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Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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Winsol has always been Jaenelle's favorite time of year and while she does not always spend as much time in the hotel as some, she usually tries to get back in time to celebrate part of the holiday with those she's come to be friends with here. It's a strange little place, a go-between not unlike Ebon Askavi or other places in her own world but strangely, none of her friends from home have ever been able to come through.

She guesses this is one of those things that are hers and hers alone. It wouldn't be the first and Jaenelle would be shocked if it were the last. To be what she is means to be singular and alone for the entirety of her life, for the good of others instead of herself. None of that mattered during Winsol, though, and Jaenelle intends to enjoy it.

Another holiday coincides with it here in the hotel, something called Christmas, and it seems to be a younger and tamer festival than she's used to. Still, some of the trappings are the same and unlike last year, Jaenelle has gotten a handle on the delicate touch needed to make the fairy lights twinkle and the boughs appear to drop snow of their own accord.

She's currently bewitching mistletoe to hop from door to door simply because it amuses her to see people try and avoid it but she can't quite get the spell right. It isn't exploding, which is progress, but it's hardly doing what she wants it to.

"Come on," she cajoles. "Please work?"
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In the dark, Erik ran, the sounds of skittering and and an eerie humming echoing, ambient, in the air around him. They didn't wear metal, any of them, except the ones who carried knives— but they didn't need knives to hurt, to kill. He'd seen that firsthand.

He rounded a corner into a long gallery space, one entire wall made of glass, an arresting view of the city's grandeur and the vastness of the ocean that surrounded it. Even after weeks of this, living in the half-light of flares and sputtering neon, it still caught at him— he was under water, miles from the sun or a breath of fresh air. Like the vastness of space outside his window on the Proserpina, the ocean was endless, and he was stuck in this tomb of a city trying like hell to find his way out. Looking out over the city with fish swimming like flocks of birds between the skyscrapers, Erik spared a thought to wish he could have visited it in its heyday.

Those seconds of distraction cost him. A splicer dropped in front of him, startling a shout from him as he reeled back, jerking himself out of reach as it swiped at him with something— not metal, glass perhaps?— he felt the pull on his upper arm, then the burn as the pain set in. Almost too fast to track, another one skittered out from the shadows, and Erik could hear the hyena laugh that signaled another wasn't far off. Fuck. Where was the goddamned door, anyway? He'd been working for an eternity to make his way back here, and he was so close—

"Find a better hiding place, monster," the one in front of him hissed, its teeth bared in an insane grin, and Erik didn't waste another second before lashing out. A cloud of slender blades hovered by his left shoulder like a wizard's familiar; his left hand shot out and the blades flew, zipping through the air like hornets to pierce the splicer's flesh, burrowing in and through and out, only to twist midair and come back for more.

Ignoring the screams, Erik gestured with his other hand to the hulking splicer advancing on him from the right. Lightning arced from his palm, tracing a parabola between him and his attacker, the purple light illuminating his own fierce satisfaction at the sight of the splicer writhing in agony. The swarm of blades finished their bloody work just in time for Erik to turn, wild-eyed, as the third splicer dropped to the ground behind him. His pulse was racing, the taste of ozone in his mouth, and he threw both his hands out in front of him, metal and electricity flying free.

Three splicers lay dead at his feet. His arm throbbing, blood seeping through his sweater, Erik reoriented himself and headed toward the bathysphere station. The door wasn't far— he'd be home before he knew it... as long as there were no more nasty surprises.

[Find him in Rapture during or after the splicers attack, or once he's come back through the door. He's singed and filthy and bleeding from a long cut on his left bicep. He's injected himself with the Electro Bolt plasmid, which gives him the ability to electrically charge or shock things at will. For those who see him regularly, he's been stuck in Rapture for over a month.]
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The annual Nexus New Year's Eve gala began at 8 in the evening. Too grand to be contained by the lobby or dining hall, the gardens at the front of the hotel were employed, with long strings of white lights forming a twinkling canopy from the front doors all the way to the hedge maze. The weather was temperate and calm, and the night perfectly clear.

Drinks were served at various bars set up throughout the gardens and lobby, with champagne cocktails being the specialty of the night. Wheeling through the crowd was a bartender with golden cart providing warm drinks on the go: Tom and Jerrys, rum punch, negus, and Irish coffee.

