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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 8, 2016 10:56:14 GMT -5
( aaa sorry for the weird reply guys i’m really tired right now even though it’s only one in the morning TvT probably cause i went to school today yayyy astronomy what am i gonna do for that class gahh
i’ve been running all over the place as well so no worries heheh
i know home alone just… erjoeijrweij
*hides*
oh… poor will ;ㅁ; )
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The words struck Morgan quite a bit, though his expression remained smooth as the words slowly registered in his head. Word is the Crestles are after both of your heads? He felt a feeling of unease settle into his stomach as Marjorie’s words lingered in his head for a while. But Lenore had come with the letter directly, hadn’t she? She hadn’t stopped by and told anyone else about what it had said, right? So how did Marjorie, someone who hadn’t even been there with them to discuss about the hound event, know about its exact content? The thought left him unnerved with a dark feeling brewing in his abdomen. There was no way that information about the letter could have been leaked this soon either — not when it only had been hours away. What did that leave them with? Either someone was playing tricks on them from the exterior, pulling on their strings and breaking them down from the inside bit by bit using petty methods….
Or they had a traitor among themselves.
He suddenly felt ill. No, no he couldn’t think like that — he couldn’t go jumping to conclusions. But it left him bothered, knowing that the idea was a possibility. But… who? Who would do such a thing? Someone had overheard them, he tried to convince himself as his grip around the hilt of his dagger tightened. But the doors that they had spoken behind were heavy and the logical side of his head understood that there could have been no one listening to them that night. He didn’t want to think about the more horrid chance, though. He wouldn’t think that way. Not when he was facing these people. Not with Eliza here next to him. Not when both of their lives were on stake.
“Then this probably isn’t the best solution,” he muttered underneath his breath calmly, though there was an undercurrent of fire in his red-golden eyes as he skimmed their immediate surrounding, looking out for the remaining two and any sudden movement Marjorie would make. The wind pushed his silky hair past his face, though he made no movement to push them back from falling over his pale lashes and his narrowed gaze.
In all honesty, he still wasn’t entirely certain about Remus’ decision. Though it wasn’t a rare occasion, the whole organization would be sticking their necks out for three people. Three. Lenore and Morgan were known between several of the hostile organizations the Ravens had to face. They stood high up in the hierarchy of the Ravens, and their status had been earned not given. They were harder to catch, harder to lure out and capture so easily. Eliza would be someone who they would sweep out for good safety measures — after all, they didn’t know who she was and what kind of benefactors she would bring to the Ravens. They had thought they’d used her to bring more confusion to the Ravens, but there was a good chance that they were wrong and that she would do the opposite. And this letter had been a chance for the Crestles to knock all of them out at once. Or, he thought with predicament slithering down his spine. A chance for them to draw out the Ravens into some bigger mess. But it was safe to assume that if he’d given himself over, the brawl wouldn’t be happening and something else would’ve happened in its absence. Something less violent, something more… safe. It puzzled him, making him feel conflicted and split. He understood that Lenore had felt the same, but had come with the letter in her hand deciding against the choice to turn herself and him and Eliza in. She’d decided against giving up their lives — and why? He didn’t want to go concluding Eliza’s life, really, he could have probably made something work — they could have probably done something to satisfy the Crestles and the humility they had to face for their mistakes instead of forcing Eliza to face their twisted ideas. Who knew how creative they would be with their executions this time. Eliza hadn’t done anything to deserve getting involved into the hectic mesh of chaos, and she hadn’t done anything to deserve strangers concluding her life. Lenore had probably thought the same and had made a bet with fortune.
His mind reeled with thoughts, but his expression remained indifferent and even relaxed as his molten eyes danced with a storm of inferno underneath the moonlight’s graceful touch, fixated onto Marjorie. “Why don’t all of you show yourselves now?” His voice was clear, the naturally sanguine look to his face remaining, though there was an edge to it. He wasn’t surprised to see the first large figure emerge, who he recognized as Josiah Forrestair — a middle-aged man with half-moons that sagged underneath his eyes along with a stubbed beard. He had an eerie grin split across his face that would make Cheshire look bad. But it was the second individual who caught him off guard.
Nazareth?
What on Earth was he doing here? The sight of the snappy Raven made Morgan's eyes narrow. In a sense, he’d trusted the stoic fellow — sure, they’d bicker and compete against each other, but he had still found the raven-haired fighter to be rather…. trustworthy? He remembered the day when the lean and trained youth had saved Sarah from danger, giving up on killing their target and instead turning around to keep the other Raven safe and evenly matched against their enemies. Nazareth had scowled — but then again when did he not? — and had brushed off Sarah’s gratitude, though Morgan had caught the slight bit of softness in the dark and sharp eyes. Had he mistaken who Nazareth was? He’d thought better of Nazareth than to stoop low in an ambush such as this one. Even if the fellow could be rude and sardonic and sharp with his words, seemingly uncaring of the people around himself as well as holding little to no regard for anyone’s life, he hadn’t thought too badly of the moody Raven who often grudgingly was frequently seen dragging others out of harm’s way. Not to mention that, from what he understood, Nazareth had been the one keeping most of the Ravens’ traps shut about Eliza and the word of her brother’s arrival.
“We need you to follow us without resistance, Morgan. Girl,” said Josiah with a small tilt of his head, his nose quivering in anticipation like a large rat who wasn’t quite sure of the danger it was stepping itself into. “This is for the best…. like Marjorie says.”
Taking a step backwards so that his back nearly brushed against Eliza’s, Morgan turned his head around the slightest bit. “If I tell you to run,” he murmured, his voice low. “Would you do that?” While the composure and air of assurance never left his demeanour, he felt a small twinge of anxiety. Not because he feared losing — no, that wasn’t what he was afraid of. Things could go terribly wrong, he knew, especially with Nazareth there to side with the other two wild and uncontrolled fighters. They were outnumbered with three trained and skilled Ravens who had ended up in the organization because of the hardships they faced, and they were jagged from the problems that had brought them here, yes, that was true. And he could not lower his guard around Nazareth, who only seemed to purposefully avoid a promotion to where they stood, though he could not yet understand why. But what feared him was the fact that he would be fighting in front of Eliza against these deadly criminals. And if he was going to face powerful opponents, he had no choice but to let the image he desperately tried to keep up slip through his fingers. He would have to fight with the same amount of violence they put up to leave the courtyard as the winner. It feared him more to think that he already had a gist of her answer from her previous statement and volunteer to fight in the brawl.
“Why hold so much value for that girl?” He then heard the question come from Nazareth, whose sharp dark eyes seemed to bore into Eliza. Locks of his black hair hung over his eyes as his gaze pierced through her, not quite revealing too much of what thoughts could be going on his head. “You don’t know her and she doesn’t know you.”
“At least she isn’t the one ambushing me and coming after my life,” retorted Morgan whose eyes darkened as he watched Nazareth remain where he stood with his sword in hand. Was it his imagination, or was there no fighting spirit to Nazareth? His voice was low and gruff as usual, but it hadn’t held a great amount of hostility. He wasn’t exactly as aggressive as the other two Ravens were with their teeth bared and their eyes flashing. And boy, was Nazareth well known for his assertiveness in and out of a fight. Morgan swore that the Raven even looked… curious. Like he was genuinely puzzled over the fact of why Eliza was being sheltered by the more high-standing Ravens along with her brother, who was none other than the prince of the Rockshires.
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Morgan hadn’t been too off about the thoughts that were currently unraveling in Nazareth’s head. As his sharp eyes rested upon the girl with her golden-brown locks and noticed the quiet resolve in her determined eyes, he had the feeling that he could understand Remus’ group a little bit as to why they were keeping her underneath their wing instead of leaving her be. He hadn’t seen her much, really, but had picked up a few of the traits she seemed to show from the small times he’d spotted her unintentionally. Her soft voice suddenly growing into a yell when she saw her messy brother picking a fight in front of their residence (he’d been half-amused and half-unamused by the chaos at the time), her pulling out that small knife while standing there with Morgan with a small smile drawn across her lips, the air of her keen spirit that seemed to separate her from the rest of the Ravens.
Tall and lean with dark hair that fell over his shoulders, Nazareth was rather quite handsome, though the trait was usually obscured by the scowl upon his lips and his sharp eyes that made most keep an arms length away from his way. He was a man who was older than Morgan — excuse me, Snowy — though his overall appearance gave off the impression that he was nearly around the same age. He was cold and arrogant and rude, and showed little regard for the value of life. Perhaps that had been the first thing that had caused him to clash with Morgan the first time he’d met the pale-haired boy. While Morgan valued life, he was someone who was willing to leave anyone behind in order to complete the things that were set out for him to do. He was, often times, petulant and stubborn, and so was Morgan. Again, that had been another thing that had caused them to clash against each other — the fact that they shared some traits just made things worse for their bickering.
His calloused hand tightened and loosened around the hilt of his weapon as his onyx eyes narrowed. A pistol rested in its sheath against his leg, though he hadn’t bothered to pull it out. For once Morgan’s keen eyes didn’t seem to notice that gesture — he looked like his mind was focused on something else — something regarding that girl, no doubt. Morgan? He seemed awfully concerned over the girl. Was he falling for an outsider? The thought almost made his lips tug into a smirk.
He would explain his thoughts a little later. At the moment, he’d focus on the problem going around himself. He was curious, really, whether if the girl could see it the small hints of his gestures and his eyes. It’d be rather interesting if she did, really; he understood that because his voice sounded the same, cold and velvety, most people had a hard time defining what he felt or thought. His gestures were subtle as well, his expression usually indicating different things with just the pull of his eyebrows.
For now, all they had to know was that for tonight, he was on their side. Just for tonight, though.
Drawing his arms upwards a little more, he pulled himself into a stance with his sharpened gaze briefly flickering over towards the other two and their hungry eyes.
Let’s see what you’re made of, Gansey. What about you caught Morgan’s eyes?
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What on Earth?
It couldn’t have been that long since she’d left the infirmary, had it? Spotting the disaster in front of her eyes, Lenore could only open her mouth slightly before closing it. Her eyes traveled over towards the corpse, then to Sybil, then to Will who looked utterly gray in the face. And then her mind clicked. She hadn’t been here in the chaos or whatever had happened, but she could already assume what had taken place and what kind of motive the killer had. Gansey’s life it seemed, and they had paid the price. At least it hadn’t been a big one — both Sybil and Will were alive even though they looked like they'd been hit by a tornado with their disheveled hair and their ragged expressions.
