RP:Jailhouse Rock

Summary: Lanara is excited to have a girls night out with her two friends from Kelvar, however, the night doesn’t go nearly as planned! Nicolai Garter, her stalker of nearly a decade, gets the crazy idea that he will turn the witch into a wolf and save her life! Lana discovers that Nick is the one that has been sending her odd gifts, stole Belgemine’s diary, and has been terrorizing her in her final days. She rejects his offer, refuses to be his wolf mate, and states that her heart will forever belong to Tiberius Lowell. It sends the bard into a frenzy and he goes berserk, badly beating the witch, before he throws her into a coffin. Meanwhile, Cinder the Tikifhlee, witnesses all of this and sets off to locate Tiber. The man arrives at the funeral parlor and both lycans pummel each other, until the Cenril City Guards break up the fight and throw them both in jail. After a torturous yet comical few hours in a shared cell, the men are free to go home, but Tiber learns that Lana’s life is hanging by a thread.

Part of the Lunar Tides and Silver Linings Arc

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara :: The past two days went by in a blur for the couple, as Tiber had either been busy trying to gain the trust of his future packmates or researching everything there was to know about turning his girlfriend into a lycan. Meanwhile, Lanara had spent her time tidying things up at the animal sanctuary, saying goodbye to Meri, and penning sappy letters to her close friends and family in the event that her turning didn’t prove successful. The few moments the pair had together were blessed with a peacefulness as they had both come to terms with their future, should things work out as expected. Although Lana’s strength had significantly diminished, her love for Tiber had continued to blossom, and everyone from the mismatched packed in the storage unit, to the dwarf peddling wares at the end of the street, all claimed the witch was in love, as it was written plain as day upon her fair face. The only negative during the week, aside from Corrine’s horrid pushing off the edge of a cliff, had been that mysterious packages had been left at the animal sanctuary and at their apartment. A bouquet of dead roses. A few ominous letters. The remainder of Belgemine’s battered diary. A dead pigeon holding a card with the emblem of a broken heart, scribbled upon the parchment in its blood. A stuffed bear with the guts ripped out. A dead fish with the word ‘WITCH’ clawed into its side. And this morning, hanging from the doorknob, there hung a noose.

(Post 2 of 2) Lanara had plucked the noose from the door as she had gone to retrieve the morning paper, making certain to hide it beneath the living room sofa, before Tiberius had caught on that she had received another ‘gift’ from a potential stalker. What did this person want? Why did they feel the need to taunt her with very obvious symbols of death? She already memorized the diary, she knows her fate, and she truly has no idea why this faceless being is messing with her, as she had gone to great lengths to keep her hideout untraceable. The rest of the day passed without incident and as she finished writing a long letter to Talyara, she gets dressed for a night on the town. An hour later, Lana emerges from the restroom in a black sheath dress that shows off her toned legs, and a pair of silver heels. She’s putting in large hoop earrings as she heads into the bedroom and smiles at Tiber, “I’m so excited to meet up with the girls! We are going for drinks at the Whaler’s and then we are going up to the Cove to do a little witchy ritual before tomorrow.” She winks, knowing that he must be anxious as they scheduled her ‘shift’ for tomorrow evening. The hourglass pendant only has a few granules of sand left in the upper area, alerting them to the fact that she only has about three or four days left. It makes sense that she’s eager to spend time with her kin from Kelvar, as bittersweet as her night may be. “If we get done early I can stop by the unit to say hello… Is that cool?” She knows the others aren’t all that crazy about her, and she thinks they will disapprove once they find out that she’s one of their kind, so she has been making her presence scarce. “Can you zip me up, Babe?” Turning around, she pulls her long hair over one shoulder and glances seductively over her shoulder, “You can help me peel this off later… It may very well be my last time doing -that- as an elf!” The saucy smirk remains as a faint blush creeps into her cheeks and she waits for her attire to be secured, relishing in Tiber’s fingertips grazing against her flesh.

(Post 1 of 2) Tiber, although in silent panic, had been relieved that Lanara was choosing life. Life with him which brought a sense of ease. What would it feel like to have her be… like him. These thoughts had to wait, for the lycan, however, was not resting like he thought he would. Tired eyes and scruffed five o’clock shadow due to the late night studying of how to turn his girlfriend. Turn his girlfriend. By Gods, he was turning his girlfriend. Tiber, do not hit the panic button. Lucky for him, he had a special solution for his dry, tired eyes to avoid the worrisome looks from the witch. Some sort of clear liquid to suck the moisture back into them. Besides the restlessness had been the oddity of the gifts for the witch at their doorstep, Tiberius had only been present for a few of the gifts out of the multiple Lanara had come across. The dead roses. Easy to play off, they died over the course of time without water. Cenril is hot. Flowers dry out. The teddy bear with the stuffing out. Someone’s pet next door found a nice new toy? And then, the fish with the etchings of ‘WITCH’ on its side. That one Tiberius could not really wave off--someone knew their address. Someone knew Lanara. Was it the pack playing pranks? Had someone been watching Lanara…? Lanara was lucky that Tiber did not find the most recent gift.

