https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/ Tue, 20 Oct 2026 09:33:36 +0000 MyBB https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=894 Mon, 22 Jan 2024 09:28:06 +0000 Linden Arcangeli]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=894

It has been five years since the accident and Linden swore that every time he came to the hospital it just kept getting worse. This growth spurt of his sucked ass at 18 and now here he was face down on a bed after a few days post surgery. He swore that with every scar revision and tissue expansion made him wish he just died instead. Sure, that may seem harsh to his 13 year old self back then but it was the truth.

Hell, just knowing that for the next five years or more included more of this made him just want to say "fuck it" but knew better. While the scars will always be there, he needed to be able to move and function. Physical therapy was going to be a bitch too and once he stops growing then grafting can happen next. Though the Doctor's told him that the sensitivity that affects him won't go away but he can aid in it if he saw a massage therapist.

"Such a fucking torture session," he griped and sighed.Lying prone sucked and right now he would kill for another pillow under his midsection. Deciding that it was time for a change of scenery, Linden turned his head to face the other bed that was next to him. The room was plane and white, devoid of any personality, and felt more like a prison than a place to be taken care of. Oh, and let's not discuss the medicinal smell mixed with other odors he didn't want to know.

However, what made his stay bearable these past few days was because of the person he shared the room with. It was obvious that they weren't close but Linden was the type to have a friend everywhere he went. "Psst, Damon," their name being easy to remember after the nurse told him that he was being transferred into their room. Hoping that his bubbly personality will make both of their stays better. "How are you holding up? My offer still stands and I will take you on thumb war."

Linden extended his hand out and realized that they were no way close enough for this anyways and tried to find the call button. "And seriously, we should have our beds just a little closer together you know? What if we wanted to do board games or puzzles? Have you eaten yet? If you did, do you know what they are serving?"

Perhaps he was annoying the other guy, but Linden hasn't gotten whacked or told to shut up yet. Besides, as long as he was mindful of the situation the other was in then he was sure things would be okay. Well, more like having manners and not asking someone what they were in for unless their body language seemed receptive.

Tag Damon Argyris

]]>

It has been five years since the accident and Linden swore that every time he came to the hospital it just kept getting worse. This growth spurt of his sucked ass at 18 and now here he was face down on a bed after a few days post surgery. He swore that with every scar revision and tissue expansion made him wish he just died instead. Sure, that may seem harsh to his 13 year old self back then but it was the truth.

Hell, just knowing that for the next five years or more included more of this made him just want to say "fuck it" but knew better. While the scars will always be there, he needed to be able to move and function. Physical therapy was going to be a bitch too and once he stops growing then grafting can happen next. Though the Doctor's told him that the sensitivity that affects him won't go away but he can aid in it if he saw a massage therapist.

"Such a fucking torture session," he griped and sighed.Lying prone sucked and right now he would kill for another pillow under his midsection. Deciding that it was time for a change of scenery, Linden turned his head to face the other bed that was next to him. The room was plane and white, devoid of any personality, and felt more like a prison than a place to be taken care of. Oh, and let's not discuss the medicinal smell mixed with other odors he didn't want to know.

However, what made his stay bearable these past few days was because of the person he shared the room with. It was obvious that they weren't close but Linden was the type to have a friend everywhere he went. "Psst, Damon," their name being easy to remember after the nurse told him that he was being transferred into their room. Hoping that his bubbly personality will make both of their stays better. "How are you holding up? My offer still stands and I will take you on thumb war."

Linden extended his hand out and realized that they were no way close enough for this anyways and tried to find the call button. "And seriously, we should have our beds just a little closer together you know? What if we wanted to do board games or puzzles? Have you eaten yet? If you did, do you know what they are serving?"

Perhaps he was annoying the other guy, but Linden hasn't gotten whacked or told to shut up yet. Besides, as long as he was mindful of the situation the other was in then he was sure things would be okay. Well, more like having manners and not asking someone what they were in for unless their body language seemed receptive.

