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-Lilium-

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-Lilium- last won the day on October 28

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About -Lilium-

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    The Body Merchant

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    athrelecaliver
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    Fighting Disillusionment

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  1. It’s a calm time of preparation, organization, and remodeling. Despite the rhythmic noise of construction at the hands of Daemon and a small crew as they frame out and fill in her architectural design, she cannot hear it. Lilium’s mind preoccupied with the plan of the night. In either ear rests a small bud, blocking out the world around her; leaving one to assume she is listening to something else. When in reality they are turned off and just sit as she reconnoiters with otherworldly things internally. Merely listening to the goings on elsewhere. I’m still looking into things, but so far there’s no trail or answer. Here are the maps we’ve drawn of the disappearances so far. Thankfully what we do have is a long winding trail that seems to begin in Kharatumni. Though the First and Last Abode have yet to complain of known disappearances at this time. At least they’re willing to speak with you. We dress accordingly, and have learned to shift our dialect to an older version of Terran. It helps. They also know we’ve wandered up from Khaznah. Are you going to come and help, or are you still...otherwise engaged? It may be a few weeks still, but I’ll make the move. Don’t worry. Hands busy themselves by clearing away dust, debris, and dead foliage, only to fill these empty spaces with pots. Those diligent digits then fill them with soil found under another shelf further in the greenhouse, reusing it and wetting it with water, and placing a plant inside. Nothing really goes to waste. Even the crumpled leaves are broken further and mixed in, becoming fodder for the new seedlings being planted. “I’ll return to call on you this evening.” Words proven true, as Jacob now stands inside her new and humble abode, this ‘home-away-from-home’ for the next few days. She feels him enter, and plucks the buds from her ears, pocketing them as she turns to greet Don Fedele. Although taken back by his prim and polished nature she doesn’t hesitate to give him a weak smile of approval. "Good evening, Sir." In a small basin off to the side she cleanses her hands of dirt, drying them on the folded towel beside it. Readying herself to begin. Lilium’s now different than before,having exchanged her more comfortable clothing for something else more akin to adventurous. As in dark leather leggings and a teal tunic tucked in at the waist. Clothing she can easily move in should the need suddenly arise. Quite opposed in dress they two are. However she deems him worthy, nearly enough so that her hand automatically rises to adjust the collar of his suit before freezing an inch away from it before doing so. The look is questioning of why she’s done it, eyes bearing down on the appendage before retracting and gently rubbing it with the other. “My apologies.” It cannot be out of habit as she’s no one to make adjustments to, but maybe those long lost words of being ‘called on’ in the evening hours have pulled forward something old in her mind. “Here, sit.” She’s already turned to clear a few bags from the cot that had been placed in the small room. Daemon, having done as instructed, set her up first before moving on to the rest of the greenhouse’s work. “I’ll be sure to get a more suitable chair in the near future.” Should there even be time to do so. “For now it will have to do. I want to make sure these fit appropriately and comfortably.” Again those straps of leather are brought forth, but rather than two there are now four. Two are set aside and she kneels in front of him after he makes himself comfortable. You look as though you’re about to make a proposal. May I suggest a more romantic place than your dirt filled room? Enough. She was once again taking Jacob’s hand, the left to be more accurate, and froze with his palm hanging off the tips of her fingers. The unexpected mental intrusion causing her to hesitate in her actions. However, in this pause is an unusual warmth that radiates from his hand, burning away the chill of her own with prickling tendrils of unnerving energy. It forces her to move a little more quickly than she would like. Pushing his sleeve upward as far as his musculature will allow the cloth to go, before wrapping the leather carefully down his forearm around his wrist and thumb, and even his knuckles before tucking and tightening it. “Now, flex and contract by making a fist and releasing a few times. Then we’ll do the other.” Again she does the same to his right hand, standing once finished. “Do the same with this hand.” While he does what she instructed, she begins to wrap her own forearms, wrists and knuckles. Deftly and quickly, practiced even. “Alright, let’s give it a go, but more than anything, take a few swings at my palms, but what I really need you to do is block. The idea is to draw them in and force them to bite these rather than another portion of your body.” Lilium doesn’t explain in detail, but knows that he will eventually get the idea. Hands up, palms forward with a slight bend in each elbow, feet angled and spaced for a bracing posture, ready for his movement. “Let’s begin.”
  2. Just a heads up...