She felt the warm around her hand disappear — now that she thought about it, when had they been holding hands again? She only remembered pulling Remus along and walking beside him with her hand loosely wrapped around a portion of his — and felt herself being nudged inside of the infirmary even further. The stench that plagued the air hit her, derived from the already-stale corpse. It didn’t take that long for a body to decay, she knew. Not with the temperature the infirmary was in. She didn’t flinch, though; her attention was much too focused on Sybil. The girl’s voice sounded rough and she even jolted a little as she spoke, shaken. And Will — dear goodness they both looked battered and beaten and dead as if they’d been revived from a grave.
She didn’t need to be reminded again to stay. She was already making her way over to Sybil and Will, ignoring the meals he’d hurled up. She then gently rubbed Sybil’s curled back without saying anything as the blonde tucked her knees to her chest, and turned her head around, looking for anything that could replace Will’s bloody shirt as he croaked his inquiry. She didn’t know the Rockshire prince too well — she’d only heard of him through several resources and rumours and complaints after all — but with his now-ashen face and weakened demeanour, the remaining flicker of skepticism disappeared. Before she’d left, she’d found only a small part of herself trusting the fact that he wouldn’t cause trouble, mainly because he was injured and flocked with other Ravens. But now, she found herself rising to her feet and speaking to Will with her voice holding no mystery, and her gaze softened quite a bit. “I’ll see what I can do for you about that. For now… Don’t concern yourselves about finding something.”
Her eyes traveled over towards Remus as he kept his eyes on the door and on the two men and spoke with anger strung in every syllable that left his mouth.
Her arm seemed to throb again.
Did she mention that her head did, too?
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 8, 2016 11:26:42 GMT -5
[ if you wanna get the girls just puke a little. works every time ] [ what is sleep. tell me what is it, I have no memory of it ] [ ooo astronomy owo ] [ go to sleep misc, sleeppppp whatever sleep is ] [ I'm gonna make the references all over the place ]
Benny only grunted at the response that Will needed a shirt, nodding to Lenore when she did speak about finding something. "There should be something in the cabinet over there beneath the blankets. It might be a bit big but it's something other then a big old bloody shirt" He said to Lenore, checking over Will's wounds by lightly pressing his fingers in the injured areas around his chest. He didn't need Will breaking any ribs, those were a pain to mend up. Sybil on the other hand only flinched at the contact on her back, glancing up toward Lenore before looking away. She scraped her nails down the sides of the pitcher, eyeing the body that Edward was dragging off to the side and onto a white sheet to be wrapped up. "How badly did he get ya?" She heard a voice saw from beside her -- Remus of course, flowing through the room without so much of a sound. She forgets why they call him the Phantom at times, but she guessed this was a reason. He was silent as a ghost, like he wasn't really there to begin with. Maybe he was just a figment of everyone's imagination, a hallucination everyone saw because.....maybe they were all crazy? Who knew.
"I'm alive so I guess not so bad" She croaked, trying to pull off a little smug I got him before he got me haha smile but it turned into a grimace when the soft burn coursed through her throat again. Remus leaned over the end boards to get a better look at the bruises on her neck, the way Remus and Lenore were acting reminded her of a concerned father and mother after their kids had fallen off their horses after riding. Only this time Sybil had been fighting for her life and ended up taking another. There were sure to be bruises lining her arms and stomach but for now the most notable one was the one around her neck. Sybil let Remus look at her neck bruise, her eyes watching the body being wrapped up. Those dead eyes staring right back at her. She stared right on back and pressed her lips into a thin line.
The first time she had killed anyone was after her brother ditched her and her father died. Actually it was maybe the day after, waking up to seeing your brother leave you a crappy note after your fathers death leaves you with either pent up anger or extreme fear. So she tossed the fear out the window and chose to bathe in that anger and let it burn through her finger tips. Sybil was dragged out of the La Selina in hopes to cool off in some pub somewhere, only to end up cornered in an alley way by some goons of the Crestles who thought it would be funny to pick on some small fry Ravens. Sybil had one pistol with only two Ravens that didn't even know how to fight. It was just the servant boys, so being ambushed was a little out of their comfort zone. Being ambushed didn't really help Sybil then with her anger, and it didn't help when the first one clocked her in the face after she tried to talk their way out of it. That's when common sense had flown out the window and she came running at them with fists flying and even some teeth. The other two Ravens just went with it, but they worked at more of subduing them then trying to kill them.
In the end Sybil shot one in the head and was pressing her pistol into the other ones head, yelling at him over and over again. The two Ravens had barely said a word to her when she shooed away the Crestle and didn't bother to speak to her on the way back to the La Selina. But they did stop before going in, handing her a handkerchief. "You forgot you got punched in the face?" One said, while she pressed the cloth to her nose and just now realizing how sore her body was. "You tend to forget a lot of stuff when you get like that" The raven behind him muttered, not in a blaming tone. Just a matter-of-fact kind of tone. And he was right. She had forgotten, she had forgotten cause she was so angry then she didn't notice the blood that had dripped down her face and into her lips. She didn't go out that much after that, just stayed in her prison of glass with the fire place and towers of books to help her forget.
"....Maybe you shouldn't fight tomorrow"
Remus's voice snapped her out of her trance, her eyes darting up to his blue ones. "Don't you dare" She said, her voice a soft anger that could turn into a yell at any second. "Sybil if you enter that brawl tomorrow like this y-"
"I'll win and beat those Rockshires and Crestles into the dirt. Don't you dare pull me out Remus." Sybil said, her eyes narrowing and a scowl flashing across her face before forming a frown. "I'm going to fight tomorrow..." She rasped, trying to clear her throat which only resulted in a wave of throbbing pain. She lifted the pitcher back up to her lips and drank large gulps in an effort to wash away that feeling. Remus sighed and shook his head, leaning up from Sybil and waving his hand to Edward. "Get him out of here" He said, gesturing to the wrapped up corpse. Remus let out a long sigh before looking to Harold, who was nearly done cleaning up Will's little hurling accident. "If anyone asked where you were tell them you were cleaning up after a Lord who had a little too much to drink" Remus said, the man only nodded trying to get through in cleaning this up without hurling himself.
Sybil didn't say much after that, she tried pulling the collar around her neck in a effort to hide the bruise. Remus was busy watching the door and glancing at the group on the bed.
Things were getting tense weren't they?
"Can I just leave?" Sybil muttered after a while, her eyes dragging upwards from her hands to Remus. "If anything I want to sleep in my own bed" She murmured, the affects of the drug washing over her quicker then she had expected it too. Her eye lids were heavy and if she didn't pay attention she could end up face first on the floor or falling back. Her arms felt heavy like they were pumped with cement and her head felt even heavier. At this point she just wanted to curl up and fall asleep. "Not yet Sybil" Remus replied with a hidden message of Be quiet and stop talking already you twit told through those words. He didn't need her to blow her voice today, if anything she should just sleep down here. But he couldn't keep her here. She would want to sleep in her own bed.
Remus turned his eyes back to the door, narrowing them slightly as he wondered what else could be going on. It was like tonight was just testing how far his patience would go before he would explode and he would have to start yelling.
He was getting tired of these gangs pulling their tricks and his own Ravens misbehaving. Maybe he had the reins loose on them for a while, been too soft. But one this is for sure. He wanted to make sure all his ducks were in a row before doing anything else.
"Where's Morgan and Eliza?" He asked after a moment, the sudden realization that he didn't have to worry about one Gansey but two. And he hadn't heard from them in a bit nor did he see them when he was walking up to the balcony or back to the infirmary.
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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 8, 2016 12:16:31 GMT -5
( hahaha it does cx it's a charming point gentlemen
i know. what is sleep? it's over 2am and i don't understand the meaning of sleep
yuuup.... i'm so nervous for the class haha... it was my first day today and the teacher was nice but gahhh i don't know if i'm okay with physics or not x~x yupyup i will after this *faints*
oh dear )
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Listening to Benny's instructions, Lenore quietly headed over towards the cabinets with her good hand reaching out to pull open the door beneath the blankets as her form crouched down. It only took her a second to find the shirt the medic was talking about, and she tilted her head a bit to the side at the size of it (wondering who else had recently been in the infirmary). Rising to her feet, she soon found herself gently pressing the material into Will's hands, though she wasn't too certain if he could pull off his bloodied shirt and pull one on in the current state he was in. She could help, but... she assumed that he wouldn't want it, considering the fact that she was a Raven who he didn't know quite that well. Then again, maybe he was too tired to really care. The image of the black strips of the mark on his skin surfaced in her mind, and she looked at him with her softened gaze. He probably didn't want anyone else to see whatever mark was on him, either. Let me know if I can do anything.
She listened to Sybil's voice before it trailed off slightly, and held back the urge to somehow drag the dead man back from where he was and kick him in the head. Yes, they were a part of the Underground society. But that still didn't warrant his actions towards Sybil -- not when she hadn't been his target in the first place, anyway. Not that it was okay for the guy to just come strolling in, looking forward to whack Will in the head either. Lenore's jaw tightened as she spotted the dark hues of purple blossom over Sybil's throat as well as her arms, though her face remained quite placid. Okay, so maybe she was a little angry at herself. Actually... it wasn't just a little. I should've stayed. She pulled her eyes away from the bruises that lined Sybil's arms, only to focus on anywhere other from the two other Ravens inside of the infirmary with her. She couldn't find herself looking at them -- the way how thin Sybil's lips were or how angered Remus looked. If she did, a guilt she hadn't known before would probably stop her from doing anything.
She heard Remus' voice and Sybil's sharp reply, which bordered on the edge of breaking into a yell. Silently, though she didn't say it out loud, she agreed with what Remus said. Sybil was in no condition to fight tomorrow -- maybe she wouldn't feel as bad now from all the medication and shock, but the moment she woke up the next morning she'd feel aches and cramps all over herself. Not to mention that her throat would probably be swollen and it'd be hard for her to talk properly. She didn't need to be facing a violent brawl; she needed rest. For now, though, she wouldn't voice her thoughts. Her throat felt constricted, anyway; she was certain that if she tried to speak, her words would come out all wrong and she'd be left hanging.
Her eyes glanced around once more, and she felt a small flicker of worry pass through her head once again when she realized that Morgan and Eliza weren't anywhere to be seen. She'd assumed that they'd gone somewhere to cool their heads off, though the sight of William and Sybil made her feel uneasy, which contradicted with the air that surrounded her. They were fine, weren't they? It was then she heard Remus' question. She wasn't the only one who had felt their absence, which seemed to have nestled in between them for quite some time. "I'm assuming that they're in the library or the courtyard," she said, remembering Morgan's favorite place to wander around when his head was filled and he needed some time to let his thoughts roam. He'd mentioned the dining hall, she knew, but there was a slim chance that they were there, admiring plates and candles. After all, Eliza hadn't really been asking him for a real tour.
