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* Plot Information for Glacia

For years, the Dark Religion has persecuted the Light Jeweled with its doctrine of stigmatization. Under the messianic Queen Elisif Brenden, it has flourished, ensuring Glacia’s success in other fronts. But upon her death, a line has been drawn and forces beyond Glacia’s borders are gathering to stop its theocracy once and for all.
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Author Topic: Warren Winters  (Read 1567 times)

Description: Warlord. White to Tiger Eye. Played by WrenStar.

Offline Warren Winters

  • Character Account
    • white2te
    • warlord
    • Role

      Head Chef

    • Faction

      Ivalo Province Court

    • Territory

      Glacia

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      WrenStar

    • Posts

      52

    • View Profile
Warren Winters
« on: Jun 06, 17, 09:03:56 PM »
    The Basics

    Character Name: Warren Winters (formerly Nikolas Hjalstad)
    Nicknames: Nik, Niki (formerly)
    Age and Birth Year:  23 (171 AP)
    Race: Glacian
    Caste: Warlord
    Birth Territory: Glacia
    Home Territory: Glacia

    Birthright Jewel: White (uncut)
    Offering Jewel: Tiger Eye (uncut)

    Role: Head Chef
    Faction: Ivalo Province Court

    Appearance

    Play By: Logan Lerman
    Distinguishing Features: Warren has a deep vertical scar on the inside of each wrist from a suicide attempt, as well as smaller horizontal scars on his upper forearms and inner thighs from years of self-harm. He hides these with his clothing and, if necessary, the occasional sight shield.

    Personality



    Personality:

    It is important to note that in virtually any other Territory - or perhaps even in his homeland itself if he wore a darker Jewel - Warren would be recognized as a young man living with depression (and a heavy dollop of post-traumatic stress). As it is, Warren has mostly appropriated his own struggle with depression with the burden the Dark Religion has laid upon him because of his light Jewels. He doesn't want to believe that he has this struggle because the Mother has cursed him, or the other side - that he was cursed with such light Jewels because of this wrongness inside of him, but he doesn't see any other reasoning. The true basis of his struggle is a mix between mental and physical - an actual physical imbalance of proteins and chemicals that could potentially be corrected with a Healer's brews, accompanied by years of mental struggle fueled by his treatment from society - which a Black Widow could in face help him learn to navigate. If a Priestess unbiased by the Religion were to peer at his soul she would find it no different than an other soul that has suffered abuse.

    This, of course, is if anyone could see past the surface to the toil within. On the surface, Warren is bright and warm. Flirty, fun, sensual - almost carefree in a way. This persona is not a lie, it is merely a the facet of himself that Warren shows the world. The only facet of himself that he chooses to show the world. They don't want to know how he often cries himself to sleep at night or wakes in a panic and has to dig his nails into his arms, holding himself and shaking to keep himself for reaching for the slim blade he keeps in his nightstand drawer. When he is interacting with people he becomes the Warren that they see. He is able to compartmentalize well enough that even he can allow himself to believe that there is nothing darker lurking beneath the surface. It's only when alone - or in the late night and early mornings when his shields against himself are weakest - that this other darker side shows itself in full force.

    It is probably because he hides it so much and so well that it hits so intensely when it does.

    Another extremely important component to consider when attempting to understand Warren is his hope and his love of life. He doesn't want to be sucked into the darkness, and he actively fights against it. When he feels himself sinking he reaches out for something or someone to hold onto. He'll start working on a new recipe, or he'll hit a local bar he's familiar with and fall into bed with a willing stranger or a regular acquaintance. He will not talk about it, because he does not trust that what he has to say will be met with even an iota of understanding - but he does reach out for help in one way or another, or finds it for himself the best he can.