Tag Damon Argyris

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=744 Thu, 07 Oct 2021 21:02:10 +0000 Ares Wheeler]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=744

Date: October 7, 1955
Despite the jaunty tune the quartet played in one of the corners of the expansive space (though somehow intimate in its arrangement) Ares could not still the beating of his heart. He was surprised when he held his water, the entirety of the drink did not spill out, for his hand shook like an old man's. With his nerves, he felt out of place in the relaxed, bubbly atmosphere of the social club.

It all started in a dingy room clung with cigar smoke and despair. He had stood, back pin-straight, head full of hope and expectation, as the overweight and tired looking detective pushed a manila folder towards him from across the oak desk that he sat.

The man had laughed, causing a puff of gray smoke to billow from his pipe, when Ares flipped open the folder and examined the casefile carefully. "Good luck," the man snorted, each exhale of air filled with that awful smelling smoke. "I don't know why they keep assignin' the rookies to this case." When Ares turned his back and pushed past the blinded door, he had thought he heard the man mutter, "Another good kid, gone."

The brick-stoned city was plagued with a criminal problem. There were the typical cat burglars, robberies, even murders, sure. But crawling beneath the asphalt ran a criminal underworld so large and twisted that it was impossible to stop. When one head was cut off, two grew back in its place. Ares' family was famous for pledging to rid the city of this underworld, particularly, the mafia's hold over it. If the operation were the veins, the blood stream, the mafia was the heart, pumping resources and life into it. Ares' father had just retired and Ares, fresh out of the police academy, was determined to dig his nails in and continue on his legacy.

To his surprise, his career had started at the top- to one of the high profile mafia bosses that supposedly controlled a large part of the city. From the intel gathered before, it appeared that the man, one "Etienne Blanchard", perused a club called "Solstice". So lead him here, to the social club, really a floor of tables and sofas before a large stage in the front and a smaller stage in the corner where the band currently played.

Ares sat at one of these tables. He was dressed in a smart looking solid tan blazer, a brown fedora perched on bed of curly, tawny hair. He had not the time to grease it that morning, so he hoped the fedora covered up any offending fly aways. The minutes crawled by and after a half an hour of keeping his eyes sharp over the daily tabloid, he allowed himself a reprieve. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, a lighter from inside his blazer, and flicked on the light. The tip of his spliff flashed like dying embers.

Tag : Étienne Blanchard

]]>

Date: October 7, 1955
Despite the jaunty tune the quartet played in one of the corners of the expansive space (though somehow intimate in its arrangement) Ares could not still the beating of his heart. He was surprised when he held his water, the entirety of the drink did not spill out, for his hand shook like an old man's. With his nerves, he felt out of place in the relaxed, bubbly atmosphere of the social club.

It all started in a dingy room clung with cigar smoke and despair. He had stood, back pin-straight, head full of hope and expectation, as the overweight and tired looking detective pushed a manila folder towards him from across the oak desk that he sat.

The man had laughed, causing a puff of gray smoke to billow from his pipe, when Ares flipped open the folder and examined the casefile carefully. "Good luck," the man snorted, each exhale of air filled with that awful smelling smoke. "I don't know why they keep assignin' the rookies to this case." When Ares turned his back and pushed past the blinded door, he had thought he heard the man mutter, "Another good kid, gone."

The brick-stoned city was plagued with a criminal problem. There were the typical cat burglars, robberies, even murders, sure. But crawling beneath the asphalt ran a criminal underworld so large and twisted that it was impossible to stop. When one head was cut off, two grew back in its place. Ares' family was famous for pledging to rid the city of this underworld, particularly, the mafia's hold over it. If the operation were the veins, the blood stream, the mafia was the heart, pumping resources and life into it. Ares' father had just retired and Ares, fresh out of the police academy, was determined to dig his nails in and continue on his legacy.

To his surprise, his career had started at the top- to one of the high profile mafia bosses that supposedly controlled a large part of the city. From the intel gathered before, it appeared that the man, one "Etienne Blanchard", perused a club called "Solstice". So lead him here, to the social club, really a floor of tables and sofas before a large stage in the front and a smaller stage in the corner where the band currently played.

Ares sat at one of these tables. He was dressed in a smart looking solid tan blazer, a brown fedora perched on bed of curly, tawny hair. He had not the time to grease it that morning, so he hoped the fedora covered up any offending fly aways. The minutes crawled by and after a half an hour of keeping his eyes sharp over the daily tabloid, he allowed himself a reprieve. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, a lighter from inside his blazer, and flicked on the light. The tip of his spliff flashed like dying embers.

