"We are celestial bodies orbiting

each other, waiting for

our inevitable collison." 



 Ascended | Celestial | Seraph | Traveler | Blessed 

 Pronounced: CAEL-es-TRA

Latin | "of the Stars" 

"of the Heavens" 

Nicknames | CiCi or Cael; 
(Ari if she's going by Arietta)

Current Alias(es): Caelestra or Arietta 
(depends on the city she's in)

 "I am destined to illuminate you

by burning myself up."
- Maurice Blanchot

Her mind is a battle ground of forsaken feelings and troubling memories, of long bloody wars and painted wings. Things she almost remembers are haunted by a song someone sings, once upon a memory. Nightmares shake her awake at night and her tears have long since stained a path down her cheeks. Phantom pains hold her hostage. Betrayal keeps her bed cold like a coffin. They all seem so far away, yet if she reaches out she swears she can run her fingers over them. To touch them and taste the sweetness of heaven, and yet the memories glow as dim as an ember. Some days, she thinks the memories are only dreams. Things her heart used to know and she longs to remember. 

A greek lover once named her Caelestra, latin in meaning for "of the heavens" or "of the stars." This is not her real name. Her real name is lost in the tattered pagess of her past, but she adopted it as a manufactured persona.  Don’t let her false identity deceive you, because to her it as real as you and me. 

From Key West to Minnepolis and NYC to LA, she travels from one bus stop to another, keeping a collection of ticket stubs, attempting to connect the dots in this short life she has led. She's caught somewhere in between chasing after the foggy memories she cannot place and the new identity she is creating. It's a kind of tug-of-war destined to leave her questioning what is real and what is not, who she is and who she wants to be. The memories are hers and they play through her mind like a broken record player.  

The cacophony of it all is drowning out the silence she craves for. In it, she is seeking for herself. Old or new, it does't matter which. This started out as a girl dies and is reborn story (because the world needs more fresh starts) but somewhere it began to convert into a bitter tale of retaliation. The enemy is: herself, whereupon she is beginning to lose herself with every tale she crafts, every life she touches, every friendship she sacrifices, every 'home' she leaves in the rearview mirror.


New York City, NY 


"Spring is in the air." 


85% Intact




Between reality, and fantasy there is a place where nothing substantial exists. An immaterial corridor where nothing on either side of you matters in the real world anymore.  Inside this hallway of in-betweens, time has no reference, space has no matter, but dreams -- become tangible. When you are there by choice, the manipulation of immortal desires is only an afterthought.  But, when you are there by force that afterthought becomes a whisper to a scream.

In between death and life, in between the space of haunting memories and blissful peace, she remembers floating through a space such as this. It is the earliest memory she has and when she was surrounded by the peaceful embrace of this space, she felt at home. this was what Ascension after death felt like. However, the powers that be had other plans. Angry and devastated to be forced from it's embrace, she dug her claws deep within. Wrapping every fiber of being throughout it. In her wrath, as she was forced to leave, she promised she would keep a piece of it with her. 

She did. The day she was reborn she stole something from within the Aether, selfishly took it with her. What exactly that kernel of power is to her is unknown, but two things remain true: now she can access the Aether whenever she pleases and she can hear the voice of it within her.

"Energy cannot be created or destroyed,

it can only be changed from one form to another."

- Albert Einstein



  • Immortal (extent unknown)
  • Empath: Empathic reception/projection 
  • Engery Wielder (new): currently able to recognize and minimally manipulate any type of energy from the environment around her (Extent of use to be discovered)
  • Planeswalker (new): can travel to other planes of existence, myriads of different realities all simultaneously coexisting within the same expanded cosmology. (Limited between current reality, the Aether, and Nahar'u Kishori)


  • Too much energy can overwhelm and overload her
  • Too little energy can leave her helpless and damn near human
  • Poor control of empathic gateway (result of chaotic memories/emotions)
  • Can be stuck in the Aether or inbetween planes if her emotions/mental capacity is unstable

 "All discarded lovers should be given

a second chance, with somebody else."

