed, her breath leaving her lips in a plume of opacity that curled for the black skies overhead. She’d stepped away from the festivities to steal a moment for herself. Keeping up appearances was taxing work, and she had grown dangerously bored of it. If she didn’t take a breather, the gods only knew what she might do to entertain herself. The corner of her mouth curled at the thought of her daughter, who had similar tendencies when it came to tedium. 

Another sigh and she shut her eyes to listen to the night, to the music, the voices, the crunching of snow. Amory didn’t bother to brace herself or to so much as crack an eye open. She held her position, relaxed and unconcerned, and waited for the incoming footfalls to stop. 

“There’ll be snow soon,” commented the vampire Elder, breathing in a lungful of the heavy winter air. There was always a specific scent that permeated the air as a snowstorm was about to settle, and she could catch whiffs of it now. “You didn’t come all this way simply to make sure I wouldn’t freeze to death--”

Amory half turned to finally look at her companion, a slow smirk cracked over her mouth, mischief in its curve. “Did you?”

[arranmordecai]

All Along The Watchtower || Open

Location: The Manor Time: Evening Starter: Open to All

There must be some kind of way outta here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief

No reason to get excited The thief he kindly spoke There are many here among us Who feel that life is but a joke But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that And this is not our fate So let us stop talkin' falsely now The hour's getting late, hey

All along the watchtower Princes kept the view While all the women came and went Barefoot servants, too Outside in the cold distance A wildcat did growl Two riders were approaching And the wind began to howl

Arran finished the song to a polite applause, The Manor was hardly the place to burst into wild applause, but holding the rapt attention of every patron in the dining area/bar was more than enough decoration of his skills. He sighed slightly and raised his head, looking out at the room and smiling easily, every charming. Things were as unstable as he’d ever seen them but performing was familiar, and he could do so freely here. Soon he’d be back out again, patrolling the Estate’s boundaries or perhaps even visiting whoever he felt he need to strengthen bonds with. His parents were pursuing peace and it seemed their all had an unseen enemy... or one who was willing to kill their own kind; both options were unsettling. 

He left the stage just as the head server beckoned him over and informed him he had a visitor at the bar. With an easy smile he thanked the woman and made his way to the bar, his fitted suit-trousers, blood-red shirt and black braces earning him several appreciative looks as he made the journey. 

Reaching the bar he inclined his head politely at the person waiting for him, “Well, I do love when people come to see me, but I suppose now’s hardly the time for an easy chat. Shall we have a drink before we get started?” Everything was so serious now, even the thrill of performing didn’t last as long. 

[cadelehane-blog]

And So It Goes | C, H & W

It was a struggle to keep to the speed limit when he wanted to push the truck to keep pace with his sprinting heartbeat. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had blanched from the pressure. The wheel creaked under the strain of his hold. His other hand was interwoven through Willow’s, holding her without the bone crushing grip he had on the steering wheel. Caden was almost certain that the only reason he was able to breathe evenly was because of the witch beside him. If she wasn’t working her magic, she was the magic that kept his heart from punching out of his chest. 

His hairs had bristled at the sound of a howl, so mournful and meaningful as it rang through the air for miles. Cade was half certain that the whole town had heard that outcry, though only the wolves would know what it meant. The wolf song that tore apart the skies was one of loss and tragedy. He knew because he’d howled a similar one before his return to Roseville, the morning after the Winter Solstice, when he’d been shaken back to consciousness by a sobbing Jordan to discover an open field, a blood soaked and gore strewn killing ground, of the mangled and dismembered bodies of their pack.

Cade knew that howl. The text that followed sat like a ton of bricks on his chest. ‘Cade. Meet me now,’ followed by coordinates located on the perimeter of Crescent territory. He’d been with Willow when he’d heard the howl, his phone vibrating in his pocket less than half an hour later with Harlow’s message. The knowledge that nothing good was waiting for them at the designated meeting point, his witch hadn’t hesitated to climb into his truck and travel with him to the Outskirts. With each mile they neared he grew more grateful for her company. 

There were only so many reasons that Harlow would call him back into the Outskirts, and none of them were good. Cade had a feeling he’d need his girl now, and he was glad that Jordan was safe at home while they ventured into the edges of Crescent territory. Knowing she was safe meant more to him now than the young wolf could ever guess. 

