For you, I would.
morning |
|
29th March, 2025 |
@Azzure Solace |
speech ◦ thoughts |
536 words |
◦ "𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔩." ◦
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| "𝖄ou have been cordially invited to the annual spring ball; the Spring Soirée." The words of the invitation seemed to linger in the back of Violence's mind, as she was seated in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The sun streaming through the windows illuminated the desks with warm golden light, causing the dust motes to dance like small pieces of magic, but none of it actually penetrated. The book on her desk was still unopened, the pages not even touched. She wasn't here to read. She was present here to wait until the class commenced, the passing of the moments ticking away out of the corner of her vision, every moment taking just that little bit more time. She sat with flawless posture, always—straight shoulders, slightly uplifted chin, watchful eyes. She always carried herself with this confident air that was not noisy but impossible to ignore in a room. It was not arrogance, not exactly in the manner people might suppose. It was that she just knew who she was. She had always known. And with the din of conversation swirling around her, she tuned out the lot. The murmurs, the empty gossip, the good-natured laughter—it was all background noise to her. She didn't have to let herself get swept up in it. And she didn't care if others thought of her as cold or distant, because she wasn't. She just refused to be bogged down by the mundane things that preoccupied everyone else. However, today her mind was occupied with something that had swept through the school with excitement when it was announced: the spring ball. It hung over the horizon like some sort of tacky inevitability. The normal buzz that hung in the air, the stress of choosing the perfect companion, of finding someone who would be able to meet society's shining standards, felt somehow… exhausting. Sure, she could easily choose any guy, but for some reason, the thought of it made her recoil. She wanted to enjoy the ball with someone she felt comfortable with, not just attend for the sake of it. "Good luck with that, especially when you don’t even enjoy socializing." she scoffed. The manner in which the other students clumped together, whispering about their dates, about their dresses and dances, made Violence feel... weird. She wanted to be a part of this too— the planning, the fuss. But who she would go with was still undecided, and that made her anxious. Instead, she took slow, deliberate breaths, grounding herself in the world around her. It was easy to get lost in her thoughts, but she wasn’t about to let that happen. She had a reputation to maintain. The door to the classroom swung open, and a tall guy entered, wearing a... compression tee? Violence was apalled. Didn't he know he was attending class? "He looks hot, though." a voice spoke in her head. "So? Shut up, inner voice. This isn't the time to think of stuff like that." "But you could go to the ball with him-" "Have you looked at him? He probably already has a date. And he's already making me talk to myself, what the fuck, ugh! I need to focus on the class right now. | ||
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Reducio
ooc note
Permission to use he/him as pronouns for Azzure.
Permission to use he/him as pronouns for Azzure.
Last edited by Violence Bloodthorn on 15 Sep 2025, 15:36, edited 2 times in total.
For you, I would.
outfit
⋆"𝐹𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒"⋆
Azz woke up before dawn, the day greeting her with dark skies. A familiar sight for the young albino. Though dreams hadn't plagued her in the last few days, she doubted the peace would last long. After all, it never did. However, even with threats looming over her in the background, she still believed there was a way to prevent this somehow. In any case, Azzure had a plan, and it all started with the Spring Soirée.
⊱ ─── 𝕆𝟛:𝟚𝟘 ─── ⊰
The courtyard was empty, reasonably so, Azzure didn't really expect anyone but her to be awake that early in the morning. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. The last thing Azzure wanted was someone seeing her out so early and reporting her to a prefect, much less a head of house. Ever since the 14th, it had been hard, to say the least.
That's why she went there every morning, running laps in the courtyard to somehow outrun the looming trail of death. However, that day was different. For once, the racing thoughts weren't "I don't want to die." No, they had somehow, valiantly transformed into "How do I stop a murder?"
Contrary to popular belief, Azzure was not stupid. She had been analyzing how the secret murderer worked since her kidnapping, and by now, she knew that whoever it was thought like her or at least grew up learning the same ideologies she did. If something were to happen, there was no doubt in Azzure's mind that it would occur during the Spring Soirée.