- Mae West

Nothin stops you from loving her. She's a smooth-talking charmer, bubbly, and optimistic woman that builds connections faster than an artist can draw a quick sketch. Just because she is introverted, doesn't mean she is a mouse in the corner. She's quick to make acquaintances, but slow to make friends. Based on how 'long' she's willing to stay in a place will determine who she approaches and for what. There's no shame in being a lover, of life, of things, and of people. She doesn't shy away from falling in love, with the stranger on the street or the stranger in her sheets. She has an inherent fascination to love you, down to every cell in your body, and she'll do it ruthlessly. Right before she walks out of town without a word. That being said, her true friends are far and few between. They are scattered across the realms she has come to know. 

*Please note, friendships are separated. Think of them as Canon story lines. Medieval/Fantasy Based threads can/may be looped under the Kishori Section*

Romantic Interest(s): (x0) 

Orientation: Pansexual


Free Birds- Friends she makes in/between cities (Urban Fantasty -Realm 1)

-Slot Open
-Slot Open
-Slot Open


Nahara'u Kishori - Friends since she can remember (Fantasy/Modern - Realm 2) 

(Best Friend/Soul Bonded) -  History is destined to repeat itself with these two. Every time one of them is in danger they always figure out a way to ground themselves in each other. Literally. The power coursing through their veins tapps into each other's soul. To kept them grounded they have tethered their souls together. He became her soul mate in every sense of the word, except lover. Though many have often compared their bickering to an old couple, even after her rebirth. He is her best friend, her dark knight, and the man she would give everything to save. Always.

(Lover, Friend/Enemy) - Destined to forever be torn apart, he is a stamp on her fate, one that no matter how much everyone tries to make him fade away, he constantly returns. She hears his voice in her head and remembers fragments of them together. All she knows is that whatever they shared...she lived for it. Now she recognizes the uncanny connection between them. While she's interested in exploring it, she can't help but recognize that he is the cause of her friend's pain. Friends or enemies, she doesn't know. Only time will tell with them.

(Best Friend) - Memories haunt her dreams. Now more than ever Kougar's face follows her where she goes. She tries to deny it, hide behind the happy go lucky mask of her youth, but she knows they share a past. One that she can't deny. In their past, there is pain and betrayal, happiness and love, enemies and friendship. What they have now is messy and in the midst of recovery. Wherever they go, will be up to them to carve out together. 

(Friend/Enemy/Companion) -  These two have always had a strange relationship. Not all eggs are rotten. Since her rebirth, she has championed for Aura. Despite memories and odd feelings telling her otherwise. Dubbing her the puppy of the estate, but also someone that she could trust (past betrayals forgotten).  Aura helped deliver Kougar and John's son,  Kyle Skinwalker Tehrror, Cael knew she could trust the wolf. Unless Aura proves her wrong in this life the way she may have in her previous.


I'm a passionate, cheeky, character development based creative writer who likes to craft stories with like-minded peeps on the interwebs. ^_^

Caelestra's FC: Kirsten Zellers
Genre: Modern/Urban (Fantasy)
Style: Novellea, Multi-paragraph
Third person

YAY! Friendliness; collaboration; sarcasm and humor; detailed narration; objective-oriented scenes; action scenes; characters with depth and ongoing exploration of it; multi-layered plot; the occasional well-placed one-liner/poetic prose

YIKES! Shadiness;  misplaced fuckery; nagging about post(s); inability to keep IC and OOC separate


Stories of an ubran fiction/fantasy take place most often in cities and our present day times. These are the worlds we craft where the supernatural lurks in the shadows, is only stories of old and myth, and doesn't have a dominant presence in society. Aka mortals still rule. Consider these stories your adventures into the secret and unknown, where characters don't weave their abilities into society or their every day lives. Bring your grit and grime, your crime and drama, your love tales gone poorly, or your happiness trips. 