Tag : Étienne Blanchard

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=737 Mon, 04 Oct 2021 23:40:39 +0000 Étienne Blanchard]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=737

It's already the fourth night in a row that Étienne's been at the police station working through the night — a fourth month in a row that he's found himself doing so. As a captain of the precinct, normally he wouldn't find himself doing much overtime. That was usually reserved for officers of much lower rank, or the night shift to finish off. But the case that Étienne was currently working on was personal, and he wasn't about to let just anybody onto the case. No, he wanted to solve this one himself.

Ares Wheeler. Professional thief, professional thorn in Étienne's side.

Even though the young man was already known to the police department, he seemed to be nothing more than a phantom in the night. Someone that pops up in the oddest of places, leaving only a taunting clue in his escape to drive them absolutely insane. But no one's actually seen him; no witnesses means it's even harder to try and locate the thief. All they had was a taunting note that had given them his name, as if he wanted them to know exactly who he was. Well, that wasn't all that surprising. Criminals often left a calling card because their egos wanted them to become infamous. Étienne wasn't about to let that happen.

He'd been working the case personally for the last few months, but who knows really how long this Ares Wheeler had actually been up to these tricks. Another city, another country perhaps? Well, it didn't matter to the French man. This thief was on his turf now, and he wasn't about to lose face over some jokester thief thinking he could get away with all this and then disappear. This time, it was personal.

Étienne lets out a sigh as he puts down the piece of paper he'd been wracking his brain over for a solid hour now. A case study of how things had been progressing thus far. Squeezing the bridge of his nose for a couple seconds, the captain looks back down at the various different photographs scattered across his desk. All pictures taken of the crime scene, with incriminating notes and riddles left behind by the trickster thief. Some were written on notes, others were spelled out in jewels or whatever it was the man had decided to steal that day. All Étienne wanted was for the man to slip up one time, and then he was sure he had him. But somehow so far, the thief had been very careful not to leave any more evidence other than his taunts.

A buzz is heard, and Étienne's tired eyes look over at his phone. The screen's lit up, revealing that he had a new text. The man grabs his phone and brings it closer to him, but he frowns immediately when he sees that the text is from an unknown number. The man hesitates for a moment before he unlocks his phone to take a look at the message.

Tag Ares Wheeler

]]>

It's already the fourth night in a row that Étienne's been at the police station working through the night — a fourth month in a row that he's found himself doing so. As a captain of the precinct, normally he wouldn't find himself doing much overtime. That was usually reserved for officers of much lower rank, or the night shift to finish off. But the case that Étienne was currently working on was personal, and he wasn't about to let just anybody onto the case. No, he wanted to solve this one himself.

Ares Wheeler. Professional thief, professional thorn in Étienne's side.

Even though the young man was already known to the police department, he seemed to be nothing more than a phantom in the night. Someone that pops up in the oddest of places, leaving only a taunting clue in his escape to drive them absolutely insane. But no one's actually seen him; no witnesses means it's even harder to try and locate the thief. All they had was a taunting note that had given them his name, as if he wanted them to know exactly who he was. Well, that wasn't all that surprising. Criminals often left a calling card because their egos wanted them to become infamous. Étienne wasn't about to let that happen.

He'd been working the case personally for the last few months, but who knows really how long this Ares Wheeler had actually been up to these tricks. Another city, another country perhaps? Well, it didn't matter to the French man. This thief was on his turf now, and he wasn't about to lose face over some jokester thief thinking he could get away with all this and then disappear. This time, it was personal.

Étienne lets out a sigh as he puts down the piece of paper he'd been wracking his brain over for a solid hour now. A case study of how things had been progressing thus far. Squeezing the bridge of his nose for a couple seconds, the captain looks back down at the various different photographs scattered across his desk. All pictures taken of the crime scene, with incriminating notes and riddles left behind by the trickster thief. Some were written on notes, others were spelled out in jewels or whatever it was the man had decided to steal that day. All Étienne wanted was for the man to slip up one time, and then he was sure he had him. But somehow so far, the thief had been very careful not to leave any more evidence other than his taunts.

