Hand of the Mist
Committed
Roleplay posts: 57
Registered: Mar 26, 2021 0:51:23 GMT -5
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Post by Hand of the Mist on Apr 4, 2021 13:05:31 GMT -5
The mists never seem to completely leave this place, making the sun sparse. There are few types of grass that grow here, and even fewer trees, but moist air leaves the shale slippery with moss and algae. In the spring, a waterfall forms at a shallow crevasse between the rocks, courtesy of the melted snow high in the hills.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
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Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
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Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 8, 2021 19:21:37 GMT -5
The Desmodus moored in a deep cove, its mossy stone circling them as though to give the ship a welcoming embrace. It kept the ebb and flow of the waves at bay, leaving the water with the eerie stillness they felt in the mists. This time, however, the rush of water pouring down into the inlet broke the silence. It snaked between a chain of shale obelisks that loomed high above them like sleeping giants. They were worn with age, jagged and wind-torn; however, their summits were cleaved as though by a gargantuan sword. Around them, the landscape was a steely grey dotted in green. Every inch of it was slick from the mist that permeated here, shielding them from the burning sun above. It must have been destiny guiding them to this place, or perhaps it was the Desmodus itself? Maribel spoke of it fondly once upon a time. At the beginning of their journey, she traced her fingers across the polished cedar, eyes loving: the same expression she gave to her children. As he clasped his hands under his chin, a lithe and pale blonde leaned against the railing, ruminating over his choices. If he wanted to be a good son, he would grab the beast that was his starved monster and release her upon this new world. In protest, he could leave her down there, leaving the children to struggle and starve as they tried to free her. His verdant eyes misted over in thought, much like the scene around them. No, that wouldn’t do. However famished, mother was still strong. When she couldn’t control herself anymore, she would burst from her constraints, find herself a feast, then start searching until he was found, and when she did, he would be punished. Did he dare imagine what she would do to him? No, he thought. Anything he conjured would be a fraction of the reality that would await him. His decision made, the young man sighed, slipping his hand under the latch that led to the berth. Just as his muscles tensed up beneath his linen blouse, he hesitated. There was a smell creeping out from beneath the boards, faint but familiar; sickly sweet with something vile and wet beneath. The man pinched his delicate brow and tensed again, throwing the hatch open and unleashing a rancid and pungent rush of odor. The metallic smell of blood and putrid flesh that had been fermenting down there for months hit him all at once, overwhelming his senses until his vision swam, sending him to his knees. His dark breeches caught onto the splinters of the old boat, threading into his knees. Once he came to, he clasped his hand tightly over his mouth, swallowed the bile that rose up and burned inside his gullet, and descended into the repulsive chamber. When his feet hit the ground, a raucous clanging greeted him. With the gift of dark sight, he could easily spot the large iron cage in the center of the room, just large enough for an adult to fit inside, albeit not comfortably. The blonde could see the hands chained outside the holes in the cage, but they had changed since he’d last seen them weeks prior. Once pale and smooth, they were now serrated needles attached to tattered, gnawed flesh oozing with a dark liquid. That was all he could see, for some peculiar miasma filled the cage, blocking his view. As he approached it, knees weak from the stench, a hoarse whisper, barely human enough to understand, reached his ears. “Vvv… aaaa...sc...o...o?” She drew out her words as though she were mustering every ounce of strength to speak. A screech accompanied every syllable, like nails on a board made of slate. Every hair on the blonde’s arms and the back of his neck stood straight. He prayed she did not speak again, for he’d felt every word puncture his skin until it shook his bones. Willing his feet forward, he grabbed hold of the cage with one hand, the other gripping the deck. In an impressive feat of strength, one that was clearly supernatural, he hoisted the metal confinement up into the light.
