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About -Lilium-

  • Rank
    The Body Merchant
  • Birthday 09/22/1986

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  • Occupation
    Fighting Disillusionment

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  1. :kiss:

    1. Garion


      Now accept my friend request on Discord


    2. -Lilium-


      I did, I did! 


  2. Queen of Salt

    MUST-HEAR! Playlist Don't mess with me by Temposhark Black Sheep by Gin Wigmore Raise Hell by Brandi Carlile Feed the horses by Thank You Scientist Severed by The Decemberists Blood on my name by The Brothers Bright Broken Bones by CRX “The Wolf" by SIAMES I don't know how they found me by Choke Kiss with a fist by Florence + The Machine I Know What I Am by Band of Skulls Black Sheep sung by Brie Larson [Clash at Demonhead] DANGER by SUMO CYCO LEGEND That lady is such a good doctor. My shadow follows me around. Refrigerated, Dry Backpack. Contains a ‘primal pocket’; in which the storage capacity is only limited by whatever location is being used to store said objects, although the dimensions of the pocket determines the item size that it will allow to pass through. In the case of the backpack, it is a small shelf(~128in2; where the contents are constantly changed upon user request) which is connected to a specific location being used to store Ina’s belongings, that are sizable enough to pass through. What a cute little friend you have there. ALL of the profile information related here is not freely given, it must be learned & earned through RP, even if your character has met her before in another life. Playlist Chosen by Paroxysm, Lacernella Rubra, + -Lilium- Artwork by unknown artist , and Miguel Esqueda.
  3. Queen of Salt

    Queen of Salt NOMENCLATURE alias● Queen of Salt nickname● Ina Akeno age● ∞ perceptual● 11-14 gender● ♀ lineage● Humanperceived sanctum● Alterion ARCHITECTURE height● 4’11" weight● 98 lbs hair● Auburn; Long eyes● ● | ●empowered skin● Cream with Freckles physique● Thin and Wiry vernacular● Multiple tone● Demeaning; Morbidly Monotonecurrently PHENOMENA echelon● CollectorREAPER[hiveofsouls] subsidiaries Hemomancy, Sciomancy alignment● Chaoticunknown eroticism● Ambiguous comport● Salty Ina spends most of her new time portraying the explicit misery of being what appears to be a preteen. Even with great wisdom and intellect in her pocket, she chooses to use quick wit and retorts, remain constantly annoyed, and retaliates-via volatile tendencies-against anyone who bothers her, in order to make it from one day to the next. COLLECTIVE Xavier, Halvar Freckles WHEREWITHAL Herbalism[1] Herballistics[2] Practitioner[1] Umbral Arts[2] ARMAMENT Plasma Scalpels Bucshawthandgun BackPack-et[3] Pork-Butt[4] BACKLASH Although Ina has no true history at this time, she does have an unmistakably abrupt beginning. Due to a currently irreversible incident, Ina Akeno was born into the world at the hands of Xavier Halvar. The kid who named her, to whom she gives no reverence, but follows in the event he may be able to help her get back to what she calls a normal life. All the while, she watches his back and helps him commit whatever acts he deems fit to find himself attempting to conquer.
  4. Queen of Salt

    Imagining all the mistakes that can be made during a hurriedly decided body change, is plain negativistic. I would know. It’s not like I didn’t have it coming. So, let’s be honest... I haven’t been very well behaved lately, I’ve been spending way too much time in the shadows with severely odd people, and I am way too old for that. Life is supposed to be short, no one should live this long and come out with nothing; having done nothing with the abundant length of precious time they’ve managed to get dealt. By no means am I trying to be profound while whining, I just really hate this body…
  5. [Baaj Island] Caught in a Wave.