-Any major city
-Any small town
-Cabins in the woods
-Any coastal adventure

L.J. Smith
J.R. Ward
Neil Gaiman
J.K. Rowling
Lawrence Davis


YOUR TYPICAL FANTASY ADVENTURE (potential for modern twist)
Stories of fantasy take place most often in the fantasy worlds we create. These often have less of the modern realm feel to them and more of a otherwordly feel. Creatures coexist together in full knowledge of each other or stories of each other. It is possible for this to have a more modern feel/world. However, the rules for how creatures move through those spaces and time are different. We create this together. Think along the lines of Final Fantasy, The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, X-Men, Avatar, Avengers, Pacific Rim, Valerian, Ready Player One. These timelines can be medieval in setting, other wordly, futuristic,  post apcololyptic, etc. 

Depends on the kind of story you wish to puruse
-Collaboration/A little early plotting is a must


DC Comics
Marvel Comics
Scott Westerfeld
J. R. R. Tolkien
Michael J. Sullivan
Dungeons & Dragons



Cael learns more about her abilities and gets comfortable with them: Currently she knows very little about them. To her they are so forgein they almost scare her when she uses them because she isn't sure what is happening. Because of this she doesn't talk about them often either. 

Cael finds friends and/or family: Vagabond by nature, she isn't one to really settle down. I'd be interested in exploring her gaining some friends that get her to stay in one place longer than a few weeks/months. This will also unfold naturally in an SL so this doesn't have to be met/pursued.

Cael learns more about the Aether: This is an area she knows very little about. Don't know many who write about the Aether, so if you do, let's plot! I would be interested in eventually making this a point of conflict/tension in her story line. 

Plots do not have to be limited to the above. They are a few ideas to start from if we don't know where to begin or what to start with. 


Replied = (+) | Owe = (-)

C. G. Sullivan (-) | Gleeon (-) | Jett (+) 

Kane (+) | Kishori (+) | Kougar (+)  

Lars (-) | Virian (+) | Zachary (-) 



Interview: Session 1 [Separate Realities]

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  • “Come now ma’am, you don’t need to make this more difficult than it already has to be.” That once soft expression of his quickly loosened his lips downward after she refused to comply with his demand. A simple tip of the chin was given towards his nearby underlings, who in return made a gradual approach towards the lone female. To their misfortune, she was already moving away from a certain alley, where they could’ve easily had her cornered.

    Perhaps a chase was inevitable.


    “Oh no, we’re only here to- Wait, get back here!!” In the event she took off on both legs, that same bald-headed male already began shouting her down for fleeing. “After her!” He ordered aloud to his accomplices, who wasted no time in making a beeline after the woman as he did. One almost took a tumble from slipping on moisture while the others quickly gave chase, soon sprinting along her current path towards an oncoming crowd of pedestrians.

    A couple, about three of those men slid one hand under their belts to retrieve some handheld firearms they carried unsurprisingly. Upon noticing this, their superior gritted his teeth and hollered back to them during the said pursuit. “Don’t shoot idiots! Too many witnesses!” The middle-aged figure commanded, only to be forced to shove themselves into quite a crowd up ahead from their starting point.



    After being talked out of leaving her behind, a change of plans was made to include the onyx-haired female in his minor trip outside the house. By this point in time, the two had already arrived in the local coffee shop, which to their fortune was still open during late hours. The Hybrid would be found seated in a booth next to the very being who came in with him, hunched over forward with his elbows down and one hand supporting the weight of his chin, the other tipping a cup for him to sip on. Not many customers were in the vicinity, so there was little to no risk of others hearing their conversations.

    And so this woman, this standing mother found herself in that place, in the middle of the crowd. From the way she straightened herself out in her seat, it seemed that being in there was not a strange thing, almost welcomed even. Maybe indeed, it was a good idea to go. Or perhaps, she was only a little preoccupied inspecting a pastry. Not long after, those eyes--now in disguise, averted to the young man before her. "You still look quite troubled, Gleeon. Are you alright?"