    I will be around but unable to make too many, if any, posts over the next 7 1/2 days. I will be working, and sleeping when not there.

    I apologize for the abrupt inconvenience and again as always, appreciate your patience.

    @Fierach @Noko @danzilla3 @Lucinda Valentine 

    1. Show previous comments  2 more
    2. Velindrel

      Velindrel

      take it easy buddy real life always comes first.

    3. Lucinda Valentine

      Lucinda Valentine

      Aww take all the time you need! Just like what Velindrel said, real life comes first! 😊💙

    4. Die Shize

      Die Shize

      You are the Lilium.

  3. "My evening is clear. I'd be happy to escort you around the city." In a daze she looks up, drawn from her private revelry to once again deal in reality. This is when she finally notices the weight of Jacob’s true depth. All the while she had spoken, conversed with him in explanation, as well as with Daemon in their foreign and silent manner. Never once had the Don interjected to stop her, questioned her motives or even embedded his power on the subject. With very little speech he carried and conveyed the importance of this objective. What do you think? I find him intriguing in his silence. He knows what he wants and somehow believes us to be knowledgeable enough. And it has become ever apparent he wants to see this problem eradicated, quickly. “...” Her frame shifts all at once, gently spinning on her heels to take Don Fedele’s measure. Thoughtfully, inadvertently, the bottom lip is caught between her teeth. Words slow and careful in their formulation, clearly preparing to speak but the words significantly delayed in their exposure. Sight is important, as is forethought. Lilium had already felt this might happen, though the timing of that prediction is quite off. His offer having come much sooner than she originally planned for him to. So her eyes wander, as this proposition marinates on her thoughts, finding their way to his hands of all things. A lack of propriety is endured, though briefly as she once again reaches out to him. Without an invitation or visible purpose. All that time wasted talking, without sparing an ounce of energy to take in her surroundings. She was neither prepared nor ready for his help but now… Gently she takes his hand, lifting it up to not only feel the worn texture of his skin but view the wear of his fingers and knuckles, running the pad of her thumb softly across them. You expected him to be more delicate, or lazy perhaps? “Alright…” Soft but heavy is the sound of her acceptance; and with it is the prompt release of his hand. Her fingers curling in their downward fall as her arm drifts back to her side. “Just try to remember, and hold onto the third portion of our agreement.” Involuntarily her hand, warmed from his skin, stretches and relaxes. “Daemon, may I have my bag please.” Having taken measurements and looked around the barren green house long enough he meanders silently back to her side. With little presentation he unbuttons his coat and from its darkness he pulls a rather large leather doctors bag. Careful not to shake or tip it he sits it on a wooden rack intended as a potting station. “While you prepare, I will gather the rest of your belongings. If you don’t mind, Don Fedele I will request one of your men to escort me out.” Already preoccupied with the worn and rugged looking bag, Lilium merely waves her hand at him. Like always she will know where he is and they can still converse from that distance if necessary. Without too much more of a farewell Daemon takes his leave. From the bag two rolls of wrapped leather, several colors of chalk bound together, and a swirled glass pen are procured. One at a time she unrolls and lays out the long strips of narrow leather, marking them at certain points with black chalk, then tracing patterns on them with red and silver. What she does next is with the swirled glass pen. It has no ink and the tip is but grooved with a flattened point similar to a calligraphy pen. A point just sharp enough to cut into the pad of her thumb and when held upside down absorb it into the handle. This process is done with extreme precision and speed. Such a concise need eventually exposed after she imbues each piece of leather. Once metallic liquid suddenly turns into a powdery black within the pen. A few shakes at her side and the ash disperses. “Once we have a map, we will triangulate the area in the middle that is more than likely the sale point. When we get there, you will wear these. I will wrap them on for you to make sure it’s done right. And again…” Repetition, repetition, repetition, “remember the third portion of our agreement...Jacob, I may not be able to protect you.”
