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Your characters are born of modern time. Contemporary and as real as you or I. They have lives, families, jobs and apartments. Their modern day life should be akin to their Aeipathy one. Those who are soldiers, can still be so. Rulers are perhaps powerful CEOs. Maybe those that have been violent in their past Aeipathy lives have turned to more peaceful occupations. Imagine and create your character in their modern day incarnation.
Now see them thrown into madness...
Your character and others awake. The night before they went to sleep in their own beds, unaware of the dangers that lurked to the magic or man that may have whipped them from their beds. Now, they stir collectively dumped around an old fountain that no longer runs any kind of water. Stagnant puddles linger in its depths but there is no spray, no happy patter for falling droplets. Instead, the entire town in which your characters now find themselves is eerily quiet. Dark, dank and full of mist and unsettling cloud cover. A few torches, medieval in style, burn here and there to cast enough light to see by. It is hard to tell if it is night or day.
Around your little group of hijacked modern day characters lies a village of ill-repute and dreary visuals. Like a medieval town, its buildings are wooden and rotting and its inhabitants just as much so. They peer through windows, fearing anything that moves beyond their front door. For monsters lurk out there...
Despite the moden day setting, this town looks as if it was abandoned by time centuries ago. No electricity, no modern day devices. No signal.
When your characters are brave enough to venture forth, they'll discover a castle upon the hillside, woodland to the east and south and a surrounding wall, impenetrable and insurmountable. They'll also notice that those left outside to fend for themselves have a funny habit of ending up dead in this town...
Just how do our heroes intend to escape?
This event lasts a single night for the characters but six months in OOC/RL time. Begin in this thread and then venture into your own in a group or individually. Curveballs, hints and bonus material will be posted as time goes on...
Note: Read board descriptions carefully. There are details there that need to be taken into consideration and may lead to clues on where your escape lies.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Your characters are born of modern time. Contemporary and as real as you or I. They have lives, families, jobs and apartments. Their modern day life should be akin to their Aeipathy one. Those who are soldiers, can still be so. Rulers are perhaps powerful CEOs. Maybe those that have been violent in their past Aeipathy lives have turned to more peaceful occupations. Imagine and create your character in their modern day incarnation.
Now see them thrown into madness...
Your character and others awake. The night before they went to sleep in their own beds, unaware of the dangers that lurked to the magic or man that may have whipped them from their beds. Now, they stir collectively dumped around an old fountain that no longer runs any kind of water. Stagnant puddles linger in its depths but there is no spray, no happy patter for falling droplets. Instead, the entire town in which your characters now find themselves is eerily quiet. Dark, dank and full of mist and unsettling cloud cover. A few torches, medieval in style, burn here and there to cast enough light to see by. It is hard to tell if it is night or day.
Around your little group of hijacked modern day characters lies a village of ill-repute and dreary visuals. Like a medieval town, its buildings are wooden and rotting and its inhabitants just as much so. They peer through windows, fearing anything that moves beyond their front door. For monsters lurk out there...
Despite the moden day setting, this town looks as if it was abandoned by time centuries ago. No electricity, no modern day devices. No signal.
When your characters are brave enough to venture forth, they'll discover a castle upon the hillside, woodland to the east and south and a surrounding wall, impenetrable and insurmountable. They'll also notice that those left outside to fend for themselves have a funny habit of ending up dead in this town...
Just how do our heroes intend to escape?
This event lasts a single night for the characters but six months in OOC/RL time. Begin in this thread and then venture into your own in a group or individually. Curveballs, hints and bonus material will be posted as time goes on...
Note: Read board descriptions carefully. There are details there that need to be taken into consideration and may lead to clues on where your escape lies.
Fright Night AU Event Closing: 31st June 2023
Your characters are born of modern time. Contemporary and as real as you or I. They have lives, families, jobs and apartments. Their modern day life should be akin to their Aeipathy one. Those who are soldiers, can still be so. Rulers are perhaps powerful CEOs. Maybe those that have been violent in their past Aeipathy lives have turned to more peaceful occupations. Imagine and create your character in their modern day incarnation.
Now see them thrown into madness...
Your character and others awake. The night before they went to sleep in their own beds, unaware of the dangers that lurked to the magic or man that may have whipped them from their beds. Now, they stir collectively dumped around an old fountain that no longer runs any kind of water. Stagnant puddles linger in its depths but there is no spray, no happy patter for falling droplets. Instead, the entire town in which your characters now find themselves is eerily quiet. Dark, dank and full of mist and unsettling cloud cover. A few torches, medieval in style, burn here and there to cast enough light to see by. It is hard to tell if it is night or day.
Around your little group of hijacked modern day characters lies a village of ill-repute and dreary visuals. Like a medieval town, its buildings are wooden and rotting and its inhabitants just as much so. They peer through windows, fearing anything that moves beyond their front door. For monsters lurk out there...
Despite the moden day setting, this town looks as if it was abandoned by time centuries ago. No electricity, no modern day devices. No signal.
When your characters are brave enough to venture forth, they'll discover a castle upon the hillside, woodland to the east and south and a surrounding wall, impenetrable and insurmountable. They'll also notice that those left outside to fend for themselves have a funny habit of ending up dead in this town...
Just how do our heroes intend to escape?
This event lasts a single night for the characters but six months in OOC/RL time. Begin in this thread and then venture into your own in a group or individually. Curveballs, hints and bonus material will be posted as time goes on...
Note: Read board descriptions carefully. There are details there that need to be taken into consideration and may lead to clues on where your escape lies.
Ow. Ow, ow, ow.
It was all Leo could really think as he tried to blink open his eyes. The world was dark around him, not just because the sun was obviously set but because large black splodges were ducking and diving over his vision. He tried blinking harder but it only gave the winged wraiths a bright outline of white as they darted here and there. Reaching out with his hands, Leo could feel enough to know that he wasn't in bed. The surface beneath him was hard and dusty. Not the smooth sheets of his Ikea-heavy home decor. He hissed a little when his palm hit on a sharp rock, half-buried in the ground.
Okay, he thought to himself. I'm outside. When had that happened? Swallowing back a dry mouth, Leo reached gingerly for the back of his head. There was a heavy knot just below the crown. Like he'd fallen and clunked his head on something hard. Or something had hit him. But who the hell would have hit him? Leo was hardly the most antagonistic of people. Not only because it simply wasn't in his nature to get mad (at least not normally) but because he didn't have the time. His work kept him busy most hours and the few that were free for socializing and any other activity that might have created an emotional reaction in someone were usually taken up with a small circle of friends. Despite his mother's pleas to the contrary, Leo didn't 'put himself out there' enough to have made enemies.
But apparently he had. Or this was just some seriously sick joke by Martin. If it was, Leo was not impressed.