    “Not really.” In this usual situation, withholding any personal feelings from her was downright impossible, at least for prolonged periods of time since she was skilled in sensing it. With great reluctance in bringing up the subject again, he confessed what was on his mind. “I still miss everyone: The girls, Mel, Tempest, and the others. Plus… Ria. For the first time in a while I was happy with life, just wish it could’ve been permanent after everything we went through.”


    Silence first met this, the statements that came out after was softer than what was originally intended. "I'm sorry that this is hurting you, Gleeon. Even the things that I'm casting lead to nowhere. Ever since that...that night..." Her voice trailed off without the visible sign of wishing to continue. Instead, a hand gradually reached out to gently squeeze his, patting it lightly before letting go. "I know you'll eventually find them...but I just hope that they're alright. They should be."


    Her next action was met with by his own digits wrapping around her own when said hand came down. For a good few seconds, a gaze was cast towards the table’s surface until he was able to respond again. “Guess it’s a good sign if you haven’t sensed our favorite drakes perish.” The young man said when sipping the hot beverage for a second time, wincing slightly from the heat that mildly stung him at first due to not letting it cool off first. “Speaking of the past. I heard a tale or two about another dimension that Draven fortified himself in during the war. Does- the Dark World actually exist? I’ve only heard mentions of it.”


    Staring intently at his cup, Xeryssa leaned a little closer, golden eyes unblinking. The steam that gradually wafted out of the rim seemed mildly disturbed as it dissipated-- as if a very gentle breeze intended to quell the warmth. "It does," she gradually confirmed. "That vile patch of a place shall bring no good to anyone who seeks it, I hope you're not getting any ideas?"


    “Of course not. The Kaiser himself told me a little about it and how massive that realm is. He once thought that it belonged to some unholy goddess or something.” As ominous as it was to consider, her adopted son attempted to divert the conversation again. “What’d you think of Star Trek Voyager’s first few episodes?” Of all things to bring up, that was his choice, a series he had been attempting to get her into for some time during their free time. While such a thing was likely beyond her preference in genres, it at least gave them something to binge watch together.


    "Not bad," she replied with a chuckle. Still Gleeon, still with his method of diverting the conversation at the slightest misgiving. And she didn't pursue that. "I'm still bound to learn more about the things that you're watching."

    In the midst of his silence, an unexpected vibration, in addition to what sounded like a repetitive melody playing in his right pocket could be felt from a certain phone call going through. Not thinking much of it at first, his hand slid down to grip the cellular device and remove it. The number that came up on the screen wasn’t something Gleeon recognized, perhaps another telemarketer? Hopefully not or there was about to be another sigh. Thankfully, he used a thumb to swipe across before lifting it up to his ear to answer.


  • Related image

  • Happy Birthday 


    I Got A Few Things!!

    May Your Birthday Be Everything And More!!

    I Love You

    So Much



  • When Kougar had glanced around taking in to the surroundings she realized it was nothing to what she had pictured. One part of Kougar had imagined a type of place where she would be sitting on lounge chaise type of couch. With a room that was ordinary and boring. The other part of her imagined a more hippie feel to it with tons of bright colors and painted walls of trees or birds or something. But this room was neither of the two that she expected to see.


    Kougar approached as the Shaman that Welcomed her, and took a seat upon the cushion, putting her legs in criss cross fashion. She noticed his yellow eyes which seemed very unusual and intriguing at the same time as she tilted her head to one side. Was he wearing contacts or was he different than a normal person himself? Kougar did not want to give any hint or shred of herself being abnormal before speaking her mind of why she is here.  


    “I have come because I’m looking for answers about myself. And I hope you can help me. I want to know who I was in my former life or lives. And what type of person was I?”

  • Caught staring red-handed, an unexpected blush seeps under the surface of tan flesh and highlights Zach's cheeks in a flattering shade of soft pink. He looks away from Caelestra's gaze when their eyes meet; unintentionally making his blatant staring too obvious. Swinging one foot forward until it stops when reaching maximum length, Zach then bends his knee and brings the leg back to its original place. In a sheepish fashion, he scratches the tip of his nose, feeling the chill before sneakily glancing back at Caelestra from the corner of his eye. She is still looking, so he raises his hand to wave and offers a small, kind smile. In a way, it is as if he is apologizing without necessarily saying that words.