The journey only took a few moments, but on a dinghy filled with thrall children and a melting hellspawn, it felt arduous at best. Now and again, the cage would shudder and groan, barely able to contain the horror within. Once they ran ashore, he dragged the cage up the bank, listening to it scrape against the grey sand. When he surmised that they were far enough from the children, he hoisted up his foot, leather boots squeaking from the strain, and kicked the door of the cage open. What rushed out of the cage burned itself into the man’s mind. It wasn’t the mother he knew, not in any of the forms she took. Perhaps vaguely, he could see the wolf as the creature stood on all fours, but it stood on bony stumps, dripping with the same ooze he’d seen running from her hands previously. As his eyes traveled up, he could see that it had no fur, its mane replaced by a menagerie of dripping, rotting, groping hands. And then, there was its head, the shape of a dog’s snout with a thin film stretched across it, like bloodless flesh. It lumped and moved and crawled beneath it, and at first, the young vampire thought it was maggots, but no. It was a face- oh, Gods, her face- stretching from the film in a silent, tortured scream, receding and bubbling up again and again. The monstrosity lashed its head back and opened its maw wide, letting out a mad bellow that shook the young vampire down to every fiber of his being. Was it wailing or was it a howl? Shattered glass, the bubble of blood, the final gasp of someone choking on their own tongue… it was all of it! Vasco succumbed to the darkness, collapsing onto the beach with nary a sound.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 9, 2021 18:26:06 GMT -5
When Vasco's eyes fluttered open, they brushed against the sand. He felt the grain bite against his skin as he rose, groaning when his head spun and his eyesight grew fuzzy. Tasting something sour on his tongue, he spat, then grimaced at the yellowy phlegm that came out. It had to be bile. There was nothing else in his pittance of a stomach. Groggily, he lifted himself onto his feet and looked around, spotting several of the children standing around him, loading hefty leather packs with supplies. The majority of them were child-sized tools alongside practical items: axes, ropes, waterskins, skinning knives, swords, bows, arrows, spare cloth, and fire starters. Not all of them had everything, but as a group, they made up just enough— everything except food and water. "Are you alright?" Looking up, Vasco stared into the grey-filmed eyes of the youngest child. He was a shrimpy thing, skinny and short. Though they were all rather pale, this one had these flushed, plumpy cheeks that made him seem... marginally less dead than the rest. He wore a blouse and breeches similar to Vasco's own, but it was all baggy and oversized on the boy. "I suppose," replied the young man as he placed a hand on the child's head, ruffling his hair. Oh, what was his name again? "Huey?" he asked, and the child sleepily nodded. "Are you all going somewhere?" "After Mother, of course," announced the boy. "She's run off, you know. It's been hours, and she hasn't come back." Vasco made a face, one edge of his lip arching in disgust. "Well, you know mother can take good care of herself. We should wait for her here, don't you think?" The child shook his head defiantly. "Mother will get lonely if we aren't there when she wakes up. Wouldn't you be lonely if we left?" Vasco couldn't bear to tell him the truth, that he would have been overjoyed to be rid of this cursed family if he had the choice. Instead, he heaved a sigh and flicked the child in the forehead, causing him to stumble backward with a quiet yelp. "I suppose," the blonde whined. "Let's get on, then. When will everyone be ready?" Looking behind him, Huey made a few calculations in his head. "Twenty minutes, no more." The True Son sat back onto the sand and looked up at the obelisks, mind swirling with thoughts darker than shale.
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Apr 9, 2021 19:51:15 GMT -5
As the little children scurried back and forth, gathering supplies from the pile of crates and loading them into their little packs, something deep within a box of clothes twitched. A pair of long-fingered purple gloves began to move, its fingers flexing and squeezing as though waking up from a deep sleep. Slowly at first, the gloves started to come to life, their movements becoming faster and more frantic until they were thrashing and convulsing like a pair of poisoned eels. After a few moments of spasming, they fell still once more for a few seconds before springing to life once more. The gloves clambered their way up through the clothes, climbing over folded coats and pants and undergarments until they made their way to the surface and scuttled out of the open top of the box.
