#sorevent2

[inikolaveau]

The warmity that came from the bonfire in front of Iniko caused her to be mesmerized by the flames while she watched everyone around it, her eyes dark as night kept attentive to details, reading everyone while she was there, silent. Even if Iniko respected the festival due to what it represented, it was inevitable of her to feel it; the anger rising up and consuming her being, her eyes staring at every single being who was there, celebrating Litha, familiar faces that belonged to the other covens, those she was eager to tear down. They were not worth stepping on this island if they didn’t accept the idea that Adrasteia was the best option; as it had always been. As it should’ve been in the past war. And while the true Iniko had tried to get control over her body and power back during the full moon, not it was all in vain and she was back to the sunken place while Misha was there, playing her part as Iniko and adoring every part of it.

Misha had built within herself pure hatred against Bricket Wood, even after her death. And the same thing had happened once she discovered about Eirene. Now that she had control over someone’s body, a powerful witch just like she used to be, Misha knew she could do everything in her position to raise Adrasteia, to make them rule this town. Castalia could be disappointed by the woman’s actions, she didn’t care about it because in the end, Castalia was dead and unable to act against Misha now, like she had done in the past. The woman felt that she owed this to everyone who fought for Adrasteia and lost their lives, she needed to show that they weren’t wrong to fight for the right cause. And with Iniko as her cocoon, she could do it. After all, there was nothing Iniko could do anymore to stop the witch from acting. We’re one now, Iniko. Whether you like it or not. And we’re so much better together.

And with that brief thought she grinned, as mischievous as it had always been, and perhaps it was the light that made her think someone had looked at her, maybe it was all in her head. But Iniko, this new Iniko, sustained her gaze at the person before she moved her hand up, her index finger calling them to move closer. If they wanted her attention, she’d give it to them. If they didn't want it, she was still demanding them to accept it.

[destructiveroman-blog]

His mind, though completely full of thoughts, seemed to grow silent as the many voices in his head turned into a jumbled low hum. The endless plans and scenarios faded slightly as he sat on the ground, the roots of a nearby tree peeking through the dirt as his hand brushed over the rough bark. His other hand methodically gesturing the same patterns he’d done countless times before as his ears honed in on the sound of moving rock-- a decent sized ball of Earth rotating off the ground at eye level, following his command.

Roman watched it was an intensity he rarely gave anything else. Moonlight illuminated it beautifully; his element. The full moon had always done something for the supernaturals-- and more than just the werewolves like the humans liked to believed-- but he’d always looked forward to June... to the enhancement that felt so much more powerful than the others.

Not too far from the road, but not too close to civilization, the warlock allowed himself to bask in the place that most felt like home; the forest. Snapping twigs nearby caused his neck to jerk to attention to the side, his hand freezing in the middle of a motion as the ball followed suit and remained suspended and still in the air.

“What is it you want?” He practically growled in their direction... though these may not have been his woods, they were his woods and this intrusion had hit a nerve. Heaven forbid Roman had been allowed a moment to himself, alone with the power the moon provided-- this interruption had better been worth it.

[meas-sinclair]

[ @lenavgardner ]

There was something burning in the distance. Sinclair could see the tendrils of smoke curling towards the sky, the faint bursts of embers leaping in bright orange sparks. This was her shot at finding out exactly who she needed to target on the island. No one would suspect a thing. She was just an innocent human out for a run nearby. They wouldn’t see the array of knives strapped to her side beneath her jacket, or the gun that sat snug against the small of her back. 

She could try for a kill if the numbers were low, but a large group would be impossible to take on. The anticipation of a kill sent a kick of adrenaline rushing into her blood, a genuine smile reaching her lips as her heart set beating double time. This was it, her chance at revenge against the wicked creatures that crowded around the bonfires as the solstice approached. 

A jog slowed to a walk as Sinclair neared the bonfire, the crackling of fire now audible. Each step was precise, avoiding anything that could make a sound and give her away. That could be the end of her if she was found. So she clung to a wide tree nearby, concealed by shadow, before peering out to count the number of witches that circled the flames.

[seasonsofreckoningrp-blog]

Litha, Bonfire

As the embers of the Sun fade into the horizon, the annual bonfire is in full swing with a host of attendees from all sides of conflict. It seems although the threat of war is so close to home, the Island can still come together in celebration of the Goddess and the Oak King. With members of all sides present on the sands of Island Shore, it seems the witches have their guards up more than ever.

Darkness falls without event as the town exhales the breath it was holding. Perhaps there is hope Moon Island can maintain as a peace zone for all its inhabitants. But it has rejoiced much too soon.

The slow trickling of beach goers dwindles down, leaving a certain witch vulnerable to an attack without the protection of her coven members. Iniko Laveau, after having a delightful conversation with Krystal Cha, a witch of the Bricket Wood circle, has decided to send her leader a message. The Laveau witches have always been gifted with abstract powers, powers that Iniko has learned to use offensively. It takes only a minor infraction to the witch’s mind, a little bit of pain with clear instructions that she relay the message to her leader. The Attack of Mabon had ultimately been a Bricket Wood victory, but Roman Kaʻanāʻanā would be smart to remember the Eirene Coven isn’t the only contender here.

Chaos often reigns in the shadows, its domain for evil-doing under cover of darkness.  

