Rebels & Mutineers is set in modern day New Orleans, Louisiana. R&M is fueled by player's plots and group input.
Supernatural people have always had their place in society, hidden in plain sight or locked away for their own protection. New Orleans, a haven for the strange and mysterious and a magnet for the supernatural.
Established: Oct. 27th, 2018 Recently Updated Posts && Recently Updated Threads
05.11.19
As the community reels from the untimely death of Lucia Lovelle, life has to move on. Primrose readies for the annual Prom celebration! Keep your eye out for a event board and have fun!
02.27.19
It's not too late to vote for February's OTM winners! The winners for January, keep an eye out on your messages for your winner's graphics for your signature. Already voted? Make sure you check out the Mardi Gras event board! Party up, have a good time, and enjoy!
Post by Ezra John Davies on Jan 10, 2019 20:02:58 GMT
It didn't take long for Ezra to grow comfortable with his home in Phalanx. This was great, of course, because it meant that he felt safe and happy in the new house. It was unfortunate, however, because this comfort allowed his personality to come out in full bloom. Part of Ezra's personality included traits that were considered quite unpleasant to others... because evidently some people didn't appreciate his snark.
And so he happened to be one of the people asked to attend a mediation program in the living room. It was the last thing he wanted to do that afternoon, just after stabbing his eyes with lemon-soaked needles, but he didn't argue when Astor asked him to come down.
A hoard of problem children entered the room and were given partner assignments. With their partners they were expected to sit down and introduce themselves before finding something in common to talk about. It high key made Ezra want to vomit when he was given his partner's name. Taking a seat, he sighed incredulously as Prudence Lovelle approached. He hadn't had many encounters with the girl but he knew of her... knew that she hadn't exactly been the easiest to get along with in the house. It sucked, too, because she had really pretty eyes.
"Hi," he muttered with disinterest once she was within earshot. He kept his eyes on his fiddling hands, not particularly interested in making conversation. "What's your favorite color?" he asked with exasperation, sure to make his question loud enough for the accompanying staff in the room to hear. He was making an incredible effort to get to know this girl.
Post by Prudence Victoria Lovelle on Jan 11, 2019 4:27:49 GMT
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Prudence Lovelle had been at Phalanx for three years, but they had not always been smooth. Often, she had been accused of “taking charge” in situations where “it was not warranted.” Furthermore, they had insinuated that an attitude of “my way or the highway” was not always the best way to display leadership qualities. That, along with a few heated verbal altercations, were mostly the catalysts that had her in Phalanx’s living room that afternoon.
This was time she could have spent doing important things, like watching television or bothering her sister or brothers. They didn’t have to attend anything like this to learn how to be a “better communicator.” She could talk just fine, thank you very much. Besides, it had only been, like, a handful of times that it had gotten out of hand.
All but falling into the chairs designated for partner time, Prue pried the gum she had hidden on the roof of her mouth. Ezra Davies. The name had a vague ring to it. She crossed her arms and chewed idly, eyeing up the guy in front of her. He was new, but that was about all she could definitively say about him, besides the fact that he also had siblings in the house. She had heard he had a problem with snark and his attitude. Either way, whatever he did, he had to attend the same program as her.
“Yo,” she replied to his Hi. She blew a bubble with her gum; it was fairly obvious neither of them wanted to be in the room at that moment. She was willing to bet he wasn’t even listening to her. Her bubble popped. “Super partial to the color puce, you know? Something about the way it sounds,” she bullshitted. She let her back slide in the chair, her posture further relaxing. “So, you? What are your thoughts on Vietnam?” Yes, this was definitely going to be a productive conversation.
Post by Ezra John Davies on Jan 14, 2019 3:47:45 GMT
Ezra really didn't know how to feel about this girl. In one sense, he kind of felt like punching her in her pretty face. In another sense, she was amusing him. Determined not to let that show, he watched her cautiously keeping any expression from betraying his feelings. He didn't even know what those feelings were so he certainly didn't need someone else figuring that out before he did.
