SMALL LIVES (Murder, open)

[★ HAZEL]

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as love filled night gives way to day

Hazel couldn't say that she was very close with Roy; but she carried a certain respect for him, as delicate as it was. He liked to challenge Bastille's authority a lot, which left a slightly bitter tang in her mouth, but she could never blame him completely. Hazel would follow Bastille to the ends of the earth - even if he was leading her to her death. So...she couldn't speak too harshly. However, Roy had been good friends with Suite, and he'd been around since Hazel had actually joined the Ascendants. She might not have always talked to him, but she was aware of him; she knew the color of his aura, the manner of his voice.

When it came to the actual death of Roy, Hazel was already tearing up at the cold shiver of Death's claws brushing against her spine. Fear pushed her heartbeat to a rapid pace, ready for the sinking realization that the next person was going to be Bastille. It fit, didn't it? Margy, Suite, Bastille...people she was close to. For a brief moment, adrenaline forced its way through her system and Hazel surged towards the scene, searching for the bond that linked her to the seraph and latching on to it.

Upon arrival, Hazel slid to a halt, the coppery scent of blood slamming into her senses. She just about choked on it and the confusion permeating the air. It took all of ten seconds for her to realize that it was not Bastille, but in fact Roy, and upon the dawn of this discovery Hazel sat heavily, dread sinking against her chest. She snapped her mouth shut, not trusting her voice, and hung her head, eyes squeezing shut because not Roy too. But she had no words, no sentiment to offer; nothing but the feeling that this was the confirmation of an era ending. Hazel wanted to wish Roy well, but found nothing positive in her vocabulary. She wanted to go back to her room, to forget she saw this, to forget about the death that would stain this land; she wanted Suite and Margy back, and she wanted things to stop nosediving every time she was happy. But all she could do was bleakly stare at the ground and try to ignore the trembling of her legs and the quivering of her tail.

HAZEL E CAELUM — THE ASCENDANTS — MOODBOARD — PLAYLIST — TAGS

© MADI

[MirrorEdge]

Thea watched those who mourned, offering no words of comfort to Hazel, Bastille, Oni, or any of the others for now. It was probably a good thing she couldn't see her aura, while the darker essences in it had always been there, daring to make an appearance every now and then, like a flame licking the surface of paper, eventually, it couldn't resist burning through the paper, until there was nothing left to fuel itself, and the fire died with the paper.

That was probably the best way to describe what would eventually happen to Thea.

Bastille's words registered, and she nodded, tail curling around her drying front paws. You know full well who to name. Just say Bucky. He'd taken something away from you before. From your own loved ones. Murderer. Liar. Filth. That hissing voice often sounded like multiple, who spoke as one. To be honest, sometimes, it hurt her head, listening to it. But the voice was also a bit of a comfort to Thea, now.

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[Verdigris]

  [font=trebuchet ms]To hear that Roy needed help was not in and of itself concerning- he had a tendency to get himself in over his head- but the panic clear in Thea's voice, combined with the thick stench of blood, instilled an all-too-familiar sense of dread in her chest.

  The last time something like this had happened, the would-be killer had left him for dead instead of finishing him off- so he had been able to save himself by cauterizing his wounds. Given that Thea was not under attack, the same had probably happened here; and after last time, Riza knew better than to jump to conclusions. Roy was alive, albeit injured, and the medics were on their way to help him.

  Still, if he was hurt, she couldn't leave him alone. She wouldn't have done so in Amestris, as his personal bodyguard; and she wouldn't do so now, as his wife.

  Arriving at the scene, she took only a second to survey the situation. Imperia was tending to Roy- everyone else was useless to her right now. Pushing through the crowd, she stopped beside Roy, watching him closely. He was unconscious, bloodied, barely breathing. Gingerly pressing a paw against his chest, she could feel his pulse fading.

  He wasn't dying. He had survived their wartorn country for several decades, had lived through Ishval, had been stabbed multiple times in the chest and yet had enough strength left to kill his assailant- an immortal being with regenerative abilities humanity could not hope to comprehend. He couldn't die like this.

  "I promised you I would never give up on living," she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. "Promise me... promise me you won't either."

  Despite knowing he couldn't hear her, the silence that followed, the lack of a pulse, struck her like a bullet to the chest.

  It was one thing with Lust. Lust had not produced a body, had not brought Roy's broken form into the room with her. There was only her word to go off of, and to go off of an enemy's words was dangerous. Believing the homunculus' lies had almost gotten both her and Alphonse killed. Roy had had every right to chastise her for how she had responded in that situation.

  There was no denying the sight of a corpse, the feel of a cold, lifeless body beneath her touch.