A buzz is heard, and Étienne's tired eyes look over at his phone. The screen's lit up, revealing that he had a new text. The man grabs his phone and brings it closer to him, but he frowns immediately when he sees that the text is from an unknown number. The man hesitates for a moment before he unlocks his phone to take a look at the message.

Tag Ares Wheeler

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=587 Sun, 15 Aug 2021 16:38:18 +0000 Isabella Geoff]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=587

[TW: Trauma && Talks of abuse]

A week had passed since Bella's rescue, and only one day since she returned home from the hospital. While she was still in poor health, she was finally well enough to return to more familiar surroundings. Her arms were bruised and scraped, her neck was wrapped to protect the open wounds, and she wasn't her usual bubbly self. Something much darker was taking over her. Hallucinations plagued her since her rescue, with the voices of her captors echoing inside her head for hours at a time. She couldn't seem to come back to reality as her mind kept screaming she was in danger even when she wasn't. In fact, even a slight touch became painful to her. She was a walking disaster who posed a danger to herself and those around her.

The woman spent most of her hospital stay sedated for attacking a nurse who attempted to start her IV. The nurse sustained an eye injury as well as a bite to the shoulder but fortunately would make a full recovery. In such a great deal of relief, she was happy to finally return home after being away for so long. The haze she had been in was finally lifting from her, a sense of normalcy returning to her demeanor though she was not the same person she had been.

In an attempt to find food, she wandered from her room for the first time, struggling to stay upright as she did so. She was so thankful for the silence, positive that she had been left alone to her own devices. She didn't want to explain herself to her parents; her reasoning for going to the slums was too complicated for them to understand. She had endangered the lives of many people, but when it came down to it, she just wished they had left her to die. As a result, she had to live with the scars left behind by her stupid mistake, and her mind had become so damaged she wasn't certain things could ever be normal again.

As she entered the kitchen, her eyes immediately went to the front door. Staring at it as if she were ready to make another break for it, to go back to the slums...maybe she would find Ettie there this time. Half-dressed, half-dead, she looked like a mess, but that wouldn't stop her from going to the door and opening it. Walking out into the hallway, her eyes fixed on the elevator at the end of the hallway, she wanted to run towards it but her feet refused to move. "It shouldn't be this hard..."

Tag Alexander Geoff

Bella would be nineteen in this thread

]]>

[TW: Trauma && Talks of abuse]

A week had passed since Bella's rescue, and only one day since she returned home from the hospital. While she was still in poor health, she was finally well enough to return to more familiar surroundings. Her arms were bruised and scraped, her neck was wrapped to protect the open wounds, and she wasn't her usual bubbly self. Something much darker was taking over her. Hallucinations plagued her since her rescue, with the voices of her captors echoing inside her head for hours at a time. She couldn't seem to come back to reality as her mind kept screaming she was in danger even when she wasn't. In fact, even a slight touch became painful to her. She was a walking disaster who posed a danger to herself and those around her.

The woman spent most of her hospital stay sedated for attacking a nurse who attempted to start her IV. The nurse sustained an eye injury as well as a bite to the shoulder but fortunately would make a full recovery. In such a great deal of relief, she was happy to finally return home after being away for so long. The haze she had been in was finally lifting from her, a sense of normalcy returning to her demeanor though she was not the same person she had been.

In an attempt to find food, she wandered from her room for the first time, struggling to stay upright as she did so. She was so thankful for the silence, positive that she had been left alone to her own devices. She didn't want to explain herself to her parents; her reasoning for going to the slums was too complicated for them to understand. She had endangered the lives of many people, but when it came down to it, she just wished they had left her to die. As a result, she had to live with the scars left behind by her stupid mistake, and her mind had become so damaged she wasn't certain things could ever be normal again.

As she entered the kitchen, her eyes immediately went to the front door. Staring at it as if she were ready to make another break for it, to go back to the slums...maybe she would find Ettie there this time. Half-dressed, half-dead, she looked like a mess, but that wouldn't stop her from going to the door and opening it. Walking out into the hallway, her eyes fixed on the elevator at the end of the hallway, she wanted to run towards it but her feet refused to move. "It shouldn't be this hard..."