She hoped that they were just talking for a long time. If something were happening to them... well, then that just made a wonderful night. Honestly, she wasn't quite sure how oddly calm she felt, even though there was a strange cold layer of fury that spread through her veins. It didn't surprise her that there were so many enemies that surrounded them but.... did that really help with the things they were going through now as of current? She would have offered to go and check on the two, though looking at Sybil and Will stopped the question from reaching her tongue. Her hand gripped around her arm, and her eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit together. If only someone had cut Gladys' hand off before she'd shot her.
"We should have someone check on them; see if they're doing all right."
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 8, 2016 16:10:22 GMT -5
[[ astronomy. that sounds cool. jealous. I like space.
yesss bring on the references.
after this I gotta go cook some chicken real gordon ramsey skills here jk ]]
So there were indeed three. Eliza eyed them as the other two emerged from where they’d been hiding. The stocky woman was built strong, with arms like tree trunks - if Eliza thought of the big guy that had been beating on Will this morning, this was his feminine counterpart. She was bulky, maybe a little rotund, but not much beyond that. She was a brawler, not a warrior, and if Eliza had to guess, she’d be on the slower side. The second was a middle-aged man, a worn out thug if there ever was one. The bags under his eyes stole whatever charm his face might’ve once had, his stubbly beard just another shadow on his face. His eyes were hungry, mean, but it was his smile that gave Eliza the chills. No, she would not like to run into this man by herself. Everything about him yelled at her ’Danger! Danger! Turn the other way!’. The last was a younger man, maybe not so much older than Morgan, but that wasn’t very reassuring. From the way he handled a sword she wondered if he might be the one she ought to look out for here the most.
The sound of Morgan’s voice caught her attention, but she didn’t turn her eyes away from the three ambushers. Would she run? On a normal day, yes. Eliza would’ve run in a heartbeat. Because sometimes you had to make the hard choices in order to survive, and if it came down to it, Morgan wasn’t her problem. She ought to get out, run away, keep herself alive because that was how she’d always done it. She owed no loyalty to any group. That was the logical take on it anyway. Because even as these thoughts crossed her mind, Eliza didn’t consider running for a second, not really. Morgan wasn’t going to run, leave her for these dogs to fight over, and so she wasn’t either. Not just that, but he hadn’t abandoned her once, despite all the times he could have. Not in the room with Vincent and Gladys, not the night before in the dark gambling hall. Not when William Gansey had shown up at their door and declared that she was his sister. ”Not a chance,” she replied curtly.
The young man’s question caught her by surprise, although it was a fair enough thing to ask. Because he’s more human than the likes of you, she thought, regarding again the one who had asked it. He was looking back at her, dark eyes piercing. Like he was trying to pick her apart, no… Like he truly wanted to know, was curious even. Eliza blinked, looking at the man more intensely. There hadn’t been hostility in his voice, unless she’d missed something. Perhaps he was just stoic, the kind not to show his emotions. Morgan seemed to know him, based on the bitterness in his own tone of voice. Perhaps this man was well known then, didn’t need to show hostility in order to be intimidating. He looked gruff enough with his dark hair and near-black eyes and a scowl that cut through the dark, much unlike the other man’s smile. He kept glancing at the other two ambushers, like he ought to be keeping tabs on them as well. Her eyes travelled down to his sword, noticing his shifting grip. He exuded confidence, but was he actually nervous for some reason? Or maybe… her eyes darted to his face. Was the gesture purposeful?
Eliza was suddenly back in time, back to the night before - when she’d walked into the Lady Rebecca’s chambers, came face to face with a pair of Black Ravens. And then had come Vincent and Gladys, angry and spiteful, amped up versions of the other two she faced now. She remembered piecing it out in her mind. There she’d been, outnumbered by three, caught between two opposing gangs with nowhere to run. She’d looked between the two sides, frozen, but then had caught Morgan’s eye, seen something, and taken a risk. Eliza felt like that again now as she looked at the black-eyed man. There was something there, she was sure of it. Something that set him apart from the other two - and she was willing to bet on it. A gamble, really, because she had no proof other than her own intuition. She nodded to the man, almost imperceptibly, and prayed she wasn’t wrong.
Drawing in a breath, Eliza turned her gaze back on the other two. ”You take the old man. I’ve got the lady.” She whispered, and her fingers tightened around the knife.
--
Will looked up as Lenore addressed him, answering his request. Her words were surprisingly soft for someone speaking to an outsider, he thought. From the way she’d been comforting Sybil just a moment before… It was almost motherly. Completely out of context from what he would’ve expected from her. He recognized the dark-haired young woman. Lenore; another one of the Ravens little inner circle he’d witnessed - probably why she’d been at the party the night before. But he supposed he was a sight right now. Beaten and exhausted and again beaten and pain-medicined-up and (you guessed it) beaten a third time and covered in blood. And, based on a quick glance, Sybil wasn’t all that much better - the angry red and purple bruise around her throat was nasty. He nodded wearily. ”Thank you,”.
His stomach lurched once again as Remus questioned Sybil with concern. Her response was croaked out, followed by a grimace. That was his fault - if he’d only acted sooner… No, he wouldn’t dwell on that. He had tried, he’d failed and then he’d listened to her command to stay out of it. When things had gone bad, he’d stood up and taken a stand, which counted for something. Still, he owed her, well, his life. That wasn't something that could be easily repaid. He looked away. Will wasn't sure what would happen to him in the future now. The Rocks might take him back, but he'd never be more than a grunt now - and besides; did he even want to go back? Not especially. But he wasn't realistically expecting to be able to stay with the Ravens forever. They'd taken him in because he'd beaten bloody - as soon as be was on the mend he'd be out of here, right? Somehow he'd find a way to settle that debt.
He took the shirt Lenore handed him, clutching the fabric between his hands. She had been correct in assuming Will would not be willing to change with this many people around. Notable people, too. Remus Hawkins and Lenore and Sybil - all part of the higher ranks of the Black Ravens . It - he, himself, not ‘it’ - was not for them all to see. He wasn't self-conscious, he was just… just… Okay, maybe a little. But only because of Beake’s handiwork. That wasn't something that belonged among the Ravens; it was Rockshire through and through, permanent, branding.
Will heard the gist of the conversation about the brawl - this brawl he kept hearing of… had Beake purposefully not told him about it? The Rocks were clearly involved. But perhaps it had only been arranged after they'd tossed him out of the street. Either way, as long as it didn't concern Eliza he didn't care.
It was her name that brought him back into the conversation - specifically, the enquiries about her whereabouts. Right, she'd gone on a tour with the pale haired man. Morgan. They'd been gone quite a while, hadn't they? A little energy sparked in his gut. If that blond-haired bloke had tried anything on her, he wouldn't hesitate to initiate his fourth fight in the past twenty-four hours - well, third, since the first had involved a pair of brawny guys beating him while he stood there and took it, Beake watching him the whole time. Will's brow furrowed, and he nodded to Remus and Lenore. ”I second that idea,” he croaked. He wasn't sure why Eliza was with them, but while she was they'd be darn well sure to keep her safe.
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 8, 2016 18:32:53 GMT -5
[ Gordon ramsey would be proud or screaming angry ] [ toss physics out the window who needs it I don't well I do actually ] [ I'll make more references then people telling Jon Snow he knows nothing ] [ hahahahah old man morgzila strikes ahahaha ]
Remus nodded to their words, running his hand through his hair once before letting another sigh escape his lips. "Harold when you're done with that come meet me in the courtyard. Bring Noah and Thomas and Jenkins." Remus said. He would need as much heavy power as he could at this moment in time. With everyone acting like the world was ending and ****zing out right under his nose. "Benny I want you to hurry up and finish with these two. Go and get Wally and Reese and check the library. I don't want this night to turn into some kind of mad mob fight, I want my other two fighters for the brawl back here." Remus commanded, his eyes narrowing before holding out a outstretched hand to Harold. "Give me your pistol" He said, not really asking for it. Harold frowned a bit at the command before reaching -- with a clean hand thank goodness -- to his back pocket and yanked out the dark wood carved pistol. "It's loaded and ready to use....if you even gonna need it" Harold said as he quickened his pace in cleaning up the mess.
"I think I might be needing to use it a few times tonight" Remus said, even though he wasn't a big pistol or knife fan, he was just as handy with the weapons as any other gang member. "Just hurry up you two. Sybil stay. here." he said, looking at her with a pointed look before heading toward the door. Today has been noting but that right? Him walking in and out of doors so quick it felt like he was just breezing through them.
But to be honest, cards on the table and whatnot, he was getting annoyed. Angry even. These Ravens were acting paranoid of a little girl and a wounded man. How on earth could they all be so threatened by the two? To have those glares and whispering through the hall. God help anyone that could be messing with Morgan or Eliza. He didn't care if they were both Ravens. If he found them beating on the two -- or rather Morgan and Eliza beating on whoever -- he wouldn't hesitate to drag them down to the basement and shoot a bullet in their knees. He's done it before, he'll do it again. There are punishments that come with not following the rules. Any fight that you have to settle with another Raven is settled via a match in the ring. Nothing but fists and no weapons allowed, if you bring in weapons then the fight is over and you are punished for breaking the rules. Whoever starts a fight outside of the ring is thus punished as equal to the wounds you dealt on the person you were fighting outside of the ring.
You break a persons arm then your arm is broken. An eye for an eye. But in this case Remus would be adding his own punishment into the mix. Usually his kind of punishments are more...Purple Dragon style. It's hard to wash the whole dragon side of him away but to keep the side that would prove useful was worth keeping. If he caught a thief stealing from the private vault he would cut off every finger for every wad of cash they carried out, maybe even a hand. If you were caught betraying the Ravens you were forced to endure a little beat down -- almost like Williams had been with Beake -- except with a pair of bats and pipes. If you were caught fighting? Well he would shoot a bullet into whatever body part he wanted to keep you stationary but still useful. He felt as if the pistol suddenly became his best friend in the whole wide world.