  The words echoing around her carved into her, like a knife against the skin. Should've gone after him, huh? See if I can find his ghost. Are we safe here? Visit our neighbors. Incessantly, on and on it went, and she wanted so badly just to make them all shut up. To turn and scream at her father to stop. His knowledge of flame alchemy could not be so important as to justify hurting his daughter. The clan's grief and confusion could not be so important as to get in the way of justice being served.

  Thea had seen the culprit. She knew who had done this.

  "You saw him run." A statement of fact, made with an icy tone and a hard glare sent in Thea's direction. It was not an accusation, though underneath the surface was an intent to murder. Hunting down a fleeing creature came as easily to her as breathing, perhaps the one benefit to the marks that Ishval had left on her. If anything, this would be even easier than that, as her target was not an innocent civilian, but a murderer.

  She no longer needed the distance that a gun provided. If she had to tear this person to shreds with her bare paws, she would, and the only remorse she felt would be for Roy.

  Turning to face Thea, hiding her growing rage at the other's reluctance to identify the culprit, Riza met the other's gaze with piercing eyes.

  "Who was it?"

[MirrorEdge]

Well, this was an issue, wasn't it? Name Bucky now, and watch him face the consequences quite soon, or make herself seem less suspicious by only providing a description?

She chose option two. Less suspicion on her meant it was more likely this would work.

"I don't know who it was. H-he looked weird though. He had a metal leg, and chestnut and cream fur. That's all I saw before I saw Roy." Her next words held the innocence of a child, as she met Riza's hard gaze with pale blue optics, not even flinching at it. "I was hoping I could stop the bleeding, so I stayed instead of chasing him. I'm sorry, miss." The gaze that asked whether she had made the wrong choice, the same one often seen, and genuine, when she was unsure why she was told it wasn't okay to hurt others, and asked.

The young Fireball was at fault for this, yes. There was no denying in her mind that Roy's death was her fault, even though she didn't view it as a bad thing. She just had never been taught right from wrong, and now, the people around her, the people who accepted her words as the truth, and had protected her and worried for her, were paying the price.

Not that she was aware. As long as it meant her goals were met, the world could burn, for all she cared.

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[ONISION.]

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ASCENDANTS
- FIREBALL
6 MONTHS OLD

PHYSICALLY varies
EMOTIONALLY hard
MENTALLY easy

DEMIHOMOSEXUAL
HOMOROMANTIC

TSUNDERE ASSHOLE
SHORT-TEMPERED
VAMPIRISM
TAGS

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♦ -
Onision wasn't one to deal with death very well, but with the dead body in front of him, Oni had no choice but to move close to Alexander, his side brushing against his boyfriend's gently, in a weak attempt to comfort him through touch. Alex was nervous, Oni knew that, just from the look on his face and the sound of his voice. A single blue eye glanced up at the much larger wolf, giving him his best attempt at a brave smile.

"Nothing else will happen, Bast has everything under control. We're safe." He meowed, shaking the doubt out of his mind. Bastille could solve this with the higher ranks, they were discussing it right now, after all. He had a lot of faith in his older brother and mentor, but something just didn't seem right. Alas, Oni had to stay true to his own words.

With a sad look towards Hawkeye, Oni dipped his head to Roy's body, a soft prayer escaping his jaws momentarily before he stood up straight. "May the stars accept him."

[align=center]YOU'RE HARD TO HUG

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ONISION MIKAELSON-FOLIE
tough to talk to, and i never fall asleep!

© ceilidh

[Zjarr]

[div style="width: 48%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]"No, kid, y'did what y'could. Don't worry, y'did fine,"[b] Zjarr murmured to Thea, his gaze showing no signs of departing from the corpse anytime soon. Naturally he was blissfully unaware of what had truly unfolded—all he knew of the situation was what was already made clear. Roy was murdered by an outsider, a feline his size with chestnut and cream fur and a metal leg. Hmm, a prosthetic? Well, that'll make 'im easier to spot. There was a struggle to form some sort of emotion, yet at Riza's arrival he could finally formulate something: sympathy. A lover lost to a cold hand.

Turning from the corpse, the demon would face Bastille as the other feline spoke. [b]"I'd like to help out in anyway I can. Er, start with, eh, baggin' what we got on the guy." Guy, girl, person, whatever. This was a killer they were dealing with. And Zjarr would begin by collecting and organizing the evidence, if not just a mere bag of fur. His hues switched to the form of Feyre, who had suggested to communicate with the dead. "Think it'll help us out?" It was a stupid question on his part, but he wanted to make sure they were being efficient with their strategies. That, and he was totally unsure of the child's abilities to summon and speak with spirits. He did not doubt her skills, no, but he had simply never seen her in action.

[glow=#f24b00,2,300]how'd it get so scandalous?[/glow] — ☼