With his vision now clearing and his thoughts less sluggish, Leo was able to look around. He sat, crumpled like an old scarecrow, against a low, stone wall. No taller than his forearm was long. His head had been set at a jaunty angle against the stone like its rim might have been the culprit for the lump on the back of his noggin. Bracing a hand on the ground and pushing himself a little more upright, Leo felt the earth come securely under his butt and the rest of it turn right-side up. The little wall he was leaning against was the surrounding belt of an old fountain. No water ran and no gentle music of waterfall was offered. Just a grimy puddle of old water at its base that smelt distinctly of pond scum.
Wrinkling his nose, Leo looked around the rest of his surroundings and couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
It was a town. And not just a normal, run-of-the-mill town that you drove through on the I90 or might stop by for some fuel and a warm meal. It was old. Really old. Like, centuries old. Torches burned on some of the street corners, so it was possible to see at least a little. The rest was mostly shadowed in misty darkness. A mist that Leo was now noticing wrapped around his legs like fingers, sending chills through his jogging pants.
Now he remembered. The last thing he knew, he'd been going for a run. He was still dressed for it. Low-cut running sweats, white sneakers, and a white wifebeater tank. Thank God he'd decided to don a sweatshirt (he didn't always) because he needed it now. Huddling in on himself, Leo turned up his shoulders to protect his neck from the cold. A new mist expelled from his lips.
What he could see through the dreary fog was very little stone and no brick whatsoever. Most of the buildings around him were wooden. A little rickety and a tad off-kilter but fairly solid looking. Some of them had upper levels fatter than the lower, with protruding beams forming the structure's exo-skeleton. It was like he was in some old medieval town set for a horror movie.
"Hello?!" Leo called out, deciding that, if this was a set (and what else could it be) he was obviously here by mistake and wanted out. When no one answered Leo looked upwards expecting to see the metal bars of a sound stage or lighting rig. Instead, only sky, with the rare star and a bright, rounded moon. The clouds that drifted across it told Leo it wasn't painted to the ceiling. Did film studios build outdoor sets?
When a soft moan brought Leo back to his closer environment, he glanced over his shoulder and was shocked to realize he wasn't alone. Behind him, around the fountain, were little mounds of darkness. Mounds that looked surprisingly people-shaped.
Film set or no, that moan hadn't been fake. Years of working in the ER had trained him to know the difference. So, as his training kicked in, he knelt beside the closest dark shape, thinking they might have been the one to make the noise.
"Hey," he said quietly, reaching out to place a hand on what could have been a shoulder. It was hard to tell in the dark. Especially when they were laying in the shadow of the fountain. "You alright? Can you hear me?" And do you perchance know why we're in this whack-a-doo place?
JD
Leonidas
JD
Leonidas
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Prominent cheekbones, bright blue eyes, tendon-heavy hands.
Address: Your
It was all Leo could really think as he tried to blink open his eyes. The world was dark around him, not just because the sun was obviously set but because large black splodges were ducking and diving over his vision. He tried blinking harder but it only gave the winged wraiths a bright outline of white as they darted here and there. Reaching out with his hands, Leo could feel enough to know that he wasn't in bed. The surface beneath him was hard and dusty. Not the smooth sheets of his Ikea-heavy home decor. He hissed a little when his palm hit on a sharp rock, half-buried in the ground.
Okay, he thought to himself. I'm outside. When had that happened? Swallowing back a dry mouth, Leo reached gingerly for the back of his head. There was a heavy knot just below the crown. Like he'd fallen and clunked his head on something hard. Or something had hit him. But who the hell would have hit him? Leo was hardly the most antagonistic of people. Not only because it simply wasn't in his nature to get mad (at least not normally) but because he didn't have the time. His work kept him busy most hours and the few that were free for socializing and any other activity that might have created an emotional reaction in someone were usually taken up with a small circle of friends. Despite his mother's pleas to the contrary, Leo didn't 'put himself out there' enough to have made enemies.
But apparently he had. Or this was just some seriously sick joke by Martin. If it was, Leo was not impressed.
With his vision now clearing and his thoughts less sluggish, Leo was able to look around. He sat, crumpled like an old scarecrow, against a low, stone wall. No taller than his forearm was long. His head had been set at a jaunty angle against the stone like its rim might have been the culprit for the lump on the back of his noggin. Bracing a hand on the ground and pushing himself a little more upright, Leo felt the earth come securely under his butt and the rest of it turn right-side up. The little wall he was leaning against was the surrounding belt of an old fountain. No water ran and no gentle music of waterfall was offered. Just a grimy puddle of old water at its base that smelt distinctly of pond scum.
Wrinkling his nose, Leo looked around the rest of his surroundings and couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
It was a town. And not just a normal, run-of-the-mill town that you drove through on the I90 or might stop by for some fuel and a warm meal. It was old. Really old. Like, centuries old. Torches burned on some of the street corners, so it was possible to see at least a little. The rest was mostly shadowed in misty darkness. A mist that Leo was now noticing wrapped around his legs like fingers, sending chills through his jogging pants.
Now he remembered. The last thing he knew, he'd been going for a run. He was still dressed for it. Low-cut running sweats, white sneakers, and a white wifebeater tank. Thank God he'd decided to don a sweatshirt (he didn't always) because he needed it now. Huddling in on himself, Leo turned up his shoulders to protect his neck from the cold. A new mist expelled from his lips.
What he could see through the dreary fog was very little stone and no brick whatsoever. Most of the buildings around him were wooden. A little rickety and a tad off-kilter but fairly solid looking. Some of them had upper levels fatter than the lower, with protruding beams forming the structure's exo-skeleton. It was like he was in some old medieval town set for a horror movie.
"Hello?!" Leo called out, deciding that, if this was a set (and what else could it be) he was obviously here by mistake and wanted out. When no one answered Leo looked upwards expecting to see the metal bars of a sound stage or lighting rig. Instead, only sky, with the rare star and a bright, rounded moon. The clouds that drifted across it told Leo it wasn't painted to the ceiling. Did film studios build outdoor sets?
When a soft moan brought Leo back to his closer environment, he glanced over his shoulder and was shocked to realize he wasn't alone. Behind him, around the fountain, were little mounds of darkness. Mounds that looked surprisingly people-shaped.
Film set or no, that moan hadn't been fake. Years of working in the ER had trained him to know the difference. So, as his training kicked in, he knelt beside the closest dark shape, thinking they might have been the one to make the noise.
"Hey," he said quietly, reaching out to place a hand on what could have been a shoulder. It was hard to tell in the dark. Especially when they were laying in the shadow of the fountain. "You alright? Can you hear me?" And do you perchance know why we're in this whack-a-doo place?
Ow. Ow, ow, ow.
It was all Leo could really think as he tried to blink open his eyes. The world was dark around him, not just because the sun was obviously set but because large black splodges were ducking and diving over his vision. He tried blinking harder but it only gave the winged wraiths a bright outline of white as they darted here and there. Reaching out with his hands, Leo could feel enough to know that he wasn't in bed. The surface beneath him was hard and dusty. Not the smooth sheets of his Ikea-heavy home decor. He hissed a little when his palm hit on a sharp rock, half-buried in the ground.