Remus made his way to the courtyard, having to take long strides, stopping to ask on the way though if anyone had seen Morgan. It was hard to miss that head of almost white hair. "I think I saw Morgan heading off to the courtyard with Miss Gensay earlier, they both looked like a pair of cuddling otters in a brook" Marty said, cleaning off the cards table with a dumb little grin on his copper colored face. Marty didn't care if the girl was a Gansey, anything that sparked any kind of lovey dovey drama was what Marty craved. "They did not" Lily said from beside him, jamming her elbow into his side. "But they both looked really happy about it" She said and shrugged while scooping up the poker chips from the table. "Oh I think they have something, you know love could start at any second" Marty said while winking to Lily. Lily only groaned and turned away.
Remus could only give a short bow to the two before leaving, trying to hurry his steps without looking like he was a rampaging rhino looking to kill someone.
He really needed a vacation
Sybil could only watch as Remus left, swallowing the think lump growing in her throat. She shifted her body slightly away from Lenore before setting the pitcher down the cold almost numbing her fingers. That and she felt like she could drop it at any second, and the last thing she wanted was a bunch of glass all over the infirmary floor. "Go get changed in the privy boy" Benny muttered as he wiped his hands clean.
"Oi none of you try to slip and slide on this spot o the floor alright?" Harold said as he began to stand up and shove the bucket away -- as far away from himself as possible in fact in the corner-- and began to walk out with the Benny from the infirmary. "You kids behave now ya hear?" Harold said as he began to follow Benny out, flashing a cocky grin at them.
"Oi Ben you know where Jenkins is?"
"Probably sucking someone's face off."
"I bet 10 pounds it's Thomas"
"You ain't got the pounds to bet mate" Benny's voice echoed back into the room before the door closed behind them. Sybil could only raise a eyebrow at the conversation before forcing herself up. She looked back to Will and Lenore before glancing away. If she was in the mood she would have said something like 'I would have bet 20 pounds on it' but she could always keep a note on it. "I'm not dropping out of that brawl" She muttered, knowing full well that Lenore's brain sort of worked the same as Remus when it came to concern. But Sybil still had a goal in mind to smash her fist into the face of Gladys. She wanted to smash her brass knuckle fist into the face of every Rockshire and Purple Dragon. Mostly the Rockshires for sending someone to kill off Will. She hoped they liked waking up in the morning to find their dead friend hanging on some pole somewhere. She would be happy to explain to them tomorrow about how she had been the one to drive that knife into his chest.
Sybil went off to sit on one of the other beds far away from the other two, sitting down to roll up her sleeves. She grimaced at once, seeing the large bruises on her arms that were already beginning to throb. She reached up to trail her fingers down her neck, her fingers sliding over the nick in her neck. If she hadn't had dodged that swipe of the knife she would have been on the floor chocking on her own blood. She swallowed another lump in her throat, eyes getting blurry for a moment. Oh no no no. Sybil does not cry. She was just frightened. Thinking about the knife coming that close to her throat just shook her for a loop. Normally she was fine with close encounters but all those encounters she had someone to count on. In that moment in the fight there was just her fighting to keep one large man from killing one small girl and a wounded man who could barely stand.
So Sybil forced back the blurriness and just planted her hands on her knees and took slow inhales, her eyes pinned on the ground. Her boots were blood stained....
She should be happy that she killed him and was able to keep both herself and Will from dying.
She just needed to rest after they find Morgan and Eliza. She shifted in her spot on the bed, kicking off her boots and drawing her legs back up to her chest. Sybil was going to go to sleep, wake up and take out her anger on the goons tomorrow. She chosen anger over fear, she would let her anger out tomorrow and not let a single drop of fear to come out of her. Just look what fear had done to her brother. Drove him away into the vastness of Singapore or maybe in a ditch somewhere who cares. She wasn't scared. Her fingers curled into the sheets and tapping her foot on the ground. She didn't want to turn around and see Lenore's sad face or Will's sad face or anyone's sad face. They should not be sad, they weren't at fault. Even if Lenore had been here she would not be much of help with that wound.
In fact if Lenore were to fight she would have reopened the stiches and made her wound worse. Will had done exactly what she had said during the fight. They shouldn't feel at fault at all. It was fine, Sybil would have done it again in a heart beat
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 8, 2016 22:10:45 GMT -5
[[ probably both tbh
the Ravens are such gossips. Morgan holds a girl's hand and they're all like "psst. they're in love."
totally me whenever I have a ship though. ]]
Will found Remus’s efforts to locate his sister - Morgan too, but he really wasn't concerned for a man he only knew from rumors - to be encouraging. Contrary to his previous beliefs and prejudice against the group for his years with the Rocks, the Black Ravens must not be all bad. He didn't trust them anymore than they undoubtedly trusted him. But eight men on the lookout for his sister was something he definitely wouldn't argue about. It was only when he reconsidered Remus’s words that he came across a problem. I want my other two fighters for the brawl back here. Other two as in… They couldn't mean… Ordinarily for a brawl between all four gangs, each gang could send two fighters. Sybil must've been one of the fighters chosen based on the conversation she'd just had with Remus. But he'd said the other two. In context with looking for Eliza and Morgan. Which meant they planned on sending Eliza in as one of their fighters.
His previous opinion of the Black Ravens plummeted.
Hang on, he thought. The Ravens can only send two, and they've already got two; Morgan and Sybil. Besides, Eliza's not a Raven, and therefore cannot fight for the Ravens.
His logic was sound - he knew the rules of these things well. It had been a year or two since Will had participated in such a brawl, because the higher ups didn't do the grunt work for the Rockshires. It was his job to send people, to work out the details. He only went out on jobs like the one he'd went on the night before for the game, the jobs Beake trusted only his most loyal for. His job wasn't unlike Remus’s actually - or hadn't been, he reminded himself. So Will knew the rules of things, the inner workings of the Underground. He'd have to ask someone, get some answers. He'd make sure Eliza wouldn't fight in that brawl.
Will nodded as Bearded Man - who had finally been named as Benny - told him to go out to the privy to change. He was glad for the privacy, surprised they would trust him to wander off in their residence. Then again, he wasn't going anywhere in this condition. He stood, nodding as he headed out to get some privacy, shirt in tow. He changed quickly - at least, as quickly as possible when it aggravated every muscle in his body to move - shrugging off the ruined shirt and putting on the new one. It was indeed large. It wasn't that far off in length, for Will was rather tall, but also pretty lean (read: skinny and/or shrimpy) so it engulfed him in width. He rolled the sleeves until he could actually see his hands, but there wasn't much else to be done. Oh well. He certainly wasn't impressing anyone with the state of his other features, currently.
By the time Will had returned to the infirmary, Benny and Harold and Edward were gone. So was Remus, though maybe he'd slipped out before without him noticing. Either way, the red haired man was no longer present. That left very few options on who he could interrogate for information on this brawl. He eyed Lenore for a second, considering his chances, and decided against it. He didn't know the woman past their very brief interaction. His eyes set on Sybil - sitting on one of the beds on the far side of the room, turned away, head in her hands. Clearly wanting to be left alone. But he knew for a fact that she knew about the brawl with her insistence on fighting in it, and so he walked over. He almost bailed halfway there when he considered the slump of her shoulders. Was she… crying? Will definitely did not know how to handle crying girls. That was not a situation he was prepared for. Then he scoffed at himself. Of course she wasn't crying; this was Sybil he was talking about.
He finished crossing the distance between them, cautiously taking a seat beside Sybil on the bed. He left a good amount of space between them, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Approaching Sybil was kind of like approaching a wild animal, he thought; you had to do it carefully or risk scaring it into savagery. Or at least, that was how he'd imagined approaching a wild animal. The most feral things he saw on the daily were pigeons and stray cats. ”Sybil, about the brawl,” he started, shooting her a glance. And stopped what he'd been about to say. Her knees were curled up to her chest, hands fisted in the sheets. That bruise - that awful bruise - ringed her neck, already an unhappy rainbow of reds and purples and blues. He swallowed, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat. ”Are you alright?” He asked instead, lips pursed.
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 8, 2016 23:18:34 GMT -5
[ samesame I know right. they're like current high school girlies ] [ but morgzila will be a thing ]
Sybil glanced up when Will sat down next to her, her eyes burning even more as she forced her eyes to dry up and hold back any trickle of a tear. She was not crying in front of William Gansey. Knowing him he would hold it over her head for the remainder of his time here. For however long that would be. Considering the Will was probably an ex Rockshire now she was sure that Remus would want to keep him around, for info on Beake of course. Finical records, normal job listings and names of the higher rank members. Stuff like that. So maybe Will would be staying for as long as Eliza is staying or maybe he would hitch a ride somewhere else. Try to rejoin even -- would he even take the chance? -- or join some other gang. If you kicked someone out of a gang and somehow not killed them, then they would be recruited for sure by a rival gang. It was normal to do so. As long as they kept feeding information and had useful ties to communities then hey new home!
So she sucked down any cry baby feelings and locked them in a box. And burned it.
"I'm fine...I guess I just need more medicine or something" She said as softly as she could without hurting her throat further. Even though the medicine was working wonders on her bruises, the inside of her throat felt like a hot mess. Tucking any loose hairs behind her ear and looked up to Will. "What about the brawl?" She said. Oh if he even thought about saying 'You shouldn't fight in the brawl tomorrow blah blah you look like a bruised grape blah blah' She would clock him right in the jaw right now. She wouldn't care if he was injured and loopy on medicine. She was going to fight in that brawl tomorrow. She was going to fight. She was going to be there fighting and knocking the lights out from the other groups with Morgan and Eliz-
Oh...
She had nearly forgotten Eliza was fighting in the brawl tomorrow as well. Why would she think William Gansey cared if she fought in the ring?
Stupid Sybil getting ahead of herself. He was being a good brother and was probably going to ask about Eliza and the fight tomorrow. Sybil let her knees fall from her chest so she didn't look like some curled up blonde hedgehog sitting on the bed. "If you are going to ask about Eliza fighting, she wanted to fight. And the other gangs allowed it since Remus pulled the whole 'We're so weak ahhh' card. She wanted to fight. She offered to fight" Sybil said. Yeah Eliza was a tough girl. She could tell from looking at her. The streets of London could harden anyone into a good enough fighter to survive a brawl. Sybil wouldn't be letting the girl run in bare though. She would fit her to a pair of brass knuckles and some steel toed boots. If one thing she won't do is try and talk the girl out of it. Eliza was more then capable to take care of herself in the brawl, not to mention she and Morgan would be looking out for her. The other gangs had no idea that Eliza wasn't a actual Raven and that was how Remus wanted it.