(Post 2 of 2) Tiber, that morning, had been at his desk. His study. Where he had spent most time the past days as he tried to get a hold on how to turn the witch. The pack was antsy, for they still were kept in the unit, but Tiberius had supplied the pack with new instruments to play around with to entertain themselves while he was gone. A few of the packmates had been iffy about Tiber’s studies--mostly Corrine--but he was firm about the decision. Lanara was going to bear the curse of lycanthrope. Well, if their plans will fall through. The man’s hand is plastered against his forehead as he flips through various pages of readings about the curse of lycanthrope. A voice, however, chipper as ever, snaps him out of his trance. He impulsively lifts his head to stare at the beautifully curved witch. Eyes glaze over her figure, and instantly he stands like she is some sort of magnet. His opposite. The man was drawn to her, but the phrase ‘going out’ made him nervous. “You sure you’re good with going out…?” The Catalian had obviously been cautious about the fish. “I could come. It could be an all girls date with a handsome boyfriend in the crowd? I can sit in the back of the bar?” What a worry-wart. Once he realizes how suffocating he sounds, he shakes his own head before she can respond. “No, no, have fun. Err,” as she talks about the unit, he nods. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there probably when you’re around, anyway. Bjorn wants me to teach him the trumpet,” it sounded ridiculous. The man shakes his head with that note too before slipping easily behind her to trace fingers on her back before zipping her dress up slowly. He whispers in, “Just think of what taking this off will be like as a lycan,” he kisses her shoulder before sliding his hands back to his sides. “Have fun,” he says with a lop-sided, boyish grin.

Lanara laughs at Tiber’s offer to accompany her to the Whaler’s, because she could just imagine what the other witches would think! Is he abusive? Overbearing? Jealous? The lycan has her best interests at heart, and she knows he’s being a little clingy as she’s on borrowed time, so she is more amused than alarmed. “I am sure everything will be fine! Plus! You don’t have to worry about things getting too out of hand. Gia and Maude are probably the two most tame women I know!” There wouldn’t be any dancing on tables or getting so tipsy they fall over, nor would her friends look to pick up any men, as Kelvar instilled a wariness of males in the elves. “I will meet up with you long before midnight, I promise.” Lana blinks at the news of Tiber teaching Bjorn to play the trumpet, the visual alone enough to draw a laugh from the witch, “I cannot wait to see Bjorn play -any- instrument! He’s only doing it to draw some band chicks or cheerleaders, I’m sure.” As the dress is zipped and that sultry whisper reaches her tapered ears, she turns and loosely wraps her arms around Tiber’s torso, as she looks up at his heavenly face beneath her long painted lashes, “I am counting on it feeling -that- good, Lowell.” For a moment she sways in place, as though dancing to some tune in her mind, as she continues to gaze into the eyes of the most perfect man in all of Lithrydel. In -her- eyes, he is perfect! “I can help with the research… I hate that you are up at all hours and missing out on rest.” Leaning in, she places a quick kiss to his lips, reaching to wipe the faint smear of lipstick from the corner of his mouth, “Although, I do like you with a five o’clock shadow…” Pulling out of the embrace, the witch grabs her purse, and waves in parting, before she breezes out of the apartment and presumably heads towards the Whaler’s.