Squeezing Willow’s hand in his, he glanced away from the road to look at her beautiful face. Her expression was furrowed, tight with the dread he felt circling his throat and weighing heavily at the bottom of his gut. Cade had to wonder if it was his apprehension she was wearing now, or her own. 

He brought their joined hands from her lap to his lips, kissing her knuckles before he pressed the back of her hand to the center of his chest. Caden didn’t have words of comfort to offer her, or reassurances that this was probably nothing. It’d be a lie. One that he wanted so fucking badly to believe, but no less a lie. So they drove in silence, whatever attempts at conversation or discussion thwarted by his heart in his throat, by the invisible force wrapped around his chest. All he did was drive, hating every inch that brought him closer to whatever waited him at the end of the road. 

All too soon tires were kicking up icy gravel as they neared the shoulder of road where Harlow had told him to meet her. The Alpha female was standing by the treeline and, as Cade parked the truck and switched off the engine, he could see her tear stained face through the windshield. He brought Willow’s knuckles to his mouth for another kiss before letting go of her hand and releasing his seat belt to hiss back into its compartment.

“Stay close,” he needlessly advised Willow as he pulled his door open, walked around the truck, then opened hers as well. Once Willow was out of the truck the door was shut and he led them over to Harlow, who was greeted with a sharp nod and wary gaze. 

To the other Alpha he asked, “What’s going on?” and knew in his gut that he didn’t actually want to know the answer.

@weepingwillowrose

[amorymordecai-blog]

Best Served Cold | A&E

@beautifullyxtainted

How could they be gone? After all the precautions that she and the Elders had taken, the safeguard they’d implemented, how could they be gone? Amory fiddled with the thin gold chain around her neck, with the pendant that dangled from the slender rope, as her mind backtracked the last few days, weeks, years. GreyShadow may have grown a touch complacent during Roseville’s decades of peace, but after Malcolm’s murder they had reinforced their defences and re-enacted safety measures. 

And still Thalia was dead, Bran was in the wind, also dead for all they knew, and Freyja... Oh gods, sweet, darling Freyja. The child had learned of loss in a most brutal fashion. Fate, it would seem, would demand her innocence before this peace had met its end. And, though she and Hades would do all they could for the girl, this kind of pain was not one that they could protect her from.

Amory sat at her desk, heeled boots lifted onto the grand mahogany and crossed at the ankles, leaning back in her seat and staring up at the ceiling as she continued to absently toy with her necklace. In her blind stare all she saw was Thalia’s body in the infirmary, laid out on the metal examination table, covered in blood and gashes. Such vibrant life those eyes had held not days before. Gone. She was gone. 

It had been years since GreyShadow had known this kind of loss. In truth, it was a feeling Amory had never grown accustomed to, had never allowed herself to grow accustomed to. As an Elder it was her responsibility to keep their people safe. She had failed Thalia in that regard, had failed them all. The familiar sting of tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and Amory felt twin rills cascade from the corners of her eyes, over her temples and into her hair. 

With a sniff, she sat upright and dabbed the moisture from her eyes. Amory lifted her phone from where she’d left it face down on her desk to check the time. The Atelier would be closing soon, and Amory needed very badly to see her daughter, to keep her close and safe. They could return to the Estate, or go wherever the girl pleased, but Eva would not be going anywhere alone. None of them would. That was the way of things now. Traveling in pairs might not have saved Thalia, but it had saved Freyja in the end. Which Amory knew would be her parent’s only concern.

Gathering her things, Amory made sure she wasn’t forgetting anything behind before she scattered her molecules in a burst of black smoke. In an instant she was gone from her office within Fruits of Eden, and reformed in the boutique’s back room. A turn of the handle opened the door to a well lit shop interior. 

“Eva?” 

[arranmordecai]

Tears Water The Plants || Freya & Arran

@freyjaxbeaumont

Arran stepped into the snow-covered grounds and gently pulled the door closed behind him. While he was a stern advocate of never leaving the grounds alone now (unless he was off on one of his little ‘missions’) there was nothing wrong with walking the grounds alone. Being out in the snow and the stars was a comfort to him as much as it only made him miss his dear friend further. Brandyn and he had shared many walks through these grounds.

He tried to shake off the memories and instead focused on his destination: the greenhouse. Several more night-blooming plants had arrived the other day and he needed to arrange them as planned for the full-scale one he had planned. Keeping busy was an excellent way to prevent any more breakdowns like he’d had in front of his poor mother; he was meant to be sparing his parents problems, not creating more. 

