#sterrenlied 01

[ariatorule]

@sterrenlied || Closed starter

This kind of breakdown, it’s not uncommon. The kind that drive him to the quietest spots in a public space, the kind that steals breath and voice, forcing tears from his eyes and blood to his face. One that isn’t powered by the careful way he navigates life, just from too much at once. Even a place like a theatre, which houses such a strong passion, cannot offer a safe space from the effects of isolation. 

Hence, he finds himself standing outside the Theatre of Calliope, vision distorted by the last of tears trying to find their way down his already stained face. Dismay sinks in as he finds that, in his rush to exit, the light he carried has slipped from his pocket, leaving him clutching a half empty pack of cigarettes. Still, in desperation for calm, he grabs one and puts it to his mouth as though it were already lit, and waits patiently for a passerby. The need to clear the cloud of dread building up in his mind is so strong that he doesn’t notice just how peculiar the man he ends up approaching is.

                          “Excuse me, do you have a lighter?” 

[vldeztm]

@sterrenlied liked for a wild mechanic 

“So you’re amour’s busted? Easy enough fix.” He waved a hand, already eyeing the amour and trying to figure out what materials he might be needing. He’s used to working for free, since camp didn’t really pay the Hephaestus cabin for all the things they made, so he doesn’t even think to ask for any kind of payment. He can see the various forms of damage, and it should be a quick enough fix.  

[bulletcoutures]

@sterrenlied​ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑!

where moonlight begets the soft simmering seams swept away with the salt of churning seas so too does each near silent crash 'pon golden grained shores beckon the umbra. softened by way of familiarity perhaps when even the most unlikely child born by wickedness && vow of the most forbidden could never so soon forget their roots most ingrained. 'twas hardly a mother's long lost love that brings her out on such an evening && if not for such silly reminisce perhaps she would have remained indoors, serene sandy setting aside. while the beach itself is not so much a getaway as it was a place to simply linger, she can't help but notice the presence of another. ah, had she intruded? a fold of arms to tuck almost daintily so 'gainst her chest, head canting ever so faintly in wonder. he seems preoccupied at best although it is the fact he remains animate above ground that captures her fancy with naught more but the dawning of amused simper pulling at rosen lips.

❝ doing a little stargazing, are we? the atmosphere is a touch unsettling; something of your powers i presume? you must forgive a witch, my kind can never be too curious. ❞

[portalgunning]

When often faced with a circumstance beyond control, one thinks of how to solve it. That’s Chells problem right now, getting out of the city, a glance at the end where the island is in the midst of chaos. She’s a bit bruised up, but has been avoiding conflicts where people have had much more power then she could ever DREAM of having.

A small shift before she backs herself up, staring at what she now had to get through, piles of rubble and the building on the other side where it seemed calmer.

Time to take a leap of faith, bur first.

She didn’t even notice the man at the building she was gunning for as she made a portal in the ceiling then one directly beneath it on the floor in the current apartment she was in, it’s momentum time.

A shift and she hopped in, building up speed until shooting a portal outside, and went flying, landing with a grunt at least 30 yards to the building she had been aiming for, stumbling slightly to gain her footing.  // @sterrenlied​

[killerlakill-blog]

@sterrenlied​

This place, what’d they call it? That’s right, Savior’s Respite. Mr. Mundy had heard whispers about it around the district he called home for the time being--tales of the beauty within and surrounding it, the trails of flowers bearing a kaleidoscope of color leading to the cliff. Not just that, but the stories too--stories of young lads dropping themselves off the edge, in hopes that their sacrifice would serve to ward off evil spirits or whatever...that, or them being pushed off in hopes of getting the same. He doesn’t know how true that is; the only evil spirit he personally knows is Merasmus (sometimes), and he figures if that bloke’s pissed off at you then it don’t make a difference whether someone dropped off a cliff to keep him out. Nice story, but he doesn’t completely buy it.

That’s kind of besides the point, though--or, that’s not really why he’s here in the first place. He’s come to take in the scenery, that much is true...and in that regard, the stories are true. This place is a real beaut. But there’s another reason why he’s come...something more to remember this place by, as he casually strolls up to the edge of the cliff.

He pauses a moment, before loudly hocking up the biggest loogie he can muster, before giving his all into spitting it out as far as he can over the edge. Shortly afterwards, a hand shields his eyes so he can better keep track of the projectile...as much as he can, anyways, before it disappears from view.

“...Blimey, but that is a beaut, isn’t it? Best one I’ve done, I reckon.” His head turns slightly towards the person he’s sensed coming up behind him; he’s not sure if he was around to see the loogie, but no harm in asking.