Okay, he thought to himself. I'm outside. When had that happened? Swallowing back a dry mouth, Leo reached gingerly for the back of his head. There was a heavy knot just below the crown. Like he'd fallen and clunked his head on something hard. Or something had hit him. But who the hell would have hit him? Leo was hardly the most antagonistic of people. Not only because it simply wasn't in his nature to get mad (at least not normally) but because he didn't have the time. His work kept him busy most hours and the few that were free for socializing and any other activity that might have created an emotional reaction in someone were usually taken up with a small circle of friends. Despite his mother's pleas to the contrary, Leo didn't 'put himself out there' enough to have made enemies.
But apparently he had. Or this was just some seriously sick joke by Martin. If it was, Leo was not impressed.
With his vision now clearing and his thoughts less sluggish, Leo was able to look around. He sat, crumpled like an old scarecrow, against a low, stone wall. No taller than his forearm was long. His head had been set at a jaunty angle against the stone like its rim might have been the culprit for the lump on the back of his noggin. Bracing a hand on the ground and pushing himself a little more upright, Leo felt the earth come securely under his butt and the rest of it turn right-side up. The little wall he was leaning against was the surrounding belt of an old fountain. No water ran and no gentle music of waterfall was offered. Just a grimy puddle of old water at its base that smelt distinctly of pond scum.
Wrinkling his nose, Leo looked around the rest of his surroundings and couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
It was a town. And not just a normal, run-of-the-mill town that you drove through on the I90 or might stop by for some fuel and a warm meal. It was old. Really old. Like, centuries old. Torches burned on some of the street corners, so it was possible to see at least a little. The rest was mostly shadowed in misty darkness. A mist that Leo was now noticing wrapped around his legs like fingers, sending chills through his jogging pants.
Now he remembered. The last thing he knew, he'd been going for a run. He was still dressed for it. Low-cut running sweats, white sneakers, and a white wifebeater tank. Thank God he'd decided to don a sweatshirt (he didn't always) because he needed it now. Huddling in on himself, Leo turned up his shoulders to protect his neck from the cold. A new mist expelled from his lips.
What he could see through the dreary fog was very little stone and no brick whatsoever. Most of the buildings around him were wooden. A little rickety and a tad off-kilter but fairly solid looking. Some of them had upper levels fatter than the lower, with protruding beams forming the structure's exo-skeleton. It was like he was in some old medieval town set for a horror movie.
"Hello?!" Leo called out, deciding that, if this was a set (and what else could it be) he was obviously here by mistake and wanted out. When no one answered Leo looked upwards expecting to see the metal bars of a sound stage or lighting rig. Instead, only sky, with the rare star and a bright, rounded moon. The clouds that drifted across it told Leo it wasn't painted to the ceiling. Did film studios build outdoor sets?
When a soft moan brought Leo back to his closer environment, he glanced over his shoulder and was shocked to realize he wasn't alone. Behind him, around the fountain, were little mounds of darkness. Mounds that looked surprisingly people-shaped.
Film set or no, that moan hadn't been fake. Years of working in the ER had trained him to know the difference. So, as his training kicked in, he knelt beside the closest dark shape, thinking they might have been the one to make the noise.
"Hey," he said quietly, reaching out to place a hand on what could have been a shoulder. It was hard to tell in the dark. Especially when they were laying in the shadow of the fountain. "You alright? Can you hear me?" And do you perchance know why we're in this whack-a-doo place?
The first thing Elena noticed was the cold. It was so cold. Had dad turned up the air conditioning again? What was it with dads and their obsession with thermostats anyway? Ugh. She reached for her comforter, eyes still shut. She'd probably kicked it off the bed in her sleep -again. Her fingers encountered dampness. Ew. Had something spilled on her bed? No, the rough texture beneath her fingers was definitely not her bed.
With great reluctance her eyes peeled open. Okay, this was not her bedroom. It wasn't any room in her house at all, in fact. She was on the ground outside. How had she gotten outside? Had she been sleepwalking? Where was she? "Mom?" The hoarseness of her own voice shocked her into silence, as did the sight of her breath frosting the air. New awareness of the chill sent goosebumps all over her body. She coughed once, then twice, irritated by the crisp air.
Evidently she'd hit her head, because everything started to spin as she sat up with a groan. Maybe she'd been in an accident of some kind? It was so hard to think. "Mom?" she called again, only a fraction louder than before, finally remembering. She'd had a cold and had been making herself a cup of tea with honey to soothe her throat. What had happened after? Her temple throbbed. She probed the lump there with a wince, hissing through clenched teeth. Her missing memories were a problem for another time. Right now she needed to figure out where she was and get to a phone and call her dad. A powerhouse lawyer, whoever did this was going to be be sued to kingdom come when he got hold of them. If she was injured in a way that prevented her from dancing... well, he'd have a straight up apoplectic fit.
Her fluffy bunny slippers -yes, they had bunnies on them- were keeping her feet warm at least. The same couldn't be said of her pajamas, the royal blue silk doing little to keep out the cold. It didn't help that they consisted of shorts and a cropped camisole that bared her midriff. If she'd known she was going to sleep walk, she'd have definitely worn her flannel, but the silk wicked away the periodic sweats and chills she'd been having. Thank god she'd fallen asleep wearing a robe; it at least covered some of her exposed skin.
Elena's back came up against rough stone that turned out to be an old fountain. She was able to push herself up until she sat on the bench surrounding it. More came into view, and the more Elena saw, the more she didn't understand. Was that fire? As in, with actual torches? The main thoroughfare didn't look like any street she'd ever seen in her life, nor did the houses. Where were the street lights? Where were the cars? What the hell was going on?
A male voice to Elena's left cut through the static in her head. An imposing figure was outlined bent over someone on the ground. "Hello?" she called out softly. She wasn't sure why she was whispering -probably because he was talking quietly already. Her feet and legs moved, testing to make sure she hadn't sprained an ankle in whatever accident had happened. Leg injuries could be a death sentence for the career of a ballerina. Luckily, aside from her head and sore throat, everything felt okay. Sitting wasn't going to get her home any faster though, so she stood up and started walking around the fountain's edge. Once she was able to see the crouched man better, she took a deep breath -and launched into a fit of coughs. Nice Elena, really helpful. Love this for us.
Peach
Elena
Peach
Elena
Awards
First Impressions:Delicate; Kind smile, golden hair, soft hands, full lower lip
Address: Your Her Ladyship
The first thing Elena noticed was the cold. It was so cold. Had dad turned up the air conditioning again? What was it with dads and their obsession with thermostats anyway? Ugh. She reached for her comforter, eyes still shut. She'd probably kicked it off the bed in her sleep -again. Her fingers encountered dampness. Ew. Had something spilled on her bed? No, the rough texture beneath her fingers was definitely not her bed.