  4. credit for HTML layout goes to Csl. Footfalls squelching through the muck and the mire are the only sounds to be heard. No there are voices here, trespassing vocals on an otherwise serene setting. Disturbed, betrayed, disrespected. It thickens that fog creeping up from the ground. Cold and condensing as it crawls from the toes to the knees in winding spindles of white. Staining gray whatever it touches with trails of whitewashed edges. Welcome… Welcome… You who dares enter here… They tickle the senses, twist the minds, enliven the spirits of those that belong. Treacherous as it is, that which thinks it belongs truly does not, but Shikai is welcomed nonetheless. Undead and strong, awakening to the power trapped within. There is nothing to bar the way but creeping shadows in the distance, flickering eagerly, pacing... but so distant. Not yet engaging. Waiting. How much for a night? Another dime another dollar, another soulless whore for hire! Yes...welcome... Thumping, pounding feet and splashing mud, little shoes in the sludge. Mommy! And she runs, that flicker of illusion, a brush of the hands across the thighs, a smack against Phoebe’s support. Why’d you leave me? Why do you always have to go? It’s a game of hide-and-seek. Come find me! There it goes again, from behind, a poke, a tug of the clothing. Come catch me! Pressure begins to build at the base of the skull, shooting behind the eyes. Is the fog thickening again? Or is the mind blocking out the sight? It’s harder this time, an attack against the base. The point of the spear that sinks into the ground hit hard enough to slide it even in her grasp. That won’t help you here, MOMMY! In the fog is a swirl, and the figure is gone again. But the thumping of her pulse is heavy. It echoes and calls to the creeper in the darkness. Saturated silken creature, lost and alone. It’s a song of life, of warmth, of… Quinlan will find it, will learn what it means. Her endurance is weak, her mind tearing. The shadows follow. You let me die there...Quin… Why couldn’t you save me? The fog thickens. You couldn't save me then, you can’t save anyone now. You’re worthless...like your dust driven mother. They do not stop, they do not wait, nor tarry, nor concede. They have begun and will not let go. Somewhere in the distance, or it is close by? Stone grinds against stone. And a hollow scream. Wailing from the trees. The further in they go, the worse the sounds inside and out become. And soon they can feel the touch and pluck and grab of hands from the darkness. Banshees come. Look me in the eyes Tell me what you see Is it the darkness deep within or reflections of the trees...
  5. Seventh room, Black exiting to hallway. Direct dedication paid to the face of this obscurity will find itself reflected back due to the apertures nested within. Set back, yet willfully showcased to highlight the effects of the decoration hiding it's facade, are swirling oceans of teal which sway patiently over the others in the room. Intimately hand carved ornamental patterns are expressed by faint illumination from red filtered rays getting trapped in the grooves of the opalescent pearl mask. Just as delicately crafted is the willowy frame trailing below it. Shoulders coated by straight waves of white pull on the vague luminescence of the room, absorbing rather than reflecting it. Drawing on the shadows if only to cause one's silhouette to be grander than its reality. Pallid features in the form of hands fold neatly over one another across the lower portion of the abdomen. This peculiar lack in color is magnificently transcribed by the fashion of the apartment. An otherwise blank page, drowned in the crimson hues cast by intricately placed stained glass. No doubt a fine expose of the coming festivities. Rather than engage, the being languidly carries her person beyond those counterparts from which she'd followed from far behind. Their words clear despite the orchestral music. Though focus is with them it does not stop the creature from pausing, taking in the foundation and meaningful decoration, music, lighting, thrones, and the singular being upon one of them. Eventually move one must in order to take in the rest of the enchanting atmosphere. Though spacious, it is not unusual for people to converse, move, and take in the scenery in groups. Their collectives gathered here and there to share their thoughts, whilst this one travels alone. Outwardly driven entitlements pulling her attention elsewhere for endeavors far removed from this engagement. Along the way, fingers once poised to the person slowly reach out to run admiringly along a portion of black tapestry. Beautiful. Lingering ever so slightly before retreating. The time to find a point in which to mingle having arrived, the idea of indulging in frivolity somewhat beyond her capacity or endurance. Eventually crimson fades away to be replaced by fire light from the hallways brazier, brightening otherwise dark attire and exposing it for what it is. Thin lengths of long black fabric imbued with flecks of metallic color make every shift in movement tranquil. The fluidity of color a natural companion to the graceful demeanor it envelops.
  6. I'm not too fond of hearing the phrase: 'Try not to take it personally, they're just like that.'