    Likes:
    • 1 - Sex. Warren loses himself completely in sex. It's the easiest way for him to get any kind of touch, and when pleasure is coursing through his body he can forget everything else. He is particularly sensitive physically, so he feels pleasure more intensely than your average person. Warren is one-hundred percent gay, and very much plays bottom. Sexually, he loves being dominated, it makes him feel wanted and secure and seen. He always feels real during sex, which is something he covets - especially when he's trying to force himself out of his own head when it's determined to drag him down into that dark part of himself.
    • 2 - Baking/Cooking - especially dishes from other Territories and cultures. Warren spent most of his life in various bubbles, completely unaware that there was anything different that the current wave he was desperately trying not to drown in. His world opened up when he began to explore the art of foreign cuisine. Hope reentered his life like a light in the darkness with his first taste of foreign spices and he began to scandalously wonder if there were other options than what he had been spoon fed his entire life. In general, though, he loves making people food and watching them enjoy something that he's made. That he can create something and add something to this world in an intrinsic life-raft that he desperately works to keep inflated through constant practice and self-affirmation.
    • 3 - Touch. Different than sex, Warren craves being touched in a safe, unconditional way. A hand on a shoulder, a hug, platonic snuggling that is just bodies against bodies where he can feel another person's heartbeat beside his own. He is touch-starved in a lot of ways and has always needed physical affection, but when that White Jewel distanced him from most of his family he instantly lost all of that affirmation he used to get on a regular basis. When he is at his lowest, when his mind and his heart and his soul just can't make sense of the world and is desperately seeking some kind of escape from all the chaos and negativity - simple touch can help him. It doesn't make it go away, but it can connect him back to the world. It can bring him in. It can give him something to feel that is - if not truly bright and good and wonderful (because he cannot process those things in those dark moments) - something that's not bad, which for someone struggling with depression can be a saving grace and a lifeline.
    Dislikes:
    • 1 - Psychic communication. Warren does not like the feeling of someone else against his barriers as it is, but hearing their voice inside his head is something he finds truly unsettling. He's had his mind dug through "for his own good" too many times to feel comfortable with any sort of prolonged psychic contact, but even brief messages can be distressing for him. He avoids them at all costs, and when absolutely necessary he prefers to keep to general threads rather than private ones, where he is the one instigating the contact. He keeps it incredibly brief - almost to the point of rude - before cutting the connection.
    • 2 - Being alone. Warren hates isolation. He would be rather be surrounded by strangers and be completely ignored than be alone. He will actively seek out people to avoid isolation - leading him to spend a lot of time in bars and public places just for the noise and the feeling of people. When he's alone it's too easy for him to get sucked into his own head, which is a place he absolutely does not want to be for the darkness lurking within.
    • 3 - Being collared. He could never say it out loud, but any collar about his neck is a chafing chokehold, no matter how pretty and soft and discreet it is. No matter how kind the hands were that locked it shut. Even in his darkest moments, where he's sitting on the floor of the bathroom wondering how long it would take for him to bleed out, does he ever feel thankful for the collar. It makes him feel less than human and he hates it. A collar tells him "I would rather chain you than hold you", that he is not worth listening to or caring for or tending to, that he is not real in some fundamental way that the dark Jeweled are. But what he hates most about the collar are those dreadful, sickening moments where he begins to wonder - and believe that maybe he needs it.
    Fears:
    • 1 - Being found by his family, especially Frederik . Warren has so many mixed feelings when it comes to his brother. He loves Frederik - and he resents him. Theres a small, dark, secret part of him that hates him for the way he practically abandoned him. How he failed to protect him... At the same time, that he was unable to truly hold his own and then ran when Frederik discovered and disapproved of the choices he had made is a heavy mark of shame he is afraid to confront. Frederik was the one person who believed in him, who seemed to believe that he wasn't the cursed, horrid... lesser thing that everyone else seemed to see him as. He trusted him to be able to stand strong and prove the world wrong - and Warren failed both of them in that.
    • 2 - Carter. Carter pulled him out of the darkness and chained him down in hell. He viciously abused him and took advantage of him. He fucked with his head and turned Warren even more into his own worst enemy, playing him against himself while emotionally manipulating him until he could barely tell what was real anymore. It took almost a fully year, but Warren is aware that he was abused now and he's terrified that Carter will find him again and put him right back to where he was a year ago, trapped in that endless torment where not even death was an option for escape.
    • 3 - Himself. More than facing Frederik , more than being put under Carter's control again, more than anything else in the world, Warren is terrified of himself. He is terrified of the potential he has to lose himself in the darkness, so very scared that one day he'll give in to those needling notions constantly chittering in the back of his mind that all of this, all this effort he puts into breathing and smiling and loving, just isn't worth it. He's afraid that he'll prove them all right, that he's cursed and unworthy and inhuman and wrong. He's afraid that one day he'll stop caring entirely, that one day not even baking or sex or that painful and debilitating determination just won't work - that the cocktail of apathy and horror that's been brewing in his soul for too long will drown him, he'll give up and either become a shell - or end it for good.
    Life Story

