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02/22/2021 09:41 PM 


001. ACTIVITY. This has been a hot topic among other groups that we have been apart of. The activity does not mean just posting on the stream, it's writing with people within the group. We understand lives get busy, but please try to keep up with what you owe.002. POINTS. We will be running off of a basic point system. Each member will be expected to gather a minimum of fifty points by the end of the month. The point totals will be given upon acceptance.003. DRAMA. We will not be tolerating any out-of-character drama. If you run into any issues with another member, please bring it to the admin or a mod immediately. Do not let it sit and fester, we will take care of it appropriately. 004. SIDES. Two sides seem to rule over Halifax. The good guys, consist of the police force. The men and women do all they can to keep the city safe from the crime and corruption that is around every corner. That's not to say there aren't a few crooked cops in the mix. If you read the rules this far, comment with your favorite Nexflix binge show. The bad guys are the people who work for the Musitano family. Whether it would be money laundering, drug trafficking, prostitution, or corruption.005. SOCIAL MEDIA. We do not require you to have a Discord, but it is highly encouraged. 006. HIATUSES. We will decide case by case how to handle hiatuses. We understand that life gets in the way rendering a person is unable to be as involved. Please reach out to the admin or a mod and we will do our best to accommodate. All we ask for is communication. 007. HAVE FUN. After all, is said and done, we just want you to want to be here.   *All rules are subject to change ** Signing "read and understood" is not a correct signature


02/22/2021 09:38 PM 

Audition Form

GETTING TO KNOW YOUHave you ever been a part of Halifax before? Be honest, we just want to know who's coming home.Did anyone recruit you? If so, who?How often are you able to be online?Please provide your discord name so we can add you to the server:CHARACTER DEVELOPMENTFull name:Playby: (if you wish to remain undisclosed, just say so)Hometown:Age:Date of birth:Occupation:What song is currently at the top of your playlist?:IC Handle for statuses:Two positive traits:Two negative traits:Are you joining with a spouse or partner? If yes, who?Are you joining with children? If so, how many? (max of two)Which side is your character on? The good side, or the bad side? It's okay if you don't know.How, if at all, are you connected to the Musitano crime family? It's okay if you are not.Brief, one paragraph, character bio.Sample: (minimum of 3 paragraphs)


02/22/2021 09:28 PM 

Taken Information

FIRST NAMESAlexander | Lexi | Maxden | Rian | Starlee | DanteLAST NAMESWood | Brooks | Wells | Callaghan | Knight | MusitanoPLAYBYSGrant Gustin | Lexi Rivera | Hero Fiennes-Tiffin | Tom Hardy | Undisclosed x1 | Sebastian StanOCCUPATIONS Halifax Infirmary: Trauma surgeonHalifax Stop and Shop: CashierSelf-employed: Carpenter; Dog Trainer

Into the Night Tales

02/22/2021 06:29 PM 

Sweet Retribution, Bitter Reward (Part 2)

This story starts in the Part 1 blog, bounces back and forth between there and here, and then ends here.  Sorry if its confusing!

Into the Night Tales

02/22/2021 06:05 PM 

Sweet Retribution, Bitter Reward (Part 1)

This is our one and only Xena story, which ran for 216 posts during 2017-2019.  It starts in Part 1, bounces back and forth between Parts 1 and 2 (sorry about that) and then finishes with an epic battle involving sister Goddesses/Empresses, dragons, and armies of the dead.  It’s quite the fun ride and we thank all the role players who participated.  Sorry it got deleted, but here it is again in all its glory!  It reads from top to bottom.Sweet Retribution, Bitter Reward“We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged.” โ€• Heinrich HeineThey say karma comes back around to bite those who have bitten others.  It may be soon, it may be later.  It might not even happen in this lifetime.  But it happens.   Not a matter of if, but when and what form it takes.  Warriors accumulate karma like corpses collect maggots.  It’s inevitable, even if it’s not intentional.  People die, people are killed, leaving others behind - the grieving, the heartbroken.  The killing might very well have been justified – self-defense, for the greater good, sure, but it still leaves a dark stain of karma.  And that’s where this story begins, with Xena the Warrior Princess and her on-again, off-again lover Borias, both hauling around invisible chains of dark karma like Jacob Marley’s ghost dragging his endless chain of burden through Ebenezer Scrooge’s candle-lit, cold and lonely bedroom on a dark Christmas Eve.   