Flopping onto the ground, the gloves began clambering over the stacked crates. They slipped in and out of the boxes, ransacking them for supplies and building up a little pile just out of sight behind the crates. The soft silken gloves moved silently, their empty fingertips not making a sound as they stole what they needed. Their deep purple fabric made them almost invisible in the darkness, allowing them to gather their pilfered stockpile of goods without being detected. Bolts of cloth, scissors, needles and thread...all were collected and hoarded within the span of just a few minutes. Once the requisite supplies were gathered, the gloves got to work. They began cutting and stitching, moving with the skill of a master tailor as they crafted a long, multi-layered coat. A pair of trousers came next, then a set of long, pointed boots. Finally, the gloves stitched together a hooded cloak with two long, dangling points. Their work complete, the gloves set aside their needles and thread and began to put the clothes together.
They attached themselves to the cuffs of the coat, which slowly inflated with a thick, oily black smoke. The pants came next, followed quickly by the pointy-toed boots. Once the boots were laced up, the empty clothes got to their feet, pulling the cloak over their shoulders and flipping the hood up over the cloud of swirling smoke where the head ought to be. The hood stood up nicely, the points flopping down like a pair of rabbit's ears. Its body was nearly complete, able to stand up on its own...but it lacked a face. Looking around for a few moments, the empty clothes spotted a worn tailor's mannequin. Striding over to the wooden figure, the gloves picked up a sharp blade, twirling it between their fingers before stabbing it into the hollow doll's head. It didn't take long for the walking pile of clothes to carve the mannequin's face from its head, leaving a neat, oval hole in the front of the hollow head. Tossing the mannequin aside with a clatter, the gloves lifted the plain wooden face to the front of its hood, fitting it neatly into place. It used the silver blade of the knife as a mirror to admire its handiwork, holding it at different angles to admire its new face. Perfect.
"A face," whispered Foxgloves, his voice soft and emotionless as ever. "A body and a face. Not my finest work, but I suppose it will have to do."
How long had it been since he'd last had a body and a face? Foxgloves couldn't remember. It had been difficult to keep track of time while buried at the bottom of that crate, but it certainly felt like it had been a while. It was hard to tell, though.Pairs of gloves, while very finely made, were poor timekeepers.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 10, 2021 20:15:59 GMT -5
At first, only one thrall child noticed the oddity of the gloves pulling up clothing to stitch together, but soon, everyone but Vasco had their beady, dead little eyes pinned onto the scene. None of them moved to stop it, only to observe, either powerless to stop it or otherwise uninterested in doing so. Once the spectacle was done- or rather, when it now truly began- Huey was the first to step up. "Excuse me, sir. That's very rude," he said, pointing to him. "Those do not belong to you."
It was then that Vasco turned his head and spotted the eerie figure, leaping to his feet and splaying out his hands, revealing an array of black claws at his fingertips. "Gods! What the fuck are you?" he spat.
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Apr 10, 2021 21:08:17 GMT -5
The points of Foxgloves' hood perked up as he heard the child speak, standing up straight before bending towards the boy like an insect's antennae. Dropping the knife carelessly to the sand, he turned to face the lad, bending down at the waist until his mask was at Huey's eye level. His torso folded awkwardly, revealing his lack of bones, but he didn't seem to mind. Tilting his head to the side like a curious pigeon, he contemplated the lad, reaching out to pinch the boy's cheek.
"Who's to say if anything really belongs to anybody?" he asked, "If they make up my body, surely they belong to me now? I don't suppose anybody has ever walked up to you and told you that your legs do not belong to you. If it makes you feel better, however, I will give you a gift. What do children like these days? It's so hard to keep track. So many fads, all so short-lived. Perhaps you will enjoy this. He is named Gerald."