    Family:
    Mother: Gloria Hjalstad, Opal to Green witch
    Father: Anton Hjalstad, Green to Sapphire Prince
    Siblings:
    Frederik Hjalstad, Purple Dusk to Green Prince* (b. 164 AP)
    Markus Hjalstad, Purple Dusk to Opal Prince** (b. 166 AP)

    Other Persons of Note:
    Ex-boyfriend: Aarno Niedrik, Summer Sky to Green Warlord** (22, b. 170 AP)
    Abuser: Carter Jakobi, Rose to Opal Warlord (44, b. 148 AP)

    *This character's Jewels have been rolled and is adoptable.
    **This character's Jewels have NOT been rolled and is still potentially adoptable.

    (Please consult WrenStar if you wish to adopt a character -- names, castes and Jewels are up for negotiation.)

    History:

    Before he was Warren, he was Nik.

    Nikolas was the third son born to Gloria and Anton Hjalstad, welcomed with joy mere days after their first son received his Birthright. Those first eight years were happy. Blissful. Joyous. Niki was young and sweet and had a darling smile that he very much knew how to use. He had two older brothers that were fiercely protective of him and more doting even than their mother, who adored her precious baby boy above all else. He was the only one with her blue eyes - while both of her other son's had her husbands bright green gaze. Not only that, but he loved music as she loved music and he was sweet and funny and was undeniably the most cuddly of the boys.

    There was no doubt, not a one, that anything would ever change. Not even on the morning that was arguably the most stressful in any Glacian family's - the morning where sweet Niki would get his Birthright Jewel. Both the other Hjalstad boys had come away with a Purple Dusk which, while light Jewels on their own, were guaranteed a descent well into the Mother's embrace. In fact, no one would have been surprised if Nikolas emerged clutching a Jewel darker than his brothers'.

    Imagine their surprise, their horror when he came out with tears streaming down his face, clutching an uncut White between his tiny hands, almost trying to hide it against his chest. He was eight years old, so young, and he didn't fully understand what it meant to be light Jeweled - he just knew it was at the very least a sad thing, and at most a very, very bad thing.

    He was hurried home. Gloria was inconsolable. There was no redemption from this. Even non-Jeweled would have been better than this - because at least if their child had not been blessed he wouldn't have ended up... cursed. Because that was what it meant to be light-Jeweled, to not be afforded the stability and the grounding power of a dark Jewel, that connection with their Dark Mother. Their boy wasn't even on the cusp, wasn't even somewhere that could possibly grant him a dark Jewel in the future. At the most he could hope for a Rose, still far too light and far too... corrupted -- if he made it that far.

    And then, what kind of life would he have?

    In a lot of ways, the young Warlord was very lucky in that instead of abandoning or abusing him they closed ranks around him. They were worried, they loved him, they wanted to make sure he was safe and protected - from the outside world and also from himself. Every time he got upset, every time he lost his temper, every time he stared off into space for too long was a reason to be concerned. He started learning to withdraw deeper into himself, to keep a smile on his face even though all he ever wanted to do was scream, or cry.