The question remaining was how exactly she planned to infiltrate the ball. Going alone would seem too suspicious and quite frankly pitiful. But if she found a date for the spring ball, that person needed to be someone who could fight if necessary. The only question then was, who?
⊱ ─── 𝕆𝟠:𝟛𝟘 ─── ⊰
Azzure lost track of time, causing her to inadvertently spend more hours running than she would like, nearly almost missing breakfast.Thankfully, Azzure managed to arrive to her first class 30 minutes early. Azzure walked into the DADA classroom half asleep and tired as hell. She could still feel sweat run down her temple, and her eyes lazed in a downcast stare as she sat in whatever table she saw first, not realizing another person was already there.
Azz sighed as she sat, leaning forward on the table to rest her arms on the wood underneath —propping her head on her hand. Azzure turned her head to the side, her eyelids heavy and tired. In all honesty she just wanted to not be bothered and knock out a bit before the professor came in, however Azzure was jump-scared by a pretty woman sitting next to her.
Azzure's eyes widened so quickly she thought her eyes would actually pop out of their sockets. 'woah.' Azzure found herself not being able to take her eyes away from the girl sitting next to her. Her chocolate brown hair turning gold in the soft stream of sunlight that filtered in through the windows. 'pretty... she looks so pretty.'
It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Azz was staring, but something about the girl enchanted Azzure. perhaps it was her sharp features, perhaps it was the air of poise that surrounded her, or perhaps its all that and more.
Something deep inside Azz desperately wanted to walk beside her, to dance with her. She looked perfect, the ideal person Azzure would want to have as a date for the spring ball. However the last thing Azzure wanted is to ruin her life by involving her in whatever this sick joke of a situation she's currently in.
But still, a small part of Azzure hoped that something can become of this chance encounter.
"Hey, sorry to bother you. But, what's your name? I mean —if we're gonna be sittin' next to eachotha' its better to get to know one another, no?" Azzure spoke up, her voice low and hushed as she talked; sleep evident in her tone as a teeny-tiny bit of her welsh accent managed to peak through. Plus- not like Azz can ignore the girl after staring at her for so long. The least she can do is make it less awkward for the both of them.
ReducioWord Count: 781
This is an RP with: @Violence Bloodthorn
OOC note:Hey girl! I'm so sorry this took me so long, but its finally here!! PS: thank you for rp-ing with me <33
For you, I would.
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| "𝓥iolence’s eyes widened the moment the boy entered the classroom. She had been so firmly locked in her own thoughts—thoughts that, up until now, had been entirely occupied with the invitation to the upcoming Spring Soirée—that she hadn’t registered the soft thud of hurried footsteps down the corridor. But now, there he was. He didn’t walk in like most of the other students—confident, chatting with friends, already debating dueling strategies or enchanted armor or which cursed creature the professor might bring in next. No, this boy wandered in like he’d taken a wrong turn into a dream. And then, impossibly, sat down right next to her. Her. Violence stiffened ever so slightly, the way someone might if they were trying not to disturb the still surface of a lake. She blinked once, slowly, her head remaining perfectly still while her eyes flicked in his direction. Did he know he was sitting here? Had he seen her and chosen this seat anyway? He didn’t even look around. He just plopped down like his body had decided for him. Did he not see her? Or worse—did he see her and not care? Without thinking, she shifted slightly in her seat, turning her face toward the window while tucking a perfectly curled strand of chestnut brown hair behind her ear. Her fingers were calm—practiced—but her heart was a full-on symphony, thudding loud and fast and completely inappropriate for a Tuesday morning. The sunlight filtered softly through the tall, gothic-pane windows of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, casting warm patches of light across the stone floor and the edges of their desks. Dust motes swirled lazily in the golden beams, dancing like enchanted fairies. And yet none of it—none of the castle’s quiet beauty—could pull her attention away from the sudden, unexpected warmth of the body beside her. He sat here. Why did he sit here? She dared to glance again, a quick, fluttering peek through lowered lashes. And immediately regretted it. He was looking at her. Not the way most people looked—curious or polite or sizing her up because of the name ‘Bloodthorn.’ He was just… looking. Like she was a painting, or a puzzle, or something he hadn’t seen before but kind of wanted to understand. Had he been staring this entire time? His posture was relaxed, slouched forward with one arm resting on the desk, the other bent to support his chin. He looked tired—no, not tired, worn in, like he’d been running, like the day had already left its marks on him before breakfast even ended. A bead of sweat ran slowly down the side of his temple, catching the light. He wasn’t even wearing robes. A compression shirt, of all things. Like this was some sort of gym and not the literal seat of magical academia. Vi couldn’t decide if she was horrified… or completely enchanted. She parted her lips, finally about to say something—anything, even if it was just a polite, “Hi”—when he beat her to it. "Hey, sorry to bother you. But, what's your name? I mean —if we're gonna be sittin' next to eachotha' it’s better to get to know one another, no?" Merlin’s soggy socks. His voice. Raspy. Drowsy. Like he was halfway between sleep and spellwork. There was the faintest lilt to his words too, an accent she couldn’t place. Welsh? Maybe something else. It clung to the edges of his sentence like a charm barely clinging to form. And even as she panicked, she realized—his voice sounded safe. Not in the boring way. In the warm, foggy, come-sit-by-the-fireplace way. Her eyes found his, and for a moment, everything inside her quieted. They were gray. Not the dull kind. The kind that changed depending on the light, like storm clouds deciding whether or not to rain. She didn’t even realize she was staring until she felt the pressure of silence and remembered—he had asked her a question. Say your name, Vi. Say your name. “Violence. Uh, Violence Bloodthorn,” she said quickly, and winced. It always sounded too harsh when she said it aloud, even though it was hers. She knew how people reacted to it—that’s not a name, that’s a threat. She scrambled to soften it. Say more. Anything. “Uhm, Ravenclaw. First year. You?” That was better. Casual. Normal. Right? She smiled—just a tiny, nervous smile—and immediately dropped her gaze again. Her fingers began fidgeting with the corner of her notebook. She hated that she could feel her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t help it. Her eyes betrayed her again, darting back to look at him. His hair was white. Not bleach-blond, not platinum—white, like snow on the top of the Astronomy Tower. Strands of it fell across his forehead and into his eyes, casting delicate shadows along the sharp angles of his cheekbones. His features were sharp, but not cruel. Almost too pretty, like he’d been designed rather than born. And his lips— Stop. Vi immediately looked down at her book, cheeks now definitely pink. She hadn’t even opened the thing, and now she couldn’t bring herself to touch it, afraid that even turning a page would somehow reveal the chaos going on inside her brain. Why was she acting like this? She wasn’t… that girl. The one who fell apart over a boy with good hair and a soft accent. She was the one who could duel without blinking, organize her potions shelf by brew time and complexity, and cast a perfect Aguamenti on the first try. But this boy—this sleepy, beautiful, accidental boy—somehow felt different. And she liked it. She pressed her hand flat on her parchment as if that would anchor her in the present moment. There was a flicker of something behind her ribs. Something she usually only felt when she was concocting a potion with her mother. Excitement. Nerves. Possibility. Her eyes flicked up again, just once. She could feel the beginnings of a smile trying to curve at the edges of her lips, but she suppressed it. Barely. "Nice to meet you," she mumbled softly, eyes on the desk. "You, um. You don’t look like you’re from here." Her voice was quieter this time. Hesitant. But real. For a moment, she let herself enjoy the silence between them—the strange, quiet rhythm of two people who didn’t know what came next. She found a certain comfort in that. And for the first time since the Soirée was announced, she thought: Maybe I won’t go alone this year. | ||
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@Azzure Solace
[ 1081/200 ]
For you, I would.
outfit
⋆"𝐹𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒"⋆
Pretty— She's so pretty
Azzure felt her heart beat faster.
The more silence that passed between them, the more she could see the little quirks of the incredibly gorgeous girl infront of her. How she shifts in her seat when she's nervous, how her eyes shine with an intrigue like she was trying to figure Azzure out as if she was some sort of new potion she needed to master.