02/22/2021 04:37 PM 

Activity Check - 2/28

1. How long do members have to sign the weekly?We should be signing the weekly within 48 hours.2. How long do members have to complete the Activity Check (number of days and rough time).We get one week (by Sunday) and typically before the event (which usually happens around 8PM est.)3. How often should you be logging into your site account?Every 48 hours minimum.4, What is the minimum amount of connections each member is expected to have?We should have at least 4 connections, but more is encouraged :)! 5. What are the writing expectations for writing partners that choose to write Multi-Para?You should write at least a minimum of 3 paragraphs for each reply/starter and you get a maximum of 2-weeks to reply to your writing partner.6. What are the writing expectations for writing partners that choose to write Para/Banter?You should send 4 replies to your writing partner weekly with each reply consisting of a minimum of 5 sentences (one paragraph).7. What should you do if you feel that you may not be able to complete activity requirements in the upcoming week(s)? Let a moderator know asap! Make sure that you are caught up on everything though, first.8. How often are the members expected to participant in an event? At least once a month.9. How often are members allowed to make face changes?Only once!10. During a blast, how many posts (minimum) are you required to make for it to count towards activity requirements?You should post a mnimum of 5 times in a blast for it to count towards activity.  

๐š๐šŽ๐š–๐š–๐šŽ ๐š๐šŠยท๐š๐šŠ๐š•๐šŽ

02/22/2021 04:32 PM 

AC - 2/28

1. How long do members have to sign the weekly?Members have 48 hours to sign the weekly.2. How long do members have to complete the Activity Check (number of days and rough time).They get the week (complete by Sunday) and typically before the event (which usually happens around 8PM est. 3. How often should you be logging into your site account?Every 48 hours minimum.4, What is the minimum amount of connections each member is expected to have?45. What are the writing expectations for writing partners that choose to write Multi-Para?You should write at least a minimum of 3 paragraphs for each reply/starter and you get a maximum of 2-weeks to reply to your writing partner.6. What are the writing expectations for writing partners that choose to write Para/Banter?You should send 4 replies to your writing partner weekly with each reply consisting of a minimum of 5 sentences (one paragraph).7. What should you do if you feel that you may not be able to complete activity requirements in the upcoming week(s)? Let a moderator know asap! Make sure that you are caught up on everything though, first.8. How often are the members expected to participant in an event? At least once a month.9. How often are members allowed to make face changes?Only once!10. During a blast, how many posts (minimum) are you required to make for it to count towards activity requirements?You should post a mnimum of 5 times in a blast for it to count towards activity.


02/22/2021 02:55 PM 

OOC Guidelines.