    Every word he said, opinion he had, emotion he felt was scrutinized for signs of wrongness, and some days the boy did better than others pretending to be right. Usually, "right" meant pleasantly happy, thankful, calm, sweet - and so he was those things, if only so that he didn't have to watch his mother cry again. If only he didn't have to see her hugging the baby blanket he had before - before he was cursed, before her sweet baby boy was taken from her - while she cried, praying herself to sleep.

    Frederik  and Markus took two different approaches to their little brother.

    Markus was an appropriately protective older brother when he needed to be, but otherwise closed himself off from Nikolas. He didn't speak to him at home, barely even looked at him. Whether it was because he hated him or, like their mother, was mourning the baby brother he somehow lost when that White Jewel cursed the boy, Nikolas never knew. He never dared ask.

    Frederik, however - Frederik was Niki's saving grace. Of everyone in the family, Frederik never treated him any differently. They laughed, they played, they joked around. He listened when Niki had a problem or a question. He cared, and he didn't treat him like he was some kind of a disease.

    As he got older, and a heavy darkness settled in Niki's soul, he struggled most to hide it from Frederik. There were days that he had to struggle to pull himself out of bed, where food had no taste, where everything seemed... motionless, empty, colorless - where the sound around him was somehow muted. It wasn't that he wanted to die, he just... didn't think existing was the best option for him. It was inexplicable, and the most frustrating part about the feeling was that Nikolas couldn't place why he felt that way. He was lucky! He had a family that loved and cared for him and protected him even though he was... what he was. He had a brother who adored him and never saw the pale gem he wore as a part of him. Who just... loved him. So why did he have these moments (moments for him could be hours, or days, or months) where he flashed between a suffocating numbness and an unholy rage?

    Was it because he was really unworthy, unfit, twisted... wrong?

    Frederik was the reason he learned to hide these moments. Whenever his older brother caught glimpses, Niki could see the concern in his eyes - and in that moment the only thing he needed more than escape was for Frederik not to look at him like everyone else did. He needed Frederik to see him, see Niki.

    So he learned to smile, to shake his head and laugh and say "What? Oh it's nothing" convincingly enough that sometimes even he believed it himself.

    He was thirteen years old when his parents were murdered. The most Nikolas ever heard about it was that they had gotten tangled up with some kind of smugglers. Why or how, Frederik never shared with him and it wasn't something for polite conversation nor something that the general populace was aware of.

    Frederik inherited their wealth, estate, and custody of his youngest brother - and at first young Niki thought that perhaps... perhaps this would work out for the best. He hated himself for thinking that anything good could come of something so tragic, but he thought it. Frederik never treated him like he was less or different - like he was cursed or evil or anything. He treated him just... like his little brother. Perhaps if it were just him and Frederik, things would be better - maybe he could be.. whole, feel human more than twenty percent of the time.

    These were the naive hopes of a thirteen-year-old child, and Frederik did not live up to them. It was not that Frederik did not care. On the contrary, Frederik had always loved his youngest brother dearly - and he believed him just as capable as anyone else regardless of the lightness of his Jewel. What he failed to consider was that, whether he possessed the White, the Red, or no Jewel at all - Nikolas was a thirteen year old child who had just suffered the sudden loss of both parents. He was going through a big transition, suddenly in the custody of his brother and struggling to cling to a sense of Self in a culture that generally seemed to believe he and his kind should either be controlled or disposed of. Frederik did the single worst thing he could have done outside of actively turning on him himself.

    He neglected him.

    Frederik was never home, trusting that Nikolas could take care of himself. After all, Niki had always been the one taking care of him. He always made sure he was up on time and had breakfast, often making breakfast himself. He was organized and had all of his shit together. He was studious. He was a good kid no matter what anyone said. And now, Frederik had so many other responsibilities. The neglect was not malicious in any way - but it was still neglect. Nikolas was left to fend for himself, and he did not do very well.

