Fable - Ask First Annual Solstice Ball [Dreadlords]

A roleplay which may be open to join but you must ask the creator first

Sable Pembroke

The Bulwark
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So much was happening, so many stimuli, so little time to react. Each thing in turn added a new layer of complication to the situation. Sable had wanted to try to resolve whatever was going on with Edric, but Meredith stepped forward and delivered a slap that left a red imprint on Edric's cheek. Noelle's harsh words were slung at each of them, from Sable to Kristen to anyone else who had dared to disrupt the decorum. Edric stepped forward with anger on his mien in retaliation towards Mer, and, proctors be damned, this would have earned Sable's escalation...had Chasmine not lost her cool.

Sable could feel his whole body seize, he could feel every tooth in his mouth jitter, every hair on his body stand on end at that horrible scream. He felt a warm wetness run down his upper lip as his nose began to bleed, and he yelped in pain. Alas, there would not be enough time to even bring his palms to cover his ears as the sound of exploding glass joined with the resonance of that awful wail.
"Shit!"

The young titan instinctually threw a hand skyward to create a shield, as large as he could make it. Protect them, protect them all! As many as you can! A topaz dome formed around him, though in his disorientation its formation was erratic and flawed. Shards of glass crashed against it as they fell, some sparking and shooting aside into walls, others obliterating themselves on the arcane shield. All but one lucky dagger of glass which slipped through an unfortunate crack in the barrier.

Shnk!

Sharp pain shot through the shoulder of Sable's raised arm as the shard sunk through suit and skin alike, blood quickly soaking through the fabric. Sable merely grit his teeth and wrenched an eye shut, but kept the barrier up. His open eye scanned the others, hoping for each of their safety, before finally falling angrily upon Edric.
"Call me...what you will, Edric..." Labored breaths came between wincing and pain, but Sable refused to drop the shield from above him. "I protect...everyone...even you."
 

Kristen Pirian

Pirian's Chosen
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Floor.

She was on the floor. But it wasn't Dorian's fault! Kristen wouldn't entertain such a disparaging notion, something must have happened. There was some shouting (Noel?) going on so, yes, something surely must have happened. Why, it was a touch vexing. Infuriating, Kristen would go so far as to say. This was supposed to be a nice evening! Couldn't her fellow initiates behave themselves for one, ONE evening? Was that so much to ask? Now their lack of forbearance had sullied Kristen and Dorian's wonderful dance and ruined the night!

Kristen started to get up, having a mind, surprisingly, much in line with Noel's own. Oh, if only she had such a commanding voice as she! The stern talking-to she was prepared to give--

A most UNGODLY noise assaulted Kristen's ears, the loudest she had ever heard in her life. On her knees, she clamped her hands over her ears and couldn't hear her own yelp of surprise. Couldn't hear the shattering of glass. Couldn't hear the bursting of the chandelier. Her face was a total grimace, eyes pinched shut, and so she did not see Sable's efforts to shield her and the rest of the class from the dangerous shards of the chandelier.

Kristen wasn't sure when it was over.

She wasn't sure when, exactly, all sound in the world ceased to be.

Horrified, she dropped her hands from her ears. Looked to the palms. Blood. And still all the pain of a pickaxe being driven into her skull, such was the extent the migraine inflicted upon her. Kristen, on her knees, just glanced around at the rest of the crowd.

What monster had done this!?
 

Walter Banick

Count of Ostia Anir
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Walter clapped his hands to his ears when the scream started. The glass he had dropped shattered before it even hit the ground, spraying some punch down one leg of his trousers. He couldn't even hear himself curse.

Yet, despite the pain of his ears being cleaved into by the acoustic battleaxe of a scream, Walter retained a reserve of amused humor at the whole situation. How was this supposed to end, hmm? Could it have been any other way? These children might yet be on the cusp of graduation from the Academy, but they were far from adults. They could hardly keep their own emotions in check. Add onto this the extraordinary powers with which they had been blessed, and you've a recipe for irresponsibility.

And, judging by appearances, the initiate named Chasmine had thrown the tantrum. Not his first choice for likeliest to do so, if Walter were made to rank them, but not particularly surprising. It answered one question, how was she even still alive, but it raised more. If that whelp of a girl couldn't even handle a cordial dance, of what use would she be on a godsforsaken battlefield? She would be the enemy's greatest boon, such a danger was she to her own allies. So the new question wasn't why was she still alive, but a variation thereof: why hadn't the Proctors disposed of her ages ago?