Reaching deep into his pocket, Foxgloves pulled out a fat brown rat, holding the chubby creature carefully by the scruff of its neck. He placed the rat gently on Huey's head, letting the creature cling to the boy's hair with its little rodent hands. Straightening back up, Foxgloves turned to Vasco, his head swiveling like an owl to look at the man standing behind him.
"That's a bit of an impolite question, isn't it?" he said, slowly rotating the rest of his body to match the direction of his face. "What ever happened to greetings? Introductions? Have you not been taught manners? My goodness, what has gotten into young people these days. Here, perhaps I shall educate you. Hello. My name is Foxgloves. It's very nice to meet you. Now, you say 'hello' and tell me your name. See how easy that is, my dear?"
A gloved hand vanished into the pocket once more, sinking up to the elbow within the mysterious cloak. Fishing out a large, blood-red rose, Foxgloves offered the flower to Vasco, holding it delicately between thumb and forefinger to avoid the thorns.
"This is a gift," he said. "To commemorate our friendship. There's no need to be so hostile to friends, surely?"
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 12, 2021 20:50:29 GMT -5
The being's words gave the child pause. He was, after all, only six, even if he was a thrall. "They belong to you because you took them," answered the child. Vasco's eyes widened in horror, making the connection from taking clothing to taking limbs all too soon. After all, his mother was a vampire, and perhaps even a bit more horrifying than just that. He had much experience in the hinted wordplay of demons.
Bewildered, Huey grabbed the rat and held it in his hands with nary a scream. He looked over it carefully, noting its fatness. "This will feed three," he noted to his companions. "But we will still need to trap more and find fresh water." He then looked to the odd cloth entity. "I do not have money to pay you. It would be detrimental to lose anything else at this time."
Vasco also wiggled his fingers, cautious. He noted the thorns. What did this creature think he was? Stupid?
"What kind of gift?" he asked warily, eyes narrowing.
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Apr 12, 2021 21:14:02 GMT -5
Foxgloves let out a dry chuckle, patting Huey on the head. The child seemed like the good sort, the kind that didn't run around and gnaw on table legs. Or was that puppies? Foxgloves wasn't sure. He often got the behavior of children and small animals confused with one another. One of these days, he thought, he'd have to spend some time watching children and writing down their behaviors. Notebooks didn't forget, after all. He gave a little wave of his fingers to Gerald, watching as the boy carefully estimate the chubby rodent's nutritional value. Gerald squeaked, blissfully unaware of his grisly fate at the hands of the children.
"That is a very clever observation, my little manling," said Foxgloves, arm still extended towards Vasco. "Ownership and possession are often so closely intertwined, don't you think? These clothes are mine because I have them. Gerald is yours because you have him. Isn't this a nice, clean way of thinking of things? The rat belongs to you, no need for payment. It's a present from me to you, as I would hate to cause you any detriment by forcing you to part with any more possessions."
Turning to Vasco, he cocked his head to the side, wondering why the young man hadn't yet taken the offered flower. Didn't young people enjoy flowers? He figured that Vasco would have loved it, considering how the lad was dressed. He seemed like the romantic sort.
"Does a gift have to have a label?" he asked, flipping the rose around in his fingers to extend it stem-side forward towards Vasco. "If you must insist on putting a label on things, why not call it a gift between friends? You look to be the sort who would like it. I would hope that you don't eat it, though. I'm told that roses are not especially palatable. Too many thorns. Eating it could result in holes in your tongue, and I'd hate for you to suffer such a fate."
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 15, 2021 0:51:56 GMT -5
Huey tucked the rat into his backpack with the expectation that it would idle there. He ruminated on Foxgloves' words for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "The world works in exactly that way," he supposed. That is how Mother went about life. "Many thanks."
Vasco eyed the clothed horror. He was nowhere near as nightmarish as the demon his mother had become; this being was eerie to look at and doubly so with his entrance and friendliness. It was like watching someone who read how to speak to other people once, long ago, and was now trying to put it into practice. The children acted like this sometimes when people tried to socialize with them. They knew how to be polite, they knew how to follow orders, but they did not know how to carry a real conversation.