Until she spoke. He raised an eyebrow. What was this? What was she doing? He felt like they were playing a game and he didn't know the instructions. His pride would send him to an early death before asking for them. Ezra was rarely lost for words. Right now... he was lost for words.
"Puce? Is that even a color?" he asked, immediately feeling stupid. It sounded like the color of vomit so... that made some sense. She made him want to vomit, so maybe she liked vomit.
Vietnam? Okay, so they were most definitely playing a game. How did he feel about Vietnam? Surprisingly, he hadn't been asked that question in the past so he said the first thing that came to mind.
"Good food. Can you tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue?"
He took out a ziplock bag of cherries from his pocket, popping one into his mouth. He spit the pit into a garbage can a couple feet from his chair and pulled the stem out of his mouth, perfectly tied.
"Or is your mouth too big?" Because, from his limited experience with her, that seemed like a possibility.
Post by Prudence Victoria Lovelle on Jan 14, 2019 6:11:13 GMT
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Prue studied the boy’s face. He wasn’t the worse looking thing she had ever seen, but there was a hard set to him, like he was used to frowning. She almost envied the guarded look it gave him, as she was given to the opposite. Her face often betrayed her, but right then it had settled into a glint in her eye that matched her haphazardly casual chair-sitting. She was doing her best to give off her usual too-cool vibe, following whatever was the first thought that sprang to her head.
That was often a deadly endeavor.
So he was listening to her. That made it a bit harder to properly mess with him, but there was nary a challenge Prue turned down, for better or worse. “It’s totally a color. What’s your favorite? Something like blue?” She had no idea what exactly to call the tone that made even simple words like colors sound like vague barbs, but it was fun to sprinkle into conversation. She was sure Nellie was in the house, somewhere, twin instincts screaming at her that the older one was making bad choices. Perhaps if Nellie stormed in and pulled her away, she could get out of the program altogether.
She eyed the stem in his hand. Well, that was certainly a parlour trick. She had never tried such a thing, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead she shrugged, her posture widening to simulate her getting comfortable in front of him.
Or is your mouth too big?
Oh, so that was how he wanted to play it. Her wide mouth split into a shit-eating grin. “I’ve never had any complaints, but it’s a wonder you can do anything with no lips,” she retorted with an even temperament, pointing out the hard expression that turned his mouth into a thin line. If they got too heated, one of the adults was sure to step in, and her curiosity to see how long they could keep it up outweighed her want to be away from him. So far, anyway.
Post by Ezra John Davies on Jan 15, 2019 2:06:12 GMT
He raised a brow at her when she suggested that blue wasn't an appropriate favorite color. "It's chartreuse," he deadpanned, narrowing his eyes. "And what the fuck is wrong with blue?" he asked incredulously.
Seeing her slouch, he leaned back, kicking his shoes off. Never before had he been so thankful for the laziness and impatience that prevented him from tying his shoes properly-- they came right off as he'd wanted them to. I mean, nothing would have been more humiliating than one of his shoes getting caught on his foot as he tried to remove them.
Color began to fill his face when she commented on his lips. How... how dare she. His lips were totally there. He'd know-- he wore lip balm in the winter because they got chapped in dry air and no one wanted chapped lips. He was good at keeping them hydrated. So... the joke was on her. Not only did his lips exist, but they were nice lips.
His expression remained loyal, not giving an ounce of emotion.
"Hm-- I thought they were there while they were kissing your mom last night."
He smirked, tilting his head to the side. Waiting for-- daring her to insult him again. He popped another cherry into his mouth, again spitting out the pit with perfect aim. He took the small bag in his hand and held it toward her as an offering. He didn't particularly know why he was offering her his food, but something about her... it intrigued him.
Post by Prudence Victoria Lovelle on Jan 15, 2019 4:09:36 GMT
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Prue had to hand it to him; chartreuse was a good color. In fact, it was uncomfortably close to her real favorite color. “Nice one.” She tried to match his deadpan but could only get down to a little bit of a vocal fry. “Are you kidding, though? Everything. For one, that fucking dog puts her paws on everything and leaves pawprints. It’s rude.” She couldn’t quite hold back the grin that came over her face. If she had to be at this stupid program, she was going to have her fill of fun.