With great reluctance her eyes peeled open. Okay, this was not her bedroom. It wasn't any room in her house at all, in fact. She was on the ground outside. How had she gotten outside? Had she been sleepwalking? Where was she? "Mom?" The hoarseness of her own voice shocked her into silence, as did the sight of her breath frosting the air. New awareness of the chill sent goosebumps all over her body. She coughed once, then twice, irritated by the crisp air.
Evidently she'd hit her head, because everything started to spin as she sat up with a groan. Maybe she'd been in an accident of some kind? It was so hard to think. "Mom?" she called again, only a fraction louder than before, finally remembering. She'd had a cold and had been making herself a cup of tea with honey to soothe her throat. What had happened after? Her temple throbbed. She probed the lump there with a wince, hissing through clenched teeth. Her missing memories were a problem for another time. Right now she needed to figure out where she was and get to a phone and call her dad. A powerhouse lawyer, whoever did this was going to be be sued to kingdom come when he got hold of them. If she was injured in a way that prevented her from dancing... well, he'd have a straight up apoplectic fit.
Her fluffy bunny slippers -yes, they had bunnies on them- were keeping her feet warm at least. The same couldn't be said of her pajamas, the royal blue silk doing little to keep out the cold. It didn't help that they consisted of shorts and a cropped camisole that bared her midriff. If she'd known she was going to sleep walk, she'd have definitely worn her flannel, but the silk wicked away the periodic sweats and chills she'd been having. Thank god she'd fallen asleep wearing a robe; it at least covered some of her exposed skin.
Elena's back came up against rough stone that turned out to be an old fountain. She was able to push herself up until she sat on the bench surrounding it. More came into view, and the more Elena saw, the more she didn't understand. Was that fire? As in, with actual torches? The main thoroughfare didn't look like any street she'd ever seen in her life, nor did the houses. Where were the street lights? Where were the cars? What the hell was going on?
A male voice to Elena's left cut through the static in her head. An imposing figure was outlined bent over someone on the ground. "Hello?" she called out softly. She wasn't sure why she was whispering -probably because he was talking quietly already. Her feet and legs moved, testing to make sure she hadn't sprained an ankle in whatever accident had happened. Leg injuries could be a death sentence for the career of a ballerina. Luckily, aside from her head and sore throat, everything felt okay. Sitting wasn't going to get her home any faster though, so she stood up and started walking around the fountain's edge. Once she was able to see the crouched man better, she took a deep breath -and launched into a fit of coughs. Nice Elena, really helpful. Love this for us.
The first thing Elena noticed was the cold. It was so cold. Had dad turned up the air conditioning again? What was it with dads and their obsession with thermostats anyway? Ugh. She reached for her comforter, eyes still shut. She'd probably kicked it off the bed in her sleep -again. Her fingers encountered dampness. Ew. Had something spilled on her bed? No, the rough texture beneath her fingers was definitely not her bed.
With great reluctance her eyes peeled open. Okay, this was not her bedroom. It wasn't any room in her house at all, in fact. She was on the ground outside. How had she gotten outside? Had she been sleepwalking? Where was she? "Mom?" The hoarseness of her own voice shocked her into silence, as did the sight of her breath frosting the air. New awareness of the chill sent goosebumps all over her body. She coughed once, then twice, irritated by the crisp air.
Evidently she'd hit her head, because everything started to spin as she sat up with a groan. Maybe she'd been in an accident of some kind? It was so hard to think. "Mom?" she called again, only a fraction louder than before, finally remembering. She'd had a cold and had been making herself a cup of tea with honey to soothe her throat. What had happened after? Her temple throbbed. She probed the lump there with a wince, hissing through clenched teeth. Her missing memories were a problem for another time. Right now she needed to figure out where she was and get to a phone and call her dad. A powerhouse lawyer, whoever did this was going to be be sued to kingdom come when he got hold of them. If she was injured in a way that prevented her from dancing... well, he'd have a straight up apoplectic fit.
Her fluffy bunny slippers -yes, they had bunnies on them- were keeping her feet warm at least. The same couldn't be said of her pajamas, the royal blue silk doing little to keep out the cold. It didn't help that they consisted of shorts and a cropped camisole that bared her midriff. If she'd known she was going to sleep walk, she'd have definitely worn her flannel, but the silk wicked away the periodic sweats and chills she'd been having. Thank god she'd fallen asleep wearing a robe; it at least covered some of her exposed skin.
Elena's back came up against rough stone that turned out to be an old fountain. She was able to push herself up until she sat on the bench surrounding it. More came into view, and the more Elena saw, the more she didn't understand. Was that fire? As in, with actual torches? The main thoroughfare didn't look like any street she'd ever seen in her life, nor did the houses. Where were the street lights? Where were the cars? What the hell was going on?
A male voice to Elena's left cut through the static in her head. An imposing figure was outlined bent over someone on the ground. "Hello?" she called out softly. She wasn't sure why she was whispering -probably because he was talking quietly already. Her feet and legs moved, testing to make sure she hadn't sprained an ankle in whatever accident had happened. Leg injuries could be a death sentence for the career of a ballerina. Luckily, aside from her head and sore throat, everything felt okay. Sitting wasn't going to get her home any faster though, so she stood up and started walking around the fountain's edge. Once she was able to see the crouched man better, she took a deep breath -and launched into a fit of coughs. Nice Elena, really helpful. Love this for us.
The figure on the ground was alive. The little puffs of air were handy for telling Leo that their breathing was relatively even and deep. Working his hand from shoulder to neck, he checked the rate of their pulse and was relieved to find it steady and even. They were barely conscious and clearly uncomfortable but seemed little worse off than him. They we’re starting to come around. He couldn’t do a full examination until they were up and able to get to better light but, for now, he was satisfied that they weren’t about to die on him. Better not to move them until they were conscious enough to alert him to any pain.
As the figure on the ground slowly came around, Leo jolted in surprise when a second detached itself from the fountain. Perched on its edge, Leo had mistaken the shape as part of the fountain’s decor - an angel of Grecian figure perhaps that would normally sprout water from the top of its head or some such. Instead, it had been an actual, living person. A very still one. And as she came towards him, the nearby torchlight setting her clothes glinting like silk, Leo could make a hazardous guess as to why. She had to be frozen solid.
She moved gracefully in the darkness, clearly aiming for him and, before being able to introduce herself, descended into a fit of coughing.
“Oh, hey, whoa…” Leo said, jumping to his feet so that he could steady her with a hand wrapped around her arm. He could hear a rattle in her throat and a sharpness to her inhale. The cold might have sparked her coughing fit but it wasn’t the only reason for her hacking. “You okay, there?” He asked with genuine warmth. “Here, maybe you should sit back down for a second.” He tried manoeuvring her to the edge of the fountain again, careful to avoid the areas of stone smeared with the slimy gunge that filled the thing.