"You're not a secret construction of Maribel's, are you?" he asked curiously. It wasn't a farfetched thought: the woman was always experimenting with creating new life, but most of them failed or... came out in a way that they didn't quite expect. Carefully, cautiously, he grabbed the flower by its head, avoiding the stem altogether.
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Apr 15, 2021 18:30:02 GMT -5
Gerald the rat offered no protest at being tucked away into the backpack, simply curling up within and chewing on the carved bone handle of a pair of scissors. A lifetime of being kept deep within pockets had acclimated the rotund rodent to being in dark, fabric-lined spaces, and so it made no attempt to climb its way out. As far as rats went, it seemed that Foxgloves had provided young Huey with an especially docile specimen.
Foxgloves tilted his head from left to right as Vasco spoke, looking a bit like a curious pigeon as he bobbled slowly back and forth. The points of his hood swung as he did so, oscillating to and fro like a pair of soft purple pendulums. The lad raised an interesting point, and Foxgloves took a moment to think it over. Was he a creation of Maribel's? It wasn't the most outlandish idea about where he'd come from, certainly. He shrugged, an awkward motion that he'd clearly not practiced. Foxgloves still wasn't used to having a proper body, and it showed in the way he used too much hand movement and not enough shoulders.
"No," he said, stopping his bobbling with his head at almost a 90-degree angle to the left. "No, I don't believe I am. If I was, I would surely know who this Maribel you speak of is. I don't, and so I must not be. Sometimes I wonder what I am, but that's a hard question to answer. It's far easier to answer what I am not, don't you agree? I am not a tree, nor a bee, nor a plant with leaves of three. I am quite certain that I'm neither a bird nor a worm, neither a cat nor a mouse. I wonder, perhaps, if I am a man...but I feel that we'd find quite a number of differences beneath our clothing."
He chuckled, the sound somewhat akin to rustling leaves. There was little humor in it, but it seemed like the right thing to do after making a joke.
"Now then," he said, " I believe you have left a question unanswered. What is your name, my new friend? And who is this Maribel you speak of? I would ask where we are, but I get the impression that you don't know either. You could answer 'here', but I suppose that wouldn't help either of us. If a question is going to be left unanswered, it's best left unasked. However, now that I have asked, I would prefer if you would be so kind as to tell me your name."
As Vasco took the rose, he would find the flower head to be oddly warm within his grasp. The flower had a strange, rhythmic pulse, feeling almost like a heartbeat between his fingertips. If he looked closely, he would see that it glowed faintly in the darkness, almost invisible unless shielded from all other sources of light.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
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Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
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Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 19, 2021 22:14:39 GMT -5
Vasco was relieved to hear the answer. His shoulders deflated and he let out a breath he never needed to take. Not all of his tension melted away in one sigh, however; this man was still a stranger. An entity. A dangerous unknown. From what the vampire could surmise, Foxgloves didn't really know what he was. At least, that's what he told him. There was no real way for him to know if it was telling him the truth or not. Huey's neutral attitude toward the cloth demon made Vasco think that he wasn't hostile, in the very least, but the children were their own bucket of weird and unusual. He couldn't trust them completely.
Still, there was no reason for him not to tell him his name, even considering he might be one of the fae. "Vasco," he said, giving only his first. He eyed the flower even more suspiciously now that he realized it had a glowing warmth to it. He regretted taking it right away, noting to himself that if his thoughts on fae were correct, a gift taken could not be discarded.
"This isn't just a flower, is it?" he asked him.