    With that, he could walk away and go on about his daily routine as usual. Chalk this up to an awkward exchange with someone on campus. Instead, Zach approaches her with a couple strides in her direction as he pockets the hand he’d been waving at her with. He stops a slight distance from her and says, “I like your hair,” and gestures to her with a small nod, “it suits you.” It’s a not lie - he really does think so. He wonders if perhaps that was the real reason he suddenly found himself staring at her just moments ago.

    “I’m Zach, by the way,” he adds. It’s apparent he is very friendly and has no trouble talking to strangers. Somehow, he has such a confident calmness about him that makes it easy to see why he has a lot of friends. No hidden agendas and an open-mindedness that is a breath of fresh air. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around campus before, are you new?” He asks, pressing his luck just enough to squint his eyes and turn his head at the book in front of Caelestra. Not subtle at all about his intentions to see what she is doing.

  • That was a far stretch from what this man was capable of, still could be capapble of in the events of unlocking such a dark past. Caelestra hasn't seen it and he can only hope she'd never have to, or anyone else for that matter. That wasn't who he was..no..no it wasn't. It couldn't be.. What was a curse had become some sort of gift and he hadn't cherished it. He would now. He would.. ...There's still not much he knows, oblivious as ever to the full potential, but his undead heart could see the darkness on the horizon, trying to overtake the whole sky.. trying to take over.. everything. He's started to doubt himself. So much.. that if he'd known this little fact from her, he'd doubt that, too. 

    All he could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other and try not to look back to what he now knew was following him.. So his work took his attention, took his life and became all he could brag and be proud of..well, maybe except for his five cats, because let's be honest, it's some kind of wonder how he hasn't dropped that on her yet.  Does she like cats? He wonders. 

    This project she gave him? It was all he needed. 

    This was all he wanted right now. And.... maybe more cats.

    There was something about Cael that also.. engaged him so easily. She had this carefree aura..soul? Vibe? All of that? Soft, but tough. As a vampire, he doesn't quite grasp the ability to just sense out anything different, unless it were familiar to him in some way and what she had within, wasn't familiar. At least, not prominently so. But there was something that drew him to her, that made this project different than the others he's taken on. Maybe it's simply because this was for someone else and not just his own muse, but.. Well, he hasn't pondered much further on it as of now. 

    Senses out the window, Lars is as set on this endeavor as she was, so much, one could practically feel the air crackle with his excitement when around him in his element like this. He pulls up all the links he can think of to be proven useful while she hunts down the stickynotes to jot down all, which is smart, because he certainly wouldn't expect her to just make her decisions right here and now. She had to get it all right, what she felt was right. Not that Lars would turn her down for wanting something changed over a different matter of the mind. 

    The brief touch of her sweater barely grabs his attention, hyper senses reworking, but it's nothing he lingers on and it's nothing she should linger on either, for thankfully she wouldn't have felt his unnaturally cold skin. He instead, answers smoothly and without much trouble.

    " Not quite like this, no. I've done old models like this, but.. This is more under someone else's taste than my own or someone like-minded. This is different than what i'm use to, but.. I'm still finding it to be a project easily enjoyed." He gave a half grin, again that excitement so real and obvious.

    Upon her answer about his other inquiries, Lars nodded thoughtfully and smiled to himself at that. He thought the same. He didn't exactly hate the technology of today, but there were some things here and there a little too far out of his grasp to bother with. He thinks for a moment or two, but eventually answers her.

    " I believe I could figure something out.. That'll take some outer help..because I'm not exactly a tech-wiz or whatever they call that, but if that's what you want, I'll certainly find a way to incorporate all of it! " He smiled once more and then was reaching over to point out some models and displays the websites gave, mumbling occasionally about pieces he's used and found was great, kinda just the typical car lover rambling on, but trying to stay within a reasonable area that she could understand. It's not often he gets to just work on a project and have someone so involved with him. Sure, he had his workers and they were fine gentlemen to have around, but often they worked out repairs only. She may not be a car lover or know much of anything for all of he knew, but it seemed her company was all he needed. 