Tag Alexander Geoff

Bella would be nineteen in this thread

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=550 Thu, 05 Aug 2021 16:52:26 +0000 Atlas]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=550

Leaning against the ornate golden railing of the balcony that overlooked the ground floor of the casino, one would see the usual goers of a charity banquet. Proper, crisp and clean-cut individuals floated about various tables overstocked with towering silver fountains that spewed waterfalls of chocolate and cheese and plates intricately set with finely sliced meats and plump fruits. Many food items still remained uneaten halfway through the service, and it was growing clear that their presence was more for show than sustenance. The fact that it was called a "charity" banquet was laughable- in reality, this was another arena where the wealthy and powerful could flaunt their wealth and power.

So Atlas thought. He was another figure in the crowd, a nameless face amongst Citadel titans. In his usual form, he often went shirtless, but tonight he was dressed immaculately in a fine navy blue suit that reflected a twilight sky. Long, straight white hair was tucked in a neat bun, held together by two neatly placed hair sticks. He laughed, schmoozed and feigned interest at the banquet goers, wearing the name "Cornelius Butch" and fabricating some story as an intrepid no man's land adventurer who grew successful off of his finds.

He couldn't give even a sliver of his interest to who's daughter was wedding who's son, and which aristocrat was so far up the Military's ass they couldn't see out of their two own eyes. He was here for one person- the elusive Ace of the Diamonds, a woman that, thanks to his informants, was known as "Isabella".

She appeared, radiant and coddled in the finest materials the Stronghold could offer. Many vied for her attention, but there was one moment where she appeared alone, perhaps to excuse herself as she picked at the food items. Atlas placed his undrunk champagne flute on a passing silver tray that balanced on the tips of a waiter's fingers and sauntered up to her. His step was sure, slow and steady with the confidence of a man thriving in an apocalypse.

"Excuse me, ma'am" he spoke, his South African accent gone. He held out his hand, pale skin catching the almost aureate light of the chandeliers above. Something sparkled in the the palm of it. "But is this yours?"

Upon further inspection, it was an earring that winked at every shift of shadow and light.

Tag : Isabella Geoff

]]>

Leaning against the ornate golden railing of the balcony that overlooked the ground floor of the casino, one would see the usual goers of a charity banquet. Proper, crisp and clean-cut individuals floated about various tables overstocked with towering silver fountains that spewed waterfalls of chocolate and cheese and plates intricately set with finely sliced meats and plump fruits. Many food items still remained uneaten halfway through the service, and it was growing clear that their presence was more for show than sustenance. The fact that it was called a "charity" banquet was laughable- in reality, this was another arena where the wealthy and powerful could flaunt their wealth and power.

So Atlas thought. He was another figure in the crowd, a nameless face amongst Citadel titans. In his usual form, he often went shirtless, but tonight he was dressed immaculately in a fine navy blue suit that reflected a twilight sky. Long, straight white hair was tucked in a neat bun, held together by two neatly placed hair sticks. He laughed, schmoozed and feigned interest at the banquet goers, wearing the name "Cornelius Butch" and fabricating some story as an intrepid no man's land adventurer who grew successful off of his finds.

He couldn't give even a sliver of his interest to who's daughter was wedding who's son, and which aristocrat was so far up the Military's ass they couldn't see out of their two own eyes. He was here for one person- the elusive Ace of the Diamonds, a woman that, thanks to his informants, was known as "Isabella".

She appeared, radiant and coddled in the finest materials the Stronghold could offer. Many vied for her attention, but there was one moment where she appeared alone, perhaps to excuse herself as she picked at the food items. Atlas placed his undrunk champagne flute on a passing silver tray that balanced on the tips of a waiter's fingers and sauntered up to her. His step was sure, slow and steady with the confidence of a man thriving in an apocalypse.

"Excuse me, ma'am" he spoke, his South African accent gone. He held out his hand, pale skin catching the almost aureate light of the chandeliers above. Something sparkled in the the palm of it. "But is this yours?"

Upon further inspection, it was an earring that winked at every shift of shadow and light.