    Very little thought was placed on what she would do with Luke. After having found him in the alley outside of their Inn, she knew very well there was no other choice to be made. Maeda had already left him behind on more than one occasion to explore the world on her lonesome. But lately she found emptiness where his presence was lacking. What it is she has yet to discover, but worrisome tendencies always play a big part where he seems to be concerned. Maeda had taken the time to acquire a singular ticket booked for the timing that their concert for the Red Queen’s festival had been completed. The prompting of the travel agent kept her from being able to refuse the idea of visiting an island that sounded so similar to home. Though her home is closer to the heavens than most choose to travel. The seemingly endless ocean surrounding Corum, is a mere illusion to the fact that where the horizon kisses the clouds it ceases to exist. But Baaj, by the descriptor, attempts to be a paradise like no other. A wondrous plane of life with fanciful colors of flora and fauna that distinguish it from many others. And so, she then deemed it necessary to lay her eyes upon it. Even if only for the ficklest of moments. Choices had been made in the breadth of a hair. Her bag had been packed and she was ready to start this adventure when she came upon Luke. Nothing less than a gentle smile had graced her lips, even with him being in his current state. For she feels no aggression, no irritation, nor upset. The gentility of her tenuous nature can appear to outsiders as a great weakness, but her kindness is her ultimate strength. Her mercy, her shield in the face of tenacious adversity. These are the things that drive her, and one day will assist in the change already taking place in the nation from which she was birthed. It had taken time, strength, and balance to peel Luke from the pavement. But Maeda manages to see it through. One look into his worn and tormented face, though far away in a land of dreams, evokes the realization that he will be joining her. For a short while at least; selfish as it may appear to be. Those thoughts she keeps tidied away for later. Reality would have to be met soon enough, just not now... When they arrive at the ticket booth she is alarmed by the lack of airships over head and quite shocked to see the submarines docked along this section of the port. Darkness does not deny their presence; flooded lamplight illuminates portions of their hulls as slick metallic wonders. “Excuse me Miss, may I help you?” A very portly gentleman comes to her free elbow when he takes notice of her luggage. With a soft mental nudge she nods and gains entry into his mind, only to convey her needs. /”Can you please take my suitcase? My ticket is in my left pocket, and I need to purchase passage for my...band-mate.”/ “Oh, of course my Lady!” Rather surprised yet pleased by her intrusion, the man snaps his fingers and has a couple of others come over. “Jeremiah, take the lady’s luggage and make sure it gets to, let me look here, yes...Cabin 13c. Anton I want you to assist her in getting her...band..mate you said?” Maeda nods. “On board.” She exchanges her converted funds for another ticket and a tip for all three of the men. Luke's passage allotted for, merely by the request of having gotten her own cabin in the first place. It was explained to her that the trip would be a few days in time and that having her own cabin would be beneficial to that situation. Virmaeda feels utmost relief that Luke is by her side after realizing she would have been trapped underwater in a submerged bullet, rather than flying freely through the air. Something that fits her much more comfortably. They two were somewhat an unusual sight on the cushioned bench as the men said their farewells, after having gotten them down into their cabin. Luke still in the hot pink undergarments he procured from places she would never question, and she attired for business travel. He splayed out along the seats like a tossing cat, where a few strokes of her fingers through his hair and the faintest humming perceivable attempted to provide some solace for those darkened dreams that she'd only ever witnessed tiny pieces of. Somehow, she feels that he will not be the least bit upset about the journey. His movements always having been at a drunken random, from what she garners of them. Virmaeda holds firm in the wanted belief that some sun and sand may help to ease the wounds so deeply impressed upon her youthful partner. For if anyone deserves a reprieve in her eyes, it is he. And they watch radiantly over him for most of the evening. After a while she carefully removes his head from her lap, the glue like peel of forehead from tunic a clear indication that he needs a wash. Virmaeda tends to these issues similar to a nun in a monastery, with an ice bucket of hot water, a towel, and a washcloth. Soft fabric soaked in water caresses first his face; removing some but not all of the stains splotching it. She does this slowly and carefully, inwardly singing as she then maneuvers his arms, hands, and fingers. Great care is placed throughout the process in order to not wake him from his slumber; but visions of washing away blood and despair shine clearly in her mind with every run of the cloth against his skin. When she feels that he is clean enough she uses the larger towel to pat him dry and covers him with a pristine blanket folded at the foot of her bed. Although there are enough plump pillows, Maeda lays with her head on her arm. Lying down in such a way to allow her other arm to reach out so that her hand might rest against Luke’s shoulder before she too drifts into a deep and troubled slumber of her own. @The Hound
  6. Joys, Toys and Jokes