OOC Guidelines! because life doesn't work without rules I know, I know. We all hate this sh*t. But I feel like I need to write this just so we all have a better understanding of each other. So please just suck it up and read it. +OOC sh*t first. My name is none of your business. Im 31. My birthday is March 15th (Ides Of March). I'm a male. I've been roleplaying for over 10 years. I have mild Asperger's Syndrome, mild Autism, PTSD, and BPD. I also took Psychology for a few years so...I know mental illnesses pretty well. +Just because I have been writing for over 10 years, doesn't mean I'm some snob. I am a firm believer that you learn something new everyday and if you stop learning, then you need to either quit or you're doing it wrong. I learn something new about writing and roleplaying everyday and adapt to such. That's probably the reason why I took so long to start doing drabbles, fancy comments, prompts, layouts, etc. +I am a semi-para, para, and multi-para roleplayer. With that being said, I believe in QUALITY OVER QUANTITY. I've had people absolutely tear my heart into pieces with 1 to 2 paragraphs and bore me with 5 to 7 paragraphs. At the same time, I've had people tear my heart into pieces with 5 to 7 paragraphs and bore me with 1 to 2 paragraphs. Point is...roleplay however you are comfortable. As I stated above, I can adapt. +Apparently roleplay nowadays is more about sharing statuses, sharing memes, and doing drabbles and prompts than it is about writing and creating storylines. You know what? That's fine. Roleplay is a hobby and should be something you enjoy doing, not something that feels like a chore or a hassle. If you wanna just sit on my list and not talk but share my statuses or post stuff on stream? That's fine. You wanna just write together through prompts? That's fine. You actually wanna do a storyline? That's fine. You want to do anything and everything with me? That's fine. Don't wanna do anything? I think it's pointless but...that's fine. Whatever you wanna do, I'm game for. +As I stated earlier, I'm a seasoned roleplayer. What does that mean for me? It means I believe in pc4pc, storylines, actually writing, ic banter, etc. I "take this seriously" as some people would like to say, but I also understand this is a hobby. No, I don't mix RP and RL, but I do believe that Omen has his own soul and feelings and his mind is separate from mine. Hell, he might just be one of my other personalities. So I don't just wanna sit here on this page and do nothing. I like engagement. +I will post my drabbles on a bulletin (where everyone posts them) but I will also post them in a blog. If you follow the link that will eventually be on my profile, you will see the drabbles. +Omen is a huge flirt, but that doesn't mean he will sleep with just anyone. He is very picky with who he sleeps with. He doesn't necessarily have a "type", but he isn't a whore. At the same time, he IS a gay male so...there will be times when all he wants is a quick f***. I would much rather have a steady FWB connection for that but...whatever. +When it comes to smut, I have no problem writing it. I've been writing it since I started roleplaying. I've never had complaints about my smut writing. With that being said, I prefer for it to have some sort of storyline behind it. Again, Omen will have moments where he wants just a random hook-up or a one night stand but...I would still like to have a storyline connected to the smut. Also....I don't write multi-para smut. I'm sorry but I just don't see the point. You can write just as good of smut in one paragraph as you can in multi-form. +I have a life outside of this...sort of. I get a SSI check so I don't work or anything, but I do play D&D, I play MTG, and I do go out a lot. I also have "Mental Health Days" where I may be on...but no actual writing will happen. So please just be patient with me. I am pretty patient with people so I think it's only fair if people are patient with me. +I WILL NEVER RUSH YOU FOR REPLIES! I may ask you if you got my reply, because sometimes the site messes up, but I won't ever rush you. That being said, if I try to communicate with you three times and get no response, I will more than likely delete you. +I am in character at all times when I am on this page unless stated otherwise by "/*". I think that's everything for now. If I need to add to this, I will and I will let you guys know when it's updated.


02/22/2021 01:59 PM 

timeline added: xena / witcher / etc.

 *  Not gonna lie,  it's mostly just Snow White but with Mary-Sue as their name.--  Mary-Sue is born as a princess. Her mother dies giving childbirth, her father marries another woman. Shortly after the marriage, a prophecy deems that the new queen will fall to the princess. The queen sets out to hide Mary-Sue and Mary-Sue's heritage. It is quickly revealed the new queen is, of course, an evil, lesser god and when Mary-Sue's father / the king hears of what she's doing, he sets out to banish the queen. It doesn't work. She kills him, declares a new reign of terror and monarchy over the kingdom.-- What God doesn't like power is the moral of the story? The queen / God (coming up with names later) misses the fact that there were quite a few loyal people to Mary-Sue's father and Mary-Sue. A few escape the reign of terror. Mary-Sue ends up finding a way to escape - the few loyal people hear of this and set out to unite with her.-- Cue an anarchy.

bury your dead

02/22/2021 12:50 PM 

and if it kills you, so be it.