  • Finally finished my first interview blog! Hehe.

    I'd love for you all to read Interview: Session 1 [Separate Realities]

    Replies will come out throughout the week. ^_^

  • It was a place of corridors, skylights and hollow spaces, its doors wide open for tourists and locals alike. Doors that do not discriminate a visitor's origin, societal standing or anything else trivial, only concerned with its rules the basic etiquette of respect to what lies ahead
    For a very low fee that even a child's meager allowance can afford, anyone in that tumultuous city can find itself within its walls, hence making it a place that never ran out of eyes and guests even at the laziest of days. The decorated walls that once housed worship and faith took years and generations to be refurbished into a museum and a gallery combined, complete with the exterior landscaping and the parking lots that surrounded it. The structure of Gothic architecture was renovated for expansion, its interiors now clad in carpets and tapestries along with the chandeliers that warmly illuminated the area.
    Boasting its luxury and its content, truly enough, the Vault of Visual Harmony is a sight to behold.
    There were talks about expanding the said institution, with the elderly owner fueled with a passion for collecting these artifacts-- a passion dearly shared by the children. Held by generations of benefactors, the place stood for its cause, preserving the past for the sake of the future. These intentions seemed so pure.
    Beyond the high arches and the ornate columns that spanned the grounds to its domed ceilings were the things that were put out in a display. These masterpieces ranged from paintings to eroded statues, to old tomes cased in glass and items carefully, lovingly arranged. A gallery of ancients, mindfully preserved for present eyes. A handful of people strolled to and fro in those halls, photographs and poses taken in lights and angles. Tales of the history and wars from a the vigilant staff were drowned away, breezily passing through save for an interested ear or two.

    Maybe, just like the visitors that found itself within its grounds, it remained perpetually incomplete.

    Maybe, there are still pieces left to be found.
    The place teemed with the nostalgia of the days long gone, and magic-- a force that wove itself about, flowing through the air, like a subtle tide blanketing the area with its charm. Anyone who had the slightest affinity to the arcane might feel its pulse, tingling against the skin. The curious might be drawn, warmly welcomed, even. Nevertheless, it would be safe to assume that places like this will attract all sorts of things.
    And with those doors that were wide open, anything--anyone can be invited in.
    That was a calm, Tuesday afternoon, perhaps just a couple of hours away from closing time. 
    While most of the visitors of the day were already milling out looking tired yet satisfied, there are still a few that dropped by for a quick glance. A few families and their adolescent children sauntering in for a hasty history recount after school, the others looking for a quiet place and something pretty to look at, and the Vault offers both.
    Their newest addition in the exhibit was a large old painting that was retrieved from an excavated place, displayed as a new centerpiece in the first, front lobby. The exact date of the picture was not completely stated, and there had been very distant theories. But from the peeling oil paint that was gingerly and carefully reconstructed on the tearing fabric and the striking concept of the masterpiece, it was perhaps garnered from an old myth. 
    A woman that was scantily clad by burnt, bloody robes, forced to her knees upon a pile of dead, festering bodies. With her hands upon her face, it was not completely clear which emotion was the most dominant, but the body language alone delivered the agony of that ordeal. Behind her was a gaunt feminine figure whose veil was splashed with blood, hands triumphantly clenching a pair of wings that it ripped from the joint. Another feathery pair was carelessly strewn amongst the pile of decomposing carcass, seemingly the first set that was pulled apart. What seemed to cast the shadows upon the entire piece was a hulking crouched beast at the back, inky scales making up the background, consuming it with black.
    Some had argued that it was just one of the many myths that the people had forgotten, the ancients have a reserved spot in their hearts for sad tragedies. The others retorted about religious representations, a gruesome, blasphemous one, in fact. 
    And then there were those that simply enjoyed it for what it is, allowing their own imagination to run wild. Those who had their own stories and renditions to tell. Just like that one willowy woman that stood before the framed piece of art, silvery eyes cast upon its entirety. A woman in perhaps, her mid-thirties, her brown hair tied up in a plaited bun, with a corporate attire of white long sleeves and a black pencil skirt to match it all. With the sparse activity, it seemed like the perfect time.
    "You have to wonder what goes on with the mind of a person behind every masterpiece,"  it was a breathed statement, not exactly directed to anyone. "Sometimes they're probably trying to spark a debate on purpose."


