I am shackled. Not by the chains of petrous steel, but the reneges of a utopia. Gray walls bind my shattered self, and all I can recall now is calumny by the masquerade.

I hear a noise. A tiny din in this inferno.

“Dante, someone wants to talk to you. And put on a smile, for god’s sake. It’s an officer.”

Another guard trying to demand verve out of me. How typical of these supervisors.

“No” I grunt. I wasn’t going to wash my hands of guilt in front of another officer, especially when they were never dirty in the first place.

A fist meets my face.

“Don’t be insolent, child!” the guard growls. I can taste iron in my mouth. I stagger back, leaning against the stone wall.

“You think this is a game? You’re in the prisons of Woecliffe—every refusal has a price.” He steps closer, a glint in his eyes. “You’ll play the part, or you’ll wish you had.”

Despite the blood trickling from my lip, I smirk. “You think your threats scare me? I’ve faced worse than you in this inferno.” A chuckle escapes my mouth.

“You’re a fool to provoke me. This isn’t about fear, kid–it’s your life.”

Suddenly, the door unlocks. It’s the officer, draped in coins like there’s no shortage of them in Woecliffe. His face is sharp, angular, as if cut from stone, with eyes that gleam like polished obsidian. He surveys the room with a slow gaze, his lips curling further in disdain as his eyes settle on me.

“Dante,” the officer snaps. “Looks like you’ve made quite the impression with the guards here. Most of them knew who you were, despite this being the biggest criminal house in Donus.”

What gibberish. “Impressions are all this place is built on, isn’t it, Officer?” I mumble slightly.

“You’re very witty for someone in chains, you know. You see, in Woecliffe, everyone is judged. Even the innocent” the Officer points out, brushing off dust from his cloak’s dark fabric.

“Don’t pretend you care about innocence.” I shout in agony. The only reason I was trapped in this place was because of the masquerade’s false claims. “We’re all just pawns in your game.”

“Perhaps.” The officer smiles. “But that’s not what I’m here to discuss. What if I tell you there’s a way to escape the shackles of your twisted fate? Win the favour of the upper class?”

So many Officers have tried to bribe my loyalty with alluring rewards, yet I fall for none. I know better than to trust them. “No, thank you.” I say, looking straight in the Officer’s eyes. “I’m not interested in whatever you have to offer.”

The Officer looks annoyed. “Child, this is not an offer. It’s an ultimatum. Join me if you ever want to see the outside of these walls again, or you can continue to rot in this cell.”

“Join you? I’m no fool.” I scoff.

Suddenly, his eyes narrow. “Do you think you’re brave? You think I haven’t dealt with others who’ve been wronged by the masquerade?”

New school. New locker combinations. And, of course, new ghosts.
Hm? Oh, yes. I was totally kidding. I meant fancy-schmancy writerly metaphorical specters of the past, not…
Okay, yeah, no. I meant ghost-ghosts, dummy. You know, the kind that shows up after someone dies? The ones that tend to haunt places? Those.

(And no, before you ask, they aren’t here for “unfinished business” or torturing their loved ones from beyond the grave or any of that ridiculous nonsense. Why are they here then, you ask? Golly, I don’t know. Why are you here?)
So anyways, I’m fumbling with my locker, and this ghost sure isn’t helping. He’s leaning against the metal doors and smirking. I can feel that smirk rubbing up against my shoulder blades like a mosquito bite I can’t scratch, and I want to smack it off his little dead face. If, you know, I could smack ghosts.
(Believe me. I’ve tried.)

See, the thing about ghosts is, so few people can see them that they… well, imagine what you would do all day if you were suddenly invisible and intangible. Oh, and deceased. Some of them spend their time trying to pull pranks on the living, which I guess is where the rumors about hauntings come from. Some of them get, like, ghost depression and go sulk in corners. Others, well, others figure that since no one can hear or see them anyway, who cares what they do?

This appears to be the case with my current tormentor, who alternates snarky comments about my locker-opening abilities with snarky comments about the outfit of a girl who happens to walk past, a sappy couple holding hands, and how ugly the new school colors are. It’s a good thing he’s already dead, or I’d have murdered him. If he was anything like this in life, he probably had it coming.
Another thing about ghosts: they’re not hungry for, like, human souls, and they don’t feed off of fear or any of that *. (Honestly, who comes up with this stuff?)

What they do crave, beyond anything else, is attention. It makes sense when you think about it. I mean, I refer you to my previous question. What would you do all day if you were invisible, intangible, inaudible, and dead?
Yeah, that’s what I thought. Anyways, maybe you’ve been thinking, hey, all this about being able to see ghosts sounds really cool! I wish I could do that.