Tag : Isabella Geoff

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=322 Thu, 20 May 2021 17:33:40 +0000 Étienne Blanchard]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=322

Six years of clawing his way through the ranks and proving himself time and again has finally boiled to the one thing Étienne has been craving the most since he had first stepped into the Junkyard: the position of Boss.

It was a bitter sweet moment for the young French man. His promotion came at the cost of a life — Edward, the previous Boss of Eclipse, had met his demise earlier in the week at the jaws of a Feral. Étienne had been part of the looting mission that accompanied the man, but even he hadn't been able to reverse fate. They knew from the deep bite wounds that the man wasn't going to last long, and all of them stayed with him until morning when he finally took his last breath and the toxins overwhelmed his body. It was the first time Étienne had seen death like that. The Inner Citadel was a sheltered place for the rich, and even with his own expeditions to the outside world, Infected were still a relatively new thing for him.

Nearly a week after the man's death, Étienne had been given the news that the advisors had decided to promote him to Boss. That was just this morning, and his mind was still overwhelmed with the news. Adrenaline rushed uncomfortably through his body, putting him in a state of constant awareness. He'd chosen to avoid most people throughout the day, the few that he had run across immediately welcoming him as their new leader — gossip traveled fast, apparently. But he saw it in their eyes.

Not everyone was so pleased with the news.

He was young, and reckless, and had a temper that was often set off by the smallest of things. How could someone like that lead them? While no one voiced their complaints aloud, Étienne was good at reading people and he just knew it was what many people were thinking. So he skulked around camp like a phantom, avoiding the high traffic areas and sticking to the shadows. He didn't even bother to return to his home; it was too easy for them to find him there. It wasn't until the dark blanket of night settled over camp that Étienne had finally felt comfortable to find a place to confront his own feelings on the matter.

He currently sat on a chair situated close to one of the massive barrel fires the Eclipse camp kept burning throughout the night, the only real source of heat for the group members. There were several barrels throughout the Junkyard, and most people had sensed the young Boss had wished to be alone, so he currently had no company with him. Several bottles of alcohol littered the ground beside where he sat — the buzz of intoxication put his mind at ease for the first time that day. A cigarette hung lazily between two fingers as a puff of smoke trailed lazily from between his lips and into the night air, his eyes focused on the fire raging in front of him.

Who knew power came at such a mental cost?

Tag Ares Wheeler
Étienne is approximately 26 years old in this thread

]]>

Six years of clawing his way through the ranks and proving himself time and again has finally boiled to the one thing Étienne has been craving the most since he had first stepped into the Junkyard: the position of Boss.

It was a bitter sweet moment for the young French man. His promotion came at the cost of a life — Edward, the previous Boss of Eclipse, had met his demise earlier in the week at the jaws of a Feral. Étienne had been part of the looting mission that accompanied the man, but even he hadn't been able to reverse fate. They knew from the deep bite wounds that the man wasn't going to last long, and all of them stayed with him until morning when he finally took his last breath and the toxins overwhelmed his body. It was the first time Étienne had seen death like that. The Inner Citadel was a sheltered place for the rich, and even with his own expeditions to the outside world, Infected were still a relatively new thing for him.

Nearly a week after the man's death, Étienne had been given the news that the advisors had decided to promote him to Boss. That was just this morning, and his mind was still overwhelmed with the news. Adrenaline rushed uncomfortably through his body, putting him in a state of constant awareness. He'd chosen to avoid most people throughout the day, the few that he had run across immediately welcoming him as their new leader — gossip traveled fast, apparently. But he saw it in their eyes.

Not everyone was so pleased with the news.

He was young, and reckless, and had a temper that was often set off by the smallest of things. How could someone like that lead them? While no one voiced their complaints aloud, Étienne was good at reading people and he just knew it was what many people were thinking. So he skulked around camp like a phantom, avoiding the high traffic areas and sticking to the shadows. He didn't even bother to return to his home; it was too easy for them to find him there. It wasn't until the dark blanket of night settled over camp that Étienne had finally felt comfortable to find a place to confront his own feelings on the matter.