There is someone on the Island who bears a secret deadly to those of supernatural blood. A hunter in disguise who has bided her time watching the increasing body count can no longer sit still. Her hunt starts tonight and she will take care of these creatures one at a time.

As the moon draws high above the forest peaks, Sinclair Meas has followed the scent of foul dog into the forests by Squantum Cliffs. It is werewolf territory and she knows this, but there is one mission– kill the wolf responsible for the deaths of the innocent under the Strong Sun Moon. She finds one, which she takes care of quickly only to be faced with another once the blood of the first is spilled and the whimper of the beast draws to silence.

It is the third one who gets away, Erin Wong, having tracked the noise and smell from a far. In her wolf form she sees the masked hunter all but slaughter two werewolves with great skill and ardor. But it reminds her too much of her own past. Flashbacks take her back to the day her family was killed and she gives herself away, fighting back with her intuition like the Alpha she’s meant to be. The hunter inevtiably flees but not before slicing her with a silver blade.

Emmanuel Mensah arrives shortly at the scene to find one of his wolves a bloodied mess– dead. Another unknown wolf lies lifeless alongside his pack member, Trace Randall, while an incriminating Erin Wong attempts to explain what has just happened.

[meas-sinclair]

[ @leonvg ]

The moon hung high in the sky, a beacon of light in the dark night. Now would be the time to see who deserved her blades and bullets, Sinclair thought to herself as she walked through the streets. Maybe she would venture into the forests to see what might be hiding within the thicket of trees, although she knew the dangers of doing such a thing so close to the full moon. 

Stories ran through the town that there had been bodies found across the island, near the forests and the coasts. Sinclair’s fingers curled around the hilt of one of the knives sheathed at her hip, a reminder of her eternal task. Occurrences like this were the reason she was a hunter, the cruelty of supernatural beings, beings that shouldn’t be permitted to live. They were wrong, vicious, and their kind had ruined her life, and lives of many others.

She took a deep breath to cool the temper rising hot in her blood, her eyes closing momentarily to diffuse the red from her vision. 

Footsteps.

They were coming closer, clear in the dead of the night. Her eyes snapped back open, prepared for the worst. She inched the blade up, gripping it firmly, prepared to attack. A rush of shivers shot up her spine, her eyes alert, searching the dim light for any shadows. 

[seasonsofreckoningrp-blog]

The Strong Sun Moon, Day 5.

It has been five days since the Strong Sun Moon has reigned over the town of Moon Island. Awful things are happening here, and it seems like each morning is yet another discovery- another body found, another fire started. Something about this moon has everyone going crazy, or it may seem that way.

Day 1. The town awoke to rumors of several bodies found near Squantum Cliffs and Black Forest Park. They have ruled out these deaths as animal attacks, horrific animal attacks that have left the bodies unidentifiable. Further investigation and details will be revealed upon autopsy.

Day 2. The wails in the night have not gone unnoticed by the citizens of Moon Island. Many believe it to be the wind, or so that’s what they tell themselves. Those among the supernaturals have their suspicions, those in the know have no doubts it is the screams of a banshee- none other than Pari Omisha.

Day 3. Fires have been put out in the early hours of the morning; fires that have revealed to been some sort of sick cover up for multiple dead bodies and charred bones found in the ashes. The authorities have yet to reveal more evidence on the identities of these bodies, but rumors among the supernatural are of a raven-haired beauty, a young vampire roaming the night for a fill. They say her name is Carmen Marques.

Day 4. Residents are cautioned to stay home after sundown and to refrain from inviting any strangers into their home.

Day 5. Half a dozen or so have been found wounded and dead after what had looked like an altercation breaking out near Island Shore Beach. Accounts of the incident have placed Leon Valiente-Gardner and Roman Kaʻanāʻanā at the scene. Witnesses say there was “obvious hostility” between the two men before a crowd of six or seven people began attacking Kaʻanāʻanā “out of nowhere”. Moon Island Sheriff Charles Webber leads this investigation as the town mourns yet another tragedy in a span of five days.

[destructiveroman-blog]

This bonfire had significance to those of his kind; an event far more meaningful than the other bonfires on the island that contained adolescent infected parties and cheap beer. He’d never really felt at peace with the beach, surrounded by elements that didn’t compliment him. Though, nothing would ever be able to bring an eerie calm over him more than the woods... hidden amongst the shadows cast by the trees with bare feet against the Earth. But it was the importance of the night that left Roman unable to resist the urge to attend-- regardless of the fact that he didn’t really feel like he belonged. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d ever belonged anywhere... except as the leader of Bricket Wood as they claimed Moon Island.

So he filled the metal flask with his most expensive whiskey available and made his way to the beach shortly after sunset.

Power. It coursed through his veins even more so than usual; a smirk given to the sky as if to thank the moon for the boost to his connection with his element. The quiet, unintelligible murmurs of fellow town residents lulled his eyes to close as the heat from the growing fire licked at his cheeks, this state that could be described as ‘blissful peace’ not lasting longer than a moment before his eyelids shot open and he exhaled a sigh of boredom. Sitting around silently wasn’t one of Roman’s strong-suits... so he took another swig from his flask as impatient eyes scanned the crowd for willing... or not-so-willing company.