Well, listen up, buddy, because you really don’t. Imagine having to walk around, day after day, pretending half the people you see don’t exist.
(I hear popular girls are really good at this. The rest of us, not so much.)
Not only does it make you look like a total freak, talking to thin air, but the instant a ghost suspects you can see them, boom. It’s like feeding a stray kitten. You give them a half-eaten can of tuna, and they’ll never leave you alone again. When I was younger, I made the mistake of striking up a conversation with every ghost I met, with the result that they would follow me around and pester me all the time. And don’t even get me started on the rivalries that cropped up. I had to implement a whole freaking schedule for when which ghost could haunt me and for how long, and they’d still squabble like a bunch of little kids over which of them deserved my attention more. And most of them were adults, for goodness’ sake.
So even though I would love to get this ghost to stop mouthing off for a minute, I would rather put up with it than have him start haunting me. And, with a triumphant yank, I finally get the locker open.

The ghost leans a little closer, sticking his head straight through the door. Yeah, it’s kinda weird. You get used to it after a while, though. For the first time, his stupid smirk slips a little, and he scans the interior of the locker before leaning back.
It’s strange, but then, most ghosts are. You stop questioning it once you’ve seen it happen enough times.
I fumble for my textbooks, and the commentary starts up again. Great.
Maybe it gets under my skin a little more than even I want to admit, because I slam the locker door a little harder than necessary. Unfortunately, I don’t move my fingers out of the way fast enough.

“OW!” I howl, sucking my fingers and doing that weird little dance in place thing we all do when we do something idiotic like slam our fingers in our locker (please, don’t even try to deny it; no one’s fooled).
The ghost, of course, is laughing his head off.
“Oh, good going, new girl,” he chuckles, and suddenly I can’t take it anymore. I’ve had enough of this jerk.
“Just shut up, would you?” I snap back.
I pause, the hair on the back of my neck standing up as something in the air changes.
Oops.

For the first time, his eyes focus on me fully, and he leans forward, dead serious. (Ha-ha, yes, I meant the pun.)
“You can see me?” he says.
Which is, of course, the most cliche opening line ever. Honestly. Just because you’re six feet under doesn’t mean you can’t be original.
(It’s also a really stupid question, because how am I supposed to answer that? If I say “no,” I’m obviously lying. If I say “yes,” it leads to a flat, awkward pause where no one knows what to say next.)
So I go with my usual response: I say nothing, turn around, and walk away.

Word Wars Seven (i think) : CYBERPUNK VS ADVENTURE

Name: Lilac Hale

Age: 17

Appearance:

One of the first things that you notice about Lilac is her ash blonde hair. More so the parts of her bangs and face frame that have been dyed purple. Much to her annoyance, she doesn’t know how, or why, it ended up like this (see, a magical portal guarded by a magical being’s interference). Often, she’ll wear her hair up in a loose ponytail with a butterfly shaped hairclip her mom gave to her, when she was young.

She has bright blue eyes, with the left eye being noticeably lighter than the right. Again, she doesn’t know why. It wasn’t always like that (again, see, magical interference) but she can’t do much about it. Her skin is a bit pale, and she’s on the shorter side (5’2).

If she’s not in her work uniform (a brown visor and apron, with a gray top and black pants and whatever shoes she’s wearing that day) then she’s probably wearing her favorite outfit. A white tee-shirt and a gray jacket, with comfortable black pants and her favorite white sneakers. It’s accented by a bright purple bandana that she ties around her neck (but if you ask her where she got it, she won’t say. She just says that a friend gave it to her.) (That “friend” being previously mentioned magical being.)

Job: Barista

Strengths: Determined, caring, patient, selfless, resourceful.

Weaknesses: Blunt, doesn’t speak up when she should, quiet, selfless (to a fault), secretive.

Relationships:

Isiah – younger brother. Cares about him deeply, and does everything in her power to take care of him. Loves him to the moon and back a hundred thousand times. Would do almost anything for him.

Hunter – best friend. Cares about him deeply, too, but would never admit that. Likes him because he doesn’t mind, she when she speaks her mind. Gets slightly annoyed by his antics, though.

Abilities:

Electrokinesis – can manipulate electricity, Very powerful for her age, but has poor control it comes to reining in her ability. Once caused a blackout that lasted for several hours and encompassed an area of eight miles on accident. Clearly has no clue what she’s doing with her powers, and wishes she could control them better.