    Frederik did not preserve the rule that he wasn't allowed to leave the estate on his own, so Nikolas began leaving regularly, hoping to find some purpose outside of those cold walls beyond sitting around and hoping for his brother's attention. He frequented the large library in the center of the city, mostly perusing cookbooks and getting ideas for recipes. He coveted the ones that included the rare dish from somewhere outside of Kaeleer's Star. This notion that there were places outside, that were different, that there was a whole world of people and tastes and sounds and experiences other than what he had known filled him with a hope that somehow managed to settle deep in his soul at take root there. It was that hope that he managed to cling to throughout the years that followed - that hope that, expect for a single irrevocable moment, kept him willing to hold on no matter the darkness dragging at his soul or the internal and external chiding of his invalidity.

    Not wanting to reflect poorly on his brother and his family, this was when Niki began the transition into Warren. It was the first thing that popped into his head when the kindly librarian bent the rules to allow him a library card without the permission of his guardian (after all, she'd been watching the boy for weeks and he was only checking out cookbooks, and as an Opal witch who had once only worn a Summer Sky she had a lot of sympathy for those incredibly light Jeweled). Thus, with the neat signature of the name on the back of the library card, Warren Winters was born.

    He went to the library almost every morning after lessons. Some days were good days - Warren was a friendly young man and was finally given the opportunity to socialize on his own without the express supervision and arrangement of his guardians. He was able to make friends with other regulars, get to know himself outside of who his family (including his brother) thought he should be. There were also plenty of times that he got harassed, as well, but the majority of assaults were verbal and rarely anything worse than what he told himself in his darker moments when he was completely alone in the big house he and his brother lived in.

    Warren blossomed when he was sixteen. Still young and sweet-faced, but the set to his mouth was almost sultry as opposed to the bright innocence he had always carried before. He was still capable of that innocence for the little old Ladies, of course, but at this point any young man has a different kind of charm in mind. It wasn't matronly attention he was seeking - it was the attention of firm, hot touches and growls against his skin. He was flirty by nature, and that usually meant that any encounter he had with an attractive man (honestly girls had never even crossed his mind other than as friends) went one of two ways very quickly -- disgust or interest. Well, there were plenty of times that there was interest first and then disgust because the man in question had issues of his own, but Warren rarely had to deal with those.

    He began having sex, and frequently - usually with men older than himself but not always by much, of both dark and light Jewels. Sex quickly became a favorite activity. It was everything making and tasting good food could give him and more. He felt coveted, wanted, seen. It was thrilling, and fuck did it feel good.

    His life took another turning point when he was eighteen.

    He hadn't been looking for a relationship when he started hanging around Aarno Niedrik - but he found himself in one. The other Warlord was only a few years older than himself with a Summer Sky for his Birthright and a fairly good chance of descending dark. At the time, Warren had thought himself in love and it was possible that Aarno did too. Maybe it was just cowardice that caused him to run, leaving Warren behind when Frederik finally decided to return home on the wrong night - and walked in on the two of them having very athletic sex on the dining room table. After all, Aarno was a Summer Sky Warlord, and Frederik had the fully-realized Green and was enraged at the sight.

    Aarno ran - and Frederik turned his anger on Warren - on Niki. Truthfully, it was the words he hit him with that hurt far worse than the ones he used his hands for - but both left their marks. It was the only time Frederik had ever raised a hand to him, and the only time he'd ever spoken to him in such a way either. He called him disgusting, told him that he felt hurt and betrayed. He called him dirty and twisted. How dare he, after all the freedom Frederik had given him, do this to him? Everyone was right, he said, he must be corrupt and unstable. Wrong. Different. Bad.

    Compared to what was to come, the beating he got was extremely mild. A couple of backhands, a few shoves. Frederik stopped himself before he did any real damage - and the moment there was space to breathe, Warren ran, barely sparing the time make sure he was dressed and had his shoes on.