    It isn't often that anyone would make inclinations as to her welfare, or have pity on her confined nature. Not that Halvar would know the circumstances, but her deal was a deal. And it will not be complete until she sees it come to fruition. “Believe it or not, my fine fellow. I get about from time to time. But when you get old and raggedy like myself, there tends to be work to do. And a little bit of sugar (money) on top doesn't hurt a bit.” But, as she said before, the money doesn't matter. But there are far better things...yes. Halvar’s excitement doesn't ignite her senses in the way one may hope for it to. It requires refined divination to concoct a plan in which to get the expected result. A lot of thought and planning, maybe only a few minutes of her time to be exact. Ripples form along the surface of the tea she holds in her hand, and with that the means are chosen. It's all in the leaves. “We're going to drug him, yes. But very carefully. This will take tact.” Lilium addresses that question quite easily, but his last statement causes her left eyelid to twitch not once but twice in succession. “Be wary of the words you choose, young one. The soul is a precious gift not to be taken for granted. You need to strengthen it, as much as you do your physical body. And eventually you can learn to wield both simultaneously.” They slip out in a tone more nurturing than she had ever felt possible. Finding herself in immediate need of rectification she clears her throat and allows a gentle smile to alight her features. “I can help with some special modifications, but it will come at the price of immense discomfort and pain… Maybe we'll see how strong your body and soul are sooner than you thought.” And with the slight raise of her tea glass in the mock of a cheers, “May your training prove useful.” Too perceptive perhaps, but certain bruises and wounds dictate the actions proceeding them. The cup is brought back to her waiting mouth, the steam of it warming her lips before being casually sipped. “In all honesty, every person who receives my special attention is a test. Every being is different from one to another. The same augmentation doesn't work the same for two different individuals. It's always trial and error, even when their DNA is mapped, we cannot account for their rate of mutation due to outside influence.” Lilium's data volume brings about her thoughtfulness. Intricate webs of memory and prediction sewing through her mind, in order to better understand this small creature. “Adventure...You say. I think that sounds rather enjoyable.” It has been so long...since those days. “Well, go on, drink up! We have work to do. First, I need a drop of your blood. One drop and nothing more, I don't want my white floors soiled.” With that she stands and sits her glass back on the counter, and the steps behind the curtain. “When you're ready...come have a seat over here.” Lilium clinks around while she waits for Halvar to make a decision, for once the choice is made there will be no end until she does what she needs to. This is the line that defines and defies life, where dreams become reality and nightmares are realized.
  7. Rowan; Scaling the Heights of Tragedy

    Rin spoke nothing but truth of truth toward the confessions of Ianthe’s mind and spirit. She longed for strength, the strength to continue on living without the love she had once had, without fear or pain or agony. Rinoa sensed it, and had taken advantage of it when she had the opportunity to do so. All the while Ianthe had believed she had found some wit and strength, but in reality it was only a well of sadness and pitiful dreams. It did not take long for Ianthe to give up on herself, which perpetuated the extinction of her entirety; giving birth to a newer more terrifying version of herself. Rinoa’s darkness washes over and through her. Taking over what is left behind and reshaping it into something grander. Power begins to wax against every portion of her surface. Her aura darkens but the shadow of her illumination only grows. The approach of a man causes her lashes to flicker over her lids. The closer Vex becomes, the more in danger he is of being torn to pieces. Ianthe can see it in his eyes, betraying the words that trickle from his mouth. She can understand the dialect, but the words he uses no longer connect with her in any way. “Oh, I am awake Sir. And I see you very well.” She moves before thinking about it, bombarding into the man with strength enough to throw him back a about a yard, and off of his feet. “Oops, didn’t see you right there though.”
  8. Dancing on Moonbeams!