He kicked off his shoes? She got that they were technically already in their house, a fact which had now begun to fill her with annoyance - she had to share a house with this clown - But still, she could smell his shoes from her chair. She wasn’t about to let him out casual her, though. She tossed her arm over the back of the chair behind her and widened her stance even more, other arm resting across her stomach. She leaned back against her arm and looked way comfier than the stiff dining chair should have allowed.
She felt a little cheated that his face wasn’t as expressive as she had been banking on. She had no idea if she was landing anything, which made it all the more enticing to continue. The end goal had shifted to getting some sort of emotional reaction from him, even if it was just a sneer. She’d take that as a win any day over the stony gargoyle face he was currently pulling.
She wrinkled her nose, which made her look much more nonchalant than she felt. He had just insulted her mother then offered her a cherry. What a weird ass kid. Still, she took the cherry. “That’s kind gross, man. Like, I love my mom, but she’s like 50.” Her mother would forgive her; it was important that she appear as calm and put together as she could in front of this kid with the dark ass roots.
“If you have to go all the way up north for a date with a woman in her 40’s, you must be hard up for chicks. Don’t worry; you’ll hit puberty one day.” She gave him her best pitying gaze, laying one of her hands across her heart in a southern mannerism she had picked up. It was the non-verbal equivalent to bless your heart.
Post by Ezra John Davies on Feb 1, 2019 22:55:33 GMT
She said that he had a nice favorite color, and yanno, something told him that she wasn't being genuine about it. Which... was rude... because it was a nice color. He gave her a look when she revealed her hatred for the cartoon dog. "So? You have... like... platinum hair and you're terrible. Doesn't ruin the whole color," he pointed out. I mean... his hair was the same color, so he clearly liked it. "You hate the sky because of a fictional dog?" he added with a scoff. It just wasn't a good reason to him. Then again, he was a little biased. About a third of the clothes he owned were blue.
He watched her incredulously as she dipped further into her chair, looking so relaxed that he felt, for some reason, unsettled. He crossed his arms, though he didn't lean further back in his chair. It was a good thing, too, because he probably would have fallen over.
"Well, I'm fifty two," he blurted out, having no fucking clue why he blurted it out. "And maybe if you were fifty, you'd have more appreciation for blue." He wanted to disappear. His face flushed, and he never wanted to be seen again. One thing about Ezra; he could look you dead in the eyes and tell you that he was half from the moon without a single falter to his face... without a break in his voice.
The comment about him going through puberty was just uncalled for. "Why're you so mean?" he asked, his face crinkling. "I mean, I probably would be too, if I looked like a frog," he added contemplatively. "But plastic surgery is a thing. You should really learn to take your aggression out on the problem, not innocent bystanders."
Post by Prudence Victoria Lovelle on Feb 4, 2019 0:08:03 GMT
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This was so much better than learning actual conflict resolution skills. She could bull shit all day, and it was pretty damn easy compared to “self-regulation” and “emotional empowerment.” Or any of the other myriad of bull shit buzz words they threw around for crap like this. She ran her hand through her hair as he talked about the color. “It’s just because I wear it too well. That cancels out my terribleness.” She rolled her eyes; she didn’t even hate blue, much less the sky. But the charade was already begun. “To be fair, I hate a lot of things for a lot less, so…” She gave a hearty shrug at the end of her own words. “What’s so good about blue, anyway? Green and yellow are much better.”
That was certainly a weird flex. Did he really expect her to believe he was fifty-two? Maybe he actually was, and it was part of his power. She had heard of a lot of weird powers. To cover her inner thoughts, however, she shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage before slightly adjusting her posture in the chair. She really was in danger of ending up on the ground if she slid much further down. That would completely defeat the purpose of the nonchalance, if she bit it onto the ground. “If you’re fifty-two, I guess that could explain the hair. You’re obviously going through a bad dye job mid-life crisis. If you want, I can give you tips on keeping your roots blended, old timer.”
