[Eleanor hates most of her dreams; usually, they all revolve around everyone she’s lost, people who’ve betrayed her, or any one of the various incidents in which she narrowly escaped death just by the skin of her teeth. As she’s been traveling with her group of Sparrow Keepers, she’s been trying to study dream magic, specifically, and whether or not she might be able to learn to concoct a brew that will keep her from dreaming.
The last she recalls, she’d been reading up on potential recipes for a potion, unwinding after a tough day on the road. Apparently, her mind has other ideas.
The flames licking at her face make her think she accidentally set fire to her bed or something before falling asleep; the falling sensation she feels, she can’t quite explain. Unless she’s falling through the earth? But how would that be possible, unless they set up camp over some sort of hole?
When she awakens, she feels rested, which seems odd. She never sleeps well. Not this well, at least. And the bed she wakes up in is much more comfortable than the ground she falls asleep on.
She all but jumps off of the bed, glancing around quickly as she takes in her surroundings, her wand drawn beside her, ready to cast a spell at a moment’s notice. She explores, starting with her room, and makes her way out into the hallways, and, eventually, down to the lobby.
She’s seen demons before, but nothing quite like these creatures. She finds herself staring, though she tells herself she’s observing, before making her way over to the bar. She eyes the collection of alcohol critically, wondering why, if this is some place of judgement, they would provide such a variety of what most would consider a vice. She gives voice to some of her thoughts, murmuring out loud.]
I’m not even sure what half of these bottles mean. Hopefully one of them has decent ale, though I suppose I’d settle for mead.
ii. Something in the Air
[Note: Eleanor is not getting involved with the A/B/O prompts or the monster transformations. She’s just observing in Club Penance.]
cw: mentions of sex, voyeurism, etc.
[Eleanor has seen taverns, and she has seen crowds of people dancing before. And, by the Lady, she has certainly seen her fair share of brothels in her travels. But this Club Penance is quite unlike anything she’s ever seen, and she can’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by it all, as she sits off to the corner to the side, a drink in hand.
People are…quite giving into their physical urges, it would seem; from the dance floor to the stage, where people are dragged and made to…perform for the crowd. Eleanor is no prude, by any means; as someone who’s spent much of her life working for a noble family, and as someone who has indulged in her own urges secretly, how could she be? But this is all quite the sight, and she has to wonder at what kind of place this Hell is, and just what this place expects of her to earn redemption.
She takes a sip (more like a chug) of a drink, and turns to the person sitting next to her.]
I have to admit, I didn’t think people were capable at bending at that kind of angle. Not without magic, at least.
iii. Wildcard
[Have a different idea for a prompt? Let me know either by DMing Clara’s journal or at plurk at afaeryschild. Her information can be found here and her permissions/opt out can be found here.]
Eleanor Blackwood | Original
[Eleanor hates most of her dreams; usually, they all revolve around everyone she’s lost, people who’ve betrayed her, or any one of the various incidents in which she narrowly escaped death just by the skin of her teeth. As she’s been traveling with her group of Sparrow Keepers, she’s been trying to study dream magic, specifically, and whether or not she might be able to learn to concoct a brew that will keep her from dreaming.
The last she recalls, she’d been reading up on potential recipes for a potion, unwinding after a tough day on the road. Apparently, her mind has other ideas.
The flames licking at her face make her think she accidentally set fire to her bed or something before falling asleep; the falling sensation she feels, she can’t quite explain. Unless she’s falling through the earth? But how would that be possible, unless they set up camp over some sort of hole?
When she awakens, she feels rested, which seems odd. She never sleeps well. Not this well, at least. And the bed she wakes up in is much more comfortable than the ground she falls asleep on.
She all but jumps off of the bed, glancing around quickly as she takes in her surroundings, her wand drawn beside her, ready to cast a spell at a moment’s notice. She explores, starting with her room, and makes her way out into the hallways, and, eventually, down to the lobby.
She’s seen demons before, but nothing quite like these creatures. She finds herself staring, though she tells herself she’s observing, before making her way over to the bar. She eyes the collection of alcohol critically, wondering why, if this is some place of judgement, they would provide such a variety of what most would consider a vice. She gives voice to some of her thoughts, murmuring out loud.]
I’m not even sure what half of these bottles mean. Hopefully one of them has decent ale, though I suppose I’d settle for mead.
ii. Something in the Air
[Note: Eleanor is not getting involved with the A/B/O prompts or the monster transformations. She’s just observing in Club Penance.]
cw: mentions of sex, voyeurism, etc.
[Eleanor has seen taverns, and she has seen crowds of people dancing before. And, by the Lady, she has certainly seen her fair share of brothels in her travels. But this Club Penance is quite unlike anything she’s ever seen, and she can’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by it all, as she sits off to the corner to the side, a drink in hand.
People are…quite giving into their physical urges, it would seem; from the dance floor to the stage, where people are dragged and made to…perform for the crowd. Eleanor is no prude, by any means; as someone who’s spent much of her life working for a noble family, and as someone who has indulged in her own urges secretly, how could she be? But this is all quite the sight, and she has to wonder at what kind of place this Hell is, and just what this place expects of her to earn redemption.
She takes a sip (more like a chug) of a drink, and turns to the person sitting next to her.]
I have to admit, I didn’t think people were capable at bending at that kind of angle. Not without magic, at least.
iii. Wildcard
[Have a different idea for a prompt? Let me know either by DMing Clara’s journal or at plurk at