“You mind if I just check your pulse for a second?” He asked, as the coughing subsided. He shifted neatly into a routine of basic health questions, his fingers finding a key spot on her wrist. “I’m Leo, by the way. I would be hoping you know why we’re here but given your PJs I’m gonna go with no?” He smiled up at her in the darkness, attempting some reassurance. The last thing someone with a respiratory issue needed to do was panic. Even if he was no calmer than her, a smile and the facade of confidence might be the straw they would all soon be clinging to.
JD
Leonidas
JD
Leonidas
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Prominent cheekbones, bright blue eyes, tendon-heavy hands.
Address: Your
The figure on the ground was alive. The little puffs of air were handy for telling Leo that their breathing was relatively even and deep. Working his hand from shoulder to neck, he checked the rate of their pulse and was relieved to find it steady and even. They were barely conscious and clearly uncomfortable but seemed little worse off than him. They we’re starting to come around. He couldn’t do a full examination until they were up and able to get to better light but, for now, he was satisfied that they weren’t about to die on him. Better not to move them until they were conscious enough to alert him to any pain.
As the figure on the ground slowly came around, Leo jolted in surprise when a second detached itself from the fountain. Perched on its edge, Leo had mistaken the shape as part of the fountain’s decor - an angel of Grecian figure perhaps that would normally sprout water from the top of its head or some such. Instead, it had been an actual, living person. A very still one. And as she came towards him, the nearby torchlight setting her clothes glinting like silk, Leo could make a hazardous guess as to why. She had to be frozen solid.
She moved gracefully in the darkness, clearly aiming for him and, before being able to introduce herself, descended into a fit of coughing.
“Oh, hey, whoa…” Leo said, jumping to his feet so that he could steady her with a hand wrapped around her arm. He could hear a rattle in her throat and a sharpness to her inhale. The cold might have sparked her coughing fit but it wasn’t the only reason for her hacking. “You okay, there?” He asked with genuine warmth. “Here, maybe you should sit back down for a second.” He tried manoeuvring her to the edge of the fountain again, careful to avoid the areas of stone smeared with the slimy gunge that filled the thing.
“You mind if I just check your pulse for a second?” He asked, as the coughing subsided. He shifted neatly into a routine of basic health questions, his fingers finding a key spot on her wrist. “I’m Leo, by the way. I would be hoping you know why we’re here but given your PJs I’m gonna go with no?” He smiled up at her in the darkness, attempting some reassurance. The last thing someone with a respiratory issue needed to do was panic. Even if he was no calmer than her, a smile and the facade of confidence might be the straw they would all soon be clinging to.
The figure on the ground was alive. The little puffs of air were handy for telling Leo that their breathing was relatively even and deep. Working his hand from shoulder to neck, he checked the rate of their pulse and was relieved to find it steady and even. They were barely conscious and clearly uncomfortable but seemed little worse off than him. They we’re starting to come around. He couldn’t do a full examination until they were up and able to get to better light but, for now, he was satisfied that they weren’t about to die on him. Better not to move them until they were conscious enough to alert him to any pain.
As the figure on the ground slowly came around, Leo jolted in surprise when a second detached itself from the fountain. Perched on its edge, Leo had mistaken the shape as part of the fountain’s decor - an angel of Grecian figure perhaps that would normally sprout water from the top of its head or some such. Instead, it had been an actual, living person. A very still one. And as she came towards him, the nearby torchlight setting her clothes glinting like silk, Leo could make a hazardous guess as to why. She had to be frozen solid.
She moved gracefully in the darkness, clearly aiming for him and, before being able to introduce herself, descended into a fit of coughing.
“Oh, hey, whoa…” Leo said, jumping to his feet so that he could steady her with a hand wrapped around her arm. He could hear a rattle in her throat and a sharpness to her inhale. The cold might have sparked her coughing fit but it wasn’t the only reason for her hacking. “You okay, there?” He asked with genuine warmth. “Here, maybe you should sit back down for a second.” He tried manoeuvring her to the edge of the fountain again, careful to avoid the areas of stone smeared with the slimy gunge that filled the thing.
“You mind if I just check your pulse for a second?” He asked, as the coughing subsided. He shifted neatly into a routine of basic health questions, his fingers finding a key spot on her wrist. “I’m Leo, by the way. I would be hoping you know why we’re here but given your PJs I’m gonna go with no?” He smiled up at her in the darkness, attempting some reassurance. The last thing someone with a respiratory issue needed to do was panic. Even if he was no calmer than her, a smile and the facade of confidence might be the straw they would all soon be clinging to.
Maybe drawing attention to herself hadn’t been the brightest idea. The only other person who was conscious was touching a figure on the ground. Oh god, what if he was the one who’d kidnapped her? What if he’d kidnapped them all? The thought came too late. He’d already noticed her. A powerful feeling crept up into her chest, urging her to run -and run fast. The impracticality of bunny slippers for sprinting was completely forgotten. The only thing to stop her was because as his face became visible in the flickering light, he appeared just as startled to see her as she did to see him. The two stared at each other for a second, comically still.
Now that Elena was closer, she noticed that he appeared to be around her own age. What’s more, his face shifted to one of deep concern as she hunched over in a coughing fit. The tightness in her chest immediately loosened. His wrinkled brow seemed genuine. Despite having no idea where she was or how she’d gotten here, her gut told her to trust him. The most she could communicate at the moment was a nod. She allowed him to support her arm, leaning on him slightly as they moved back toward the fountain edge. Although she dreaded the touch of the cold stone again, she allowed him to guide her to a clean-ish spot.
Her coughs slowed after a minute and she was able straighten. Even when she wasn’t feeling well, the years of training showed. Her spine arched, shoulders squaring up even as her chin raised to look him in the eye. The air was so chilled there was almost a sting when it entered her lungs, but she was breathing again without relapsing. “Thanks. I’m not feeling my best. Obviously.” The stone wasn’t as cold as she’d thought. Maybe she was finally adjusting to the temperature. More than likely she was going through another hot flash.
He asked to take her pulse and she offered her arm. “Sure, go ahead. Are you a paramedic or something?” She met his eyes and returned his smile with a tiny one of her own. “Elena. I was going to ask you the same thing. I guess we’re both underdressed for the outdoors, huh?” A small huff of amusement condensed the air in front of her, and she tugged her robe tighter with her free hand. “I was trying to remember… maybe we were drugged? I remember taking my medication, laying on my bed… and then I woke up here.” She gestured around them, her eyes scanning the shadows nearby before returning to his face. “Would someone have kidnapped us? What’s the last thing you remember?” Elena’s mother was a prominent politician, and all politicians had enemies. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone had finally followed through on a threat. Maybe Leo could shed some light on the situation. Or maybe one of the sleeping figures would wake up and have some answers.
Peach
Elena
Peach
Elena
Awards
First Impressions:Delicate; Kind smile, golden hair, soft hands, full lower lip
Address: Your Her Ladyship
Maybe drawing attention to herself hadn’t been the brightest idea. The only other person who was conscious was touching a figure on the ground. Oh god, what if he was the one who’d kidnapped her? What if he’d kidnapped them all? The thought came too late. He’d already noticed her. A powerful feeling crept up into her chest, urging her to run -and run fast. The impracticality of bunny slippers for sprinting was completely forgotten. The only thing to stop her was because as his face became visible in the flickering light, he appeared just as startled to see her as she did to see him. The two stared at each other for a second, comically still.