    If it is not reverence, it may be remission that is sought. Enlightened by the entrapment of an exquisite exhibition of civilization is the figure who approaches. Majestic in sound, and sight, and smell is the new arena on which her presence makes this well mounted engagement. Fingers cannot count the days in which such a presentation had been made. Far too long has it been since depth ridden eyes revered over such scenery. Change had already come, blossoming with the new spring born of Primera's reemergence. Though none of this is what brings about her resurface. Cool, like the slash of fresh mountain spring water against the cheeks on an early morning... Is the call that touches her senses. Energy in it's purest form beckons her, welcoming her with a recollection she cannot yet place or understand. Wondering inner eyes push for memory, yet receive only visions of flames and aimless souls. No true answer begets the question. So, in order to truly draw in the forlorn thoughts of loss and emptiness, she seeks the connection that attempts to draw her in. Having alighted passage into the lands of Renovatio proper, she found herself in the capital of their state so both are named justly; Avylon. Celebratory happenings do little to deter the nature of her coming. And light foot falls pull along the carefully wrapped and tied abaya shrouding her frame. If only in order to protect herself from the endeavors of those she does not yet know the hood is drawn over her head along with a scarf that drapes across the lower portions of her face. One happening to divulge in conversation might think it too much, but it will do nothing to keep her from sharing words. As her people have a special divination for conversation. Curiosity brings her to the first venue of her discovery. Although she recalls the statuesque arches and feels the urge to submit herself into its embrace she keeps out of arms reach. By the wayside she observes those caught in its beauty, only to see their desires to pass through toward an adventure of exciting unknowns. Intriguing as it is, it does not frame her stimulation. The guardian just beside it, however, catches her eyes and holds them in an unspoken greeting. Realization dawns on the lone figure when she is at the rims edge of the gate and the happenstance of the particular guardian's hand, is holding her own. Assistance to urge her onward and through is felt in every cell of her body and mist of her soul. Were it not for the excited crowds around them, she may have traipsed unknowingly through its eerie depths. How could such a site be remitted to the rulers of the lands? Fortunately a group of tourists disengages them from one another quite abruptly, freeing her of her stolen resolve and Will to keep away. This ends with her hurrying away from the gate, gentle eyes looking shoulder side to view the guardian once last time before carrying forth toward the sounds of music. Which reminds her of the small violin strapped to her hip beneath the black cloth enveloping her; should it come in handy in the near future. Virmaeda Diastece
  9. • All or Nothing?

    In any context, when one expects much they tend to receive very little of what they expect. In this situation, is it the opposite. Dark blue and teals alight within each of the prospects dodecahedrons. Each having been sanctioned off as soon as acceptance remitted Suicide’s presence through their personal firewalls. It is entirely simple in its extreme complexity. Like a virus Sue protrudes through the vastness of their programming, if only to find the depth of shadow hidden well within their shells. Mannequin bodies with circuit board souls. They are not rewarded golden stars for participation, or awards for being up to standard. For every one of their standards differ. This is what makes Sue alight with excitement. Although there is always a detriment. The personality of hive mindedness possed by Suicide ultimately rejects these ideals. Control in harboring these dismantling functions is incredibly excessive. Such to the point that it is not surprising for the nanites to randomly reboot. Their minds cleansed and restarted in order to perform the duties required of them. It takes less than a minute. Each of them entombed at about the same time so they can be done in parallel sequences. Upon completion, the nanites persuasive intrusion comes to an end. Their bodies dissolve within that of the systems of Sue’s cohorts, rendered nonexistent. Their purposes fulfilled. “Valentine is running optimally. Though maybe too care-freely for his own wellbeing. You are free to go, Valentine. Goodbye.” “Rize is in tune, as much as he can be expected to be. Systems are running optimally. Rize, thank you and you know where to find us should the need arise.” “...Eiji...although with human functioning, is running optimally based on pre-recorded baselines. Next visual will either accept or reject these assertions. Eiji, you are free to go, though bear in mind that your brain may be enhanced it is still outdated. Please contact us if you have any issues or geriatric malfunctions such as memory loss, lost time, and potential blackouts.” “Deacon… Deacon is running optimally. All sensors indicate little to no change. Deacon, please take care of yourself.” Once she relays the information to each of them individually with no crossover, the information is compiled and recorded for futures references should a time come when it is needed. With that settled, Sue stands and adjusts her body clad suit and grabbing her helmet off of the seat from where she had been. “Until the next time we meet…” The words hand in the air, trailing lightly behind as Sue walks towards the doors. Family, cold and calculated and lonely… These are Suicide's chosen siblings. Without question.
  10. [Nymeria] Bone collector.