Azz noticed the way the mystery girl bites her lips whenever she's thinking, the way she looks at her like a predator about to pounce, the way her eyes sparkled like the sharp end of a blade— fierce and confident, demanding attention and respect with a single look. Both equally scary and hot as fuck.
But through all of her observation, Azzure couldn't keep her gaze away from the beautiful girl's lips. They seemed to be staring at her, taunting her. I mean, what else would be the reason for someone so hot to have such beautiful lips if not to taunt her.
They looked soft... supple, kissable— NO! no no no no no no no- This can't be happening!' As much as Azzure wanted to lean in and kiss her, she knew she couldn't. For Merlin's sake, the this was a classroom! This girl— however gorgeous she may be or however soft her skin looks, or however nice her hair is, or– Ah! Uhm, the point is, she can't get ahead of herself!
If Azzues gives into these face value desires she's no better than a man. And a woman who looks like she's the reason why poets know what beauty and grace looks like, deserves someone better than a man.
Tha- thats not implying that she should be with her... no, no, no— its just that maybe just maybe if she took a chance with Azz than she'll be happy and Azzure can do whatever this girl wants, whenever she wants without complaining! Which is better than anything a man could do. And Azzure could be her boyfriend if she wanted! At least Azz thinks she'd be a really good boyfriend. And like, what even is gender at this point? Right! Gender is a social construct and all–– And this goddess of a woman is free to choose anyone she wants I mean who wouldn't want to date someone as gorgeous as her. But this isn't about Azzure. No, no. That'd be silly... really silly.... yeah-
Well anyways. For some reason Azzure couldn't avert her eyes from the girl sitting next to her. Everything she did caused butterflies to erupt in Azzure's stomach. Azzure felt like a puppet on strings, hanging onto this girls every action, bending and melting to her every will despite not even having a proper conversation with her yet.
And yet, Azzure found herself thinking about how she wouldn't exactly mind if this mystery girl just took her life by the strings and molded it to her every desire.
Still however, there was the looming factor that she might get hurt if she's seen with Azzure. And the last thing Azz wants is to put her in harms way. It was irrational, she's only met this girl just now and yet...and yet she means more than anything.
'The greatest treasure's are worth the most painful heartbreaks.' Azzure can't be selfish... It was obsessive, these feelings shouldn't have even manifested in the first place. For both their safety, no feelings can grow between the two of them, even if they want it to. Azzure can't afford to be selfish, not write now. Not with this girl's life on the line.
But at least for now, in this one moment, Azzure is okay to just spend it in silence with this girl.
.
.
.
.
Well, that would be the plan if said girl wasn't already speaking her!
Azzure felt her brain began to go into haywire. Azz had gotten too lost in her own thoughts to realize that the drop dead gorgeous woman had been speaking to her the whole time. And on Merlin's name why was her voice so hot!?
Azz couldnt help but tilt her head, pushing more of her weight on the hand that was supporting her. Azzure's posture was relaxed, but she was clearly listening to the the girl, letting her voice drape over her like silk. The girl's voice was low, soft, but it still carried the same gravitas and authority that her aura gave off.
"Violence. Uh, Violence Bloodthorn" ... Violence. Her name is actually Violence! Azzure's heart soared at the knowledge of finally knowing the name of the most drop dead gorgeous woman she's ever seen, Azzure's posture straightened up like a dog that found something that exited him. A newfound gleam appeared in Azzure's eyes. A spark of hope.
'Surely someone with a name like Violence is able to fight, right? If she'll be able to defend herself, if she can protect herself, then- then it'll be okay if I take her out as a date to the spirng sorieé, right?' Azzure felt like she was on a never ending treadmill, a sugar rush that just wont end.
Azz didn't know if this was attraction or obsession anymore, but it felt raw. And Azz craved to feel more of it.
Azzure almost wanted to reach out and touch her, make sure she was real and not just a figment of her imagination her mind made up. Violence was all Azzure wanted, she was perfect. So incredibly perfect.