Sybil couldn't do anything. She wouldn't do anything. The only thing Sybil was willing to do was sit down and let Eliza read her many books and talk about it later. She wasn't going to sit her down and tell her to not fight because Will said so. How lame would that be?
"Hey uh listen you can't fight"
"Why?"
"Cause um Will said so, case closed I guess. Anyway did you read that one book?"
That would not be a conversation Sybil was willing to have. And she doubt Will could convince his sister not to do it considering how angry she was seeing him this morning. What was Will going to do then? He certainly couldn't stop her from going, and he would be stuck here all day tomorrow anyway. There was no way he could go and supervise. Not with the other gangs being there. The leaders wouldn't go sure but the other Rockshires would tell their boss where Will would be. Eliza would want to fight, and she will fight. She guessed on some level, Will was coming from a good place. Eliza was not a Raven and thus should not be allowed the chance to fight in the first place. That and she was a Gansey, William Gansey's little sister to be exact, and he was looking out for her. Which was more then Sybil's brother has done ( She has done a lot of moping around and thinking about her crappy family hasn't she? Where did her sarcasm go? Wait here it was ) Will could always lock Eliza in some broom cabinet and act like she was sick or something.
Either way Sybil could understand the feelings Will had but....
No one cared, this wasn't 'William Says' this was London 'I'm-gonna-knock-your-teeth-out'
"I don't think there is anything you can do to stop her Will. All you can do is watch from the sidelines....as in here" She mumbled not trying to sound rude. Just matter of fact. And she picked this all up from just a few words. Sybil should consider going into being a therapist. She was basically a emotional mess inside so why not make others a emotional mess too? It could be fun. 'How does that make you feel?' 'It makes me fe-' 'Who cares how you feel suck it up and go outside you lump nugget'
Yeah....that sounds like a plan
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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 9, 2016 10:09:41 GMT -5
( oh definitely cx i wish i could toss it out gahhh i need it too to graduate gr
oh no you made a reference inside of a reference ._.
old man morgzila hahaha the ravens really do like gossiping though.. goodness guys
that’s me whenever i have a ship too oh dear this was the only post i had time for at all today for anything... holy magicarp what is school doing to me T_T i'll reply to anything else that i've forgotten soon c: )
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There was a momentary pause — like the whole world around them had frozen for a brief second as Morgan lightly leaned his back against Eliza’s. When he spoke, his voice was much lower this time — softer. It was almost as if they hadn’t even been uttered, though they had. The contact was brief, and yet, it seemed like a small warmth and light had been shared just through it even with their enemies surrounding them. “Whatever you do…” It was noticeable that his red-golden eyes were probably still focused onto his opponents rather than on Eliza, though he was clearly speaking to her softly. “Don’t make a scratch on Marjorie. Defend yourself, but don’t attack her. Hold her off. Buy as much time as you can. I was giving you a tour, but you wandered off a bit to see the paintings in the hallways. When you reached the courtyard, you saw me getting ambushed and was forced to step in the situation because Marjorie attacked you before you could run. Just remember that… and please don’t hurt anyone here.”
Nazareth only seemed to tip his head to the side upon sighting Morgan’s lips move, though the words were too soft to hear. The silvery-haired boy’s eyes flickered over to his for a moment, calm and composed, but sharp. Almost hawk-like. And then they trailed down to his hands. He spotted the molten eyes light up with a small flicker of recognition. Before he could say anything or indicate the other two brutal Ravens with a tilt of his head, he found himself shifting the moment he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. His hand lashed out, and the blade of his weapon clashed with Josiah’s dagger as the man tried to lunge himself at Morgan.
He watched as Josiah’s eyes narrow and his eyes widen eerily. The man didn’t look surprised; he just looked frighteningly insane. His teeth were yellowed like the once-white areas of his blood-shot eyes, as if he hadn’t slept for several weeks. Wisps of his blond hair fell over his mad eyes. “What do you think you’re doing, Nazareth? Are you betraying us?”
“I’m not betraying you if I wasn’t on your side in the first place,” he scowled as he swung his arm into a clean arc, pushing the other Raven back from where he stood. Once he heard the collision of the weapons and the beat of the fight, his blood seemed to fuel some sort of adrenaline that came rushing back to his muscles. It’d been a while since he’d fought against someone with his actual sword in hand instead of training against another much weaker Raven. His dark hair flew past his narrowed eyes as he took a step backwards, avoiding a blow to the throat.
Things instantly blurred after that — Morgan grunted through his teeth as he blocked Josiah’s thrust, forcing the pale-haired Raven to take a defensive stance. As the man leapt for Eliza’s empty back, he found himself facing the silver-haired Raven, and was forced to turn around when Nazareth dived in for his open flank. It was a mess — but it was order within chaos, in a way. From an outsider’s perspective, the whole fight appeared to be more like a dance rather than a life-threatening ambush. And the most odd thing about it was that (hopefully including Eliza), Morgan and Nazareth weren’t attacking the two other Ravens. Instead of easily jabbing them in their weak spots, the two kept close measure and track of their wild attacks, fending each swoop off rather than following it with a stab.
“I can deal with this brute,” Nazareth muttered through his teeth to Morgan who only smiled in his direction, looking quite unamused in a reply that revealed his sarcasm. But he didn’t complain as he moved himself so that he was facing Marjorie with Eliza, leaving Nazareth with Josiah (whose eyes looked like they would fall out of their sockets any moment now).
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 9, 2016 12:24:55 GMT -5
[[ actually me with a ship is more like 'omg they're breathing the same air they're in love
I'll do my reply to the great morgzila later. I need food and then woops I'm rereading ACOTAR & ACOMAF sorry not sorry ]]
Will nodded, though it was plainly obvious that Sybil was anything but fine. At the same time, if he were to push her she’d likely suspect he was just trying to bother her. Besides, it seemed as though none of them were fine; Lenore had been shot and Sybil had been choked and Will felt as though he’d been run over by a train. Not the most delightful state he’d ever been in. She looked irritated when he mentioned the brawl - perhaps assuming that he was going to tell her she shouldn’t fight, as Remus had. Please, he thought. He certainly wouldn’t stop the girl if she wanted to subject herself to being beat up again. Will himself had had quite enough of that for the week, so he wasn’t about to jump up offering to take her place.
But then she must have gotten it. He could tell because she hadn’t jumped to rip his eyes out or something. Her words made Will’s stomach drop. So Eliza was going to fight in the brawl. It had been her decision - she’d volunteered. Did she realize, he wondered, the nature of brawls between the gangs? They weren’t pretty - no, they were about as ugly as the gangs of London could get in a concentrated form. There were of course rules to keep it clean - two fighters each, no weapons beyond your own set of fists - but nobody followed them. Every time was a stretch on how far you could push them before someone else called you out for cheating. Look at the Ravens - they’d already made a push in sending three brawlers. And undoubtedly they’d all be decked out in hidden weapons. Will knew the tricks - brass knuckles under gloves, steel toed boots, a knife up the sleeve. Drusilla Beake had once shown him a set of hair pins she often sported, lavishly decorated with pearls - and also razor sharp. There were many ways to smuggle weapons into a brawl.
Eliza couldn’t fight in that brawl - she’d be eaten alive. Not that he doubted her fighting skills; he’d gotten James to teach her a few summers back, after he’d taught Will himself. Basic punches, kicks, blocks - but also the dirty tactics, for self-defense of course. Jab to the eyes, palm-heel to the nose, stomp on the toes, a knee where the-sun-don’t-shine. Yes, he knew she was plenty capable. But she was also a walking, talking target for the other gangs after what she’d attempted at the party. After what the Ravens had succeeded at at the party (had they? He hadn’t thought about the necklace since his arrival, but he did wonder). Will would talk her out of it, reason with her (read: pull out the big brother card and shut her down). Eliza was not going to fight tomorrow…
Sybil’s next words halted his thoughts in their tracks. He pursed his lips. Furrowed his brow. Ran a hand through his already-a-disaster golden brown curls. Of course… Of course Sybil was right. As much as he hated to admit it, her statement was true. If Eliza wanted to fight, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Nor should he. He Will hadn’t exactly been the model older brother these past few years. He’d given her a cut of his paychecks when he could but… Family wasn’t about money. It was about being there and helping each other out and that was something he hadn’t been doing. He’d thought it was best if she were under the same impression as everyone else, that he was a money-grubbing, gambling-addict scoundrel, lest she get some crazy idea of joining him in the Rockshires. Clearly that had worked out too well, seeing as she despised him. ”I know,” he answered finally. Will looked at Sybil, expression sober. ”Look out for her, okay? She’s a good fighter, but I worry.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head. ”If you had any stomach for cruelty, you’d use that information against me.”
Will made to get up, but paused. ”Rockshire will likely send Layton and Crawley for the brawl tomorrow. They’re both big, strong… bigger than that man they sent today. They pack a strong punch, but they’re not invincible - Layton holds his hands too high; that leaves his stomach and sides exposed. Crawley throws too much weight into his punches; it leaves him unbalanced.” He said, not looking at Sybil. Another flash of the analytical mind beneath his pretty-boy face. Another small betrayal, a tiny step towards repaying a debt. He stood without another word, turning to head back to his own bed.
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 9, 2016 13:44:55 GMT -5
[ I'll make more references then the Doctor can regenerate hahahah ] [ everyone is tired or hungry sounds like my life summed up in separate chunks ] [ oh my gosh they are standing next to each other. SHIP IT. the ravens are just doing their job. they want the ships to sail so gossip is the key ] [ Yes Ult, reread it. I'm finally getting to the 5th wave cause my last book I forced myself to finish ] [ Holy Banana peppers batman! see more references ]
Sybil glanced up to Will when he spoke, pressing her lips together while Will spoke. He certainly sounds concerned about his little sister. Even though she probably hates his guts right about now. She looked down, soaking in the words he was saying. That was good to hear, two more men bigger then this one she was going to butt heads with. The bruise around her neck throbbed and she wondered if she would be adding more to her collection of bruises and cuts. You'll be fine Sybil she thought to herself. She won't be cornered in such a small space like this one. There won't be beds for her to collide with and they won't have knives to stab her with....she hoped. The rule of the game is not bring weapons but if you can smuggle them in it's fair game. Just don't go flashing that knife or else you get taken out as fast as you came into this world. She didn't say anything at first when Will began to stand. She didn't want to -- mainly because her throat was burning -- but she opened her big fat mouth anyway.
"I promise I'll look out for her in the brawl tomorrow Will...." She said, even with a rasp she sounded determined. She won't fight to Eliza....but she could make sure there won't be a knife sticking up from her ribcage either.