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Apr 19, 2021 22:55:47 GMT -5
The points of Foxgloves' hood perked up as Vasco gave his name, standing up straight as though pulled by invisible strings. It gave the effect of making him look much taller, his shadow stretching long and far across the sand. He clapped his hands together, producing an oddly sharp, crisp sound that seemed unlikely to have come from the soft fabric of the gloves. When he noticed the young man's apparent suspicion at his gift, the points of his hood drooped slightly. Why were young people so hard to please? The child had enjoyed the rat just fine.
"Is anything just anything?" he asked, prodding the rose's petals with a long, pointed fingertip. "The world is full of special things, if only one takes the time to look and appreciate them. It's just a flower as much as a diamond is just a rock. As much as you're just a person. If I said you were just a man, certainly you'd take offence, wouldn't you?"
The long finger moved up from the flower to poke Vasco in the nose, the tip of the empty glove crumpling slightly as it touched his face.
"But of course, I'd never say such a thing to a friend," he continued. "Certainly not a new friend like yourself. Tell me, Vasco dear. What brings you to this lovely beach? I suppose the common thing would be for you to ask the same, but my answer will be the same as yours. I was in one of those many trunks of gaudy clothing, after all. You brought me here, for which I am grateful."
He contemplated the young man as he spoke, casting his gaze over him in the firelight. Yes, he reminded himself. He could see. How long had it been since he'd seen? He spent a lot of time listening, but hadn't had the chance to see anything buried in the depths of the crate of clothes. His fabric fingertip offered little sensation, and he wondered what it would be like to be able to smell. Certainly, these people would smell of dirt and grime and the sea, a combination that he'd read was quite noxious. Still, wouldn't it be nice to smell things every now and again? Flowers, he'd read, were rather fragrant indeed. As he mused on this, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. Was there something else? He felt like there was, but it slipped his mind at the moment. His mind was such a terribly foggy thing after so long in the dark, feeling as though he were trying to fish out memories from within a deep pile of cotton. Perhaps he'd written it down somewhere. If only he could check his notes, he'd be able to figure out what it was that he'd forgotten.
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 20, 2021 21:13:24 GMT -5
Though he wasn't very excited about the answer, Vasco didn't think that he would get anything more constructive out of the cloth-puppet man. With a sigh, he tucked the rose in a groove of his belt so that it hung on the side of his hip. "Why are we here? You didn't notice?" he asked irritably, gesturing outward. "The world flooded! Some entity spread a fog, kept us in it for what might have been months, and now we're here. You, me, them, and mother. And that's what we're going to do now. Huey!"
The child looked up and pulled the straps to the sack on his back. "You called?"
"Are we ready?"
"Quite."
With a wry smile, Vasco gave a sweeping bow to Foxgloves. "I think we will be on our way. Thank you for the presents." It was only polite, wasn't it? And he had to make sure the possible fae wasn't going to curse him for eternity for not thanking him.
Huey did the same, his being much more genuine. "Do be careful. This place could be dangerous," he warned him. "And Mother does not discriminate when she hunts. Good day."
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Apr 20, 2021 22:49:51 GMT -5
The points of Foxgloves' hood rose upwards again as Vasco relayed the news of the world flooding. He'd heard of flooding, but wasn't aware that it had spread to the whole world. The claim seemed dubious, considering the fact that they were standing on what seemed very much to be dry land, but he could tell that Vasco wasn't especially interested in a discussion on semantics. At least the young man had accepted the gift, a fact that brought Foxgloves some comfort. He always did enjoy giving people presents.
"You're very welcome, Vasco dear," he said. "Do take care not to get lost in the fog. I've heard it can be quite thick. I've even heard rumors that one could get lost in it for months. I'd certainly hate for any friend of mine to end up wandering in an endless bank of mist, unable to see further than their nose for all eternity. It sounds awfully dreary. Life is far more interesting when one can see things, is it not?"
"And you, little Huey," he said, and patted the boy on the head. "I will do my best to be careful, although the only things that usually try to nibble on me are mice and moths. If I find myself having the pleasure of meeting your dear mother, I will be sure to tell her what a fine young lad you are. Go on then, and enjoy Gerald. I am told that rats go well with cheese."