Walter pulled back his hands from his ears once it was done. All he could hear an incessant, blaring ring. And there was blood on his hands. Goddamn it, that little bitch. This is what happened when standards became shoddy. But, in truth, the failure of this dance was on the fool Captain Grealish's shoulders more than anyone else's.

Teeth clenched in a sneer, Walter observed as the Proctors moved in to take control of the situation. Surely they could manage that, yes?
 

Eleanor

Red Dead Dreadkid
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119
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Everything happened in a few moments and before Eleanor could even say or do anything, Chasmine screamed and the world exploded. Her hand instictively dropped Vance's wrist as both of their hands went to their ears to try and stop the sound from busting their eardrums. She felt like her brain was going to explode and she wanted to scream but that sound didn't even come out.

She felt Vance's spark dance on her necklace and she hissed. It hurt less than the brain exploding though. Once the sound had stopped, Ella removed her hands from her ears and looked at Vance. Her hands and arms had several cuts from the glass as well as one on her cheek. It could've been worse though. Much worse.

"Um...yes, I am fine. Just some cuts and I think my eardrums may be bleeding." She tried to joke but fuck they really did hurt. She completely missed the large shard of glass that was stabbing into the right side of her waist.
 

Meredith

Touch of the Leech
Member
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Meredith continued to try and calm Chasmine down, her sob echoing through the room. She pleaded with Meredith, and she could feel tears in her own eyes. "You do belong Chas, I'm here. No one is going to make you leave."

She had turned her back to Edric, not even aware he had moved to pursue her. It didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was bringing Chas back to the world of the living. She could feel the slow addiction of Edric's power taking hold, but she mitigated it as much as possible. She knew how dangerous it could be.

Noel came up shouting and Meredith cringed. She could see the change in Chas right before it happened. Noel was the last straw. Meredith got the full brunt of the scream. It pierced her ears, and dropped her to her knees instantly. Her hands covered her ears as tears stained her cheeks. "Chas, please stop!"

She pleaded to no avail, her nose dripping as her hands continued to cover her ears. Edric's power left her all too soon, and she could feel her own weakness come back to her. The sound of shattering glass, and words she couldn't understand from Sable.

She was trembling, the sound echoing through every bone, it made her wish for an end. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, and her back. She couldn't move to investigate it. She managed a feeble cry to Sable for help, though knowing him he was already doing what he could. Red spots covered her eyes, and she tried to push through as she felt herself losing consciousness.
 
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The frown that Henk wore didn't even spell half of the disappointment that Henk felt at the situation laid before him. It wasn't just that his dance had been interrupted, but how quickly and easily the decorum they had displayed was eroded. They were meant to be a team of highly-trained operatives, but you wouldn't know that from the sight of them now. What had been a surprisingly fun evening had devolved into panedmonium, and it was with a sadness in his eyes and a somber frown that he stepped forward to follow Noel.

He hadn't made it to her side before his attention was drawn instead to the struggling Chasmine, with Meredith at her side in an attempt to comfort her. That wasn't good, whatever Edric had said had really gotten under her skin and Chasmine was already volatile without a mental breakdown. If things got much worse, they would all be in even more trouble. Edric was merely simmering, likely a result of the sharp smack he'd taken from Meredith draining him a bit; how strange it must have felt for him to be the one with something stolen from him?

"You all had one task, one! Just dance! Easiest 'mission' of our lives!"

Noel shouted angrily towards the others, and Henk swore under his breath before rushing up to her and reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently but speaking in an urgent tone. "Noel, please. You're going to make things worse by yelling and I worry that Chas--" It was too late, he felt that otherworldly tug pulling at every ounce of energy within him, tugging towards Chasmine with the strength of a great cyclone. The scream rang out like the call of a banshee, the most piercing and haunting cry Henk had ever heard in his life.

If Henk had his piercings in, they would have been shaking, glasses throughout the hall shattered, the windows rattled and did the same, and the ornate chandelier hanging above them could not withstand the sheer vibrational onslaught from Chasmine's lips.