The bantering was obviously only one-sided fun, though, and being called mean only made her roll her eyes further. Fine, fine. She was a mean frog apparently. She had definitely been called worse. “All right, we can go to the surgeons together. I’ll get my frog-face fixed, and you can get lip fillers. Let me know when the appointment is.” She did feel a little bit bad about it, but she could never resist the low-hanging fruit. “But I hardly think you’re an innocent bystander. We’re all in this living room right now for a reason. What did you even do?” She ended her statement before she could run her frog-mouth and insult him again. It was just too damn easy.
Post by Ezra John Davies on Mar 8, 2019 2:20:44 GMT
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What was so great about blue? It wasn't even his favorite color. And suddenly, he wanted to defend it with every fiber of his being.
"It's not that it's great. It's that it doesn't deserve your unwarranted disgust," he pointed out incredulously. "Green is better. Yellow makes me think of vomit." So, hey, that made two things that made him think of vomit.
One was Prue.
Okay. The insults to his hair? Uncalled for.
"Hey. I just want my hair lighter-- not for it to be ready for Dance Moms." He hadn't asked for his roots to be judged. Christ.
"I will," he said when she mentioned him making the appointment for their cosmetic surgery, crossing his arms and tilting his head. "Tomorrow. Don't be late. And we're stopping for iced coffee first." He didn't even know what was happening anymore. Was he inviting her to go get iced coffee with him? Who fucking knew? Not him.
"I am innocent... this-- well, okay. I'm..." This wasn't going well.
"I put squirrels in that Harris kid's room but he was being a jerk." So... the squirrels weren't really Ezra's fault. He had facilitated their trip by quite a bit... but he hadn't caused it. Per sé.
"And you're not an angel, either. What'd you do-- rob a bank?" Something about her made him inclined to believe that wasn't even much of a stretch.
"I don't even get why we're in here," he said with exasperation, raising his voice to be sure that some staff heard it.
Post by Prudence Victoria Lovelle on Mar 11, 2019 23:13:43 GMT
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So they agreed on green. And that did not bring her comfort. At least yellow was closer to her actual favorite; he didn’t like that one. “Lots of things get unwarranted disgust, like yellow,” she returned rather matter-of-factly. “If you ever do realize your dancing dream, maybe I’ll watch it. I bet you can plié with the best of them.” The very fact that it didn’t sound insulting probably made it insulting to him, which she didn’t hate.
“You can’t say don’t be late if you don’t say a time. That defeats the purpose.” Oh fuck. If he actually said a time, she’d have to go. She was totally enmeshed in it now, and she was pretty sure he was just as stubborn. At least she liked iced coffee, if she could keep it down after being in the same room as him.
She highly doubted he was innocent; she could have clocked him as a bit troublesome from across the room. It was in the set of his no-lip mouth, the way she figured it was in her own frog mouth. Still, she had to admit that putting squirrels in Harris’s room was a pretty badass idea. God knew the kid deserved it, and she showed her approval in an appreciative nod. “So, like, what are you? A squirrel shifter? How does that even work?” Her brow went up as she crossed her arms tighter across the chest.
She gave her eyes a healthy roll and planted her feet back on the ground. “No, I didn’t rob a bank. I may have poured dirt in Jessie’s backpack, though. She just talks so much about shit no one cares about,” she muttered, grinding the toe of her shoe into the ground. To her credit, the girl hadn’t even noticed until she got into the classroom, but Ms. Morgan didn’t even second-guess the accusation Jessie leveled at Prue afterwards. It hadn’t helped her case that she immediately started laughing, either.
His statement was pretty true. She had no idea what they were supposed to be doing. Their instructions had been to “get to know their neighbours.” Well, they were getting to know each other, and if there was a second part where they had to practice hokey conflict resolution on each other, she decided she would scream. “Maybe we’ll have to do trust falls or some shit.” She’d rather fall off the roof.