As he mentioned cheese, he froze, hand still on Huey's head. That was it, he'd suddenly remembered what he'd forgotten! There was another sense he'd forgotten about, another way for him to experience the world. How could such a thing have slipped his mind? Chuckling to himself, he looked around quickly for something to try and taste. The people would likely complain, and he'd already given away Gerald, but surely there was something else. After a bit of searching, he picked a smooth stone out of the surf, its surface glistening with seawater. He hefted its weight in his hands, then nodded to himself. Reaching up to his mask, he pulled it forward slightly, just barely lifting the bottom away from where his chin would be. A long, oil-black tongue snaked out from behind the mask, curling and flicking in the air before sliding across the wet rock in a slow, smooth motion. Just as quick as it had appeared, the tongue vanished back behind the mask, which Foxgloves set hurriedly back into place. The salty taste of the seawater was exhilarating, and he sprang into the air with joy. How could he have possibly forgotten about his sense of taste? After he'd spent so much on a tongue, too. Tossing the stone aside, he pulled a small notebook from his pocket and made a few quick notes about the sensation. It was an exciting one for sure, but he knew that this island had more to offer. There could be thousands of things to taste here, and he was ready to try them all. Striding back over to Vasco, he clasped his hands together, hood points still stretched skyward.
"Tell me, my friend," he said. "Where exactly are you going this fine evening? I don't suppose you're off to find anything that tastes particularly interesting, are you? If so, might I be so bold as to tag along? I have no doubt that this lovely land has many more interesting flavors than seawater. Raven's feathers, perhaps. Spider's eggs. Fresh soil. All manner of things. Goodness, I can't wait."
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Vasco Correa
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Appearance: Thin and lithe, Vasco is his mother's antithesis, taking only her broad shoulders as his own. His narrow, diamond-shaped face and long features can be seen as striking, if not handsome, by many.
He has a head of immaculately trimmed, dirty blonde hair and it is clear he takes great care of it, trimming and oiling and all the works.
_______________________________________________________
Equipment: Vasco's preferred weapon of choice is a special rapier that houses a thin, hollow chamber typically filled with a neurotoxin found back in their homeland. The chamber can also be filled with other substances.
________________________________________________________
Skills and Abilities: Vasco's vampiric curse can allow him to change her form into several distinct shapes: a shaggy black dog, a blackbird, and an eel.
His senses and natural strength are heightened considerably at night and gutter just as significantly during the day. He has excellent night vision that causes him to be blinded completely in the presence of the sun. Despite this, he does not burn in direct sunlight.
The Correa family's shared ability is that which to create loyal thralls without having to sire them into vampires. Thralls are created with a bite and a magical sigil. Sired vampires are created with a bite from the vampire, and then the ingestion of the vampire's blood. Thralls share a portion of the vampire's strength and can still walk freely in the sun, though with a newfound disdain for it. They are not vampires themselves but have a substantial, artificial fondness for them.
Registered: Mar 22, 2021 17:17:59 GMT -5
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Post by Vasco Correa on Apr 22, 2021 22:32:12 GMT -5
"That will make her rather proud," Huey said to Foxgloves. "Mother does love well-behaved children."
Vasco told himself he would heed those words. It was the mist that put them in this mess. Even if it saved them, he imagined it could do the opposite whenever it was in the mood. He remembered seeing the looming figure high in the clouds with its censer. It did not make him feel safe, even if it tried to make him feel welcome.
The young man was, however, happy to leave Foxgloves behind, and they all began to depart. Before they truly could, the puppet's high, delicate voice prickled the hairs on his neck.
"Nowhere special," he replied, brow twitching. "Just to find mother, wherever she's gone. Who knows where that will be? I'm sure no matter what direction you travel, you'll find any of those odd and horrible things."
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