Laura had to get away from all of it. From the vigil, the revelation, death, everything. It felt like she drowning in it and she couldn’t reach the surface. She hadn’t felt like it since the day she found out about her parents. The vigil was two days before, but Laura couldn’t shake it. The Morgue even felt like it was suffocating her, the place she called home felt like it was out to get her. That was how she ended up at Ray’s. It had become her escape from the chaos since her freshman year. She set herself up in a booth by the door, laying out her laptop and a textbook even though she knew no work would get finished.

The news blast from earlier that day kept flashing in her mind. The Red Avenger. Who could it be and why did they decide they would be Lovell’s masked vigilante? How did they know who did it? The door chiming caught her attention and made her raise a brow when she noticed who it was. She plastered a smile on her face, pushing whatever thoughts were plaguing her to the back of her mind. 

”The seats open if you want it. But first, you have to answer a riddle. A box without hinges, lock or key, yet golden treasure lies within. What is it?”

He doesn’t bother saying hello, just strides up to her table like she should have been expecting him. Laura looks like someone in need of a break, anyway; it’s hard to see, she hides it so well, but there’s something worn around her smile, and once he’s noticed that, keeping her company isn’t even a decision anymore.

“Golden treasure within... Fries? It’d better be fries, or I’m not interested.” He shrugs off his books and shuffles into the seat across from her, snatching up a bit of her food in the process. “I need something cheap and greasy in my belly five minutes ago.”

If she had to translate one more sentence of Ancient Greek, she was going to claw her eyes out. 

There was a corner, in the third floor of the library, behind one of the lesser-used stacks, around the corner from the periodicals, with an arm chair that Silva had, for four years now, called home. Hidden away from the rest of the library, she’d scared possibly hundreds of other students away from her spot with a carefully executed glare. But she’d been in that arm chair since five, and it was going on nine or ten or somewhere around there, she wasn’t sure, and she was starting to go a little bit stir crazy.

So she found herself outside of the library, three cigarettes deep, breath catching in the cold winter air as she wrapped her jacket tighter around her shivering shoulders, when a familiar face made its way past her – Xander, hurrying into the library for some reason or another this late at night – and she turned to intercept them

     “Just the person I was looking for,” she lied. “You got a minute?”

That was where he was headed now. The hell cube was always a drastic move, a last resort, but his focus had been lacking with everything happening lately, and he’d do what he had to do to get shit done.

That didn’t mean that he wanted to, though, and when he sees a familiar face it’s too easy to pause. He raises his eyebrows at her question-- in general, being looked for had always meant bad news, and it coming from Silva didn’t necessarily mean otherwise. Whatever it was though, it was guaranteed to be more interesting than hitting the books. “For you? Always. What’s up?”

Kara was done. She couldn’t say she was emotionally drained because she hadn’t felt anything to begin with. This whole situation, she didn’t care about. It wasn’t her own emotions, but dealing with those of others. She had never been good at cheering people up and being around others when they cried, well, that just made her cry herself. There was something about the vigil that just made her skin crawl. It was eerie and wrong and it sent shivers up her spine. It was a feeling she had grown very familiar with, being uncomfortable. 

She had to separate herself from the disaster of emotions that was the vigil. She found herself walking down the street, letting the dull glow of the candles disappear behind her. Once she was far enough away she took a seat on the curb and pulled out a cigarette. She wouldn’t tell anyone, and Matias definitely would kill her if he found out, but she had been smoking recently. Maybe it was a way of trying to fit in, or trying to make herself feel better. She was made of glass and thin tape, and a wind could break her to pieces. But she took her chances with the cigarettes. They calmed her down, took her emotions away and made things seem not as terrifying. 

Kara tried not to be so skittish, she tried to keep herself calm and collected but it never worked out in her favor. She would always be the shy girl to flinch at a raised hand or a loud voice. It was something she was convinced she would never be rid of. The fear, it kept her up at night. But she found solace in the clouds of smoke, almost like she could disappear in them. 

At the sound of footsteps Kara tossed the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it with the heel of her shoe. She looked up at the person approaching and let out of a sigh, her alone time was about to be cut short. 

He glances down at the crushed cigarette, feeling a smile tugging at his lips against his will. Fuck it, she’s a Gravemaker, which means she’s family, and can stand a bit of teasing. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. It’s sinful to waste a good smoke.” He pulls a cigarette from his own pack and hands it to her with a flourish. “It’s okay, I’m not going to rat on you to— who is it, exactly, you’re trying to hide your dirty habit from? Because the Morgue is 20% ashtray at this point. Rumor is, those gray walls in the study, they were white before we moved in.”