It was a split-second decision between realizing that he and Noel stood directly in the line of fire and his arms pushing her to the ground, dropping to his hands and knees, and positioning himself over her. Only one of them needed to be wounded, and she'd done him a great favor tonight. This was his way of repaying that debt, as he felt the glass shards cut and scrape at his back through the suit he wore. The pain was intense but only lasted for a moment.

As soon as he felt the glass stop he rolled away and brought his hands to his ears, his body shivering in pain. That was stupid, his back was bloodied, suit ruined and ears throbbing. For what? To win some points with a woman? The hell had gotten into him?
 

Dorian

I Have A Ton of Spirits, They All Suck
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Dorian had begun to help Kristen back to her feet when Chasmine's shrill pierced through all things, and he dropped the young Lady again as he fell to a knee, hand clasped over his ear, crimson trickling from under his palm and down his jawline. Eyes pressed shut, teeth grit. He could feel Chasmine's wail through his bones to his marrow.

The spirits soul-bound to Dorian writhed and screamed inside him, and their pain became his. He thought that maybe if he tried to remain absolutely still, it would help him deal with that agonizing swell in his head. But it didn't. Nothing would. At least he held back the urge to vomit. It'd be an even worse look for him to throw up on Kristen after dropping her twice.

Instead, the boy slumped forward. Motionless. Unconscious.
 

Noel

Iron Maiden
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Henk had begun to try to reason with her but rage had already taken hold. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say to him but before he could even finish his thought an earsplitting sound emerged from Chasmine's throat.

Both of her hands flew up to guard her ears and she bent over at the waist in a reflexive guard.

It didn't help. The scream echoed in Noel's eardrums to the point of nearly rupturing them. Pain washed over her and her mind felt like it was drowning as she attempted to collect herself. Chas was the source, if she could just strike at the other girl's throat maybe it would...

A crash. Someone grabbed her and threw her to the ground. It happened too quickly for the onyx-haired metalmancer to react.

Seconds later he rolled over and she saw a bloodied Henk that had shielded her from the falling glass. Stupid of him, so stupid. They'd shared a dance and he was sacrificing himself to protect her? It was the sort of idiotic bravado you'd expect from Sable, sure, but not Henk.

Her ears kept ringing but Noel simply pointed at his blood stains and jokingly offered, "I think you may have gotten something on your jacket."
 

Chasmine

The Odd One
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Crumpled, defeated, and completely out of touch, Chasmine Grey sobbed into her transparent hands. A few moments flickered by after the chaos settled while the others picked themselves up and attended to those who could not or did not. The spectral girl slowly diminished, fading from view as she sank into the floor and disappeared to wither in the deep levels of abandoned catacombs far below the Academy grounds.
 

Edric

The Warrior
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241
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Edric took in a long ragged breath.

Not because of the shards that had only narrowly missed him because of Sable, not because of the reverberation of Chasmine's magic. No. It was his own abilities returning to him. He could feel the pulse of it running through his veins.

Like an injection of the greatest drug that anyone could ever call for. His eyes closed, and goosebumps raced over his skin as his arm caught around Sable's massive form. The other boys weight crashed into him, but Edric didn't seem to mind.

A grimace flickered over his features as the Initiate murmured quietly.

Edric shook his head. Idiot.

He took in a steady breath, then reached up with his other hand. Fingers wrapped around the shard of glass embedded in Sable's shoulder, and with one smooth motion jerked it free. A spatter of blood stained both of their fine suits.

"I know." Edric said quietly. "Moron."

Then his hand came down upon the wound.

There was a pulse. A sudden rush, and some of the reserve that sat at Edric's core suddenly slipped away. A feeling of alien discomfort would fall over Sable as his wound knit together, flesh drawing close as though directed by some unseen force.
 

Sable Pembroke

The Bulwark
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Sable grit his teeth as Edric ripped the glass dagger from him, barely offering a grunt as it slipped from its place. Then, surprisingly, Edric actually...closed the wound? Sable hadn't been aware that his magic worked that way. That magic, much like its wielder, had always seemed so self-concerned. He blinked at him, brow furrowed. Why did he do that? Had Sable misjudged him?

