i. which way to the bacchanal [ Well, it's not like Ava's a stranger to waking up someplace she can't leave. At least this one has mattresses. But since Azazel won't appreciate her going AWOL in the middle of the battle royale, she does make her attempts to escape. She got a mile into the woods, her head throbbing the whole way, until finally her body gave out–
And she woke up back in bed.
Sending demons to explore the countryside doesn't work any better. A mile is also about how far they get before dropping off the map, slipping away from her and back to hell. It's only after the fifth or so of these attempts that some maid pops in to tell her she doesn't want to be late for the party.
Party …?
Ava opens the wardrobe standing in a corner of the room. There are thingshanging in it, smelling like laundry detergent and soft to the touch. Her fingertips trail over the spill of black fabric that seems to comprise a long robe, eyes narrowing.
Maybe this is all still part of the game.
In which case, nobody likes a sitter-outter.
Early in the bacchanal, Ava can be found where the food is, sampling each item with fascination before zeroing in on the fried chicken. She mostly manages to eat like everyone else is eating, but in the odd unguarded moment, you might catch her with an expression close to rapture. Later on, she's holding a plate that she's informed is meant to be an offering to the dead, her smile twitch, twitch, twitching crookedly, until– ]
What the hell! [ She points, abruptly. Her eyes shoot wide as saucers. ] That's a freaking skeleton!
ii. veni vidi vici [ Later on, Ava watches the gladiator fights with the alacrity of a loyal sports fan. She cheers; she picks favorites. She occasionally says something like: ]
I bet you a Red Bull that dude wins.
[ The careful observer may note that she is, in fact, paying close attention to how the fights shake out. Not just who wins or loses, but what moves people attempt, what strange powers they may manifest, what provocations set them off. Anyone attempting to read her mind will have their work cut out for them, however. Its surface impression is that of black smoke, obscuring whatever lies underneath.
The real thrill of the evening is being treated like royalty. Tended to, deferred to. Ava wonders idly if this is how things will be once she and Azazel open the door. ]
Don't overthink this, [ she says, rolling her eyes at her assigned servant. ] Just drop a grape in here. [ She opens her mouth wide: ahhh. ] Come on! I won't bite.
iii. an american and a wolfman in saltburnt [ This figures.
Well, if anything, the appearance of a ravening wolf-monster makes it seem more likely that this is all part of the game she began in Cold Oak. Ava's primarily annoyed that she put on something that's so hard to run in. She's in the middle of knotting her trailing cape and black skirts together–the better to get them out of her freaking way–when the Wolfman turns his snarling attention to her.
Ava's eyes narrow. But after a glance around for potential rescuers, they pop wide again. She opens her mouth and screams.
(Still, Lucifer helps those who help themselves. You may notice the air turn colder, a chill scraping like claws across the back of your neck. A smell in the air like rotten eggs. Ava winces in pain–but of course, that could be fear. Understandable, right?) ]
iv. sos, she's in disguise (cw: sexual content, bloodplay, sadism, consenting only pls) [ Ava's trying to be sneaky around here. Underestimated. That's what's gotten her through however-many rounds it's been (ten) of outlasting her competition. That's why she let the stupid Wolfman slash her, because she couldn't let on what she can really do to just anyone.
Now, however … she has an itch. A little door in her mind that wants to crrrrreak open. And Ava's not in the habit of saying no to those little doors. So she stalks the manor's midnight corridors, cornering likely-looking prey with a scared-doe smile and her nightgown slipping down one shoulder. She comes close if you let her, presses to you with her hair smelling like struck matches and claw-marks fading from her skin. ]
Sorry, [ she murmurs, her fingers tightening on your wrist. Tightening … tightening, tips of her nails drawing blood. ] I'm just so scared … will you hold me, please?
v. wildcard [ ooc: what up saltburnt, it's your girl artistformerlyknownas. some flavor about ava:
She is both psychic and demonic, for those who can sense those kinds of things.
She can sense, summon, and control demons!
Don't be fooled by her chipper demeanor, she is lying to you.