– ** TAPPEDRPG ASK MEME!

Presented for your enjoyment, an ask meme based on characters from this roleplay! This meme features every single character. Feel free to reblog it and participate in the meme in anticipation for acceptances and opening! I thought this would be a fun way to get everybody interacting with one another, as well as a helpful tool for characterisation! So feel free to answer these questions in character or out of character, whatever floats your boat! If you’d like to ask the Admin any of these, you can reach me at @willindisguise!

She’d promised Beaux she’d behave, but behave was a performance, something you did in public, and in the Morgue no one was around to hear her bitch and act out. In the Morgue, there was no acting, just being, no pretending towards civility and aspirations of peace when all she wanted to do was destroy half the members of Pax Aurea’s stupid little rich kids’ club. 

She laid the paper out on the table: she’d been working on it for coming on an hour, now, anything to avoid the paper she was meant to be doing, and the bracket was finally, she thought, about as balanced as it was going to get. 

     “Alright, betting is open, folks: fight to the death, Gravemakers vs Pax, tournament bracket style, and the first match up is, obviously, Beaux and the Head Bitch. Any takers? Odds are twenty to one on Beaux, because I made the bracket, and I fuckin’ say so.

“Cute idea, but flawed logic-- no one’s going to bet against Beaux. You should’ve started with the smaller fish if you want to really get things moving.” It’s a joke, but he also knows there are plenty of new recruits who would do anything to impress her, not short of jumping a Pax Aurean in an alley. Silva may be many things, not all of them friendly, but it would take an idiot to look at that fierce smile and not think better to have her on my side than otherwise.

It's really quite an impressive spread, though he would never say so to her face. He leans over to get a closer look, tucking his hair back and out of the way with a thoughtful hmm. “So, how did you figure out the order to get these matches? ‘Most to least likely to go straight for the eyeballs’, on a scale of 1-10?” He narrows his eyes, scanning the page more closely. “Speaking of-- you better’ve paired me with someone good, Silva, don’t hurt me like this.”

After the oppressive grandeur of the Domus Aurea, it’s a relief to be back on his own turf, among his own kind: it hadn’t taken long for the Morgue to feel like a sanctuary to him, a place where he felt chosen and valued instead of an unwelcome interloper; and it didn’t take long for Xander Desai to feel much the same to him, a sanctuary in the form of a person, someone who is more like family to him than his own had ever been.

It’s nothing he isn’t used to: being looked down on, and meeting that disregard with a carefree smile. He used to do that every day. But what he hadn’t realized was that, somewhere along the line, he had gotten unused to it, too used to the easy rapport he has with the Gravemakers, with his friends, where being friendly and lively doesn’t feel like so much work, because it isn’t actually fake. Isn’t just a means of survival, of way of holding himself up when he might have otherwise crumpled instead.

So it’s a relief, after spending the day feeling buttoned-up and playing nice, to be messy and careless once again, and with the person he trusts himself around the most, because he’s never made feel Jack feel unwanted, or unvalued, or like he has to try to be anything other than whatever he wants to be at any given moment. “So how are you feeling?” He asks, sly, nudging Xander with whatever limb is closest, comfortable and sprawled out on the Morgue’s old and worn furniture as he helps himself to Xander’s space as easily and with as little concern as he helps himself to Xander’s time.

“Peaceful? Full of friendship and good will towards your fellow man?” Not waiting for an answer to his own question, he snorts: “What a joke. Who put Beaux up to this, anyway?”

Then, the solution to his problems walks into the room and drapes himself over the couch and it’s a palpable relief, Jack’s presence, and the immediate certainty it brings that the day is about to take a turn towards the better, towards something finally interesting. Jack is dependable, Jack makes sense, and he always meets Xander where he needs to be met. They’re corresponding parts, and being with him is just easy in a way most people aren’t. He’s already grinning as Jack settles in at his side.