This wasn't the time to do any deep thinking about it. Sable turned to look after what his barrier hadn't managed to cover, just in time to see Chasmine retreat into the floor, and to see the crumpled form of--
"MEREDITH!"
Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Of all the people he had to miss, of anyone in the group that he had to fail to protect, why her? Why?!

It's just the same as before...


No! Not again! Sable grabbed Edric's arm by the wrist and pulled the hand from his shoulder. He locked his gaze intensely on Edric for a moment before yanking him bodily in Meredith's direction and pointing at her, collapsed on the ground and bleeding.
"If that's something you're capable of, then use it on her, not me!" He declared loudly. "You need the life of others to fuel that power, right? Take as much of mine as you need, just fix her!"
 

Kristen Pirian

Pirian's Chosen
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84
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Dorian. Kristen was vaguely aware of his touch at first, and then intensely aware of it, focused upon it like a lost ship in the dark spotting the ray of a lighthouse. Holy Aionus, the world felt so terribly diminished without sound! But it was alright. Because Dorian was here, he was alright, as alright as anyone could be after what happened, and everything was going to be--

Kristen smacked onto the floor again when she was dropped. She couldn't hear anything, but she could feel that lump of soreness in her forehead perfectly well.

She rose again from the floor to sit on her heels, touching a hand to her forehead and inadvertently smearing it with a tiny splotch of blood. She looked to Dorian. Oh no! He was unconscious! Gosh, what had happened? Was he attacked!? Someone had accosted him, and that was why his hold on her slipped. First the initiate who had screamed, and now this? Could not her peers go a day without engaging in some manner of violence??

Kristen's first impulse was to cry out for help. But she stopped herself. Aside from not being able to hear anything, and thinking it likely that it was the same for others, crying out in such a manner in the Academy would do nothing. Nay, it would be worse than nothing--she'd been here long enough to know that, if nothing else. The Proctors were already rounding up initiates, roughly or extra roughly, and pulling them aside and lining them up, establishing order and control in the ruthless and efficient manner that only Proctors can.

So all Kristen did.

Was adjust Dorian. Set his head in her lap. Laid a hand on his head and then let her fingers brush through his hair. Enjoyed the brief moment of tenderness. One final, nice little thing to grasp from the disaster which had ruined this lovely evening.

And then she felt the hands of a Proctor on her shoulders, hauling her up to her feet, and moving her toward the far wall where there were already several others.

Dorian
 

Dorian

I Have A Ton of Spirits, They All Suck
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The same Proctor that shoved Kristen in line came back and drug Dorian's unresponsive body next to the young Lady and unceremoniously propped him against the wall.

He was still very unconscious and would likely remain the same all the way to the infirmary.
 
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"Um...yes, I am fine. Just some cuts and I think my eardrums may be bleeding."

Vance rubbed his own head and blinked a few times to try and get his eyes to focus. There were still sputters and sparks snapping off of him in a few places, and a few crackling lines of electricity ran between his fingers and his hair as he brushed the glass and dust out of it.

"Hurts a lot more when you're not ready for it," he grumbled about the scream. He hadn't often sought out Chasmine for a fight, but they had all been subject to each others powers at least a few times.

"What a disasterhEY," he pointed stupidly at the piece of glass in Eleanor's side and the blood pooling around it. He couldn't heal it, they just had to make sure she didn't break it or pull it out before someone else could help. "Don't move," he said before calling brusquely across the battered room to whatever Proctors weren't already picking people up.

"Hey! Wounded here!"

Here and everywhere else, probably. He never really cared when others got hurt, it happened too often and he'd been numbed to it for years. Why didn't he want to leave, then? He felt... he should stay with Eleanor. Fuck all elsewhere to go, of course. Yeah. That was it.
 

Edric

The Warrior
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241
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Edric stared down at Meredith as he found himself practically wrenched across the floor to her by Sable Pembroke.

He could hear some of the Proctors shouting out at the students, calling for them to step away from the shards, yelling out asking questions about who had done this. More than a few healers existed among the staff at the Academy, but none of them had been chaperoning.

With his magic back in place he could feel Meredith's life slipping away.

She had some time yet, but he was not sure how long. Could they get a healer in time? Did he even care?