    To a humans eyes, Seattle wasn't anything special unless you were emotionally connected to it somehow. To an elf's eyes, Seattle was something that stood out, despite no emotional connection at all.

    Haven arrived there a mere week ago, Virian felt no rush to leave. He had come on business, but also a bit of curiosity. Rumours had been running wild of strange happenings going on there. Of course, Seattle wasn't the only place in the world where magical beings happened to group up and create a bigger scene that was usual, but that didn't mean that Seattle wasn't just a little bit special.

    Haven heard the rumour from an old colleague and friend of his, the long-lost prince had flown over in a random act of wishing to see the city for himself. Not a stranger to travel, Virian felt that the 10-hour flight went by quite smoothly. With summer just around the corner, some of his friends had questioned why the choice had been Seattle. Practically a native of France, they had expected the dramatic Virian to choose someplace like Greece or Iceland. But no, with a kind smile he simply said that he needed something new. And so, haven now spent a week exploring something new, Virian was getting... bored.

    Haven spent his morning walking along one of Seattle's market places. The food there was fresh-- almost as fresh as the ocean itself as the scent of it filled the air--, and he spent a few dollars here and there buying some fruit and even a fish or two. In truth, he had actually bought items that reminded him of home, and was planning on making an Esterian-style dish for dinner. Bending down to smell some product, a flash of flew went by just behind him. Unable to see it, Virian felt a cold sensation run down the back of his neck, bringing his thoughts away from the food.

    Straightening up, the elf whipped his head around a bit as he tried to see what had caused that. The ability to detect energies wasn't something new to a high elf such as him, but Virian had never felt that energy before. Unfortunately, that whisk of blue had disappeared into a crowd, and he was unable to sense that energy again. It wasn't anything he had ever met before, that was for certain.

    He wanted to ignore it, and set his mind to do just that as he began to walk towards the busy pier just in the near-distance.

    The scene was quite serene, with soft crowds walking by as the seagulls flew overhead. Even the ocean, as it crashed against the concrete barriers of the pier, seemed to be taking care to not ruin the peaceful scene. Forcing himself to focus on that, Virian began to speed up without even realising it. He held onto a cotton bag filled with his purchases, wearing a long green coat that felt strangely heavy on him as he passed by some crowds, reaching a less populated part of the pier.

    There, he was so focused on enjoying the scene that when he felt another energy-- one that belonged to an Erinyes-- he was unable to focus on the one belonging to the previous creature he had felt just minutes before, despite her being quite close by. Instead, Virian turned his head the other way to see a woman, followed by a dark shadow, arguing with a man. They stood by the edge of the pier, quite dangerously close. Virian knew very well what an Erinyes was, but could do nothing to save the man. Within a single moment, the dark spirit entered into the woman's body, and her arms automatically pushed the man, who tripped and fell into the crashing waves.

    Chaos ensued, but Virian stood motionless, only watching the woman as she stepped back with no visible expression. Then, the spirit left her, and she broke down on the ground crying.

    Without much thought, Virian watched the spirit fly away, and he began running after it; going quite the opposite way than other people were, as many other had rushed towards the woman to help, thinking that the man may have slipped. Running, Virian had dropped his bag, leaving behind his scent. The scent of an elf.

    [ Your starter was perfect! I hope you like my reply, and that the RP will go on to be really fun for both of us ^^ ]

  • Do you know how much you are missed? 

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