I'm totally down to wildcard. Stuff Ava might be doing includes snooping around and spying on your character with demons. I am also open to her doing a murder. :3 PM or hmu on Plurk with any questions! Communicating is caring. ]
ava wilson | supernatural | new character, current player | ota for w/e
[ Well, it's not like Ava's a stranger to waking up someplace she can't leave. At least this one has mattresses. But since Azazel won't appreciate her going AWOL in the middle of the battle royale, she does make her attempts to escape. She got a mile into the woods, her head throbbing the whole way, until finally her body gave out–
And she woke up back in bed.
Sending demons to explore the countryside doesn't work any better. A mile is also about how far they get before dropping off the map, slipping away from her and back to hell. It's only after the fifth or so of these attempts that some maid pops in to tell her she doesn't want to be late for the party.
Party …?
Ava opens the wardrobe standing in a corner of the room. There are things hanging in it, smelling like laundry detergent and soft to the touch. Her fingertips trail over the spill of black fabric that seems to comprise a long robe, eyes narrowing.
Maybe this is all still part of the game.
In which case, nobody likes a sitter-outter.
Early in the bacchanal, Ava can be found where the food is, sampling each item with fascination before zeroing in on the fried chicken. She mostly manages to eat like everyone else is eating, but in the odd unguarded moment, you might catch her with an expression close to rapture. Later on, she's holding a plate that she's informed is meant to be an offering to the dead, her smile twitch, twitch, twitching crookedly, until– ]
What the hell! [ She points, abruptly. Her eyes shoot wide as saucers. ] That's a freaking skeleton!
ii. veni vidi vici
[ Later on, Ava watches the gladiator fights with the alacrity of a loyal sports fan. She cheers; she picks favorites. She occasionally says something like: ]
I bet you a Red Bull that dude wins.
[ The careful observer may note that she is, in fact, paying close attention to how the fights shake out. Not just who wins or loses, but what moves people attempt, what strange powers they may manifest, what provocations set them off. Anyone attempting to read her mind will have their work cut out for them, however. Its surface impression is that of black smoke, obscuring whatever lies underneath.
The real thrill of the evening is being treated like royalty. Tended to, deferred to. Ava wonders idly if this is how things will be once she and Azazel open the door. ]
Don't overthink this, [ she says, rolling her eyes at her assigned servant. ] Just drop a grape in here. [ She opens her mouth wide: ahhh. ] Come on! I won't bite.
iii. an american and a wolfman in saltburnt
[ This figures.
Well, if anything, the appearance of a ravening wolf-monster makes it seem more likely that this is all part of the game she began in Cold Oak. Ava's primarily annoyed that she put on something that's so hard to run in. She's in the middle of knotting her trailing cape and black skirts together–the better to get them out of her freaking way–when the Wolfman turns his snarling attention to her.
Ava's eyes narrow. But after a glance around for potential rescuers, they pop wide again. She opens her mouth and screams.
(Still, Lucifer helps those who help themselves. You may notice the air turn colder, a chill scraping like claws across the back of your neck. A smell in the air like rotten eggs. Ava winces in pain–but of course, that could be fear. Understandable, right?) ]
iv. sos, she's in disguise (cw: sexual content, bloodplay, sadism, consenting only pls)
[ Ava's trying to be sneaky around here. Underestimated. That's what's gotten her through however-many rounds it's been (ten) of outlasting her competition. That's why she let the stupid Wolfman slash her, because she couldn't let on what she can really do to just anyone.
Now, however … she has an itch. A little door in her mind that wants to crrrrreak open. And Ava's not in the habit of saying no to those little doors. So she stalks the manor's midnight corridors, cornering likely-looking prey with a scared-doe smile and her nightgown slipping down one shoulder. She comes close if you let her, presses to you with her hair smelling like struck matches and claw-marks fading from her skin. ]
Sorry, [ she murmurs, her fingers tightening on your wrist. Tightening … tightening, tips of her nails drawing blood. ] I'm just so scared … will you hold me, please?
v. wildcard
[ ooc: what up saltburnt, it's your girl
I'm totally down to wildcard. Stuff Ava might be doing includes snooping around and spying on your character with demons. I am also open to her doing a murder. :3 PM or hmu on Plurk with any questions! Communicating is caring. ]