Has the tendency to accidentally shock people when not paying attention. Sometimes will create sparks if she’s feeling any strong emotions. Eyes sometimes glow a little if there’s a thunderstorm nearby.

Trivia

Dyslexic – avoids texting and writing if she can. Doesn’t particularly like to read, but will if she absolutely has to (see, school). English was naturally her least favorite subject, with history as a close second.

Barista – very good at latte art, and jokes that it’s her only saving grace. Main reason that the coffee shop that she works at hired her. But she cannot write names to save her life. Please don’t do that to her.

Left-handed – tried for years to be ambidextrous to no avail. Her handwriting with her right hand is chicken scratch, but so is her handwriting with her left hand… it’s honestly a little hard to tell which is which.

For my very messy and very chaotic moodboard of Lilac, I chose several images of thunderstorms. I specifically chose one that had a city in it to represent the blackout she accidentally started that one time. A storm with lightning striking the ground, followed by the thunder crashing and making it shake and rattle. The possibility of a blackout seeming imminent.

The other two thunderstorms seemed to be calmer, softer thunderstorms in a way. Not as violent. That soft rumbling thunder, with lightning rolling across the sky in an almost gentle fashion, rain gently hitting a window in a lulling rhythm. The kind of storm that you could fall asleep to.
The first thunderstorm image, the one with a city, represents Lilac’s lack of control. The others represent her as she slowly gains more and more control over her ability.

The two color swatches, orchid and electric blue, are two colors that I associate with Lilac. Because, even if her name is well, Lilac, the purple color in her hair is actually orchid. Orchid just fit her color palette better, even if it didn’t quite fit her namesake. Electric blue, meanwhile, is pretty close to the color of her eyes. I also think it’s rather fitting due to her ability to control electricity.

The picture with the butterfly hairclip front and center is sort of what I imagine the hairclip that Lilac wears! The girl in the picture is also wearing a similar hairstyle to Lilac, even if it’s not the right color hair. It just seemed so fitting that I had to add it in.

Another image that I just couldn’t pass up was the (maybe) aesthetic picture of the coffee cup and breakfast (or dessert, I couldn’t tell. Either way it still works!) on a table. It felt very coffee shop-y to me, as well as very Lilac-y. Lilac can make very good latte art, and the cutesy heart in the coffee just felt like something she’d make.

While she doesn’t normally do latte art in her own coffee (too much effort and work, she just needs the energy right now, man) when ever she makes it but… if she does need the motivation or the joy of looking at something she created, she’ll do it. Sometimes it’s just nice to enjoy something that you made yourself, you know?

And finally the image of the lilac flower was something that I couldn’t not add. Its quite literally her namesake, and I will always associate purple lilacs with her. The symbolism of them doesn’t quite match (there are other flowers that fit her much, much better) but it’s just too perfect for her. The picture was just so pretty, I couldn’t pass it up.

Celeste’s eyes were narrowed in concentration as she dipped the brush into the nail polish. Carefully, slowly, she pulled it out of the bottle and dragged it across her nail. Her tongue poked out of her mouth from her concentration and then…

“… there,” Celeste said, a smile breaking out on her face as she finished painting the last nail with a flourish. Bright pink with red and white hearts gently and lovingly painted on stared back at her. Not her best work, some of the hearts were a little lopsided, and if you squinted you could see that one of the hearts was a little smudged. But she was still proud of her work!

Carefully, she stood, walking over to the mirror to take a look at herself. Her waves hair was up, like always, though the waves were a little less wavy than usual today. Probably from the poor weather that they’d been having recently. Maybe from the fact that she hadn’t curled her hair in a day or two…
Ah, well, she thought with the slightest shrug. She could curl it later, after her nails dried. She twirled around, a smile growing on her face again.

Before it was quickly wiped off when the small pile of textbooks and binders on her desk caught her eye. The pile wasn’t huge – not as big as it had been during midterms – but it wasn’t just a book or two, either. Reminders of not yet started essays and yet to be read sections of textbooks flashed through her mind.

Right, she winced slightly. She still had work to do. It wasn’t a lot, thankfully. Just an hour. Or two. Maybe three if she let herself goof off and check on her phone constantly… yeah… it’d probably end up being two and a half hours of schoolwork before she was done…

Her wince shifted into a grimace, and she glanced at herself in the mirror. Homework… and with still drying nails? She shook her head, forcibly grinning at herself. “No, thank you!” she said.

Homework could wait, she thought, turning away from her small pile of textbooks. She continued to ignore it, even as it stared accusingly at her in the mirror. She’d get it done later, after her nails were done of course.