Tiber’s smile turns into one that is now lazy as she kisses the corner of his mouth. A hand reaches to brush some strands of hair from her face before his own hand reaches towards his stubble. “I don’t know, research sort of pays off now, doesn’t it?” He is talking about his shadow again and then he plants a kiss to her cheek before turning off to reach for the mug of coffee on his desk. He takes another sip as he watches her departure. “Love you.” Then, he is left in the empty apartment. Although time was lacking in the love department, the man was determined that it was best to take a break and get ready. He takes a lengthy bath, keeps the scruff on his face, and dresses in a denim jacket and black denim pants before grabbing his guitar case to head out the door. Upon entering the unit, the group greets the man with pats on the back and loud ‘heys’, for the group had let Tiberius grow on them. Somehow Tiber had been kind of charming in their eyes. Perhaps it was the thought of fulfilled promises in their futures--plus the cool, new supplied instruments to play with. A new guitar. A trumpet. A harmonica. A tambourine. It was truly hard to get a set of drums in the establishment without having it be too loud, so Tiberius refrained on that one--for now. As the day went on, Tiber set his evening in a whirl of music. Greyson had picked up guitar fairly easily, Violet had been dancing around the place with the tambourine, but as for Bjorn on the horn… Yikes. It would need work. “Just press your lips against the mouthpiece. Don’t freaking put your mouth over it, that’s nasty.” Yes, that was how Tiberius’ evening was going. So yes, it took lots of time because Tiberius was a huge music critic. The time that passed was unusual because… Lanara was not there yet. “Yo, does anyone know the time…?” He looks around the jamming group before looking to the door to the unit. Maybe Lanara -was- having too much fun?

(Post 1 of 3) Lanara had made it three quarters of the way to her destination when she remembers that she promised to bring along a vial of dragon tears for Maude, as the woman wished to explore conjuration magic and lacked the necessary ingredients. Backtracking the way she had come, and knowing she had to return to her old apartment, she worriedly keeps glancing towards the shadows and hopes she isn’t being followed. The last time she had been in the room above the funeral parlor was the day that it had been broken into, and someone had stolen Belgemine’s diary. The rent had been paid in advance, and she only has a few belongings remaining behind, but surely her stalker didn’t expect her to return? The witch arrives and takes the steps two at a time, finding the door unlocked, though the room looks untouched from the last time she had been inside. Without wasting time, Lanara heads to the closet and rummages through a large duffel bag of rarely used crafting ingredients, pausing at one or two, before she holds up the glass vial. “Perfect!” Sliding it into her purse, she zips the bag and turns to exit the room, when she bumps into none other than Nicolai Garter, the Backstreet Bard! “Nick! What are you doing here?!” The blonde narrows his gaze on the witch and takes a menacing step closer, before his hands grab a hold of each of her shoulders and he begins to violently shake her from side to side. “Are you INSANE?! Why are you still an ELF?! Is that creep too chicken to TURN you?! LANA! You are going to DIE! Why did you refuse to be a LYCAN?!” The male is beyond being able to see reason as he continues to roughly grip the witch and literally drags her around the room, bouncing her off of various pieces of furniture as he rants and raves about how -HE- will turn her and make her his mate! “You will be MINE, do you understand me?! Lowell never cared about you, -I- and the only man for you, Lana! So! I will shift and you will obey my every command. I will give you life and you will give me love!” Lanara winces in pain as he pulls her hair so fiercely that several strands remain in his palm once he releases her from his grasp, “I could -NEVER- love you Nick. I love Tiber! I would rather be -dead- than be your mate!”

(Post 2 of 3) Nick stares into the eyes of the elusive woodland witch, the woman of his dreams, and he wonders where he could have gone wrong in their relationship. They had been friends from the very start, and she had been his number one fan since the band had gained stardom. He had showered her with expensive gifts, weekend getaways, concert tickets, and he had even befriended her little sister! They both were talented, good looking, and they both loved animals and were loyal to their friends. He had tried being forceful and it had backfired, he tried giving her space but she seemed not to notice his absence, and even when he had stolen the diary and sent her creepy gifts, she still didn’t connect the dots that -her- number one fan had been silently stalking her for months! And now?! As her big brown eyes size him up and she screams that she will never love anyone but Tiber, and that pretty mouth dares to deny the precious gift of life, something inside the bard snaps. “You bitch!” Consider your wish granted, he thinks, as the coiled rattlesnake that is his massive hand, springs forth and makes contact with Lanara’s painted lips. Her yelp isn’t enough to give him pause, nor is the sight of her collapsing on the cot and blinking back tears, and so he continues to issue slaps, punches, and kicks to the body of the petite woman. Lana cries hysterically and tries to helplessly shield her face from the vicious attacks, but her pleas for Nick to stop go unheard, and she’s so desperately close to losing consciousness. The bard gives the witch a moment's reprieve as he undoes his belt, and she’s likely thinking he’s going to assault her in a more intimate manner, but what he does is more dehumanizing. Nick tightens the belt around Lana’s slender neck and forces her to crawl on all fours across the room, down the steep staircase, and into the closed funeral parlor. “GET UP!” Screaming at her, he tugs on the belt to the point where she’s fighting to breathe, and she obediently rises, though her dark gaze is focused on the shadow beneath the coffin that Nick is unlatching. Lanara telepathically whispers to the tikifhlee to ‘stay hidden and to go get Tiber’, before she’s violently struck again and tossed into the coffin. Nick seals the lid and presses a flask to his lips to take a much needed drink, trying not to let the sight of his bruised knuckles coated in Lana’s blood get to him too much. “That witch had it coming…” Rapping on the lid, he yells, “Once the clock strikes midnight, I’m turning you, Princess! Not much longer now…” His words are spoken to air, as the brunette has lost consciousness.

