DEVA CASSELL As ANGELICA SEDARA

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His fingers flexed against her skin, pressing into the soft curve of her waist as the anticipation of hearing her answer set in. Zack couldn't remember the last time he was so eager just to hear someone speak. More often than not, he was happy to be on his own and in his own head. His circle was small. There were friends and family among the chthonic gods and the Underworld's residents, of course, but when he was in this world, he was content to have just the band and the people working with them. Performances were the closest he got to connecting to strangers. Skotos was able to do that, able to feel their energy and return it back to them as some raw, powerful being that commanded their attention and demanded their worship.

But he didn't need to hear about the rest of them. He needed to hear about her, and he frowned when Maggie told him that her life wasn't that interesting. Did she not realize that everything about her was interesting? Enchanting? Enrapturing? Absolutely fucking spellbinding? He still didn't understand why nobody had told her. Even he couldn't solve that mystery. She deserved to hear it.

Just like she deserved to break free of whatever she was chained to, even if she wasn't telling him exactly what that was. Zack found himself worried then that she was suddenly being so vague about whatever that darkness was. Still, he leaned into her touch and silently pleaded with her to keep talking. He wanted her to tell him more and nearly pouted when she tried to change the subject.

"No," he declared, not realizing that the growl slipping into his tone sounded eerily like the one he'd performed with that night. "We're not doing that." Leaning down to grip her thighs, the god easily lifted Maggie from the water and held her at his waist. Carrying her to the edge of the pool, he set her on the ledge. They still weren't entirely eye to eye, but she was closer to his height now with him still standing in the water, tattooed hands on either side of her to cage her in while he stood between her legs and fixed her with a surprisingly severe gaze.

"Don't change the subject. I told you that I want to know everything about you. Why don't you want to tell me? Do you not believe me?"

Maggie held back a breath as he approached her again in the water, his movement swift, making her almost freeze. Not from fear, just anticipation. His voice seemed a bit tense as he spoke her name, and their gazes locked onto one another. She couldn't look away even if she wanted to, his hands gently but firmly keeping her focus onto him. How easy it was for the world around her to stop when he'd look straight into her eyes, combined with his touch, it felt like her skin was on fire. Zack's gaze was puzzling to her, it felt heavy and like there was a lot of story telling behind them. It was so easy to get lost in them, to be captivated, just like... Just like there in the pit at the concert.

Letting out the softest of hums due to his touch, she let her hands carefully rest onto his chest once he pulled her in closer, firmly saying they aren't going anywhere. "Okay."she murmured in a whisper and offered him a little soft smile, so he'd know she's fine, her body began to relax once more against him. "My life?"Maggie then asked, a tad surprised by his choice of question.

Or maybe that is because she shouldn't really talk about her background as much. That's how she was raised, anyway - keep everything very lowkey, don't let people know who your family is or who your brothers work for. It could put her in grave danger, and her brothers were very paranoid when it came to Maggie. "But if I tell you everything, I might need to kill you."she mused with a chuckle, telling the most cliche quote there is, really. "I --- wouldn't know where to start. My life isn't all that interesting, Zack. It's very routine like, very lowkey. And the older I get, the harder it is. Feels like I'm chained to this kind of life and I can't break free. Maybe I don't know how, or deep down don't want to... but something has to change at some point, right? It can't always be this dark for me."Maggie mused and pushed his wet locks back, the touch soothing, tender. Perhaps she was just afraid to stand up for herself, and go against her brothers wishes. They only want what's best for her, they only wish her well. But they are never around to see this isn't the best for her and she isn't doing as well as they thing. "You, on the other hand, look like an adventurer. Like someone who has interesting stories to tell."Maggie tried to switch the subject and offered him a wide grin.

