Darby - Visions and Legends (in the making)

'The Legend' RP Logs     'The Present' RP Logs 

Past and Future Meet

Lacy LeFey Sari of Fey

Mystie LeFey

Chloe LeFey
Lazerous Keli Nichole

Lycanthro

Moonlight Masters
Professor Erick Giles Rani of Rikard A Solders Tale Merry Anne Dresden
Serra Blackheart Becca MacGregor Keita The Cemetery

 

Magic and natural science had converged to a central location.  Darby. Legend and legacy embroiled.

Merry hunted for evidence of the historical Lacy, and fought the tantalizing hunger to see 'the man' once more, or twice more, for that matter. He lurked in her thoughts and whispered in her dreams. She had her suspicions as to his nature and to his identity, but she held back firming those thoughts. A girl needed a good fantasy, after all. Through her wanderings of the estate, she'd caught glimpses of things unseen, and heard things unhearable. For a brief moment, she would swear to her life, she made eye contact with a stormy-eyed woman with raven hair that moved in the non-existent breeze. Mesmerized, Merry reached out and the woman was simply not there. Only the faint sound of the falls reached her, and perhaps a sigh.

Rani stood on the barren grounds of the darkly enchanted estate, color leached to greys. She'd ventured again to this place where lost travelers fled with tales of darkness that stole the light. But it was time to leave. There was nothing here now.  The moment had passed.

Through the earth, Rani bled her very essence, emerging in the woods across the river. The estate was withdrawn, the liveliness of months ago now in a hush. The harvest had decimated numbers, remininscent of the long-ago blood-war that led Lacy to murder her mother. Rani smoothly travelled to the cemetary and over the markers that neatly labelled the dead.  Mystie had laid her flowers to their bases, ever reliable, ever relentless in her duties. Upon the crypt roof, she sat.  Storm-laddened eyes watched the thickening darkness. Her clothing flowed with the rising wind, masking the sound of wings as the raven landed lightly upon her shoulder, blending ebony locks with ebony wings.  Rani murmured, or perhaps hummed. The raven made a sound deep within her throat in response.

The night was dangerous, even for her. But she held her post. For weeks she had slept in the embrace of her earth, but something had called her forth. So she waited.

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