The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
He reached out to take the flask and found a momentary stalemate, his eyes lingering on her hands. He already knew she was stronger than him, and he wasn't going to fight for it, so he just held on until she let go, and slowly drew the flask back, took a sip, and capped it again. Then he scratched at the stubble on his face. He smirked. "Old, sure, but scruffed up? That hurts." He shook his head. "You're young, that is a fact. I don't think it makes you impressionable. It just means you still have a lot of life left to live."
He turned back to her. "But, Nevermeran women never cease to surprise me. You've proven to be no different."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Feb 5, 2023 13:03:54 GMT -5
“Hey, I’m just makin’ judgments on how you see yourself. That has no bearing on how I see you," Regan winked, “Old man.” Her words were starting to slip together and her gaze along with it. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, eyes glowing copper and she made a little disgruntled huff.
Regan sighed, running a hand through her hair before looking at Warren with wicked mischief in her smile. “You wanna see something?” Her eyes flickered around the other soldiers gathered around the campfire, “Surely the kiddies will be alright for a minute.”
Last Edit: Feb 5, 2023 13:04:11 GMT -5 by Regan Lassiter
He chuckled, unable to argue with that statement, so instead he looked back into the fire briefly until the next time she spoke. At which time he narrowed his eyes somewhat, and looked around as she did. "That depends entirely on what something is, Ms. Lassiter," although he was hesitant, he was curious. He'd been curious about the source of her powers since he'd felt her strength, but he couldn't be so sure that was what she intended to show him.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Feb 5, 2023 16:00:18 GMT -5
“Now what fun would that be?”
Regan stood. As she did, she swayed ever so slightly like a blade of grass in the breeze. “Come on,” Regan teased, holding out her hand, “I don’t bite.”
Much.
The amber veins burned in her eyes. She’d wait, hand hovering in the air between them, waiting for Warren to take it.
He eyed her hand, and then looked around once more. With an amused huff, he gave in, taking her hand. As he was pulled to his feet, whether by his own efforts or Regan's strength, he leaned down to grab his sweater and shake it out, pulling it back over his head. "Alright then," he said with a nod. "Lead the way."
He tucked the flask away in one of his trouser pockets as he followed her.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Feb 5, 2023 20:28:05 GMT -5
Regan snatched up her backpack as Warren slipped on his sweater. She glanced back at camp one last time, looking for Grant, but he was nowhere to be found. She grimaced before starting out, moving quickly through the trees, expecting Warren to follow. It was dark, but Regan had no difficulty making her way—even if she had the occasional whiskey-induced stumble. Her eyes glowed like lighted coals in the dark, a convenient way for Warren to know just where she was.
Eventually, the sounds of the soldiers would fall away and the dark of the forest would surround them. They reached a little clearing and Regan dropped her pack to the ground. “You said Nevermerean women never cease to surprise you?” Regan asked, clearly a little drunk, stripping off her jacket and dropping it on the ground.
He followed her into the woods, occasionally looking back toward the campfire and the soldiers. Each time Regan stumbled, he'd reach out instinctively to steady her or catch her if she fell, though each time she caught herself and his hands dropped short. When finally she deemed them far enough away from the crowd, she turned to him.
"I did say that, but--" his words trailed off for a moment, caught in his throat as she removed her jacket and dropped it to the ground. Now he was much more unsure about this choice. He'd known that she was inebriated and yet had agreed to following her in the woods. He should have shut the idea down to begin with. "Perhaps we should return to camp, Ms. Lassiter," he said quietly, the slightest bit of panic in his tone.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Feb 5, 2023 21:45:31 GMT -5
She couldn’t hear him. Even if she wanted to turn back, the temptation had grown too powerful to resist. Regan was kicking off her boots, pulling off her tunic, and tossing it to the side as if it were infested with fleas. It was a frantic display, punctuated finally with a warning:
“Get back.”
Once her tunic hit the ground, stripped to her undershirt and trousers, Regan burst into flames.
A low growl left her, followed by a satisfied whimper. Within the burst of fire, Regan’s gaze turned to Warren, predatory eyes ablaze and a fanged grin on her lips. A low growl would him in her throat before she tossed her head back and flashed in a bright burst of fire.
And then, just when it seemed like she was going to take the forest with her, the fire extinguished on command. Regan, now stood panting with the kind of ecstasy one might associate with…dissimilar nocturnal activities.
"Fuck,” She swore to herself, stepping back and leaning against a tree. Her clothes were singed but still intact, a bashful smile on her lips as her dark eyes turned to Warren.
"No, let's -- put your shirt back on --" he had moved somewhat closer, his hands stretched out in front of him as he attempted to lean down and pick her clothes back up off the ground. But her warning sounded very real, and he stepped back again, and continued doing so until his back hit a tree and he remained against it.
Surprise was not the word he would use to describe the moment she, very literally, burst into flames. Surprise didn't seem strong enough to describe the sentiment, nor did any other of the very few words that came to mind as he stared at her in awe, slack-jawed. She was burning, but she wasn't burning.
He met her eyes when she looked at him, and every inch of his skin crawled with the knowledge that he was small and weak. Then the flames brightened with a flash and he squinted against the glow. When they extinguished themselves, it took his eyes a few moments to adjust and by the time they had, Regan was propped up against the tree and her eyes were on him.