Some would call it coincidence. Others would call it providence. Helena, however, knew that the king ending up in her care was neither. Although they'd managed to operate in secret for generations, it was only a matter of time before the coven was discovered and targeted. After all, they had their fare share of connections to the beings the murderer sleeping in the other room seemed hellbent on extinguishing. Monsters, he called them. Her lip curled just at the thought of the word. A few of her own friends had even fallen to Valor's sword. Someone had to stop him.

So when battle had started to brew, the witches began weaving their web. They'd offered their support to his enemies, empowered their forces and their weapons, but they'd made sure he didn't fall. That would only enrage his entire realm. They would seek revenge for their beloved king and fight harder. Someone would carry on his mission. No, they had to dismantle the entirety of that mission to save their ilk, and Helena had been happy to be charged with the task. She was going to pull it all apart. Only then would she kill him. For now, as much as she couldn't stand the thought, she had to keep him alive.

Healing magic wasn't her specialty, but she was decent enough, and she didn't have to heal his wounds entirely. That would have been too obvious. She'd simply given him what he needed to hold on to life for the past few days until she'd increased the regenerative magic just enough to encourage his body to wake up. When she heard him stirring in the other room of the small cottage the coven had placed her in, Helena knew that it was finally time to face her mark. She took a deep breath and gathered a tray with a pitcher of water and some fresh bread that he very much didn't deserve.

"You're not alone." Helena announced as she stepped into the room, setting the tray down on a table in the corner before turning to Valor with a warm smile. "You should lie back down. You've been asleep for a few days. You'll need to go slowly." She paused and tipped her head to the side. "How are you feeling?"

status -> open to all 21+ muses *we do not have to be mutuals to reply! supernatural muses welcome, too! + canons if applicable but will be selective*

setting -> my muse, inspired by arthur from camelot lore, is the king of a small realm && has been severely injured in battle. your muse, perhaps not realizing that he is the king, has taken on the task of nursing him back to health && saving his life. bonus points if your muse is on the enemy's side, or maybe does know who he is && has other intentions, entirely utp!!

my other opens - always accepting responses!

i should be dead. it was the first thought that floated through the throbbing agony of king valor's mind, before the full force of the pain hit his body. bones, broken. flesh, torn. he last remembered the devastating swing of a sword- a blurred face with lifeless eyes as they swung to claim his own... valor startled fully awake. groaning as he sat up, nearly passing back out again as color dazzled in fractals of his vision, bile rising in his throat as his body screamed protest to movement. maybe i am dead. he shook, trying to focus on his breathing, eyes wild as they took in unfamiliar surroundings. valor looked down, noticing his clothes were gone. the royal crest, the weapons, the armor... exposed, vulnerable, with bruises blooming over so many surfaces. " hello? " the king croaked, realizing how dry his throat was, how he was too weak to stand. to fight, to run. fear flooded his veins like ice. " am i alone here? "

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It was unheard of for her to seek out someone else to try to work with them. She didn't need anyone else, and she certainly didn't need the risk of another person around who'd probably just fuck everything up. Mona had more than enough power on her own to do whatever she wanted anyway. Well...she usually had more than enough power. It was the first time she'd ever run into a road block like this, the first time she'd been denied by the ironclad gates themselves. Being told no? Being told that she wasn't strong enough to do what she'd set out to- it was maddening for the witch. At first, it had just been simple necromancy. She could usually do that in her sleep. Sure, it was forbidden among her kind, but so was working with demons, and when had either of those things ever stopped her? It was why she was stronger than the rest of them. Better than them.

And now, it was personal. This wasn't about being paid to bring someone back anymore. Her client had long since been forgotten. Now she was only focused on getting the gates open and siphoning as much as she could from Hell so nothing could ever stop her again. She hadn't swallowed her pride to seek a partner. No, that was too bloated to fit down her throat. She'd chewed it back though, enough to go after the son of Sparda himself. She wasn't going to work with someone weak, after all, and if anyone would be of help to her, Vergil fit the bill.