    The gift of touch had been enough to color her cheeks, but the additive of a possible future companion… only further deepen those reddened tones. Thoughts of such connection were bitterly tattered and discarded and replaced by the strength to carry on. To fight and survive, and live another decade. The idea of sharing that time with a flesh-lived companion, simply too undesirable for her current circumstances. At least in her mind. Had Eilwen had her way, it might be possible to assume Pauli would have men around her at all times for a multitude of...appreciations. As if that doesn't terrify her more than the express nudity shown in their own home on nearly all occasions. Thankfully Eilwen’s next question pushes her moment of weakness back into the shadows. “No, I haven’t had any problems with anyone yet. We need one other to survive. Any weaknesses, could tear the net we so carefully lay over our enemies.” A pause for another bite of cake is made before her words continue onward, “Oh yes, there is still much for me to learn. We train every day and even at night. They have given us many different obstacles in which to face, to help us learn to adapt to different situations. And I believe it helps to have strong people watching my back. It's all very instructive and intensive. I wake up sore every day.” Despite her Mother’s many wants for Paulianna to have a life, though she lives, she remains content to be absolute in tending to only herself outside of her duties. Would Eilwen be disappointed in her? Maybe, but not so much in the way of anger but more so in the way of sadness. And Pauli chooses not to be pitied. “I would like that very much, Mother. I can stay. And maybe I’ll be able to introduce you to some of my..comrades at the festival.” Paint. Pauli remembers it very well and this causes her to smile and laugh. The idea of reliving a childish moment not too far fetched. Though it would be a renewing experience to say the least, unable to remember the last time she had actually done it. Pauli the painter back in action. Throwing paint and wearing it well. “It’s been so long since we’ve done any such thing. I think it’s a wonderful idea. I do enjoy painting, no matter the canvas.” Truth be told, she’d brought home some sketches and blotches she’d made during those few moments of free time on nights when they were allowed to relax their tired bodies from training. One day, she would have to share them with Eilwen again. “When is the festival?”
  11. The Island City of Corum.