He opened the door to the dark greenhouse and immediately narrowed his eyes, he could hear something... something that shouldn’t be here. Seconds later he sighed and closed the door behind him; it was sniffling he could hear, likely a vampire who’d sought a little solitude just as he was doing. Arran turned the lights on dimly and walked towards the noise, eyes widening when he saw the person making it.

“Freya!” he strode forward, lips pulling down as he drew level with the girl, “Oh little one, what are you doing out here?”

[aureliusshepherd]

legacies of grief || a & w

It had happened in the early hours of the morning, just before the sun rose again over Roseville. And in a way, that was a good thing. With the coven consolidated in the estate, confined by the promise of terrible pain and a swift death in the light outside, they had the day to work through what had happened. In another way, it was deeply frustrating. They couldn’t try to track down who- what- had done this while the trail was still fresh, nor could they go out and see if anyone had seen anything, or if anyone else had been attacked during the dark hours of that night and early morning. They couldn’t easily breach the estate walls. And that was all Aurelius wanted to do. 

The air was thick with shock and horror and deep, deep sorrow, and Aurelius’ mind seemed intent on replaying the scenes of the past day in some dark, masochistic loop. Hadrian covered in blood, Freyja with haunted eyes and tear tracks down her face, the other Elders grim-faced and red-eyed, the horrible ruin of Thalia’s body. 

And then the sun had set again and Aurelius had slipped away, not even bothering to throw a coat on over his shirt because the pretense of feeling cold hardly mattered when he was just going to pace the grounds around the estate, searching fruitlessly for quiet, isolation to think in. Shoes leaving marks in the snow, Auri left the building behind him with a long exhale. The burden of the heavy weight of the hearts inside didn’t lessen, even as the distance between him and his family and coven grew. Hands in his pockets, Aurelius let his eyes roam the area as he walked, looking at trees and the ground and up to the sky but not really seeing. 

The attack wasn’t even a surprise, if he were honest with himself. The pattern had already been determined, something- someone- was taking lives from each of the factions with seeming intent, and they were just next on the list. And somewhere deep within him, a place that Aurelius rarely acknowledged, whispered with quiet certainty that this was in some way his fault. There was a pattern to the murders and a pattern to his life, and both of them were littered with bodies. If he hadn’t let himself touch Thalia and Brandyn they’d still be alive, and home. Freyja would still have parents. They’d joined the ranks of so many- too many- others, the people Aurelius had loved and lost, had failed to save. This was why he’d tried to keep Arran, and later, Eva, at arm’s length. This was why he’d panicked after turning Ronan. It was why he tried- and failed far, far too often, in his selfish desire for companionship- to keep his distance from others, to tuck himself in corners far away from others where he couldn’t hurt them.

Aurelius, hands balled up into fists inside his pockets, had begun walking faster, as if he could leave his thoughts behind him if only he outpaced them, and when he teleported mid-step he kept going for a pace before his actions caught up with his mind. Stilling abruptly, Auri’s eyes darted around him- taking in Willow’s apartment in one sweeping glance before alighting upon the witch herself. The surprise melted into understanding quickly enough, but it did nothing to ease the tension in his jaw, or the rawness of his features.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was for more than turning up in her home unannounced and uninvited, it was for endangering her, befriending her, dragging her into seemingly inevitable danger. He didn’t approach her, didn’t even bother pulling his hands from his pockets, or unballing the fists they were in. “I just- wherever I go, death follows.” And he knew, in a sort of abstract sense, that he was being irrational, and was somewhat panicked, and all the compartmentalizing he’d been doing all day to try to keep the coven safe and together after a hit to their ranks meant that he’d never had time to really touch his own grief. And he knew it was unfair of him to have ended up here, with Willow, intentionally or not, as it was all spilling over, but his pain had galvanized into protective determination as it was wont to do and he couldn’t stop the words as they came, “I refuse to let you become another victim.” But he didn’t know how to ensure that, how to save Willow after condemning her for decades. 

Aurelius blinked, and took a step back vaguely in the direction of where he knew the door to be, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, Willow, I-” he cut himself off abruptly, turning to make for the door. She was best off if he left and didn’t come back.

@weepingwillowrose