Now that Elena was closer, she noticed that he appeared to be around her own age. What’s more, his face shifted to one of deep concern as she hunched over in a coughing fit. The tightness in her chest immediately loosened. His wrinkled brow seemed genuine. Despite having no idea where she was or how she’d gotten here, her gut told her to trust him. The most she could communicate at the moment was a nod. She allowed him to support her arm, leaning on him slightly as they moved back toward the fountain edge. Although she dreaded the touch of the cold stone again, she allowed him to guide her to a clean-ish spot.
Her coughs slowed after a minute and she was able straighten. Even when she wasn’t feeling well, the years of training showed. Her spine arched, shoulders squaring up even as her chin raised to look him in the eye. The air was so chilled there was almost a sting when it entered her lungs, but she was breathing again without relapsing. “Thanks. I’m not feeling my best. Obviously.” The stone wasn’t as cold as she’d thought. Maybe she was finally adjusting to the temperature. More than likely she was going through another hot flash.
He asked to take her pulse and she offered her arm. “Sure, go ahead. Are you a paramedic or something?” She met his eyes and returned his smile with a tiny one of her own. “Elena. I was going to ask you the same thing. I guess we’re both underdressed for the outdoors, huh?” A small huff of amusement condensed the air in front of her, and she tugged her robe tighter with her free hand. “I was trying to remember… maybe we were drugged? I remember taking my medication, laying on my bed… and then I woke up here.” She gestured around them, her eyes scanning the shadows nearby before returning to his face. “Would someone have kidnapped us? What’s the last thing you remember?” Elena’s mother was a prominent politician, and all politicians had enemies. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone had finally followed through on a threat. Maybe Leo could shed some light on the situation. Or maybe one of the sleeping figures would wake up and have some answers.
Maybe drawing attention to herself hadn’t been the brightest idea. The only other person who was conscious was touching a figure on the ground. Oh god, what if he was the one who’d kidnapped her? What if he’d kidnapped them all? The thought came too late. He’d already noticed her. A powerful feeling crept up into her chest, urging her to run -and run fast. The impracticality of bunny slippers for sprinting was completely forgotten. The only thing to stop her was because as his face became visible in the flickering light, he appeared just as startled to see her as she did to see him. The two stared at each other for a second, comically still.
Now that Elena was closer, she noticed that he appeared to be around her own age. What’s more, his face shifted to one of deep concern as she hunched over in a coughing fit. The tightness in her chest immediately loosened. His wrinkled brow seemed genuine. Despite having no idea where she was or how she’d gotten here, her gut told her to trust him. The most she could communicate at the moment was a nod. She allowed him to support her arm, leaning on him slightly as they moved back toward the fountain edge. Although she dreaded the touch of the cold stone again, she allowed him to guide her to a clean-ish spot.
Her coughs slowed after a minute and she was able straighten. Even when she wasn’t feeling well, the years of training showed. Her spine arched, shoulders squaring up even as her chin raised to look him in the eye. The air was so chilled there was almost a sting when it entered her lungs, but she was breathing again without relapsing. “Thanks. I’m not feeling my best. Obviously.” The stone wasn’t as cold as she’d thought. Maybe she was finally adjusting to the temperature. More than likely she was going through another hot flash.
He asked to take her pulse and she offered her arm. “Sure, go ahead. Are you a paramedic or something?” She met his eyes and returned his smile with a tiny one of her own. “Elena. I was going to ask you the same thing. I guess we’re both underdressed for the outdoors, huh?” A small huff of amusement condensed the air in front of her, and she tugged her robe tighter with her free hand. “I was trying to remember… maybe we were drugged? I remember taking my medication, laying on my bed… and then I woke up here.” She gestured around them, her eyes scanning the shadows nearby before returning to his face. “Would someone have kidnapped us? What’s the last thing you remember?” Elena’s mother was a prominent politician, and all politicians had enemies. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone had finally followed through on a threat. Maybe Leo could shed some light on the situation. Or maybe one of the sleeping figures would wake up and have some answers.
The bed was empty.
When Mihail had rolled over with the intention of pressing himself against the older man who should have been sharing the bed, there was no one there. In fact, there was nothing there, and worse still, his path over what should have been a comfortable mattress and soft sheets was instead met with rocky ground and dirt. He didn’t even have his favoured chinchilla blanket, and that was a tragedy in itself, for there was nothing more delightful than curling up into the warmth of a fur when one was starting to feel chillier, and there was a cold streak in the air that would have suited a fur-lined snuggle perfectly. At the very least, he was still in the pleasure of his silk pyjamas, without which he was not quite sure what he would do (it seemed inexplicably likely that this horrendous situation would have led to him being forced into some awful nightwear designed for those who did not share his delicate skin).
Naturally, his hand reached for his mobile phone, automatically dialling the number for his assistant because if there was anybody that could help, it was Leonard. He would work out his employer’s location, have a car sent and a macchiato ready and maybe book him a spa treatment to take his mind off the horror of waking up in some dingy cesspit. And yet the call would not connect. Not the first time, nor when he frantically pushed the button again in the hopes that it had simply been some strange mistake. On further investigation, the reason why became evident: there was no service. Mihail could live with many a travesty, but he could not survive a lack of service nor access to his personal assistant. That opened up his life to having to do things for himself, and he was far too busy being interesting to worry about doing things for himself.
But, if the moment called for it, he supposed he could manage somewhat. The phone was returned to his breast pocket, and he pulled himself into a semi-seated position, glad to find that he still bore his slippers and did not have to suffer the horrors of stepping directly in the mud. Honestly, it was as though those who ran this place had never once heard of cleanliness.
First things first, he had to investigate. It would not do to be stuck in some hellhole without the most basic knowledge of his situation. The Thanasi shifted easily to his feet, brushing himself off as though greatly dirtied by the mere act of having been on the floor for more than a second, then turned his gaze to his surroundings (or what he could actually see of them in the dimmest of light). They were, for lack of a better term, thoroughly dead. This town — if one could truly title it as such — seemed to have nothing to offer, and it was certainly not the sort of place in which he would ever usually be found dead if not for perhaps carrying out some questionable task in his family name. But Mihail knew he had not occupied himself like that at any point during the previous night, and had instead enjoyed his usual debauchery in the comfort of his apartment with his current partner. It was dark and damp and rotting as though it had not seen life in centuries, and he did not like it one bit. He did not do well without modern technology, because it usually meant no spas, no phones and rather backwards views on everything else that mattered to him.