    1. Show previous comments  2 more
    2. danzilla3

      danzilla3

      Well it's never too late to change, is it?

    3. -Lilium-

      -Lilium-

      My job as a nurse requires me [also as a genuinely caring person] to advocate for the safety and health of my patients.  So, I will always do that even if it means politely correcting other nurses who for whatever reason decide not to do right by them.

      However, I will not stand by and be walked all over because they couldn't handle being corrected. If they want to be petty, that's fine, but do not tell me to not take their actions against me personally. They are making it personal.

    4. Ataraxy

      Ataraxy

      From the many t.v. shows I've watched, nurses and hospitals in general is one of the most socially cut throat work areas. Gl to you

  7. 😮 You're around!

    1. -Lilium-

      -Lilium-

      Yes! 😁

  8. "You got a deal." Not a single hint of retaliation or scrapping of chess pieces across the board is noted in the touch received. Impressive. Very. But he does plan to keep your work close by, which means he'll inevitably need to know what you're doing. Smart man. Does the weight of this new burden wear on you? They'd followed the Don as gestured, all the while the Doctor had been absent-mindedly rubbing the contractual hand from the wrist down to her fingertips. Movement that suddenly stops when brought to her attention. It's been a long while since I've chained myself to someone in this way for work. So what is it that bothers you...his genuine want to see this done, no deceit involved? Or that you don't think you can do it and will be forever stuck in his service? Laughter trickles through her mind, not of her own making. "Daemon." Cold, commanding, and verbal. "Please send for my things…" As if catching herself about to reprimand him in front of their new boss, the Don, her voice calms and switches over to a formal businesslike tone. To fill the little time on their walk and redeem her mood as well as give Jacob information worthy of chewing on for the time being… "I'm sure you're already aware that...drug is comprised of Vampire blood. Even as a base it brings many questions to mind. One, if the vampires are aware of this why are they allowing it to continue? And believe me, if they've come across a vial or two...they know as easily as we do. Two, if they do know, whomever the blood is coming from may not be a part of their family. We should ask them if they know of any new bodies traveling into the city, they're generally pretty good at keeping a count of their own numbers. Three, is whether or not they've recently had members go missing and if they're willing to share that depth of information to begin with. Appearing weak isn't in their nature." By now they've reached the proposed setting for her work. Though dull and fogged from age the glass and its framing hold a beauty that calls to her. Oh how fond of such places she is. Although it's not a gift, but a business decision on the Don's part, a whisper escapes her, "it's perfect." Daemon, salvage what you can and bifurcate that area there. Bring whatever plants can be saved over here and it will be my space. Make sure to wall off the rest. One door into and out of the stage, straight to this area here. Her hands sway, fingers moving as they indicate several points within the greenhouse. Daemon's head nodding here and there as they follow the path of the roving appendages. Three cages will be centered over there, and make sure every inch of the stage is sealed inside and out, above and below. We cannot afford a single break between chain links, otherwise one might escape...or someone may try to get in. If possible, I'd prefer not to upset the Don's estate with recklessness. Will you be staying in the anteroom garden? Obviously. I can't just leave the stage unguarded, not to mention breaking down the contents in this vial to unravel the spells within will need a ventilated environment. Make sure to add some at the edges of the wall and roof. "Do you plan to go with something solid for the stage, or would you prefer to keep it glass like the anteroom...?" A well calculated question interrupts her otherwise busy mind, instantly deflating her sense of purpose. "Solid. Glass does a little too much 'See what I am doing? I've got you now!' Don't you agree?" When did you become so blatantly lippy? Daemon quietly smiles and turns to the task at hand just as she begins to speak again, already knowing what she's about to say. Taking stock of the area and pulling out a notepad to take measurements on. "Daemon you will stay and coordinate the adjustments to the space. And...Don Fedele," less authoritative and more respectful, "l require a guide. Someone who knows the areas on this incoming map well enough to get me in and out quickly when necessity calls for it. If possible I'd like to begin this evening and be back before dawn." Lilium steps forward to pluck an unruly dead leaf from the edge of a pot. Matter so dry it quickly crumbles in her delicate grasp. Sunlight becomes an autumn orange that follows the calmly distant words slipping uninhibited from her lips; and effortlessly swallowed by the dark sigh that dawdles behind it. “Give the girl a flower and she’ll love you until it’s dead...give her a garden and she’ll love you forever…” Let’s fix this place for the young man, so that he and his consort may properly enjoy it. As you wish, Doctor.