"Yeah, I certainly hope so." Mona huffed. "I haven't exactly been subtle." On the contrary, she'd been rather obvious about following him. She didn't flinch at his threat though. She wouldn't have expected anything less from what she'd learned about him. It probably would have disappointed her if his first move wasn't to put her life on the line. There was nothing to respect in someone who wasn't as brutal as she was. "First," she began as she took a few steps towards him, wordlessly stating that she wasn't afraid. "You couldn't make a pet of me if you tried. Second, you are making a truly shocking lack of progress, aren't you? Doesn't that bother you? Honestly, I expected more of you."

open to females 30+

plot; vergil, devil may cry inspired. half-human, half-demon, twin brother to dante. dark slayer. unlike his brother who accepted his human side, vergil embraced his demon side. they don't see eye to eye and have different agendas. vergil is on a mission to gain the power of his father, sparda, and reopen gates of hell. your muse has found it's way to him while he's in the human realm, and wants to join his cause for whatever reason you see fit, maybe they want to bring someone from the dead? either way, vergil doesn't take well to strangers so your muse better have something to offer in exchange.

They try to sneak up onto him but Vergil senses her a while ago. It was clear she was after him, nobody really bumps into him for no reason. He'd been in this little town for too long, looking into some artefacts and trying to put pieces of a puzzle together for him to finally open the gates of hell. A tough mission, especially with his brother being in this realm and knowing he'll try to stop him. Without Dante, he can't open it, either. But Vergil was going to damn try. "There is little to be gained from idle conversation, but I find myself curious..."the half-demon finally speaks out as they get close enough in the back alley he just turned to. "I've seen your face around the town. Funny enough, just as I got here. And town before this one. And before that one..."he speaks, his stance firm, gaze cold as he weighs down onto her. "I am not a pet kind of guy, and I work alone. So - I'm giving you a chance to speak your mind before I put this through you and get rid of you."Vergil huffed in a gruff tone as his hand patted the katana Yamato resting on his hip.

He almost lamented how easy it was as Miju followed after him. Humans used to know. They used to be aware of the rules and know not to get led away by the fae. Hell, they knew to not even hand over their names to anyone a little too lovely, a little too charming. Alexei had to be creative. The hunt had been thrilling. Lambs all but led themselves to the slaughter these days. Living in the age of information when it was so easily shared, so much of it had still been lost. None of them knew what to be wary of anymore.

So he grinned to himself when she expressed even the slightest bit of resistance. "Is it?" He asked in a tone bordering on patronizing. Glancing in the direction of the aforementioned path, Alexei only shrugged. "Do you always do what you're supposed to do? Is that fun for you?" He looked over his shoulder at the pretty little human nearly nuzzling into him.

"Doing what?" He shot back in that same tone, almost like he was speaking to a child. "I'm just walking." And when he turned to face her directly in a motion all too fluid for the uneven ground, he still continued walking backwards. "Have you ever thought of forging your own path, princess?" The fae tacked the last word on as he straightened the crown Miju had failed to get just right when she'd been fiddling with it moments ago. "Aren't you bored?"

there’s nothing that says fun, like spending time in uncharted territory with a stranger you just met. note to self: it’s okay to be a little wary sometimes, miju makes a note of this when they wander off the path. for one, she was worried about being told off. and two, her dress! even though it’d been a few decades old, and she felt like a little kid at times — it was something she cherished. so when there’s more dirt than usual, she’s bound to be a little upset.

“oh, i just don’t think we’re supposed to be here. the path’s over there.” she’s hesitant but follows anyway, keeping close for her own sake, almost burrowing her face into the side of his shoulder. i’m beginning to think this man isn’t new here…

she almost slips. her footsteps aren’t as delicate as alexei’s, given obvious reasons. one being she’s a human. they leave an imprint, and she questions what kind of person is in her graces. she readjusts the triangular crown before it falls off her head by keeping still, having not departed from his side. he’s almost warm to the touch. “how are you doing that? i’m not nervous, you’re nervous.”