    CORUM Caticum Vitae The Song of Life GEOGRAPHY Topography The city of Corum resides on a relatively small island-merely a speck on the map-to the southwest of Renovatio proper. It is a beautifully bountiful land, isolated from the rest of the country not only by its size, but also by the vast ocean of clouds surrounding it. A thick green forest outlines the island, where the city is nestled at its very center. Although it is not very sizable, the land does have an abundance of water and elevated points on which man made irrigation lines stream water through the ruins and off cliff-like embankments to create naturally appearing waterfalls. Cityscape Corum, what on the outside appears to be a relic, is truly something of grand talent and magnificence. In appearance to the unknowing eye, the outer walls are worn down and overgrown with tumultuous amounts of vining foliage; that same indignant glance extending towards the inner sanctum. It is with profound invitation from those who dwell within, or a very keen and cunning eye, that one can spot the intention hidden beneath the veiling façade. Outwardly, before a step onto the heavily stone paved walkways, one might be able to notice the eerie absence of sound. Brave seekers of fortune may not take hindrance while diving blindly into its depths. And what may have begun as a journey into a seemingly forgotten territory may come to a disastrously uncertain end. For Syrni1 wander these grounds. Climate The weather is usually tropical, where the temperature is always warm in the spring and summer and cool in the fall and winter. Being an island, is it not unusual to be caught in hurricanes and thunderstorms. Snow, however, is a unique and splendored thing, that is incredibly rare. Flora & Fauna Most of the flora is brightly colored, if not by luscious green stems and leaves it is by the large and beautiful hibiscus and other flowers that rainbow the area. There is a tale that depicts a very precious and small flower of rich blue color that can heal almost any illness, called Rensette3; though it has yet to be verified as true. Due to it's small circumference, there are not very many large animals on the island, nor predators to be of much threat. However, there is an abundance of poisonous insects, arachnids, amphibians, and reptiles. The People Vati2, once believed to have used song to convey emotion within tales, over the generations, have been able to hone their skills for greater purpose. In the past Vati were considered the melodic accompaniment to soldiers on the battlefield by using songs of bravery to encourage their comrades to continue on even in dire circumstances and strike fear into the enemy with ballads of dark intent; sometimes swaying the results of battle. Population & Marriage Through strict breeding and a harsh standard of living, they have been able to bring some of the strongest music wielding bards into existence. Unfortunately, due to the restriction of marriage outside of their household they are quickly becoming a dying breed. Each new generation of pure-blooded Vati is smaller than the one preceding it. The process by which Vati are wed is one chosen for each of them. It requires the harmony and resonance of both partners to be of equal value. Causing the vibrancy of their souls to intertwine and become a single melody. This also means they have to have equal amounts of resonate power. Marriage-It is a very selective process that requires the Vati to be completely instep and in tune with one another in all aspects of their lives. Otherwise their offspring could be born abnormal. In other words, meaning without ability.-between two Vati is done out of preservation for the bloodline and does not always constitute love, but this does not mean an honorable respect is not shared between the pair. Because of their seclusion from the outside world until the age of fifteen, most Level 2 and almost all Level 3 Vati are withdrawn and choose to stay on the island rather than venture into the outside world. Diverting them from the original path of their ancestors, who chose to travel in order to share their tales. First Generation Vati, of the island, believe this seclusion to be a necessary evil in order to protect their way of life. GOVERNMENT There is no true government here. Though they follow the same basic system of the Mother continent, the rules and regulations are shared by the two houses that preside over the island. Where the council members from the House of Lyre maintain a strict adherence to their chosen path of religion, education, and method of song… Those from the House of Ithara, do not. The Itharan4 Vati are a more free flowing people, believing the path to righteousness is not bound to the adherence of rule. However the one agreement they both abide by, is the deterrence of marriage between the members of their two houses. EDUCATION Those blessed with resonant power are placed in different ranks according to the strength of their abilities. Each of these abilities come with specific means of communication that suppress the urge to waste their talents. NonVati are made up with those people who lack the talent for music, but are still maintained as part of their household by taking it upon themselves do other forms of work. Level 1 Vati (abnormal bards) are capable of using their voices and instruments to convey messages, being incapable of resonance and therefore do not face the threat of vocal loss that the stronger Vati do. Level 2 Vati, from the time of resonance verification and testing of ability a few years after birth, are trained to communicate with their instruments and hands in various forms of sign language to convey messages. They are able to use their voices less often than Level 1's but more often than Level 3's. Level 3 Vati, are subject to a much harsher and controlled standard of living than any other in the House of Lyrê, or the city proper. Their gifts marked as a blessing to the house and those it is used to protect. Level 3 Vati in the House of Lyrê are forced to perceive conversation as a threat, and upon verification are subject to mental invasion. The breakdown of mental barriers is a rarely painful form of training to embed communication telepathically into the infantile mind. Punishment for 'wasting' one's voice is often severe and brutal; risk of them losing their voices due to trivial conversations being a very high one. If a Level 3 Vati from the House of Lyrê speaks, it is very rarely for ceremonial reasons and more often than not to unleash destruction on the world. In conjunction with their vocals, Vati carry musical instruments to help enhance the vibrant sounds of their weapons. In some cases it is a weapon with a strung quality such as a bow. The House of Ithara rises to the forefront, in how they hold pride in instruments over their voices. Young Vati in training spend their entire childhood strengthening their vocal or instrumental skill in confined solitude. Mentally resonating the sound of their voice into concentrated forms of power; or taming the resonance within their instrument in order to control it. This is done to protect themselves and any around them from being obliterated by the sheer force of the uncontrolled vibrations. Due to the lack of use of their songs on the battlefield, they started training in several forms of hand to hand combat as well as weapon arts. Mastering only in one. Long range attacks are the preferred method for any Vati, to keep them and their throats from being endangered. But some may choose other methods. DEMOGRAPHICS Culture Generally a peaceful people, they work together in order to preserve their culture. It is not uncommon to see them signing to one another, rather than speaking aloud as all Vati are taught to use sign language as children in order to communicate with all Vati on every Level. The Vati are family people, each house being a family. They take care of one another, without prejudice. Unless it's someone from the opposing house. Despite their unusual distaste for one another, in times of crisis, they join together to rectify the situation. Two Houses Divided House of Lyrê The House of Lyrê is one such group of Vati, unlike their predecessors, who were able to fine tune their musical abilities into weapons of greater destruction through the mode of song. Their belief that the voice is a powerful tool is founded by the idea that words when spoken, should be meaningful and filled with the truth of the emotion they're being conveyed by. House of Ithara The House of Ithara is a group of Vati that pride themselves on their use of instruments, while their voices are the vessels of tales needing to be told. Following more closely to their ancestral heritage they sing and speak in story form and wield their instruments in order to enhance those narratives. Unlike their sister House, Itharan’s use instruments as their weapons of choice. Glossary 1. Syrni Banshee/Sirens – Those of Vati who were unable to channel their talent, having let it burn through them and giving it complete control. 2. Vati – musically enhanced magical beings and the people who inhabit Corum. 3. Rensette – a rare and unique specimen if nature, it is a tiny blue star petaled flower that can only be found growing in the hidden Garden of Liarae, in the true reflection of the city. 4. Itharan(s) – peoples belonging to the House of Ithara. 5. Lyrêi – peoples belonging to the House of Lyrê. 6. Liarae – the Holy Mother; Sister of Galaxies. Extra Information The image presented above is the illusion given to outsiders, the link from 'veiling façade', is the true nature of the city as it is witnessed by the Vati. This Lore was written by -Lilium-.
  12. Joys, Toys and Jokes