  9. Purely reflexive concessions are born from Jacob's polite offer, fingers removed from the frame take gently to a cup and a biscuit. One to busy each hand as Daemon passes them dutifully to her, now filled they rest together atop her knee. Wrist over wrist. Kindness-when granted them-is never disregarded or tossed aside. Honey, nearly as good a trap as a hidden snare for catching the wily. "If it were as simple as seeing the blighters off, me and the lads could have done that ages ago. But there's history and politics between the vamps and my family. Either of those things would complicate matters, but both at once is a bloody mess... no pun intended." It's neither a challenge nor struggle for power, or even a flare-up for whom should be on top. The reason her eyes still view his entirety is her want to astutely observe this young man sitting before her. A simple study of his human nature, the contours of his face, the angle of his brow, cheeks, chin. Without roving eyes or batting lashes. This is how she finds the subtle change brought on by a pause of memory. Creases ever so slightly formed when recollection is taking place at the sight of tea on the desk. The faintest dullness in his once bright eyes. He's terribly forlorn for such a young person, yet holds together so very well. If you don't eat that, I will. Done abruptly without so much as a sound between the two, her hand rises not lifting completely but instead bending at the elbow where the biscuit is plucked from her grasp close to her shoulder. Fingers falling closely into their original state wipe their tips lightly along a fold in her skirt. Their dance is an unrehearsed kinship of movement, entirely without fault or misstep. As soon as the vial is exposed Daemon instinctively removes the cup from her hand before she leans forward to retrieve it from the desk. "If it were as simple as seeing the blighters off, me and the lads could have done that ages ago. But there's history and politics between the vamps and my family. Either of those things would complicate matters, but both at once is a bloody mess... no pun intended." "A pretty label, though the lack of originality is a tad on the distasteful side." Light does little to define the contents, but hold it up she does anyhow. Opening the small cylindrical object is another matter, its contents a novel of information. She needn't bring it close to her face as the aroma is pungent enough to immediately slap anyone with a keen sense of smell. Repulsive. Disgusting. A drop is procured by placing a finger over the opening and tilting it just enough before returning it upright and closing it. If you’re thinking about doing, what I believe you’re about to do- Don't be grotesque, there's nothing tempting enough in this world to get me to stick this poison in my mouth. I want you to taste it. I will do no such thing. Then lend me your sleeve. And he immediately does, holding it out over her shoulder so that she may wipe the drop on it before taking his arm back. They may not be speaking but there is a vague demonstration of expressions channeled randomly as they converse inwardly. Not even in view of one another's eye widened faces. The Doctor's attention, having gone from Jacob, to vial, to blood drop, suddenly returns to Jacob. "Three things…" There’s no turning back now that the vial is in her possession. "A map showing the areas most affected." Though low hanging the count down of fingers-middle to pinky-accentuates the necessities required for her dedication to his issue. "A space in which to work. In particular a building of at least a thousand square feet, empty, no windows." Now her hand lifts higher. Meaning the last is most important. "As much as you may want to question the method in which I work, and find yourself wanting to stop me...Don't. That's for your safety, of course." A deal with the damned holds meaning; and for that she slides from the seat to stand. Closer to the front desk now with her pinky extended towards him. Appearances in this world can be very deceiving, especially for this childlike form of promise making. But power is power no matter the form it takes, and once its bound...the contract is set. "Should you choose to accept, a simple hook of the pinky and touch of thumbs will suffice. You agree to the three, and I agree to help solve your Nightkiss issue." Clear concise and straightforward terms. Power comes in many forms… Should he commit, Jacob will at first feel the chill of death in the flesh he touches only to find it an inferno of heat that ignites a contractual spell between them. Branding their hands in spiraling fuchsia glyphs imbued by runes before instantaneously disappearing. Hidden from plain sight.