Crisply-dressed wait staff wove through the collected guests with an abundance of hors d'oeuvres for all different tastes. The Bistro remained open with a limited selection of items for those who were wanting something more substantial.

Above the front doors was hung a large, gold-rimmed clock counting down the last hours, minutes, and seconds of the current year.


Dec. 21st, 2014 03:47 pm
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Winsol is always celebrated on the darkest days of the year and there's no darker day than that of the Winter Solstice - this day is shorter than any other and the night is long and cold. Winsol is a celebration of Blood and magic and all of the powers of Witch. It seems strange to be in a place that doesn't celebrate it exactly as Jaenelle is used to.

Oh, there is a holiday. There's a holiday called Christmas and the decorations are oddly similar to Winsol ones. There's the exchanging of presents and the trimming of trees and drinking of good spirits and sharing of good food. It's not her Winsol, no, but Jaenelle is pleased enough to celebrate the holiday of this new place in her life. Just because something has a different name doesn't mean it's inherently different; she'd learned that for herself when dealing with Kaeleer.

So today, she's out in the gardens hoping to practice a little magic. She'd always tried to decorate the Winsol trees with magic back at the Keep and SaDiablo Hall and she's...for lack of a better term...terrible. Every time she thinks she's got the right balance, the right little delicate turn of magic, everything simply explodes.

Explosions are common in her life.

She's just about got a set of fairy lights twinkling on one of the hedges when a sound breaks her concentration and the whole thing poofs up in a flame and black smoke. "Stay back!" she shouts, casting a shield over it so the fire can smother out. She'll have to heal the hedges, too, but first she needs to do damage control.

"You'd think I would be better at this, after all these years, but I'm not."

Sep. 14th, 2014 01:58 pm
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August 3rd, 2014 | Regency Door

Jaenelle and Faith deal with their special abilities in a society that doesn't appreciate them.

In Progess | All Ages

Aug. 2nd, 2014 10:34 am
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Jaenelle has been fighting for days. The safframate coursing through her veins can only be worked out through sex or bloodletting and she's fairly certain she would much rather hunt a tiger with her bare hands than let any man within six feet of her. It's fading now, leaving behind a bone-deep malaise that leaves her so tired that all she wants is good food and sleep. She doesn't feel like she's being rubbed raw any more and she feels almost human enough to venture back into her cabin.

Jaenelle pulls open the door, a smile touching her lips as she thinks about all the delicious things she's going to make Lucivar cook for her (she'd tried cooking once and blew up the entire kitchen at SaDiablo Hall. She's been banned since then) but when she steps through the door and opens her eyes, it isn't her cabin that she sees. Oh no.

Jaenelle had done this as a child. Without an understanding of basic Craft and a reservoir of power too deep to be controlled, she'd often disappeared and reappeared somewhere else without much thought. After she'd gotten a little older, Jaenelle had learned how to deliberately go somewhere but this seems like a hearkening back to her younger days. It appears to be an inn of some sort, with people milling around, and Jaenelle is suddenly aware that her clothes are torn and her palms are bloodstained. She self-consciously brushes a hand over her hair, hoping to tame it a little, and tries to force herself to be a little more human and polite than she particularly wants to be at the moment.

Like as not, this inn is still in some part of Kaeleer. As a child, she'd been asked not to travel around Terreille and she'd kept to that. This place seems too warm to be Hell so it must still be Kaeleer, which means she's only a thought away from home if she needs to get away. She doesn't think that is going to be an issue; the staff here seem warm and friendly even if they are landen and don't wear jewels. She senses some power here, great power, but it isn't anything like the power she's used to.

"Maybe there's other ways of doing magic than using jewels," Jaenelle says, half to herself. If that's the case, she can't wait to tell the Coven about this place and help probe the mysteries of it with them. She thinks that would be an excellent way to spend a day or two. She strides up to the desk clerk, announces herself, and walks away with a key and a room assignment.

"Now, it's time to eat," she says, descending upon the buffet with great gusto. It's been days since she's had a real meal and there is going to be nothing standing in the way of her and breakfast right now.

[Find Jaenelle at the desk or eating at the buffet.]


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