Why would she even promise to do that? What was the point when it reality Sybil could end up getting knocked around so hard that she was a giant beach ball. "I'll make sure she don't come back with a knife in her" She added, not wanting to turn around. Ah why was she making a promise to Gansey? For another Gansey....she was hating him moments before all this drama started up and now she was making promises and wanting to protect their sorry bums. "She's lucky to have a brother who cares about her...her brother Will....not William Gansey" She said softer though, her throat was screaming at her to shut up and just lay down and rest. To just hope for the best and go to bed. She'll dream about punching Gladys in the face a dozen times and then going back to read and read and read......
Sybil didn't know if she laid down after that. Maybe kind of flopped over with a little mumble of protest onto the bed. Tired. Exhausted. Filled with medicine that only egged on her exhaustion. Forget about sleeping in her own bed. She was pretty sure she blacked out after that. Did she black out or fall asleep? Maybe both. All she knew was she was looking down at her feet one minute talking and then she was falling back and just blink.
Out like a light bulb. It wasn't a painful black out. It was rather painless to be exact so she was sure she landed backwards onto the bed instead of just falling forward onto the hard floor to add a head injury to her collection of wounds. She didn't mind blacking out, heck she would probably wake up and want to black out again without complaint. She hoped no one decided to run in for a round two of Fighting for Gansey! Part two!
Nah she would let them have Gansey at that point, she would even let them jab a knife into her side and everything. She would let them beat her around and she wouldn't care. As long as she was out for a lot of it. Ahh....too many thoughts about fighting. It was like all she could think about right now was either ramming her fist into someone else's face or letting them take the first swing and keep on going after that. Didn't she ever think about something else? Maybe...food or daily events....the queen....make up? Ew no. Guess her life was just a bunch of card games and fighting. Oh well.
She saw nothing wrong with that....
Well she couldn't see it right now cause she's, you know....knocked out cold but who cares.
Remus on the other hand was having one fun trip in trying to get to the courtyard.
Emphasis on trying
Every couple steps he took he was either running into some Raven telling him that there are letters to be read that were coming in today, or some raven wanted to stop and chat to him for a little bit. Remus would usually make time to talk to these guys ( and gals ) but right now he was sort of busy trying to locate his other two fighters for tomorrows brawl so he didn't have to go and replace all his beaten and battered buddies.
"I am sorry but I really have to go -- yes I will make sure it's done -- no I will not let you install a fountain inside of my gambling hall this is not a park"
Remus had to brush past those who approached, giving out soft apologies every time. He would love to stay and chat, talk about the earnings in the fighting pits or talk about how some Lord gambled away all of his earnings in one game. But he had to find Morgan and Eliza and pray to the Lord that was watching over them that they were just sitting down on some bench making puppy dog eyes to each other. Or sniffing a lot of flowers. Whatever they were doing he didn't care as long as it didn't involve punching each other or someone jumping them with a knife. It was only when a Raven boy came practically running to catch up to Remus did things get a bit more interesting in the matter.
"Um Remus...I -"
"Not now I am busy, whatever Wendy did tonight I don't care. She can kick as many guys up there as she wants"
"Oh No sir it's...It's Dante he-"
"What?" Remus said and whirled so fast on the boy he was afraid the boy would fall down and hurt himself. Dante? What did Dante want? "Um uh...Dante would like to see you. He wants to know about the line up of fighters you are going to send tomorrow" The raven boy said, stuttering slightly as he looked at Remus and only avoided his eyes. Did Remus look frightening at this moment that the boy had to avoid his eyes? He guessed so considering he was so close to pulling his hair out of his head. "I...." Remus started. Oh why now of all times did Dante feel the need to actually get involved in the affairs for tomorrow? Couldn't he just sit up in his lounge and sip his whisky like any other good Gang leader did these days? He kind of stood there wondering if he should go up to Dante right now or just tell the Raven boy that Dante could wait....
Of course no one told Dante Joan to wait. You don't tell any of the gang leaders to wait. If they called on you then you get your sorry butt up those stairs and hope for the best you didn't keep them waiting for too long. So Remus looked at the Raven boy and pressed his lips together while furrowing his brows. He could spot Benny slipping up from the fighting pits with two others behind him, most likely the ever tall Reese who seemed a bit annoyed at the moment at her shorter little buddy Wally. And he could see Harold dragging both Thomas and Jenkin with him yelling about something while Noah lingered behind with a slight smirk. And here Remus was, trying to decide if he should let them handle it or not. He let out a long sigh befofe turning around.
"Tell Dante I'll be there in a minute"
And before the Raven boy could express how bad of a action that was Remus followed the group back toward the Courtyard. It was like a big pack of tall muscle help -- even Reese and Jenkins were a bit taller then him and they were girls. Remus knew he was a bit shorter then most of the guys here but...now he kind of knew how Sybil felt. They made a bee line to the courtyard doors, Remus already reaching back for the pistol.
Oh Lord help him, for if he didn't drop dead of a heart attack he was certainly going to be adding another burn to his back.
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 9, 2016 19:09:40 GMT -5
sorry guys my muse is horrible today. more specifically: I don't have my laptop and my fingers are tired of phone-typing xc
I'll try to get a reply up before I go to bed but... be warned ot might be short and ugly.
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 9, 2016 19:40:48 GMT -5
[ the horrors of phone typing have taken hold ;3; It's alright Ult. Phone typing is painful to be honest ;c;]
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 9, 2016 21:08:52 GMT -5
[[ it's awful. I even know what I want to write.
my mind says yes but my fingers say no
maybe if I listen to hamilton... maybe I'll be motivated... ]]
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 9, 2016 21:31:08 GMT -5
[ my mind says yes but my fingers say no what do you mean *jumped kicked for reference*] [ come onnnnn Hamilton ]
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 9, 2016 21:45:02 GMT -5
[[ lol not a reference sorry to disappoint
I want to write. my fingers don't want to type.
Hamilton helped but now all I wanna do is listen to Hamilton
but no. I'm gonna suck it up and write... something ]]
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 9, 2016 22:03:00 GMT -5
[ derpdeder don't mind me ] [ when in doubt just bust out Hamilton ] it don't even gotta be good most of my posts I just type whatever pops into the noggen ]
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 9, 2016 22:35:46 GMT -5
[[ yeah so I started typing up a reply & I got halfway through it. but now apparently my eyes are swelling up no jokes the universe is against this reply
so I think I'm gonna go to sleep. I'll finish in the morning. honestly. ]]
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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 10, 2016 8:11:34 GMT -5
( it's fine ult there are days when our muse is low c:
and not having a computer to write something is the worst xP i can't type anything without my computer heheh....
take your time really uwu nuuuu the references aaaa*it's super effective* let the gossips sail and may the ship not be the titanic whut am i even saying right now i think i'm just tired haha )
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 10, 2016 11:13:35 GMT -5
[ phone typing should be a Olympic sport. How long can you type with your fingeres event ] [ the gossip must set the ships sail. they just have to. For Morgzila, Swible and Lemur ]
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 10, 2016 13:38:48 GMT -5
[[ dude I would medal at that sport. jk I suck at phone typing
sail alllll the ships.
so it's a little short. I couldn't remember what I'd had in mind originally when I got interrupted last night.
but my muse and fingers have recovered!
not my stomach though. still hungry. I'm gonna go eat now ]]
Eliza stilled as Morgan leaned his back against hers. It was a light touch, most noticeable by the sudden warmth of his body, but something about it was comforting. He was solid behind her, unwavering. He would not desert her - wouldn't abandon her to fend for herself. It counted for a lot, with her. It calmed her, assured her. Whatever she was about to face, she would not be facing it alone. His words came softly, almost unintelligible - though for her they became the only sound in the world for a second, the only one worth hearing. Not hurt anyone? She could do that, if he thought it was best. And lying would come as no challenge. Eliza was a frighteningly skilled liar when she felt like it. ”Alright,” she whispered back, and then that brief moment of contact was over.
Eliza tensed as the wild-eyed man made a move - intercepted before either Morgan or her reacted by the clang of the dark-haired man's sword. There was a brief pause as the other two ambushers seemed to process this, one of them sputtering out a question about his loyalties. And just like that, Eliza's suspicions were proved; this man - Nazareth - was on their side. That changed things significantly. She now had two allies - both of whom were younger and in better shape than their attackers. They now outnumbered them. Their chances of making it out of there in one piece increased substantially.
That's when the fighting broke out for real and the whole scene descended into well-ordered chaos. Marjorie didn't hesitate to lunge at her once Josiah had made his first move. Remembering Morgan's words, she ducked to the side. It all blurred together after that point, a frenzy of dodging and parrying and clashing blades. It came easily enough - Marjorie was frantic, but also an uncreative fighter. She resorted to the same few slashes over and over, hoping to strike. This made things simple for Eliza, who merely had to repeatedly run through the same blocks and movements. She was holding her off.
And then Marjorie lunged suddenly, the ravenous look in her eye intensifying as she grabbed at Eliza. She fended away the knife strike, but the robust woman kept coming, knocking Eliza to the ground. The woman raised her knife, and Eliza grabbed her hand before she could bring it down. For a long moment they struggled like that, neither gaining on the other. With Marjorie’s concentration only on bringing the knife down, Eliza snaked her legs around the woman's waist and used the momentum to flip her. She pushed Marjorie away, scrambling back before regaining her footing. Her shoulder stung - Marjorie must've nicked it with her knife after all.
Eliza faced Marjorie, who looked about rabid by this point, a bear preparing to charge. She braced herself, but suddenly - suddenly she wasn't alone. Morgan was at her side. Nazareth must've been handling Josiah well enough on his own then. She straightened, feeling more imposing with Morgan at her side - of course, two opponents was always more intimidating than one alone. Marjorie just bared her teeth, which were large and square and horselike, before running at them with the knife again. Eliza raised her knife, let her come. She was ready.
--
Will had barely made it a step when he heard Sybil's voice from behind him. Her words halted him in his tracks. Despite the fact that he'd just asked for this very thing, that he knew it was no guarantee… She'd promised. Made a promise to him. He swallowed, at first unsure of how to answer. He turned partway, looking at her over his shoulder. ”Thank you, Sybil.” He told her honestly, voice almost a little hesitant. As if he thought she might take it back, spit a ‘just kidding, Gansey!’ at him. Playing a joke on the joke of the Rockshires . But she didn't. From every hint he could pick up, she was telling the truth.