Azzure smilled at her. her eyes warm as she scooted ever so slightly closer to her. Perhaps it was because of how magnetic Violence seemed, but no matter what Azz did, she couldn't shake the deep need to be closer to her, to feel her touch, to be held by her. Violence's brown eyes entranced Azzure. It was as if she held magic in her every being and Azzure was so incredibly desperate to even have a glimpse at her world.
To find someone who felt so incredibly real in a time where it felt like everything around her was changing, it felt... fated. Felt like maybe–– just maybe Azzure could finally be a normal person. Maybe this time she'll finally be able to be loved... yeah- 'loved.' maybe for once, Azzure could be happy.
Azz held her gaze. Searching Violence's brown eyes for the slightest chance that she too might think of Azz the same way she thinks about her. Azzure almost wanted to place her hand over Violence's–– to see if her touch would be soft and gentle or dominant and protective. Azzure wanted to know everything about her. Her deepest fears and best memories. And Azz will never let go. Holding onto those pieces of information like the brightest bits of gold.
"Nice to meet you," Merlin- her voice sounded so beautiful. Every word escaping her mouth with an unparalleled grace, almost like a siren's song with how Azzure felt an incomprehensible need to hang onto ever word she spoke. "You, um. You don’t look like you’re from here." ... Azzure froze, going completely still. Her thoughts were so loud in her own mind. 'shit, was my accent peaking through?? Oh no- did she not like it? Is she turned off? On Merlin's name, Azzure! why cant you think?! she's waiting you, fool! just talk!'
Yeah, I'm from Swansea, Wales. Uhm, I'm a first year as well. Gryffindor. Although, uh–– I'm not exactly wearing my school robes right now. I apologize, Miss. Violence. It's nice to meet you, m'lady." Azzure spoke, her voice groggy and low as she did her best to push back the swarm of thoughts that ran about in her brain. Azzure just hopes she doesn't sound too stupid or scare this goddess of a woman away.
ReducioWord Count: 1513
This is an RP with: @Violence Bloodthorn
For you, I would.
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| 𝕿his wasn’t exactly what Violence had envisioned when she woke up that morning. The nightmare had come again, just like it always did—an unsettling, stormy night. The same hooded woman. The same sense of something else lurking just behind her, watching. She never quite understood who—or what—that presence was, but it was always there, lingering, heavy. She woke up sweating, her heart racing, the terror of the dream still echoing in her mind. Why did it keep happening? What did it mean? She didn’t have answers. The thought of asking someone about it felt... impossible. Who could she even talk to about something like that? But as she shook off the lingering dread of the nightmare, the day started to take shape. She grabbed her clothes and quickly put together an outfit. She was in the mood for something bold, something that would feel right. ‘I feel red today,’ she thought as she picked out a red top and loose, comfortable blue jeans. A pair of gold accessories would complete the look perfectly, she decided. After a quick splash of water to wash her face, a generous layer of face cream, and a last-minute fix-up in the mirror, she grabbed her books and headed out of the dorm. She liked getting to class early, especially when it meant grabbing a spot by the windows. The sun streaming through in the morning always made the classroom feel warmer, almost magical. It was the perfect spot for a bit of pre-lecture reading. She figured it’d help her get ahead, but the truth was, she didn’t actually expect to do much reading that morning. She had no idea she was about to get distracted by a guy. And oh, did he distract her. As she realised she was sitting next to him, her brain went fuzzy. It was like everything she thought about just… evaporated. His eyes were too much, too intense. She couldn’t focus on anything else. For once, Violence didn’t mind being lost in her own head. She just wanted to get lost in those eyes, let herself drown in whatever this was. And then, without thinking, she chuckled to herself. He was staring at her lips. She’d caught him. ‘Well, I’m not the only one feeling this,’ she thought, trying to hide the small grin tugging at her lips. At least it was mutual, right? She wondered if he even realized she was speaking. No, he hadn’t noticed. Cute. Then, as if in slow motion, she saw his hand twitch, as if he was about to reach for hers. But he stopped. The moment froze. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable. ‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ she thought, even as her own fingers subconsciously stretched out toward him, just an inch. The gesture was instinctive, almost like her body was reacting without her permission. Her eyes widened, suddenly panicked. ‘Oh no, what did I just do? We’ve barely even said two words to each other. I don’t even know his name yet! God, I hope I didn’t just make things awkward.’ Her cheeks were on fire, warmth flooding her face as she glanced away for a split second, trying to compose herself. But it was hard. He hadn't stopped looking at her since the moment their eyes met. What the hell was happening? Just as she thought she might actually combust from the tension, he finally spoke. 'Wales, huh? Interesting,' she thought to herself. 'I think it’d be amazing to visit there in the spring.' Violence laughed, the sound escaping before she could stop it. “Yes, I doubt you’ll find any compression tees in Hogwarts robes, let alone Gryffindor’s. Honestly, I think I’m looking more Gryffindor than you right now,” she teased with a smirk. “But hey, it suits you. It’s really nice to meet you, though.” She glanced over at him, waiting, her heart racing as she watched him, a bit of humor dancing in her eyes. After a moment, she raised an eyebrow and leaned in slightly. “So, are you going to tell me your name, or should I just guess?” she asked with a playful smile. “I mean, if we’re going to be sitting next to each, it's better to get to know one another, no?” She mimicked the line he had said earlier, waiting for his response with a teasing glint in her eyes. | ||
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@Azzure Solace
[ 732/200 ]
For you, I would.
outfit
⋆"𝐹𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒"⋆
Well–– near her in the sense that Azzure wanted to be around Violence. Of liking the way they looked together. Not in the sense of together together. She didn’t want to be with Violence. No. Absolutely not. That was—
In the back of her mind Azzure heard the voice of her parents, reverberating through her skull. The old sermon they drilled into her as a child resurfacing:'Sit up straight. Smile. No rich man wants a wife who thinks too hard.'
‘No. Shut the fuck up Azzure’ she snapped at herself, tightening her grip on the table. ‘Your smile’s slipping, Solace. Your thoughts are too loud. You’re not supposed to think like this.’ Azzure forced herself back into the present, dragged in a breath as she plastered on the familiar shit-eating grin on her face
“Are you going to tell me your name or should I guess?”
Violence’s voice cut through her spiral—soft, lilting, a siren’s pull. Half of Azzure wanted to hear her guess, but the more functional part of her brain decided that was too much small talk for 8:30 in the morning
“Oh. I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Azzure Oblea-Solace, but just call me Azzure.” The albino spoke up as she looked at Violence, clearing her throat to push away the sleep that still clung to her voice. Still though, her time in solitude from the world made her weary. Despite Azzure’s frankly magnetic draw to Violence, a part of her was stuck on fight or flight.
“You’re quite sarcastic, Miss Bloodthorn. If you don’t mind me sharing, I truly thought you’d be ridiculously prim and proper. It’s hard not to have that type of impression when hearing the name ‘Violence Bloodthorn’. It's a very regal name, although I’m not sure it gives justice to your beauty. But I am glad you're not another stuck up noble, it's like you're a breath of fresh air made human.” Azzure spoke in the same tone she used when trying to size up people's personalities. The formal one she’d normally reserve for social gatherings held by her parents or when meeting some influential persona. As if posing Violence a challenge to prove herself someone Azzure could trust.
That being said, Azzure had unconsciously turned her whole body to face Violence, showing that whatever she’d say, Azz was listening. Well, at least that was the intention at first, but as the sun shifted in the sky, the stream of light that filtered through the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom refracted and hit her eyes causing Azzure’s vision to tunnel and her to involuntarily squint, the rapid moving of her eyes now increasingly noticeable as her grey eyes shone white at the way the light hit them.
“Sorry—could we switch places?” Azzure asked, wincing slightly. “I have albinism. I mean—that’s probably obvious. Sorry.” She hesitated, fumbling for the right words. “It’s just really hard to see with the light hitting my eyes.”
Azzure spoke, her words tentative despite Violence being her age. Azzure’s voice softened into something almost formal, almost apologetic—as though she were asking permission from someone older, someone powerful. Maybe, in her mind, she was.
ReducioWord Count: 588
This is an RP with: @Violence Bloodthorn