    He was hurt, and confused, and so wounded - wounded in a way that went far deeper than the bruises on his cheek. His intent had been to find Aarno, but he realized too late that he didn't know where Aarno lived. They had met in town, and romped in the little reading rooms of the library or at the house that Warren had once shared with his brother. He ended up behind the library, huddled in the doorway, thankful that it wasn't the dead of winter, and cried himself to sleep. He did not get to sleep through the night. He never knew who they were, exactly. He didn't know them - he had only been a convenient target. Small, young, alone - and they were bitter and mean and needing to hurt someone to feel powerful. He didn't even really know how many there were. Three, four? Males that had gotten a bad lot or were just bad. They woke him with violence and all he could do was curl in on himself and scream as they hurt him.

    It was the first true taste he'd gotten of how cruel their world could be. Frederik had turned on him for betrayal, and his parent had gotten tangled into something dangerous - but these men hurt him because then could.

    When he woke next it was to a gentler touch and a voice that was somewhat familiar - assuring him that he was going to be okay. The man's name was Carter. If he had a last name Warren never learned it. He'd met him a couple of times before around the library. An Opal Warlord, the older man had always been kind and lightly flirty with him, but Warren had never even considered pursuing any kind of encounter with him beyond the genial exchanges.

    I will not explicitly detail the graphic nature of the next eight months. Suffice to say that Carter took Warren home under the guise of taking care of him. He nursed him back to health, collared him, and kept him. Like a pet, an animal. He never touched him sexually - although it did seem to be his intent to one day progress there once Warren learned his place, learned obedience. He tried to teach Warren that this was the price of his care and affection - and Warren resisted. He resisted hard. Punishments often included beatings, starvation, and isolation. Carter would force his way in just past his inner barriers to hear thoughts, to prevent him from lying to him and to make sure that the conditioning was working.

    What he didn't count on was that Warren was far too selfish and wanted far too badly to be a valid person. Hope burned inside him like a poison, fueled by hate and fear and the memory of something better. He sunk deep into himself, oscillating violently between the need for better and the desperation to die so that it all would stop - because even if he got out there was no guarantee.

    But there was no guarantee it couldn't be better either. He hated himself for not having the courage or the willingness to end it all. At most he would hurt himself, thin lines of red across his arms and upper thighs - the pain something that was real and the blood something that was his. Carter would cry whenever he caught him doing this or saw evidence of it. He would use the collar to stop him, then hold him and tend the wounds - promising that he would take care of him. That he would fix him and train him properly so that he wouldn't be a danger to himself anymore. So that he could be happy. And safe. A part of him began to believe that it was true - that Carter was protecting him from himself. That he should feel grateful... but he never was.

    One night he'd had enough - but it wasn't the abuse that pushed him over the edge. It was that sickness of hope in his belly. Taunting him and tempting him that one day there could be more. That there was something or someone out there. That there was warmth and life and love and laughter out there and he could touch it one day. It was the hope that drove him mad. He would rather die in darkness than reach for a hope that would never be realized. He smashed the mirror with his fist and acted as fast as he could - slicing open his wrists with a piece of glass. By the time Carter could rush in and attempt to use the collar to stop him, it was done - the pain caused by the collar couldn't stop what he'd already done.

    When Warren came to the next evening he sobbed because he knew he was still alive. He had failed. He had finally managed an escape... and he had failed.

    But it wasn't Carter standing over his bed. It was a Healer, a woman who wore the Green and spoke in warm, clear tones. It had been a close call - but other that a couple of scars he would be just fine. She also went on to say that she'd reported his guardian to the local Queen, as it was clear he had been severely mistreating him. She asked if there was anyone else she could send a message to - a family member or darker Jeweled friend. Someone who could come claim him. Warren told her there was no one - and the woman did not look surprised.