And then she spoke again, softer this time. This time he looked away, his face suddenly feeling rather hot. It was warm in the infirmary, right? Those words struck an odd chord with him in several ways. Firstly, because it was untrue, though Sybil seemed to mean it. Will had not been a good big brother at all these past few years, not in the ways that mattered. Eliza certainly didn't think so. Secondly, it felt like a very… personal thing. He didn’t do personal - people didn't get to know him. William Gansey wasn't any more than skin-deep. He did small talk, business talk, not this… meaningful thing. And thirdly, from the way it had sounded… It felt as though she'd seen through him. Past the image he'd built for himself that kept everyone safe and at arm's length. It was unnerving. Will felt exposed, stripped bare. ”Um, yes, I suppose.” He managed awkwardly, but by the time he looked back at Sybil she was asleep.
Will ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. Eventually he crossed back over to his bed. He might as well just sleep - his body was demanding it, and it was plainly obvious that there was nothing he could do for Eliza in this state. There were already at least eight people out looking for her and that fishy guy - at least, Will thought he was fishy; he'd caught that awful smile Eliza had sent him and he didn't like it one bit. He was going to have to have a ‘chat’ with this fellow Morgan. But that could come later, after he'd had a bit of sleep.
Will lay down. Slowly, tenderly, mindful of his current injuries. He loosed a sigh of content - or maybe irritation, as it was rather unclear - as he lay his head back down on the pillow. Closed his eyes. Not a minute later he sank into a tranquil sleep, carried away from the pain and drama that would surely surround him when he awoke. For now, there was only blissful sleep.
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 10, 2016 19:45:40 GMT -5
[ kll;fjskfsdkl;f I can barely function I'll get something up soon. I had to do some worky stuff today. bzzbzz ] [ I'll get something up, something something something ]
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 11, 2016 14:39:48 GMT -5
[ yayyyy I'm freeeeeee notreallyjusttired ] [ yay for the recovery of your fingers yayyyyy ] [ but now I am hungry ... ]
To anyone who was looking on the sidelines of the hallway, Remus and his little gang of tall and ready-to-smack-you group, looked a bit....odd. Remus led the group through the hallways of twists and turns, having to push people aside that got in his way. "No one is gonna be dumb enough to pick on Morgan and that lady friend of his Remus, probably just enjoying the night" Harold said from beside the red haired paranoid man. But Remus just shook his head, looking his mind ****zing out in many different direction. "The Rockshires are idiots, but they are smart enough to send someone to weaken our party before a big brawl. I can't be too careful" Remus said. Of course the Rockshires loved playing dirty before any sort of competition. The only thing that worried Remus was how big their fighters were. Most of the Rockshires were big brutes and very few women. And the few women who were part of the Rockshires were treated as if they were pets. Dressed up in expensive gowns and jewels just to be flaunted on the arm of some 'Shire. Beake didn't like women, which was a huge weak spot considering that there was only one other gang that Remus knew about that was like the stark opposite of the 'Shires. The Baftas were almost a all female group that worked on the edges of London. They weren't really....social to say the least.
Remus knew that the big dogs of London were the Purple Dragons, Crestles ( he guessed if you count a pack of barking purse dogs as one big dog ), The Black Ravens and the Rockshires. But the Baftas were probably the only group in all of London that packed in small numbers and proved a huge threat to the rest of the gangs. They don't really show themselves easily, they could be any women in the streets. They could be your Granny or Mother. Your sister or Aunt, niece or daughter. The Baftas were for women, and the only time you ever hear anything public about them is for women's rights. They weren't a threat to the Crestles, Purple Dragons or Black Ravens simply because of the strong force of lady power they had. But the Rockshires? Yeah they hated them. Thought Beake was a horrible person and rather see him dead by a women's hand then a mans. And whoever was a enemy of Beake was a friend to Remus. The leader of the Baftas was Lady Lamont, from Scotland and dripping with money. If you met her in the streets you would know she was a Lady worthy of a crown by the gowns and jewelry she wares on her body. You could spot her from the clock tower with the sun glinting off her armor of silvers and golds. Remus has tried countless times to make some sort of alliance or trading contract with them only to have silence in return or some bloody dove come back with a rose. He had no idea what the hell that meant but you win some you lose some.
Anyway back on track.
"Are the Rockshires really that dumb to go ahead and do something like that? Send a huge group right to the La Selina?" Jenkins said, her eyes darting around to everyone else around her. "They're Rockshires. They are plenty of dumb. Just a bunch of apes in suits" answered Reese with a scowl on her copper face. Jenkins just frowned and tipped her head slightly to the side, curls of black hair following her movement. "But Beake isn't that dumb. That's like....like" She began but couldn't seem to wrap her tongue around the word she wanted to use. "Tossing a dead body to the vultures" Finished Thomas from beside her. "Only we ain't vultures. We're a bunch a Ravens" Wally said and made for a toothy grin. "Ravens or not I rather not have the thought that a bunch of Rocks are somehow getting into my gambling hall grounds like this was the circus"
"I don't think the circus has a very good security system if you ask me"
"I think that's what he meant Jen. In a bad way."
"Oh"
Yeah Jenkins wasn't the brightest star out there but hey at least she can play it off as a cute mistake.
Remus decided to block out the others jibber jabber, his feet leading him toward the set of double glass doors leading to the courtyard. Most likely the two took off over the wall that surrounded the yard, as a sort of short cut. But the Ravens court yard was huge and dotted with dumb plants. Remus didn't even like this place, he didn't want a court yard. But so many other Ravens wanted one, just for a place to escape or be by themselves. Light a cigar maybe. So he had invested....a lot of money into it. So much it almost made his heart jump and stop. But the Ravens put it to use and took care of it, well mostly the girls and the guys they forced to help. It was amusing sometimes to look out the window to see some of the girls trying to correct the sloppy handy work of the men. Except Wally. Wally loved planting flowers and he enjoyed taking care of the court yard. But now was not the time to turn around and tease Wally for pointing out all the pretty flowers he planted ( they were pretty though Remus would not lie )
All Remus could focus on at this moment in time when opening the doors to the courtyard was the figures in the dark swatches in the dim light from the streets lamps on the other side of the walls and the moonlight that granted them a path. "I count one...two...three..." Harold began as he counted the figures. Noah just grunted. Noah was the strong and silent type....very silent. As in he just grunts and the only words you will hear are his favorite curse words in Italian. "Go get them" Remus said, yanking the pistol from his hand and pointed it up wards toward the sky.
And let out a single shot that echoed around the yard. Like a rock being driven into glass. He couldn't see the figures right away but he knew this wasn't some friendly get together. The only person he could make out in the dark was Morgan ( duh he's like a walking spot light with that hair ) but the others he could only make out faint outlines of their height. But his little group of make shift guards immediately went toward the group, and of course when Remus had the little ducks in a row and learned their stories he would put the ones who started it in time out.
Along with a bullet to the knee or arm which ever came first.
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 11, 2016 19:55:55 GMT -5
[[ yay freedom I'll wait to reply til misc is around ]]
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 11, 2016 21:57:53 GMT -5
[ freedom until tomorrow yippie yay ;3; ] [ yes, must wait for the misc ]
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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 12, 2016 2:27:44 GMT -5
( aaaa i'm so sorry guys for being super late TㅁT.. i didn't know that the first week of school could be so busy holy magicarps ;; i'm typing up a reply right now!! )
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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 12, 2016 6:53:32 GMT -5
“Something the matter, Josiah?”
Morgan asked quite politely as Josiah tried to keep up with his movements in response, seething furiously. The very thin man’s lips pulled back against his yellowed teeth, animalistic and gruesome, but not enough to have any affect on Morgan. Compared to the face Remus had made before… it was nothing. He returned Josiah’s snarls with a pleasant tug of his lips. But the subtext of the smile that played upon his lips was anything but good-natured. Nazareth, on the other hand, didn’t comment much or take a jab at Josiah, moving fast like a hungry snake and exploiting the arcs his sword made only when it was necessary. He was strong and agile with his feet agile against the ground, his dark hair flying around himself as he moved. Josiah tried numerous amount of times to catch them both unaware with a blow to the throat, but it never came. And it never would come even if the fight lasted until the morning. If Morgan had been facing Nazareth and Josiah together, perhaps he would’ve had to become a little more wary. But now, with the skilled swordsman on his side, it was easy. The thought of Eliza slowed him down a little — his mind was focused on her the entire time as he ducked and deflected Josiah’s attacks with birdlike grace. Was she all right? He hadn’t thought that Nazareth would suddenly turn, even if he’d caught the less aggressive tone of the swordsman. Even if a small part of himself had known, he couldn’t be too sure of everything.
Out of the corner of his eyes, as he stood next to Nazareth who bent his back and gripped the hilt of his sword tighter than ever, Morgan spotted a blur of color as the two other raven rolled. He saw Marjorie knock Eliza onto the ground and the bland woman raise her hand with a knife in her hand, the razor sharp edge glinting sharper than any armour he’d ever seen before in his life. He felt Eliza’s name at the tip of his tongue, though he had to keep himself from yelling the moment he saw Josiah’s dagger come down, straight for the vulnerable area between his neck and his shoulder. He ducked in the nick of time as Josiah’s arm swung into a deadly arc. But the bloody-eyed man clearly wasn’t done; he surged forward with his arm coming down and down again and again, stabbing and aggressive and focused on slaughtering. It didn’t take Morgan much to avoid the nasty blows. He was moving effortlessly compared to Josiah’s nearly clumsy steps and movements. It didn’t take him much energy to predict the thoughts and actions Josiah would take, either. He already knew where the blows would come — to his right, to his left flank, to his throat. It was all easy to duck. But the thought of Eliza seemed to slow him down, and Nazareth, being the perceptive fighter he was, didn’t let the pace of his momentum slip.
“I can deal with his brute,” he heard Nazareth growl viscerally, his voice cutting and sharp. Instead of expressing his gratitude him, Morgan only smiled. But it was, yet again, anything but thankful.
“Just don’t get killed,” muttered Morgan underneath his breath as he moved swiftly when Nazareth made an opening for him, holding Josiah back from lunging. And soon enough, he was next to Eliza, facing the rabid Marjorie who looked ready to charge. Her teeth, large and horse-like, seemed to gleam. Next to himself, he spotted Eliza straighten — and the small red stain on her shoulder. His red-golden eyes narrowed at the sight, despite the shadows that did their job in hiding the wound quite nicely. The cut wasn’t so large to the point where Morgan would’ve used his dagger mercilessly against the other woman, though it didn’t leave him with the greatest feeling of happiness, either. He watched as Marjorie charged in their direction with her knife extended and her eyes dilated against her face. Was it strange for him to feel uncomfortable whenever he saw the eyes of someone change? When he spotted them darken and rage with a cold storm? It influenced him more than he liked to admit.