Voices alerted him that he was not alone in this ordeal, and when he turned to examine the empty fountain behind him, he found a pair of others who had clearly been caught in the same situation. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps they could shed some understanding on this ordeal, so Mihail moved more eagerly towards them, arms crossed against his chest as he spoke. Gods, he wished he were wearing his dressing gown. Somehow, this all felt as though it would be far more comfortable if he were in a dressing gown.
“Mimi Thanasi,” he announced by way of opening, hand draped forwards in arrogant expectation of his usual means of introduction. He expected recognition, in truth. The other hand had dropped to his waistline, making a conscious effort to avoid touching anything around him lest it be covered in some layer of unwanted grime. “This is a hellscape that I did not sign up for, and I know I did not charter a flight last night — certainly not to here.” He gave a light chuckle, as though the notion of calling for a plane on a random whim were entirely ordinary, though he had only really done it a very regular two or three times when he was especially bored. “Do you know where we are?”
Neither the man nor the woman looked especially as though they might be able to help — the girl looked particularly worse for wear, as they were currently engaged in some kind of medical procedure. They were both severely underdressed as well, which implied that they had simply appeared here in the same manner as he, but there was never any harm in asking. Mihail decided to fall for expressing his discomfort with the situation as a whole as if that might provide some additional context. “There is no service. I cannot reach my assistant. I trust you are in the same situation?”
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
When Mihail had rolled over with the intention of pressing himself against the older man who should have been sharing the bed, there was no one there. In fact, there was nothing there, and worse still, his path over what should have been a comfortable mattress and soft sheets was instead met with rocky ground and dirt. He didn’t even have his favoured chinchilla blanket, and that was a tragedy in itself, for there was nothing more delightful than curling up into the warmth of a fur when one was starting to feel chillier, and there was a cold streak in the air that would have suited a fur-lined snuggle perfectly. At the very least, he was still in the pleasure of his silk pyjamas, without which he was not quite sure what he would do (it seemed inexplicably likely that this horrendous situation would have led to him being forced into some awful nightwear designed for those who did not share his delicate skin).
Naturally, his hand reached for his mobile phone, automatically dialling the number for his assistant because if there was anybody that could help, it was Leonard. He would work out his employer’s location, have a car sent and a macchiato ready and maybe book him a spa treatment to take his mind off the horror of waking up in some dingy cesspit. And yet the call would not connect. Not the first time, nor when he frantically pushed the button again in the hopes that it had simply been some strange mistake. On further investigation, the reason why became evident: there was no service. Mihail could live with many a travesty, but he could not survive a lack of service nor access to his personal assistant. That opened up his life to having to do things for himself, and he was far too busy being interesting to worry about doing things for himself.
But, if the moment called for it, he supposed he could manage somewhat. The phone was returned to his breast pocket, and he pulled himself into a semi-seated position, glad to find that he still bore his slippers and did not have to suffer the horrors of stepping directly in the mud. Honestly, it was as though those who ran this place had never once heard of cleanliness.
First things first, he had to investigate. It would not do to be stuck in some hellhole without the most basic knowledge of his situation. The Thanasi shifted easily to his feet, brushing himself off as though greatly dirtied by the mere act of having been on the floor for more than a second, then turned his gaze to his surroundings (or what he could actually see of them in the dimmest of light). They were, for lack of a better term, thoroughly dead. This town — if one could truly title it as such — seemed to have nothing to offer, and it was certainly not the sort of place in which he would ever usually be found dead if not for perhaps carrying out some questionable task in his family name. But Mihail knew he had not occupied himself like that at any point during the previous night, and had instead enjoyed his usual debauchery in the comfort of his apartment with his current partner. It was dark and damp and rotting as though it had not seen life in centuries, and he did not like it one bit. He did not do well without modern technology, because it usually meant no spas, no phones and rather backwards views on everything else that mattered to him.
Voices alerted him that he was not alone in this ordeal, and when he turned to examine the empty fountain behind him, he found a pair of others who had clearly been caught in the same situation. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps they could shed some understanding on this ordeal, so Mihail moved more eagerly towards them, arms crossed against his chest as he spoke. Gods, he wished he were wearing his dressing gown. Somehow, this all felt as though it would be far more comfortable if he were in a dressing gown.
“Mimi Thanasi,” he announced by way of opening, hand draped forwards in arrogant expectation of his usual means of introduction. He expected recognition, in truth. The other hand had dropped to his waistline, making a conscious effort to avoid touching anything around him lest it be covered in some layer of unwanted grime. “This is a hellscape that I did not sign up for, and I know I did not charter a flight last night — certainly not to here.” He gave a light chuckle, as though the notion of calling for a plane on a random whim were entirely ordinary, though he had only really done it a very regular two or three times when he was especially bored. “Do you know where we are?”
Neither the man nor the woman looked especially as though they might be able to help — the girl looked particularly worse for wear, as they were currently engaged in some kind of medical procedure. They were both severely underdressed as well, which implied that they had simply appeared here in the same manner as he, but there was never any harm in asking. Mihail decided to fall for expressing his discomfort with the situation as a whole as if that might provide some additional context. “There is no service. I cannot reach my assistant. I trust you are in the same situation?”
The bed was empty.
When Mihail had rolled over with the intention of pressing himself against the older man who should have been sharing the bed, there was no one there. In fact, there was nothing there, and worse still, his path over what should have been a comfortable mattress and soft sheets was instead met with rocky ground and dirt. He didn’t even have his favoured chinchilla blanket, and that was a tragedy in itself, for there was nothing more delightful than curling up into the warmth of a fur when one was starting to feel chillier, and there was a cold streak in the air that would have suited a fur-lined snuggle perfectly. At the very least, he was still in the pleasure of his silk pyjamas, without which he was not quite sure what he would do (it seemed inexplicably likely that this horrendous situation would have led to him being forced into some awful nightwear designed for those who did not share his delicate skin).
Naturally, his hand reached for his mobile phone, automatically dialling the number for his assistant because if there was anybody that could help, it was Leonard. He would work out his employer’s location, have a car sent and a macchiato ready and maybe book him a spa treatment to take his mind off the horror of waking up in some dingy cesspit. And yet the call would not connect. Not the first time, nor when he frantically pushed the button again in the hopes that it had simply been some strange mistake. On further investigation, the reason why became evident: there was no service. Mihail could live with many a travesty, but he could not survive a lack of service nor access to his personal assistant. That opened up his life to having to do things for himself, and he was far too busy being interesting to worry about doing things for himself.
But, if the moment called for it, he supposed he could manage somewhat. The phone was returned to his breast pocket, and he pulled himself into a semi-seated position, glad to find that he still bore his slippers and did not have to suffer the horrors of stepping directly in the mud. Honestly, it was as though those who ran this place had never once heard of cleanliness.