And maybe after she finished checking up on all her friends via text. And picking out an outfit for the day. And maybe after getting a coffee?

“Ooh,” she said aloud, smiling to herself. “Coffee and homework sounds great. Yes, yes. I’m not procrastinating,” she told herself, nodding as she sat back down. “Just waiting for the perfect opportunity. My homework’s not going anywhere, and neither is my coffee.”

She waved her hands up and down, trying to make her nails dry just that tiny bit faster. But not too fast, of course. Her homework could always wait that teeny bit longer… especially since the due date wasn’t until Saturday. It was only Tuesday, after all. She had basically all week to work on it!

With finally dried nails, a noticeably larger pile of homework than before stuffed into a backpack, and two days closer to the due date, Celeste entered the coffee shop. A bell cheerfully chimed as she opened the door, shaking back and forth.

The coffee shop was warm and cozy looking, with wooden tables placed closely together, but not so close together it was claustrophobic. A few booths lined the walls, and several stools lined the counter. But there was a clear path to the counter, regardless, and even if every seat and table was filled, she didn’t think it would feel suffocating.

The girl behind the counter perked up, a customer service smile falling into place. “Hi, welcome to Cozy Corner Café, how can I help you today?” she asked, quickly brushing ash blonde and purple hair over her shoulder.

Celeste smiled in return, walking up to the counter. “Hi, yes, could I get an iced caramel macchiato, please?”

“Uh, sure thing,” the cashier glanced over Celeste’s shoulders. “That’ll be five dollars. And, uh, you can wait right here. Since nobody else is waiting, right now.”

“Alright,” she chirped, fishing a five dollar bill out of her pocket and sliding it across the counter. “Could I sit at the counter?”

The cashier had already turned around to face the coffee machine. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great!” she responded, already hopping onto a stool and gently placing her backpack onto the seat next to it. She pulled her computer out of the bag, placing it on the counter. By the time she finally opened an empty doc to start writing one of two essays, the cashier placed the drink by her computer.

“Here you go,” she said, smiling lightly.

“Thank you,” Celeste said, grabbing the drink and taking a sip from it. “Thank you, I really needed this.”

“Schoolwork, huh?” she asked, tilting her head as she leaned against the counter.

“Yeah,” she mumbled distractedly, and then glanced back up at the cashier, gaze momentarily lingering the nametag which read: Lilac. “How’d you guess?” she asked, smiling lightly.

“Your backpack is overflowing, and you seem a bit… frazzled,” she shrugged, gesturing a little to her own face. “Just a lucky guess. We get a lot of customers in a day. You learn the signs, eventually.”

“You’ve been doing this for a while, huh?” Celeste asked, slowly typing up the title of her essay. One step of many, she guessed. One step was better than nothing. Somewhere, she sort of wished that she could finish this essay faster, because then she could hang out with Mei and everyone else.

But this Lilac girl seemed interesting enough, so maybe that was the price to pay. Her eyes were focused on her computer’s screen but out of the corner of her eye, she saw her nod a few times. “Yeah, long enough,” a vague answer, and her previously cheerful demeanor faded a little.

Celeste glanced back up, feeling a frown tug at her lips. Weird…

So, she forced a smile back on her face. She couldn’t have her (potentially) new friend (maybe) upset right now. “On the topic of schoolwork, what about you? What do you think about essays?”

“Oh, I hate them,” Lilac said, and the cheerfulness returned, albeit hidden beneath mock annoyance. “They’re the worst. They were always my least favorite part of school. That and reading. Math was okay, I guess. What—”

Ding!

Another customer opened the door. A business man, clearly in his late thirties, started walking to the counter.

“Ah, one sec,” Lilac said, an apologetic note in her voice as she moved back over to the cash register.

“You’re good,” Celeste mumbled, glancing back down at her essay. Slowly, begrudgingly, she started to add to her essay. Might as well, now that she didn’t have anyone to talk to. At least for the time being, anyways.

A few minutes later, Lilac returned. “Sorry. Had to go get that,” she shrugged slightly, a small smile on her face.
“You’re good!” Celeste reassured, giving her a bright smile. “I totally understand.”

“Right, uh, thanks,” she said, smile growing before immediately fading. “Right. Uh. I didn’t… I didn’t catch your name. Uh. I’m Lilac,” she introduced awkwardly.

“Nice to meet you, even if I already figured out your name,” Celeste said, a cheeky grin on her face.