“Who puts Beaux up to anything? Herself. No one else would have the courage.” It’s as close as he’ll get to slandering their leader, as much a compliment as a jibe, but he’s not feeling particularly generous after the day they’ve had. He lets his expression slide into something conspiratorial. “And I feel like we deserve an evening off after that shitshow.” He nudges him back, foot to knee, then leaves it there when it’s more comfortable. “Any creative ideas? At least enough to erase the memory of that quiche from my brain, Christ.”

lauradaltuin has posted a new photo on Instagram! 

lukebarclay are those 🍋  on his shirt?

ninahunt 👀 👀 👀

camkopp lookin fly man

thegravemistaker has posted a new photo on Instagram! 

katramsey i love this

jackfarrell xander at it again

THE FACTS;

NAME: Xander Desai  AGE: Twenty One Years Old MEMBERSHIP: The Gravemakers (Current Treasurer)  FACECLAIM (Non-Negotiable): Avan Jogia  STATUS: Open ** This Character should be played as nonbinary

THE STORY;

Destiny is a think that would always have a boy like Desai be more of a pauper than a prince. That much was true for his father and his grandfather, all the days they spent slaving away for somebody else. Boys like him were meant to be clothed in rags and choking on dirt. A servant. A slave to those who ascended higher than him. It was a life that his mother had resigned herself to, a fact of reality that she never tried to hide from him. There was no room left in their lives for fantasy or delusions, only the cold hard truth. Desai would never be powerful, never be free, never gain respect as easily as anybody else. He would work himself to the bone for all his life, until finally death took him. Even during his childhood, this reality never sat easily with him, but he was inclined to accept it for a long time. He watched quietly from his small frame as those that he loved were beaten and kicked and disrespected, never knowing how to stop it or how to fight it. It took far too long to grow a fire in his heart, to stoke the flames of rage until it roared through his veins, thrashing and gnawing at the injustice of his life.

It takes a long time to nurture the fire, but he does it. He takes his first fledgling steps towards freedom, hands quick and eyes sharp and mind whirling. He vows to make a better life, to change the order of things. Its slow to start, but once he starts learning it happens like a flash. He learns how to be fierce and fearless and quick and unexpected. He knows how to ravage, how to sow regret with every step he takes. Desai becomes a pirate, shapes himself into a prince of thieves, a figure fit to have a sword in his hand and gold in his pockets and blood on his hands. Someday, anyone who treated him like shit are going to be sorry. Someday, they’re going to regret not seeing the potential in him. His parents, too, will feel the guilt of not breaking these bonds themselves. They’ll regret letting Desai fester and rot in a pit of snakes. It takes hard work, and its going to take much, much more, but he’s willing to put in the effort to make them see who he really is. 

At Lovell finds family anew and a home to defend and protect, a place to pour his softness and his love. Its old halls feel like something out of a story, a faraway kingdom waiting for a man just like him. And oh, he adores it. Adores even more its royalist of courts. The Gravemakers are the only people he could trust with such precious parts of himself, with the delicate finery of his soul. They’re creatures, beautiful and free, that understand him implicitly. He has spent years learning how to make himself a weapon, and he would happily use every ounce of himself to protect that which has been built for him, safe in the knowledge that his band of brothers would do the same, that their hearts all beat on one wavelength and their minds all share one idea. The Gravemakers are his destiny, and he made it for himself.

CONNECTIONS;

ANDREW WALSH; Hatred at first sight isn’t a feeling that Xander is used to experiencing, more often finding the black and dark dislike through weeks and years of ill-treatment. But hatred at first sight its what happened here, he thinks. They met long before The Gravemakers came calling to them both, but they never got along. From the first moment that their eyes locked, something awful sparked in both of them. In the earliest days of their acquaintance, Xander would have sooner bled Andrew dry than admit to liking him. But these things grow and change in the strangest of ways if given the opportunity. He loathes to admit it, but he would fight and die for Andrew. They fight like cats and dogs, their relationship riding that fine line between love and hate, and Xander doesn’t know how to admit that he can feel it all shifting under his feet. 

JULIAN CORTES; While Farrell is like a brother, and Andrew is layer after layer of complexity to dig through, Xander knows exactly how he feels about Julian. Its clear to him that Julian is an odd one, and not the kind of guy that anybody should be trusting. It seems to Xander that sometimes Julian cares more about himself than their society. 

JACK FARRELL; A prince of thieves and a court-jester, they’ve always had something warm and easy that connected them. They’re two souls mingling happy in a world that might have more easily shunned both of them. When all else failed, Xander could always depend on Jack for a good laugh and unwavering loyalty. His connection to anyone else might be open to change, but Xander knows that Jack would never abandon him or let him down. Likewise, it would take more than an army of wild horses to tear Xander away from Jack if the other boy needed him, because this isn’t a relationship he’s willing to throw away. They’re closer than friends, closer than brothers, and they’ll stick together through every obstacle that might come at them.