  “My alarm goes off at the same time every morning. Every morning. 5:45 am. Because.. 5:30 is way too f***ing early. 6 would be like.. adding to the chorus of horribly composed jingles forcing pathetic morons into another sh*t day. Caught in a big f***ing hamster wheel, trapped inside this baby bitch doghouse we New Yorkers call an ‘apartment’. I hate the sound of it. I probably should change it but it’s become part of my routine and I’d be lost without it. Every day would begin as the last, exactly the same with the crushing weight of my existence choking me out at 5:45 am on the dot. Occasionally, I beat it. More often than not, I need resuscitation. Not, ‘beat it’ like.. nevermind.   I go to sleep and I wake up and I don’t know which version of myself has taken the wheel. At first. The hand off comes in the form of nightmares. Sometimes, softer fabrications. That’s if I can get to sleep. Actually.. It’s all the same. Sleep and wake. It kinda meshes together. It’s a process. It’s exhausting. I guess the silver lining is that despite the dramatics, it’s familiar.    When I met Desirae she flipped my world upside down. It was like a f***ing hurricane. Swept into this chaotic whirlwind of sh*t I never experienced before. I had never seen anything more beautiful. I mean that. This long dark hair. Chocolate eyes. Strawberry lips. That body. She had the perfect symmetry. Laser cut perfection. These f***ing freckles everywhere. I can draw her right now with my eyes closed and wouldn’t miss not one of those freckles. She lit up a room when she walked in. Everyone stopped and stared. I had no idea how a woman like that could choose me but she did. For a decently lengthed period of time I thought this could be it. I was cured of whatever it was that I’ve been aching for all these years. That emptiness, ya know? It was my purpose to take care of her. To love her. That longing would finally cease and she’d save me. Set me free. She was magic. Breathing life and energy into this otherwise dull.. pointless existence which previously made no f***ing sense, it really didn’t. Doesn’t, I should say. She stole the air from my lungs, ripped my heart out and ate it. My vitals were hers to do with what she pleased. After several failed attempts to fight my feelings for her, I gave in. Diving head first. I gave her the power to ruin me. I did that. I did. She knew my dark, knew the worst parts of me. She knew my past. Not all of it but the parts that mattered. The parts I could explain. She also knew the best of me. The me that I don’t give away too often. When we were together it was as if I were weightless. Nothing else meant a damn thing outside tangled limbs beneath bedsheets. Fingers laced with mine. My God.. her skin. She had this scent about her. I still taste her on my tongue. She knew my fears. She knew exactly where it hurt. She knew what to push. What to pull. We fought as hard as we f***ed because we loved each other enough to call the other out. We gave that much of a f*** about it, right? When the battle was over, we’d grow from it stronger. Together. Re-growing all bonded and twisted like roots in dirt watered to blossom colorful fields of raw true love. Bullsh*t like that is what I told myself. What we both fed ourselves to mask the toxicity that we refused to acknowledge.    I relapsed again. And again. One more time, just one more. Every time was the last time. Every time I woke up a better man. A changed man. I saw the f***ing light, baby, and it was glorious; that guy, I was that guy. Wrap me up in the big book because I surrender my control. This time, I meant it. Like the last time and the time before that. Of course, I kept my word until the next time I used because.. there was gonna be a next time. One day turned into two, two into four. Those f***ing benders are what killed her. Then again everything f***ed her up. I wondered how a person could truly love someone yet hate just about everything about them. But here I was stuck in this infatuation. Let me tell you… through all the bullsh*t in knowing what I know now.. I would do it all over again. F***ing sick, ain’t it?    I put my hands on her and it wasn’t the first time. Or the last time. Those ‘we fight because we love’ type of fights became more frequent. Physical. Violent and venomous. She’d hit me and say she blanked out or.. I mean, I’m a f***ing man.. I just ate it most of the time. Some nights I was too f***ing high to reason and.. It was.. It was really bad. I blanked out a few times. I swear I didn’t remember hitting her. I had completely lost myself in the drugs, the partying.. the numbing..  again and again while losing myself in her until I suddenly had no idea how to answer simple questions about who the f*** I was. Sh*t that we’re supposed to know because we’re the motherf***ers living inside ourselves, ya know? I forgot my birthday because I didn’t really exist. What does that even mean? What’s my favorite color? Food? I don’t f***ing know, it depends on who I am that day. Which idiot won the hand off. I had no f***ing clue what I was passionate about anymore. My likes or dislikes. Nothing excited me. Nothing. A constant humming underlying dull. What did it matter, really? All it did was make me angry. At myself, at her, my family and the one singular friend I had left. The drugs and the booze but I’d sooner kill myself before I put it down. The best option. Love eluded me for the longest time. I know, I know.. We’re all a bunch of damaged, emotionally unavailable piles of trash. I am not unique or special in that respect. F***, if there is no harder pill to swallow than letting love in and willingly allowing it to destroy you. Day in and day out I chose to let it destroy me. Love isn’t a hostage situation. It’s assisted suicide.    