First things first, he had to investigate. It would not do to be stuck in some hellhole without the most basic knowledge of his situation. The Thanasi shifted easily to his feet, brushing himself off as though greatly dirtied by the mere act of having been on the floor for more than a second, then turned his gaze to his surroundings (or what he could actually see of them in the dimmest of light). They were, for lack of a better term, thoroughly dead. This town — if one could truly title it as such — seemed to have nothing to offer, and it was certainly not the sort of place in which he would ever usually be found dead if not for perhaps carrying out some questionable task in his family name. But Mihail knew he had not occupied himself like that at any point during the previous night, and had instead enjoyed his usual debauchery in the comfort of his apartment with his current partner. It was dark and damp and rotting as though it had not seen life in centuries, and he did not like it one bit. He did not do well without modern technology, because it usually meant no spas, no phones and rather backwards views on everything else that mattered to him.
Voices alerted him that he was not alone in this ordeal, and when he turned to examine the empty fountain behind him, he found a pair of others who had clearly been caught in the same situation. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps they could shed some understanding on this ordeal, so Mihail moved more eagerly towards them, arms crossed against his chest as he spoke. Gods, he wished he were wearing his dressing gown. Somehow, this all felt as though it would be far more comfortable if he were in a dressing gown.
“Mimi Thanasi,” he announced by way of opening, hand draped forwards in arrogant expectation of his usual means of introduction. He expected recognition, in truth. The other hand had dropped to his waistline, making a conscious effort to avoid touching anything around him lest it be covered in some layer of unwanted grime. “This is a hellscape that I did not sign up for, and I know I did not charter a flight last night — certainly not to here.” He gave a light chuckle, as though the notion of calling for a plane on a random whim were entirely ordinary, though he had only really done it a very regular two or three times when he was especially bored. “Do you know where we are?”
Neither the man nor the woman looked especially as though they might be able to help — the girl looked particularly worse for wear, as they were currently engaged in some kind of medical procedure. They were both severely underdressed as well, which implied that they had simply appeared here in the same manner as he, but there was never any harm in asking. Mihail decided to fall for expressing his discomfort with the situation as a whole as if that might provide some additional context. “There is no service. I cannot reach my assistant. I trust you are in the same situation?”
Persephone had only dozed off for a second or so. She had finished her shift as the officer of the watch on board the Greek frigate Themistoklis and had stopped by her quarters to catch a few winks before she had to attend the meeting in the officers' mess planning out the upcoming patrol of the Aegean Sea. It had been a power nap in the most accurate meaning of the word. She did not have time to rest properly, so rather than getting out of her uniform, she simply slipped out of her shoes and hung her jacket on the chair by her desk. Then, still in her shirt and the black pencil skirt, she dropped onto her back on her bunk and no sooner had her head struck the pillow before her mind shut down. But when Persephone opened her eyes, it was not at all due to the fulfilling rest that she had hoped. Something instinctively felt off, and her bunk felt rough and hard. She sat upright in an instant and immediately reached for her braid as the sight of her surroundings did not fill her with confidence. Her shirt was somewhat dishevelled from her sleep, but Persephone quickly stood on her bare feet, tucked the shirk back down her skirt, and looked around. Her eyes were unused to the darkness as most of the warship tended to be dimly lit with red lamps at night. But she heard voices. Persephone heard people speaking, and the voices were alien to her. She held her braid tightly in her hand as she cautiously walked closer, careful not to step on sharp objects without shoes to protect her. She drew in a breath to speak but immediately lost all confidence in announcing herself. She was in a strange place not of her own choosing, and those voices could well be from her abductors. How could one even be abducted from a warship? She inhaled again and stomped her foot lightly against the ground as she once again failed to say anything out of fear. But then she gazed down at her insignia denoting her rank as an officer of the Hellenic Navy. "Who's there?!" she demanded with a commanding voice far flung from her typical demeanour.
Makki
Persephone
Makki
Persephone
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Her deep brown, almond-shaped eyes and her thick long and braided hair.
Address: Your Her Royal Highness
Persephone had only dozed off for a second or so. She had finished her shift as the officer of the watch on board the Greek frigate Themistoklis and had stopped by her quarters to catch a few winks before she had to attend the meeting in the officers' mess planning out the upcoming patrol of the Aegean Sea. It had been a power nap in the most accurate meaning of the word. She did not have time to rest properly, so rather than getting out of her uniform, she simply slipped out of her shoes and hung her jacket on the chair by her desk. Then, still in her shirt and the black pencil skirt, she dropped onto her back on her bunk and no sooner had her head struck the pillow before her mind shut down. But when Persephone opened her eyes, it was not at all due to the fulfilling rest that she had hoped. Something instinctively felt off, and her bunk felt rough and hard. She sat upright in an instant and immediately reached for her braid as the sight of her surroundings did not fill her with confidence. Her shirt was somewhat dishevelled from her sleep, but Persephone quickly stood on her bare feet, tucked the shirk back down her skirt, and looked around. Her eyes were unused to the darkness as most of the warship tended to be dimly lit with red lamps at night. But she heard voices. Persephone heard people speaking, and the voices were alien to her. She held her braid tightly in her hand as she cautiously walked closer, careful not to step on sharp objects without shoes to protect her. She drew in a breath to speak but immediately lost all confidence in announcing herself. She was in a strange place not of her own choosing, and those voices could well be from her abductors. How could one even be abducted from a warship? She inhaled again and stomped her foot lightly against the ground as she once again failed to say anything out of fear. But then she gazed down at her insignia denoting her rank as an officer of the Hellenic Navy. "Who's there?!" she demanded with a commanding voice far flung from her typical demeanour.
Persephone had only dozed off for a second or so. She had finished her shift as the officer of the watch on board the Greek frigate Themistoklis and had stopped by her quarters to catch a few winks before she had to attend the meeting in the officers' mess planning out the upcoming patrol of the Aegean Sea. It had been a power nap in the most accurate meaning of the word. She did not have time to rest properly, so rather than getting out of her uniform, she simply slipped out of her shoes and hung her jacket on the chair by her desk. Then, still in her shirt and the black pencil skirt, she dropped onto her back on her bunk and no sooner had her head struck the pillow before her mind shut down. But when Persephone opened her eyes, it was not at all due to the fulfilling rest that she had hoped. Something instinctively felt off, and her bunk felt rough and hard. She sat upright in an instant and immediately reached for her braid as the sight of her surroundings did not fill her with confidence. Her shirt was somewhat dishevelled from her sleep, but Persephone quickly stood on her bare feet, tucked the shirk back down her skirt, and looked around. Her eyes were unused to the darkness as most of the warship tended to be dimly lit with red lamps at night. But she heard voices. Persephone heard people speaking, and the voices were alien to her. She held her braid tightly in her hand as she cautiously walked closer, careful not to step on sharp objects without shoes to protect her. She drew in a breath to speak but immediately lost all confidence in announcing herself. She was in a strange place not of her own choosing, and those voices could well be from her abductors. How could one even be abducted from a warship? She inhaled again and stomped her foot lightly against the ground as she once again failed to say anything out of fear. But then she gazed down at her insignia denoting her rank as an officer of the Hellenic Navy. "Who's there?!" she demanded with a commanding voice far flung from her typical demeanour.