    Warren stayed with the Healer for about a day, but he stole some clothes and food and slipped away before the Queen mentioned or any of her people could come by to question him or decide what to do with him.

    He was homeless for a couple of weeks, but he was driven. He wasn't just wandering with no direction. He couldn't go home and he sure as hell didn't want to be taken by someone like that ever again. Someone offered once to help him leave - escape Glacia - but to him that only looked like a trap. So he made his own way, and managed to be taken in at a small but cozy inn owned by an Opal Prince and his Purple Dusk wife. He worked for room and board, and when it was discovered that he could cook they began to pay him a decent wage as well.

    Warren stayed with them, and the inn did prosper quite a bit thanks to the food and the presence of a very attractive young man more than willing to warm the bed of another man. There were still times of darkness, and that war with himself was never over - the hope battling the desolation - but Warren didn't want to give up no matter how much the darkness inside him tried to sway him sometimes. Given a warm environment and access to ways to soothe and warm that dangerous cold, he was able to persevere through it.

    The idea of reaching the point to where he gave in again was terrifying - because he knew there was so much.. more. He'd seen it. He was experiencing it now. Things were terrible, and frightening - but the dark and the cold was not all that there was. That sickness in his belly that was his hope could also be a honey sweet and calming - and it's energy carried him through one inhale and one exhale at a time until those dark times passed.

    Hope could only bring him so far, though. He had to work through it on his own - but with sex and food and the burning desperate hope in his gut he never hit that point where he needed to end it - even if he still slipped back into the habit of self-harm on those truly bad lows from time to time. It was always the loneliness that got him to that point, where he felt the need to bleed. The first cut was out of that fear and loneliness - that driving need to feel something, anything that proved he was here and real and had a body - and wasn't some ephemeral mass of pain and sorrow. The ones that followed were always a punishment - hating himself for needing to cut into his own skin, hating himself for proving Carter (and everyone else, his mind told him) right.

    In the time between then and now Warren made his descent and came away with the Tiger Eye, and returned to his exploration of foreign food - a venture that was not wholly supported by his generous keepers. Sensing unsteady waters, but not willing to give up on the hope he'd decided to embrace, Warren began seeking other options.

    That was when he heard of Lady Miina Kalas - a Queen with an interesting mix to her Court who was holding auditions for a new head chef. In a leap of faith, he applied - and for the first time in years sent a prayer to the Darkness that he had chosen the right path.

    Show Us What You've Got

    Character in Play:

    "Shh... it's okay. Are you afraid? Don't worry. I'll take care of you. With me, you'll be safe... I promise."

    Something was wrong but for the life of him Warren couldn't remember what it was. He felt cold - but with the turn in the weather these past few nights that wouldn't be strange. The chill could creep in everywhere if you weren't careful, if you didn't bundle up appropriately or make sure the hearth was tended.

    He frowned and gasped softly as he was jostled and pain shuddered through him. Then he remembered Frederik coming in - he remembered him yelling, remembered the sting of his hand against his cheek and the sharp cut of words into his heart. Disgusting, twisted... wrong. They were right.

    Tears burned in his eyes and he whimpered, shaking his head in protest to the memory, but that only made his head hurt and swim.

    "Try not to move, my boy. You're pretty banged up - but it'll be alright. I know a bit of healing and can tend to the rest of you. It'll be okay." The voice was familiar, and the arms were strong and warm - safe. He allowed himself to be comforted and sifted back into an uneasy unconsciousness.

    The next time he woke it was in a warm, soft bed and he was feeling... sore - but not as bad as he thought he should be, especially as the full memory of the previous night returned to him. He groaned, the sound hoarse to his own ears, and shifted, slowly blinking his eyes open. He was in a warmly lit room the color of dusty rose and surrounded by the scent of fresh, clean cotton. He coughed, then groaned softly and pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking around.

    "Hello?"

    There was a creak in the hall outside and then the door swung open. It was Lord Carter - another regular at the library. A nice gentleman he'd talked to once or twice - fond mystery novels if he remembered correctly.