  10. credit for HTML layout goes to Csl. There are many words to describe the atmosphere, the encroaching feeling hanging so heavily in the air. Similarly to stepping through a door from one room to the next those that enter here can sense the disturbing differences. Skeletal but daintily covered in foliage are the trees that hang overhead, not a sound, not a single shuffling of the leaves. Still and quiet and blanketed in greying condensation. This fog is natural here, thickest just inches above the ground, wisps stirring from dark into light as foot falls trespass against their lackadaisical stagnation. Heaviness, sleepiness, dreamscape of nightmares even to those that walk the path of darkness and death. Those found lacking are warned, those found wanting are drawn forth. Whispers...not words but feelings that tickle the flesh with ashen dew drops that cling from the air as it is met. Stay back… Leave this place… Or we shall keep you… Several layers of shadow exist here, from the backsides of hills to the fluff of clouds overhead to the shade of the decaying bark of trees and the fog itself. Even still those with enough sight can see the moving ones, the roving strangers beyond arms reach. Swaying, twitching, disappearing only to return in a new place, a new stance. Figures of silence, carefully watching, waiting for their chance to move. If one steps carefully enough there are many paths to be taken, portions of ground where moss does not dare grow though the top layer is sickeningly green where something tries its hand against such dampened soil. While one may be attempting to avoid the suction created by every lift in their footing it's possible to run into figures camouflaged by the natural landscape. Here and there strewn haphazardly about are stony statues. Some overgrown by vines, others tilted by the shift in silt under their weight. On closer observation nearly obscured by the mixture of thick fog and muddy ground small crumbles to piles of dust and granite lay near the more open of the gargoyles pillars. Age and weathering wear seemingly taking their toll. Deeper… Come closer… Join us here in the dark... Quinlan @DarkHorse: There is nothing as warm or pure as the blood of those we drink, it makes us stronger, faster, more lethal than we can ever imagine to be. It grows within you, Vampire, that thirst for the blood of the living...be they damned anyways... Listen to it...let it call to you that thump-da-dump....thump-da-dump... Every pulsation is a gong in your ear, mercilessly tortuous... Shikai @danzilla3: Something about this land, though foreboding, is welcoming. It's warm and cozy as a fire on a winter night. You feel it in your dead rickety bones. You are stronger in the presence of the deathly shadows in which you and your friends walk. You know it, you feel it, and cannot help but want more of it. This catchy new feeling creeps up and snakes around you, you're not invincible, but you cannot help but feel that somehow you most certainly are... Phoebe @Noko: You greatest strength has become your weakest link. There is nothing to stop the song in your head, it's a somber concerto...with childlike tones. She calls for you in the fog...and tells you her worries, her sorrows, and pain. You can see her too can't you? Crying for you come closer, to help her to show her the way out of the forest and back into the sunlight...but you can't just yet, can you? Beware the sirens call and the banshee's scream as there's not much of an obstacle other than trying to walk out of a dream...
  11. -Lilium-

    Bestiary

    A thick, black liquid that tears the divinity out of anything it touches. A single vial is enough to turn an archangel human, but multiple drums of highly concentrated Ekihai would be needed to do the same to a god. The process is excruciating for the effected party. Credit: Priestess - Please contact for more information regarding this material.
  12. -Lilium-

    Bestiary

    A metal only obtainable from harvesting metal from the bowels of large creatures that live in The Steel Valley in Nohaka. The metal creates some of the finest blades in the world. They can cut so cleanly that no pain is felt, but are extremely resistant to rusting, warping, and denting. Skilled warriors report only needing to maintain their weapon once every few battles. Credit: Priestess - Please contact for more information regarding this material.
  13. -Lilium-

    Quests

    | Your Area Perhaps? | CONTACT -Lilium- PARAGRAPHS
  14. -Lilium-

    Quests

    | AVALON ARCHIPELAGO | CONTACT Metty PARAGRAPHS
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