He held his place with his own dagger in hand, his red-golden eyes sharp. The spirit behind his eyes hadn’t dimmed, though the way how calm he appeared would be eerie to any enemy who faced him. Of course, with his face being naturally sanguine from the start, it was hard to look truly intimidating for Morgan. He was more on the lean side and though he wasn’t exactly short, many men towered far above him, so he was used to facing opponents who were taller than him. To their eyes, he was a “pretty boy” (the name didn’t settle with him too well), slim despite the trained muscles beneath his clothing with the hands of a musician rather than a fighter with pale, silky hair and unusual molten red-golden eyes.
He felt something pulse in his veins — something that resided with the feeling of power and freedom. He could kill them — both Josiah and Marjorie right at this spot with a single swing of his arms. He could prove all of them wrong right at this instant, reveal how quick his trained hands were, how he’d memorised the every feeling of his muscles twisting as he plunged his dagger straight in their throats, drowning them in their own blood. What did he care, anyway? He didn’t know them, and they didn’t know him. They were strangers even if they were also Ravens. They mingled right into the vast crowd of people he would never know and never see for the rest of his life. He didn’t care about them, did he? They had done nothing for him. But he had control over their lives. He could already feel the impact of his dagger digging into their throats, the feeling of their shoulders trembling as they—…
The tempting thoughts stopped in Morgan’s head abruptly, and he stifled them with a numbness spreading throughout his heart. It was quite plain how he felt someone else crawling up his throat, desperate to escape and be let out of its cage. An instinct that told him to move however he wished, an instinct that yearned for freedom and for chaos. The part of himself that had messed him up in the head; the part of himself that didn’t let him live a normal life, whatever that meant. The part of himself he despised.
Elliot.
Years and years of living as a murderer had changed him, and as a result, a boy with ideals had turned cruel underneath the hand of a tyrant. He’d killed and killed in fear, hoping that another life wouldn’t be taken away from him because of his failures to murder another. They’d screamed his name, but she’d taken them all. The gnarled skin over his hand was a reminder of that day when he’d stood up against her, when he’d had one last life to look after. She’d snatched them away from him with an easy single sweep of her hand. And eventually... eventually seeing his bloodied hand had become a natural part of himself. He shook the name away from his head with an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders.
I left him behind a long time ago.
He found his feet moving before his mind could register any ideas, right back at Marjorie, and the thoughts he had moments earlier brushed past his head, snatched away by the rush of blood and air. He moved past Eliza, past the twirling leaves upon the ground and the broken twigs scattered around the floor, past his haunting thoughts, past the numbness that had taken ahold of him. He wouldn’t kill Marjorie, but he wouldn’t let her hurt Eliza, either. His only anchor to the existence of Morgan depended on it in many ways no one would be able to imagine. And no one could know about it.
His movements were deft and swift as he twisted away from her wildly extended hand and grabbed her wrist with his ungloved hand — the one that held the glinting knife. “Marjorie, stop.” He spoke quietly, his velvety voice soft. “Please.” Morgan wasn’t certain what he’d done to personally make the woman angry — after all, it hadn’t sounded like she’d just been out for their necks simply because of the letter. His grasp was firm, but he wasn’t holding her to the point where he would let a bruise remain. Thankfully, the glove around his other hand had remained intact together, through all the wild swinging and cutting and stabbing. The tension in his muscles and the relief of knowing that nothing had been damaged too badly yet didn’t last for that long, however.
Not when he heard the gunshot cut through the air.
-
What had drawn her out of the safety of the infirmary for the hundredth time of the day? Oh, yes. It definitely hadn’t been another incident for certain. Not with everything that could have happened, right? Right?
Wrong.
She’d heard William’s small sigh of irritation (or content she wasn’t too certain, especially with the small talk she’d overheard from the two which, she thought, she proobably shouldn’t have) and had allowed her shoulders to relax as well. Her arm still throbbed, but to be quite frank, the irritation that had lingered at the back of her mind had slowly started to vanish. She’d put up a straight face like she’d always had, biting back any sort of complaint or annoyance she’d felt after the shock of getting shot by Gladys. She’d never really dwelled too much on the emotions she’d felt as she’d sat in the bed — she’d never really bothered to think about it too much. At least, that was what she’d been trying to convince herself. I could have died. A little more to the side and I would have died. Most people thought that she was someone who didn’t fear dying — someone who didn’t care about her own life. And for the longest time, she thought they’d been right. She never had really feared death — not after she’d started working for the different organisations she’d been brought into. She’d killed and slaughtered so many people that it had merely started to feel like a bothersome chore, and lives had started to feel like a toy. A game, to be simply said. There were many other people, after all, to fill their spots. The people she killed wouldn’t be missed. Most of them didn’t have anyone close to them, anyway; they’d gone through too much themselves to have a happy life with a family and a child.
“You’re going to break if you keep doing this, you know,” someone had once told her earlier in her days, their usual cat-like grin unable to be seen upon their face as they loaded a pistol in their hand with their eyes focused onto their own blood-crusted hands.
“That’s an odd choice of words. No matter, it’s all right,” she remembered answering tiredly. It’d been a long day, and she hadn’t had the energy to smile mischievously like she could now even after a grueling toil. “I won’t.”
“If you don’t feel anything by their deaths,” they had told her, watching her with an emotion in their green eyes that she had not been able to decipher at the time. “Then you already are.”
She wasn’t, though. At least, that was what she’d tricked her mind into thinking, hence her lack of complaint and expression of shock or fear when facing a plight. She didn’t need people fretting because of some mortal injury Gladys had inflicted. She didn’t need to keep acknowledging the fact that there was a hole in her arm, and that it was lightly sewn over just enough so that it wouldn’t start bleeding again. But the feeling of something unfamiliar snaking around her head and wrapping a cold hand around her heart made it impossible for her to sit around and let those forbidden thoughts wander into her mind.
So when she found herself facing a panic-stricken face beckoning her over, she found her tired feet moving her away from the bed that would force her to sit and remember all the cold feelings that ate her when she remained by herself with no one else to talk to, no one to lean against. She had William and Sybil of course, but the two were knocked out and fast asleep, and it wasn’t like she’d really admit her worries and emotions to anyone easily. Besides, even if she felt comfortable enough to converse with them, they had their own problems to worry about. Everyone did. She moved with feline grace over to the small girl she recognised as Celia, who was peeping into the infirmary with frightened eyes. Slipping out with her feet silent against the floor and pushing back the feeling of drowsiness that made her eyes feel weary and dry, she gently closed the door behind herself and crouched down to meet eyes with the girl.
“Did something happen, Len?” The girl asked, blinking her eyes and looking more shocked than ever. “I… I swear I didn’t try to look but… but I saw… the blood and the… the body and the….” The words trailed off, leaving Lenore to gather the pieces together of what the young Raven was trying to say.
“It’s late, Celia,” she answered with her good hand resting on the girl’s head, gently moving down to hold her soft cheek. “Go and rest. We have a long day ahead of us.” She felt genuinely sympathetic, but she was tired. Had Celia beckoned her out of the infirmary for this? She felt instantly guilty for thinking that way. The girl, who had no experience with corpses and blood and guns, probably was frightened out of her wits. And she’d chosen Lenore to seek reassurance from. In a way, that made Lenore feel surprised and a small twinge of warmth at the same time. It seemed that not everyone wanted her dead.
“But I heard… I heard from Bethany… about you and Remus and… something about manipulation and…. I don’t believe her, you didn’t do anything wrong, did you, Len? You care about him, don’t you? About… about us, right?”
Never mind, it was quite safe to say that most wanted her dead.
She remembered her thoughts from much earlier before — about not wanting Morgan to risk his life, about not wanting Eliza to die by the hands of such a corrupted organisation. About trusting them and that they would be able to do something rather than launching themselves into something reckless. Of Remus, who’d smiled and gone through the hassle of putting the brawl together just to get a shot at getting all of them alive and handling this mess, and how he’d seemed to put his faith in her. But the the image of Bethany’s harshly twisted face and the whispers of the other Ravens came back to her, and the doubt she thought she’d come over flickered at the back of her mind. Had she not done anything wrong?
Before she could answer, it was then she heard the girl speak up again, sniffling. “And… and… B…Ben asked us to search for Remus.”
“For Remus?”
“A m….message from Dante. I don’t know wh-what it’s about but… I don’t thin that it’s anything good…”
That blubbering heinous bag of a—
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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 12, 2016 7:12:25 GMT -5
( also i may or may not have drawn these baes in school and gotten whacked in the head with a textbook for it by my history teacher as for the last group-ish kind of picture... ignore morgan please he doesn't look that young and he isn't that short i messed him up i need to draw him again aaaaa and ignore lenore's hair in that last group-ish picture too that was a very very early design i had for her ;v; the individual portraits of them show the most accurate depiction of how i think they look like
i'm so sorry for the humongous size of these images goodness gracious )
Eliza
William
Sybil Lenore Remus
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Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ
write day and night like you're running out of time
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Post by Mᴏʀʀɪ́ɢᴀɴ on Aug 12, 2016 8:02:28 GMT -5
[[ holy shwizzle that's a long reply good news is I think I'll have access to a computer today so I'll type mine up then.
better news is that I'll have a computer all of next week.
also. that art. I love it c: *cries because I still draw like a potato* ;u;
Will's pose tho cx. it's perfect. ]]
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Post by ᴄᴇʟʟɪsᴛ on Aug 12, 2016 9:29:09 GMT -5
( i got carried away after finally being able to sit down and write haha yayy cx no more dying fingers
thank yooouuuu ;v; i'm really glad that you like it hehe... pffff potato art is beauituful what are you talking about.
i knooowwww. when i thought of him i thought of that pose and then i thought "i have to go with this. this is him."
i should probably draw all the pairs together next uwu mwahaha
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Post by Bᴜᴍʙʟᴇʙᴇᴇ on Aug 12, 2016 10:25:33 GMT -5
[ GASJH:LFJLSFLFD those are amazing *basks in the glory of the art* so amazing Those are so cool! ] [ Will's pose is the center of the universe of fabulous Misc those are so good ahsahjf;lSF;L ] [ I'm gonna be a bit busy all day ( I gotta baby sit but the money is money ) ] [ Yayyyyy computer ]
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