    "Lord Carter?"

    "Warren, I'm glad you're up." He smiled, and Warren relaxed. "I'm no Healer, but I'm glad I was able to fix you up a bit. You'll still need a little while to recover, though."

    "Thanks. You didn't have to help..."

    "Nonsense." He chuckled, and there was something about the sound that had Warren feeling the slightest bit uneasy. "You don't have to worry, Warren. I'll take care of you. We'll get you healed up first, then..." He shook his head and patted Warren's knee. "Well, let's get you healed up."

    Warren shifted away from him just a bit, a sinking feeling pulling his heart into his stomach - and he could feel the tightness of the tendons and muscle trying to cling to it's proper place in his chest. "No.. No I should probably get home... Thank you though. I really do appreciate your help." He removed Carter's hand from his knee, then moved to leave - and that's when the pain stole his breath away. It wasn't that it was super intense - it was just sudden. And strange. A pain he'd never quite felt before. It originated around his throat, making it difficult to catch his breath, and shot down through his chest. His hands instantly shot to grip at his chest then up to touch what he could feel was a collar about his throat. His eyes were wide, horrified and terrified - shocked, confused. All of these emotions were coursing through him and showed on his face as they fought for dominance.

    He settled on fear, and by the time the short flash of minor pain passed, he was looking at Carter with a horrified understanding.

    Carter looked disappointed. He sighed. "You poor thing," he said with a shake of his head, adjusting the blanket over Warren's lap. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you. To have been dragged so far into sin..." He clucked his tongue and shook his head. "When.. you could have been so pure. I'll keep you safe here, and I'll teach you to behave. Then... then it will all be well. You'll see." He leaned over as if to kiss Warren on the head, but Warren jerked out of the way, flinching in preparation for the pain.

    But Carter did not trigger the collar for the slight. He just sighed again in disappointment and stood. "Get some rest. I'll bring you something to eat later. If you're good, you can have dessert." Then he left the room, and Warren heard the lock slide home a moment later.

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    Player Name: WrenStar

    Offline WrenStar

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #1 on: Jun 13, 17, 07:14:06 PM »
    Could I get four family rolls please ^_^

    Offline phinneas

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #2 on: Jun 13, 17, 07:17:13 PM »
    1. Tiger Eye - Purple Dusk
    2. White - Rose
    3. Tiger Eye - Rose
    4. Purple Dusk - Green
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    Offline WrenStar

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #3 on: Jun 13, 17, 07:58:43 PM »
    Thanks! Oh annnnnnd can I get a roll for cut/uncut?

    Offline phinneas

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #4 on: Jun 13, 17, 08:27:41 PM »
    Weighed by Mother Night...

    You've risen from the Darkness twice blessed with an uncut White Birthright Jewel, and were gifted with an uncut Tiger Eye Jewel at your Offering.

    &

    Congratulations!!
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    Offline WrenStar

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #5 on: Jun 18, 17, 05:15:30 PM »
    Ready for ROUND ONE *epic music plays*

    Offline Miina Kalas

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #6 on: Jun 18, 17, 05:16:58 PM »
    I absolutely approve of this young man and cannot wait to have him join my staff!



    Offline phinneas

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #7 on: Jun 18, 17, 05:18:49 PM »
    added to queue.
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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #8 on: Jun 19, 17, 10:16:27 AM »

    This application has been reviewed!

    Check your private messages for feedback. When you have made the requested changes please reply to this post and let us know you are ready for the next round!

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    Offline WrenStar

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #9 on: Jun 19, 17, 01:15:47 PM »
    All fixed! Hit me with your best shot <3

    Offline phinneas

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    Re: Warren Winters
    « Reply #10 on: Jun 19, 17, 08:11:45 PM »
    phinneas@bloodrites.net  •  Discord: phinn#0798  •  Writer Tracker


     

     

    anything