    There is no illusion to the curiosity causing the dip of one brow and the rise of another. The words placed between them, new and intriguing to her palette. Maybe there is more to the outside world than she had originally obliged her imagination to conjure, or not. Either way this little creature would be the cordial invitation for entertainment she had been seeking for quite some time. With the answer bestowed, Lilium graces the room with presence and lighting that automatically illuminates the room as she steps through. Though dim, it is more than enough to create an atmosphere of peace and calm. Though tranquility rarely exists in this place. To the left, she appears at work. Heating a burner set into the counter. A cabinet pulled open to reveal a variety of jars filled with differing levels of dried vegetation. One at a time jars are lifted and examined. Labels not in her repertoire as she knows each plant by mere sight. Once the herbs are chosen, she reaches higher along the shelf for two blandly-white handled cups. A clear pot follows behind them. The sink runs when she holds it beneath the faucet to fill it, before placing it on the glass burner to heat it. Rather than minutes it takes seconds for it to reach a rolling boil. And then the fun really begins. All the while she manages the tea, Lilium listens to Halvar speak. Nodding and smiling at his jaunting verbality. Some manages to elicit a line of laughter. Though gentle, it is filled with merriment at such youthful ideas. Lilium tends the herbs into the glass pot, waiting a few moments for the color of the water to darken before dispensing liquid evenly into the two cups. With one in either hand she turns back to Halvar, gracing him with her full presence if only to sit in the seat beside him to look carefully down upon the young man. Maybe what is folded on the floor before her is the definition of life itself. Energy pure and elastic bombards her aura, all from his singular point. With a lean, she holds out one of the cups to him. “This should help revive your weary bones. If I may say, you appear a tad...beaten up.” This is nothing unnatural for her to notice, not in her line of work. “As for the object of your desires… I don’t see why Not. Every King can use a good smack or two in their lifetime.” "And you possibly could use a cup of tea to makes matter of doing so, quite easy." @Chappu
  13. The Spinster.

    Muscles work in conjunction with quickly formulated movements to assist in carrying Keanu's frame as far as possible. Careful and speedy steps lift her up and over objects that had been throw askew from the quaking floor; her legs churning, her arms pumping. Yet somehow, her expression is set in perpetual determination; even her in and exhales remain calm and even. Well practiced. The closer she gets to the port dock door, the harder she pushes herself. If only to gain a foot for every inch the thickly plated metal falls. In the end, there is only one choice for her to make and she takes it. Like a ball player nearing home… Her instep curves, legs and body dropping to the floor, the momentum in which she had ended her jaunt propels her slide. CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICKSLAM!!!! On the last leg of its journey the rollers slow and lock as serrated teeth punch through the holes along the track fitted into floor. Sealing the port dock off from the rest of the terminal. There is no time for cheering. Right as her frame skids to a stop her arms bend along with her legs, in an attempt to pop up from the floor. Little did Keanu know as the door closed the clicking sounds she'd heard… were the ricochet of bullets. One of which immediately enlightens her with a burn and spark against her left cheek. The ping of the bullet rings against her ears from the moment it bounces from the floor to bite her and she leaps up in a frenzy to escape further shots. Once safely tucked between some suitcase bins, hand pressed against the already fuschia glowing wound on her cheek, Keanu asses this new predicament. Eventually, coming to realize the shot hit her unintentionally and originally had been meant for someone else. While the metallic crackling of munitions continues, she takes notice of the stray shots. The bullets seemingly bouncing around from the airship docks nearer the end of the port. Intended or not, hellish payback trickles through Keanu's unblemished senses. They've wasted too many lives already, now it's their turn to die. Logic against the initial explosion and now this obscure fire-fight, is barely reasoned with as terrorism and thievery take a key finger point in her thoughts. The blind side of her Valiant nature, long since doused by death and grief, is brushed aside. But self preservation and anger… becomes fresh fuel for the present. What is brought to them, is a hellish return. With the little time it takes her to bridge the space from where she hid on entry to several hundred feet from those firing their guns, she's sending them presents. Wrapped in a multitude of packing are bags, and boxes, and suitcases. At first she'd brought herself to a heavy sprint, then landed on the pivot of an ankle. her torso twisting with the extended glide of a tightly furled fist. The land along with two steps and the slam of her knuckles not only topple one of the large baggage trolleys but sends it and its contents a couple feet into the air as it flies the rest of the way across the gap. If only to provide a moment of confusion with a tinge of pain for the shooters, the rain of of objects begins.
  14. For the Greater Good (Justice)