His heart was beating out of his chest. He'd seen some pretty unbelievable things in his lifetime, but that took the cake, and the pie, too. It took him a moment to catch his breath, and another to convince his legs to begin moving toward the predator. He picked up her tunic and jacket, approached her, and draped the jacket around her shoulders, pulling it to a close at the center of her chest. "Do you...burst into flames often, Ms. Lassiter?" He asked quietly, an edge of humor in it, though his chest was heaving as if he were the one who had been on fire.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Feb 6, 2023 12:17:54 GMT -5
Regan squirmed a little as Warren got closer. The amber flexed in her dark eyes surged to the surface as she watched him. With a soft, almost imperceptible growl, her claws flexed and dug into the tree behind her. The whiskey had almost burned off but had been replaced by something equally as intoxicating and far more dangerous. Regan counted in her head, just as Cassian taught her.
1…2…3…
With a shaky breath, she pushed herself off the tree and let Warren drape her jacket around her shoulders. It was an unexpected gesture that caused a toothy grin to pull across her face. Her eyes flickered to the rise and fall of his chest, then back to his face again. The inner ego that was bound to live in every witch worth their salt was quite pleased. The hellwolf, meanwhile, was taking it to another level entirely.
“Not as often as I’d like,” Regan chuckled, “Like you said the catharsis is…addictive.”
1...2—
Regan’s lips parted as she breathed. She could smell him, caught somewhere between wanting to devour him and—
Regan would lay a hand on his chest and—with a total lack of situational awareness—close the distance between them with a tiny rumble.
He'd only be lying to himself if he said he wasn't a bit caught up in the moment, nor was he entirely sure what he had expected. She had seemed, not determined, but anxious to put on the display and speaking of catharsis had only confirmed his suspicions. He should have backed up, given her space. That would have been the proper thing to do, but it felt too cold. He didn't want to make her feel like that.
The warmth of her hand on his chest and her body so close to his had his heart pounding. How long had it been? Nine, no, ten years?
Rough, steady hands reached out, slow and hesitant in case she denied them, to gently push her short hair away from her face. They rested there for a moment, this thumbs grazing her cheekbones. He'd wanted to touch her, but his hands were there for another reason, too. To keep her from moving any further. "Regan, I appreciate what you've confided in me, and you can trust that it will remain between us. You're--" he shook his head somewhat, unable to find a more suitable word. "You're quite incredible," he continued, "but I am, unfortunately, a little too old fashion to share in your catharsis."
Pulling his hands from her face, he took hold of the hand that she had rested against his chest and lifted her knuckles to his lips, to kiss them. His next words were spoken very seriously. "Unless of course you're interested in proper courting and marriage, in which case I'm happy to send you an invitation to have tea with my mother and sisters. I would prefer you take my last name as is standard, so you would become nobility. I am currently heir-less, so I would like to work on that as quickly as possible. Would our children be capable of bursting into flames as well? We'll need to fire-proof the manor. In the mean time, I'll have my will updated and my estate left to you."
Letting go of her hand, he turned and walked to where she had discarded her boots, picking them up and brushing off any woodland debris that had stuck to the sides of them. When he turned back to her, offering her the boots and her tunic, he was grinning. "I hope that helped cool you off?"
Post by Regan Lassiter on Feb 6, 2023 15:22:43 GMT -5
Regan’s first instinct was to take it as an invitation. As soon as Warren took her face in his hands she was rising to her toes, clawed hands balling themselves up in his shirt. But…
She blinked, trying to focus on the words that were tumbling out of Warren’s mouth. Regan lowered back onto the ground and stared at him dumbly, breath catching with a little whimper as his lips brushed her knuckles. What the actual fuck was happening. The longer he spoke, the redder her face became with both the mortification of rejection and the shock of his counter offer. Maybe this was a joke? Surely he was making fun of her. Surely he wasn’t serious.
“I—” Regan blinked again, taking her tunic and her boots as he smiled at her, “I, uh,” she blinked again, the odd mix of confusion, embarrassment, and unbearable, fire-fueled lust displayed in a weird stew on her now beet-red face.
“We should get back.” Her voice cracked midway through the sentence as she took the shirt and boots from Warren and started to redress.
She hadn't responded the way he had hoped. That much shouldn't have been surprising. He was never all that great at being funny. He sighed and turned his back to her as she got dressed, as if he hadn't already seen her burnt undershirt. Rubbing his head, he rested his hand on his hip as she pulled on her boots. "That was supposed to be a joke at my expense, Re--Ms. Lassiter." He exhaled a deep breath. "Though clearly I should stick to day job."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Feb 6, 2023 16:11:38 GMT -5
Regan let out a breathy laugh of relief. No, a man as difficult to read as Warren had no business joking at all, particularly when it came to something as heart-stoppingly embarrassing as what had just transpired. Regan shook her head and sighed before pulling on her boots.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t build a career on it. Might give someone a heart attack,” Regan took another deep breath, trying to literally and figuratively cool down before she walked over slowly and tapped Warren on the shoulder.
“You can call me Regan. If you want, “ she said quietly, cheeks still pink over her sheepish smile, “I’m, uh, sorry about all…that. When I, uh, asked you out here, I did just want to show you. I mean, I do want—I mean did, did want the—you know, the other thing. It just wasn’t my original intention to…” Regan’s shoulders slumped with a sigh as she looked up at Warren with her big dark eyes, “I didn’t mean to put you in a tough spot is all. I just got, uh, carried away."
Her laugh felt long-awaited. He let out a breath himself, happy to hear it. While his heart was still thumping faster than it should be, he could begin to calm himself down now. He'd still been stupid, but as long as he hadn't hurt her, he could deal with the embarrassment. "You have a lot of room to talk about giving people heart attacks," he said as he rubbed his face.
When she tapped his shoulder, he turned back to face her, and nodded once as he returned her smile. "Please don't apologize. I consider myself lucky to be offered any amount of your time or attention. I hardly deserve it." He rubbed her arm and then stepped past her to pick her pack up from the ground, throwing it over his shoulder. "Shall we return, then? Hopefully the camp has not fallen into ruin in our absence."