The day she walked out on me, my sweet Desirae, I remember getting blasted immediately. Well before 5:45 am. I did a bunch of coke and benzos. Some other sh*t.. I honestly, don’t recall and whiskey. I mean, I’m Irish. There’s always whiskey. We lived together, shared a place in the Bronx and she had stayed at a ‘friends’ house to cool off after the typical fight we had the night before. She was f***ing him, I know she was. At this point, I just didn’t have a f*** to give. So.. we did the live in thing for a year that felt more like five hundred in the warzone that was our relationship. She came home at whatever time crying and throwing herself on the floor like she was dead set on winning an Oscar. Accusing me of sh*t. She knew I was high and I just didn’t care anymore. We argued until words held no weight. They hadn’t generally for a while so it didn’t take very long. She smacked me and I took it. I deserved it. Angry at my lack of response, she hit me again. Then she legit, no lie, caught me with an uppercut. Didn’t see that one coming.. I grabbed her and slammed her against the wall. I had a f***ing death grip on her and I’ll never forget the fear in her eyes. It hit different that day. It broke my heart. Completely. I felt that sh*t through the numb. The substance induced mania. I shook her then let her go and walked off but she kept hitting me. Punching me. Throwing sh*t at me. Screaming sh*t. I don’t remember the few minutes or seconds in between me walking away and my hands around her throat. I remember the shattered glass from the picture frame I made her. Yeah. She put a photo of us on the beach in Cabo. The smiles on our faces were real that day. I always did like that picture. Anyway, so.. I realize that I’m squeezing her neck, restricting oxygen. She’s digging nails into my wrists, arms, my face as she struggled to breathe. Drawing blood. She’s fighting for her life against the man she trusted to protect her. I can’t begin to describe to you what that felt like. She thought I was.. killing her. I guess.. I was..   Those strawberry lips turned blue at that point. She started convulsing. Limbs went limp. I was holding her up by her delicate little neck with such a grip.. I have no idea how it didn’t snap. I tried so hard to let go, I really.. I don’t know how long or.. I mean I know what was happening but.. Everything was wired wrong. Misfiring. I.. my body finally decided to listen to my brain and my heart and then I just dropped her. She ended up hitting her head against the corner of the table when she fell. I’ll never forget the sound. It wasn’t intentional. I wouldn’t do that.. f***.. I.. you would think the head housed every drop of blood in the human body the way it bleeds..”   Dr. Wozek looked up from her notepad attempting to keep her composure as she swallowed hard. Bleached blonde hair done up neatly to blend the head of grays. “Was she breathing?”   A long drawn out silence fills the air. Loudly piercing the Irishman’s eardrums. Rough edged features twist in distress, staring off into space as if reliving the scenes of his past like a movie. Audience waiting with bated breath.   An uneasy laugh with a shrug, “I took a few bumps” he shakes his head, lips pursed tightly, brow furrowed as if confessing his own actions to himself for the very first time. Hands running up and down his thighs. “My reactions were delayed. Sporadic. Umm.. I can tell you.. she isn’t dead. At present. Last I heard, she was doing well. And I’m really happy to hear it. Plus, I wouldn’t be sitting here, I’m sure. If I would have.. taken her life that day..” he sits up, hands over his face before sinking back into the couch cushion. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”   Dr. Wozek removes her wire frame glasses, setting her pad and pen down on the small table to the right of her chair. “This is a safe place, Fergal. No one can hurt you here. I am not going to judge you by your past, I am here to help you sort it out, process it and let it go. You can trust me. I want to help you find better ways to cope with all of this trauma so you can finally find peace within yourself. You deserve that. I’m glad you’re here. You are extremely brave.”   He lets out another laugh, pulling at his bearded chin, nervously fixing the black knit beanie covering up short dark hair. “I trust you understand my apprehension. Given all your degrees and years of practice.” a pause, replaying her generic ‘I’m not here to hurt you’ speech against the same rehearsed lines from Desirae’s pleas stuck on loop in his mind. “I’ve heard that before. I believed it before. But ya know.. I didn’t pay her to pretend to give a f***.” blue eyes pierce right through the older woman’s dark green hues, stone faced. After a few awkward seconds, features soften into a crooked grin. “’s gonna take some time.”    “Well.. that’ll be all for today” a nervous smile as she glances at the clock and stands to her feet, smoothing palms down the front of her preppy blue sweater. She walks toward the door to open it. A twinge of fear in turning her back to the younger male who minutes earlier confessed to attempted murder, no matter which way it was sliced. A fear he can sense, releasing a sigh as he stood to follow. Time’s up. Every moment was fleeting. Especially the ‘safe’ ones. Hands secured in the pockets of his black bomber jacket to offer the woman comfort in the fact that he wasn’t planning on hurting her. All he wanted was to understand himself enough to be able to explain in the hopes that someone else would understand him too.    “See you next week” a smile and a nod as he casually exited.