He currently sat on a chair situated close to one of the massive barrel fires the Eclipse camp kept burning throughout the night, the only real source of heat for the group members. There were several barrels throughout the Junkyard, and most people had sensed the young Boss had wished to be alone, so he currently had no company with him. Several bottles of alcohol littered the ground beside where he sat — the buzz of intoxication put his mind at ease for the first time that day. A cigarette hung lazily between two fingers as a puff of smoke trailed lazily from between his lips and into the night air, his eyes focused on the fire raging in front of him.

Who knew power came at such a mental cost?

Tag Ares Wheeler
Étienne is approximately 26 years old in this thread

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=221 Sun, 02 May 2021 07:08:27 +0000 Étienne Blanchard]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=221

Boring. It's all so boring. Why did they even bring him?

He audibly exaggerates his boredom with a loud sigh — and promptly receives a cuff upside the head, followed by a demand to 'make himself scarce if he was going to act like that'. Fine, he would.

It wasn't like he wanted to be there anyway. The event was filled with old, stodgy Military officers and even older corporate CEOs and leaders of business. When his parents had first told him he was expected to attend as well, being their son, he had vocalized then he didn't want to go. So why were they so surprised with his sullen attitude and resistance to socialize with anyone? They didn't even allow him any alcohol, insisting that it was improper for a child to be drinking such things. What they didn't know was that he had his first taste of alcohol over a year ago.

Étienne screws up his face in annoyance as a female Military officer suddenly bumps into him, but rather than apologize, he simply ducks around her and heads to one of the corners of the room, away from all the excitement. If you could even call it that — they didn't even have music. The only thing that could be heard was the buzz of dozens of different conversations, all of them standing around with appetizers in their hands, mostly uneaten. He would repeat: boring.

Étienne finally navigates his way through the sea of people and arrives at his intended corner. Thankfully there's a couple unused seats there, and he sits himself down in one of them with a sigh. There was nothing worse than these corporate events hosted by the Military. All it was, was a chance for people to rub elbows with the who's who of Stronghold. He knew his parents demanded he come along with them because it was 'going to be his future', but he didn't see it that way. He knew this kind of lifestyle wasn't for him... He didn't want to be stuck in an office all day, putting out fires and ordering people around like dogs.

Well, ordering people around didn't sound so bad.

He smiles at the thought, even if it disappears quickly as he turns his grey-blue eyes back to the crowd of people. Étienne was certain there was something out there far more entertaining than this.

Tag Isabella Geoff
Étienne is approximately 15 years old in this thread

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Boring. It's all so boring. Why did they even bring him?

He audibly exaggerates his boredom with a loud sigh — and promptly receives a cuff upside the head, followed by a demand to 'make himself scarce if he was going to act like that'. Fine, he would.

It wasn't like he wanted to be there anyway. The event was filled with old, stodgy Military officers and even older corporate CEOs and leaders of business. When his parents had first told him he was expected to attend as well, being their son, he had vocalized then he didn't want to go. So why were they so surprised with his sullen attitude and resistance to socialize with anyone? They didn't even allow him any alcohol, insisting that it was improper for a child to be drinking such things. What they didn't know was that he had his first taste of alcohol over a year ago.

Étienne screws up his face in annoyance as a female Military officer suddenly bumps into him, but rather than apologize, he simply ducks around her and heads to one of the corners of the room, away from all the excitement. If you could even call it that — they didn't even have music. The only thing that could be heard was the buzz of dozens of different conversations, all of them standing around with appetizers in their hands, mostly uneaten. He would repeat: boring.

Étienne finally navigates his way through the sea of people and arrives at his intended corner. Thankfully there's a couple unused seats there, and he sits himself down in one of them with a sigh. There was nothing worse than these corporate events hosted by the Military. All it was, was a chance for people to rub elbows with the who's who of Stronghold. He knew his parents demanded he come along with them because it was 'going to be his future', but he didn't see it that way. He knew this kind of lifestyle wasn't for him... He didn't want to be stuck in an office all day, putting out fires and ordering people around like dogs.

Well, ordering people around didn't sound so bad.

He smiles at the thought, even if it disappears quickly as he turns his grey-blue eyes back to the crowd of people. Étienne was certain there was something out there far more entertaining than this.

Tag Isabella Geoff
Étienne is approximately 15 years old in this thread

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