Lips thinned for a brief moment, that simmering rage still lurking just beneath the surface of his skin. He could hear others calling for a healer, shouting for the Proctors or anyone else. Yet here Meredith was on the ground, Sable besides him practically screaming. All the other noise around him seemed to drown out as he lost himself in his thoughts.

A second passed. Then two.

Finally he squatted down besides Meredith.

Decision made, he reached out and simply touched her. It was a spike of power that would run through her body, a press of life, much like when she had taken his magic earlier but more focused. In an instant her wounds would begin to heal, her heart would quicken, and her entire body would surge with energy.

It was no doubt an unpleasant feeling, like a burst of adrenaline through every part of her body.

He waited just long enough for her to gasp for breath, for her mind to snap back into consciousness, and then he whispered in her ear. "If you ever try to touch me again, I will rip out every little trickle of life in your body before you can take your first step. Proctors or no."

The words were said, and then Edric stood and walked away.
 
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Henk had felt plenty stupid before Noel had looked over at him after his little display of chivalry with a gaze of raw ridicule and judgment. She didn't have to say what she thought of his actions for him to know how foolish and weak she'd found the gesture. Honestly, Henk couldn't blame her; they'd been trained to be killing machines, and he had just done the equivalent of sacrificing himself in a real battle situation.

The screaming had stopped, nothing but a soft whimper in its place, though Henk couldn't hear it over the loud ringing that echoed off the sides of his skull. What a mess, indicative of just how far any of them were from being normal, a fresh reminder to all of them the dangers of forgetting what they were. The embarrassment Henk felt for feeling that joy during his dance with Noel stung more than the glass embedded in his back. It was nothing but a delusion, all of it.

Bringing his hands down from the sides of his head, he was at least to see his ears weren't bleeding when they most definitely should have been. It might have been better had he focused on the pain in his eardrums though, because as soon as he was no longer worried about the fate of his hearing, he felt the searing glass blades digging into his flesh, causing his back to arch as he let out a long series of swears.

Rolling onto his hands and knees before bringing one foot underneath himself, Henk shakily rises to his feet.

"I think you may have gotten something on your jacket."

"Well, it was that or your face..." He replied through a grimace, reaching down to grab Noel's arm and pull her to her feet. "Think me soft if you must, but I quite prefer you without scars like mine..." The way Henk saw it, there was little to lose in a few more scars on his back, and if Noel had been hurt badly, he would have felt responsible...

But Noel was far from the only victim, and all Henk had managed to do was ensure Noel wasn't as unfortunate as Dorian, who was being carted away, as Meredith, who seemed barely clinging to life, or as Eleanor, who clutched at a wound angry and red. A disaster. An absolute disaster.

"I should have done something sooner. I could have stopped this..."

Was it true? Maybe. Maybe not.

But for the first time in quite a long time, Henk had been truly happy.

And now he felt terrible for it.
 

Noel

Iron Maiden
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Henk had, prior to tonight, been someone that Noel had thought of as one of the stronger members of their class. They'd sparred in the past and she'd seen him keep up the pace with plenty of other students. His magic had more than a few uses and he appeared to take his training and studies seriously. As he should, they were all here to ensure Vel Anir survived.

After tonight something had shifted. She saw him as she would an injured dog. Or, maybe, something more.

It was quite complicated. And it only grew more complex when he looked at her with those sad puppy-dog eyes and spoke. "If it was my face we'd be referring to Chasmine in the past tense."

Noel looked at Henk for a second, locking eyes with him. "Thanks."

She wasn't completely certain why she thanked him. He'd done something recklessly stupid that would've earned the ire of any Proctors who noticed. However, he'd done it in some misguided attempt at protecting her so it felt like the least she could do in the moment.

"Don't be stupid," she brushed off her dress after he helped her up, purposefully avoiding further eye contact now. "There wasn't anything you could've done."

Beating himself up over it wouldn't help anyone. "I'm leaving. Enough excitement for one evening." She'd somehow managed to avoid keeping her dress and shoes in mostly pristine condition. Not to mention Henk's little antics had prevented any need for a healer to attend to her.

"You should get to the infirmary, have a healer patch those glass shards up." He'd be fine. Henk wasn't some sad, lonely, dog. He was a fighter like everyone else at the academy.

Over Noel's shoulder she called back whilst walking away, "and I like your scars."