Lilac frowned, a blank look of confusion on her face. Until Celeste tapped herself where a nametag would be if she was wearing one of her own. “Oh,” Lilac mumbled. “Right.” She looked embarrassed.

“But my name’s Celeste!” she introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lilac responded.

i really feel like i didn't do celeste justice… i tried my best though! but i do think that lilac and celeste (and consequently, mei) would all be buddies

Word Wars Eight : CYBERPUNK VS ADVENTURE

technj2009 wrote:

❦ “Captured Tears” ·˚ ༘ ~ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɴᴇʟʟᴇ

Feeling emotions inside me
Much too much to weigh
I am captured by anxiety

My voice screeches a plea
I will never obey
Feeling emotions inside me

Thought I broke free
Hope for someday, but
I am captured by anxiety

Thrown to a different reality
Vanished, I can’t say —
Feeling emotions inside me

Locked with no key
Forced to convey
I am captured by anxiety

You were a fake family
Maybe I want to be away
Feeling emotions inside me
I am captured by anxiety

❦ “Unreal Reality” ·˚ ༘ ~ ɴᴏ ʀʜʏᴍᴇ ꜱᴄʜᴇᴍᴇ

You finally got to me
Victim after victim
It ripped my heart, punched my guts
But I cannot show it

I cannot speak
No words will ever convey
This feeling, yet no feeling
Left numb after the pain

You chained me down
Will I ever break free
But I have a reputation to keep
I’ve lost my personality

Do minds heal from wounds
Do hearts heal from wounds
My soul inside me
Yet ever so fleeting

The outside impression
No signs of what lies within
The most perfect are the most broken

***The next poem is ekphrastic, so please view my Writing Folder for the picture in order to better understand it!***
❦ “A Caged Sphere” ·˚ ༘ ~ ᴇᴋᴘʜʀᴀꜱᴛɪᴄ

A blank space
Life of restriction
Such empty embrace
Left blinded in her face
Lies, it is all fiction

Hope for one day
But peace is assumed
Said I will meet you halfway —
Led astray, left her world gray
Though the quiet consumes

Outcasted, forgotten inside
Go home, go rot
Lost persistence and denied
Cried until she died
Through words and actions, she was shot

One step closer
So close, yet so far
No one could save her
Now all out, just another exposer
She rests among the stars

❦ “Realm of Fear” ·˚ ༘ ~ ᴄᴏɴꜱɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴇᴛᴇʀ

In truth, I lied to keep me safe
Lost the sense of inner goodness
That raging stare, it shoots me down
Feeling stuck on nightly screaming

The world can see your heart of stone
Forced to run from outer feelings
The fire burns within my rage
Thoughts go sailing over quarrels

We’re far from perfect, tried to hide
Many nights that trapped my sorrow
The pain it brought had harsh control
Left to faint in hopeless places

Word Wars Nine : CYBERPUNK VS ADVENTURE

Word Wars Ten : CYBERPUNK VS PARANORMAL

User: @babyoda1546
Nickname: Sage
Cabin: Baddieventure
WPM: 35-50 (way faster without a test)

VS

User: @VioAquaCat
Nickname: Vi
Cabin: Cyberats
WPM: 45-55

Info:
Prompt: “In the presence of ghosts, there was only one thing to do.”
Time Limit: Five Minutes

“I’m not mad. Why would you say that? The voices say I’m perfectly fine!” I say to the lady in the white coat that is holding a clipboard and writing everything that I’m saying. I don’t know what her problem is because I’m actually perfectly fine! She clears her throat and gets ready to ask yet another question.

“Do you mind telling me what happened one more time?” She sighs and clicks her pen twice. Off and on. Click clock click clock. Just like the clock on the wall that ticks and clicks louder each minute. There’s nothing wrong with me! Why am I still here?

“Miss Silas? You say you saw ghosts?” the doctor asks again, impatiently.

“Yes, yes. Okay” I respond and then begin to recount my story

…

It’s a nice day today. The October sunshine smiling down on me mixed with the cool breeze makes for a nice walk in the woods. I keep walking and walking until eventually, before I know it, the sun starts its descent. I look around and I don’t notice the trees around me. The path has disappeared too. I frantically pull out my phone just to find out that it’s not working. No cell service. I’m doomed! Surely I’m done for. I’ve lost the path and… and.. Is that singing? And smoke? People!

I start towards the smoke, praying that people will be there like the singing implies. Hoping desperately that they can help me-

Weekly One - Characters!

Part one: Character Sheet​

​​Part Two: Mood Board​

Part Three: The Swap

​​Part Four: Meeting​