02/22/2021 11:51 PM 


Avery and Bowie were in the kitchen baking cakes and cookies. Every time Bowie finished a batch Avery would lick the batter from the bowls. So it was mainly Bowie baking and Avery observing, not that Bowie minded. “Are you going to help?” Bowie asked with a chuckle. After placing three cakes into the oven Bowie moved onto making another cake batter, and when that was done she filled up some cupcake tins so they were ready to go into the oven next, once the other cakes had baked. She then placed the bowl to the side, and of course Avery began eating that batter too which caused Bowie to laugh at her and roll her eyes slightly.Bowie moved onto a cookie batter and once the batter was done she added some chocolate chips and mix and then portioned them out on a baking tray so they were also ready to go. As they waited for the first batch of cakes to bake the two drank wine and talked, and Avery washed up. It was only fair since Bowie had done most of the work baking. When the timer bleeped she grabbed her oven gloves and took out the cakes and placed them on a rack to cool. She then added the cupcakes and set the timer again. Bowie then helped dry the appliances and placed them in the appropriate draws and cupboards. When the cupcakes were ready she took them out and allowed them cool, and placed the cookies in to bake.She then iced the cakes before stacking them into a three tier cake. She then added some finishing details. Avery seemed very excited and just kept staring at her smiling. It was a kind of creepy smile. “Please, stop smiling at me like that. I’m not sure what will happen if you keep doing that” she said. “You may just get this cake in your face” she added with a chuckle. When she finished she stepped back and smiled. She then checked the cupcakes and they were cool enough so she added frosting to the top of each cupcake, and added a flower she had created from fondant to the top for extra decoration. When the cookies were done she allowed them to cool like everything else. “You know if we eat all of these we are going to get extremely fat right?” she asked with a smirk. 


02/22/2021 11:06 PM 

Requirement Check - AC 2/28

  R E Q U I R M E N T S  / /  R U L E SFor this week's Activity Check, we would like for you to answer questions relating to the expectations and rules of all members in ONE OF US.1. How long do members have to sign the weekly?2. How long do members have to complete the Activity Check (number of days and rough time).3. How often should you be logging into your site account?4, What is the minimum amount of connections each member is expected to have?5. What are the writing expectations for writing partners that choose to write Multi-Para?6. What are the writing expectations for writing partners that choose to write Para/Banter?7. What should you do if you feel that you may not be able to complete activity requirements in the upcoming week(s)? 8. How often are the members expected to participant in an event? 9. How often are members allowed to make face changes?10. During a blast, how many posts (minimum) are you required to make for it to count towards activity requirements?Create a blog post and answer these questions. Once you have done this, please send the link to the blog to your "MEMBERS UPDATES" channel on the main server. This is due Sunday, February 28th by 7 PM EST. Please be sure to have this finished or you will be issued a warning/strike. 

Sแด‡แด€ แดา“ Sษชษด ส€แด˜ษข

02/22/2021 02:58 PM 


  Basic Info:Most everyone knows the story of Underland, the dreams of a young Alice Kingsleigh crafted into a wild and crazy universe of chaotic creatures and pure mischief. Well that may be how it's viewed, but like all the stories of Storybrooke, this one is truly it's own world indeed, and the stories of what took place here, are far darker than the children's book's entail. As you can see, the beloved Caterpillar is dead, but don't fret, he was darker than he appeared. Cheshire is female and the Queen of Hearts.... Well, she lost her head.  Have we caught your attention? You desire to learn more, we certainly offer up some spins to this universe that you haven't seen before.  