    [LOCALE - LAST CHANCE, SOUTHERN QUARTER | MISSION: GRIGORI] Abruptly, Lyr’s movement is halted by a length of appendage held out before her upper abdomen. Neatly tucked against the clasp buckled beneath her breasts. Some young ladies in her position might blush at such connection. But Grigori had turned her into a force of sheer focus. Their final destination close enough for the smells of fresh baked bread, and the sweetness of sauces drenched over meats, too divine for her to take notice of anything other. Although his comment on dress causes the automatic pat down of her own frame as they proceed across the street. Some moments are inescapable, terrifyingly so. On a warm afternoon one can be walking around and the top scoop on the ice cream cone just slips off; smacking the ground below with a saddening splat. A terrible end to a happy day. This specific frame of time is representative of that type of forlorn sadness to Lyr. Possibly a bit displaced for the woman who had been about to walk past them, or the children across the street running towards the colorfully welcoming doors of the candy shop just on the corner. It isn’t about the end of the conversation, or the loss of company that cajoles her. It’s the horrid grumble coming from her belly that sets Lyr into a less than proper fit of piteous wailing. One moment Grigori was at her elbow, and the next he was reduced to contorted and bloody parts on the pavement. It had happened so quickly that Lyr was stained by crimson colored warmth. The tickle of droplets trailing the pale contours of her face while she moans. So close, she had been so very close. The restaurant only just beyond the set of double glass doors she stands beside. And the food was going to be free. Or maybe that was just a severely hopeful thought, not that the dead man would be able to tell her whether or not she had been correct. He wouldn’t be conversing with anyone anymore. Somehow a desperate transformation occurs. Bitter, metallic, salted carnage trespasses between the trembling curvatures of her whining mouth. And she devours it. A quick flick of her tongue cleans her lips, but does not wholly satisfy the need and want to feed. It’s a new, but savory flavor, one that she had never even thought to desire much less condone for herself. At first she does not truly recognize Hawke, a glassy haze having terminated her original focus. It’s not to say she does not have the lone strength to do so, but the combination of being impaled by a satellite and smashed into the ground beneath it can be said to have been helpful. Sickening though it is, what is done is done. The pop and snap of a bone socket and its surrounding tendons and tissues only further pales the crowd of faces caught in shocked pause. It’s the pinch and snap of teeth against flesh peeled free of cloth that sets the alarming screams of shock into ones of horror. A final climaxing pitch is added, by the woman who more than likely thinks ‘That could have been me!’, to the devastation that witnesses may remember for months to come. And in those months to come, her actions aren’t so deniable as they are not entirely remembered. More becoming the fondness of a joke or teasing, as she will see it. When she does finally see and recognize her Angel its all about the smiles between the two of them. “I met a gentleman today, he walked me to this Grigori place. And we talked about food and I told him about you, Angel. You know what he said…?” Betwixt another nibble of the arm stick and a swallow as they walk away from the setting scene, “He said, ‘Maybe you can even take a little bit of Grigori back to her with you…’ And I did, do you want some? It’s definitely better than those biscuits were.” @Mag
  15. <3