๐ŸŒธ๏ปฎเน€ะณษญ เธฃฯ‚เนเธขี‡๐ŸŒธ

02/21/2021 11:22 PM 

Girl Scout Edit *Eddie* Jade Janko Reagan Guidelines & Rules


๐”ป๐•š๐•’๐•ž๐• ๐•Ÿ๐••๐•“๐•’๐•”๐•œ

02/21/2021 08:53 PM 

Genesis Part I/, IV

Genesis ; Part I/IV   Diamondback /1684718 Featuring Lost & Found 2019 June New Orleans, LA He stood at the mantle. His right hand rested on the edge with his fingers curled around the edge. His world had crashed violently around him. Now it was time to pick up the pieces. Silas Verlac never felt more alone in all his life. His father Maurice had died and now Silas had to carry on without him.   Lucas, his older brother couldnโ€™t be bothered to even show up in Idris for the proper send off a Shadowhunter like their father had deserved. Their father had been a pillar of the community in New Orleans. He was a quiet man but respected highly by the mundanes with the sight. Many people spoke of how similar Silas was to his father. Now all Silas could feel was empty and hollow inside. โ€œThe service is going to start soon.โ€ The voice of Andre Dalton interrupted the thoughts of the young man in deep mourning for his father. โ€œSi, you going to be okay?โ€ The younger male drank in a cleansing breath. He knew his fatherโ€™s body was not here but in Idris. This was a public ceremony for those whom he left behind in New Orleans that couldnโ€™t go to Idris. Silas looked up and nodded to Andre. โ€œLetโ€™s do this.โ€ The attendees seated were dressed in varying shades of black and navy blue. Several people whispered when they saw Silas enter. His suit was a pristine white. It was almost a fashion faux pas in their eyes. Some however could recall when Maurice himself had attended funerals. Heโ€™d also worn white. Many took it as a family tradition and overlooked it. They felt sorry for the young man who had no real family beside his late motherโ€™s brother Andre. Silas took his seat in the first seat near the closed casket. He was the only one besides the funeral director and Andre who knew it was empty. The officiant began to speak his official greeting and the traditional rhetoric when doing a memorial service. Silas wasnโ€™t even listening. He was thinking back upon a life well lived. All the lessons learned and all the good memories actually made him smile gently through misty eyes. Being a Shadowhunter was something that the Verlac Family had done for centuries. Silasโ€™s own father told stories on how his own father Albert had traveled to Paris in order to help with Nazi Necromancers who set free demons to subjugate Paris during World War II. Silas even knew well stories of his great great grandfather who had been the first Verlac who has been chosen by The Clave to lead the NOLA Institute. There was a hefty legend to live up to in all honesty. He could understand why Lucas took off like he had. Silas couldnโ€™t even fathom doing it himself. He took the call to be a Warrior too personally. Then there was the Dalton Family. Andre and Juliette had been born half Fey. Juliette had fallen in love with Maurice and theyโ€™d been married in a beautiful ceremony. Lucas was born that first year. Silas came along four years later. Unfortunately Juliette had died in childbirth leaving a heartbroken Maurice to throw himself into his work and to raise a small boy and an infant son. โ€œMauriceโ€™s son Silas would like to say a few words.โ€ The officiant motioned to Silas who rose from his seat. He moved slowly to greet the officiant with a handshake. Silas was standing in place when he began to speak. โ€œThank you all for coming. You honor my father a great deal by your attendance.โ€ His gaze moved across the room. The men and women were full of concern offering affection toward the young man with a tragic history. His gaze fell upon someone that heโ€™d never imagine seeing.   Serena Herondale entered the room wearing a white dress that made Silasโ€™s heart beat a little faster. The young Shadowhunter had been a friend to Silas for a few years now. Heโ€™d been a guest in New York when she received her first rune. She was very special to him. He only hoped that she looked at him in the same light. He swallowed hard and continued. Serena took a seat in the back after she made momentary eye contact with him. She was very concerned about him. He could tell. He also knew that she never liked to see anyone hurt or in pain. Her pure heart was part of what drew him to her. Silas cleared his throat. โ€œMy father was a strong man. I always knew there was a profound sadness in him. Those of you around him had been the joy in his life toward the end. He had a deep love for learning and a driving passion to ensure that the weak and oppressed had a voice. He was their champion. He would never let anyone do without. He also counted it as a great joy when he could pass along his knowledge to others.โ€ Silas remembered the day that his father presented Serena with a set of throwing knives that had belonged to Alexander Verlac Silas found it odd heโ€™d given such a gift to the lost Herondale. Perhaps heโ€™d seen how taken Silas had been with her. Who was Silas kidding? Of course heโ€™d seen it. Silas brought his remarks to a close. โ€œDo your best in life. Help those who would not even ask for it. When you do that, the spirit of my father lives on through each of us left behind. Thank you.โ€ He moved back toward his seat at the front of the room. He would receive those offering condolences soon. Silas was ready for it to be over. He didnโ€™t need to continue to be reminded how alone he was. Even though Serena was here to check on him, sheโ€™d eventually go back home. What was to become of him? TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II.   โ€œVireseit vulnere virtus.โ€  Virtue grows in strength from wounds. credit: james kriet

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