(Post 3 of 3) Cinder wanted nothing more than to claw the eyes out of the pathetic bard’s head, but Lanara had told her to remain hidden. She hadn’t ever truly listened to her mistress before, but even she knows that a feline is no match for a lycan. The beating that he gave to Lana is enough to kill her, or at least remove a few days from her lifespan, and so the cat jumps through shadows all over Cenril. First, she ends up in someone’s bathroom and sees -way- more than anyone should see in their lifetime! Next, she winds up in a cavern near the beach. Then, she’s back at the apartment, and she desperately searches for something that reeks of that gross boyfriend her mistress keeps, and that’s when the noose is discovered. It smells of Lanara. It also stinks of Nicolai Garter, the Backstreet Bard! A glimpse is given to Salem, before Cinder tackles the smaller cat to the floor and inhales it’s fur as though it’s the strongest sage mixture this side of the realm. Finally! Having located Tiber’s scent, the cat returns to the planes of shadows, before she appears in a storage unit somewhere in Cenril. A bunch of misfits are in a circle playing instruments, Tiber is instructing one boy how to blow properly, and some woman is parading around with a tambourine. Is Lanara dating -another- guy in a boy band?! Hissing loudly, Cinder launches herself at Tiber’s frame, not bothering with any niceties because she’s had a stressful night and it reeks of dogs in this building! The noose, the scents, and the fact that Cinder is trying to tear into his flesh, are all hopefully enough indicators that Tiber has to get his ass in gear and rescue his witch.

(Post 1 of 2) Tiber fiddles with his wrist watch and glimpses at Greyson who is adjusting his own. Where was Lana, y’all? The two men meet gazes as they hold their guitars steadily like a mirror image. Meanwhile, spit is dripping out of the trumpet that Bjorn plays. “Dude, that’s disgusting. Pierce your damn lips together! You’re drooling -everywhe--!” In an instant, claws are digging into his backside, and the lycan jumps up with startlement as fumes of feline spread through his nose. Not just any feline, that damned tikifhlee! “Get off of me you oakflee!” No, the name was ‘Cinder’, Tiberius. All the lycans are standing as the feline rips Tiber’s backside, but Tiber knows something is wrong since Cinder came all this way, the thing has a noose, and it smells of a man he does not like whatsoever, and Lanara… The Catalian groans. “You’re joking!” He knew he was not being too clingy--well, he was, but like c’mon! “She’s not dead, is she?” Cinder hisses before running. Tiber would have to follow to find out. Without even speaking to the rest of the members, the man hands off his guitar to little Tybalt before running out the door of the unit.

(Post 2 of 2) Tiber pushes against multiple bodies within the streets of Cenril. He stumbles as he follows across the cobblestones behind the feline, and with that, the scent from the noose becomes stronger as he comes into the clearing of the funeral parlor. The man comes to a slow pace as big amber eyes stare at the building. His throat begins to tighten as it feels dry as he stares at the closed building. Will tomorrow come? The scent of the witch lingers clearly outside of the building, but so does… that… Backstreet Bard, if he was not mistaken? He had been so annoyed of Nicolai Garter. The smell had been all-too familiar. The Catalian cannot wait anymore, for his feet bring him forward instinctively before throwing open the parlor door. Who does Tiberius see…? Not Lanara. Eyes shift over the room before landing on the man who is sitting on top of a coffin swigging back liquor. “Where is she?” Something was wrong, but Tiberius came in steadily. Was Lanara hiding? Her scent is strong on the stairs of the building--as if she was upstairs. Was she upstairs? Though, she also wafted off the bard in front of him. “She said she was going out for drinks with her girlfriends,” he shakes his head, “Not -you-. Where is she?”

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara :: Cinder is seriously considering having Lanara get psychologically evaluated should she survive all of these terrible ordeals, because there is no way she could have attracted someone -THIS- daft!?! Why are the stinky guitar-wielding dogs the type of men that she chooses to spend time with, and even worse, she wants to be -like- them?! Normally, Cinder would simply allow someone to latch onto her fur and she would lead them through the shadow portals to their intended destination, but it’s far more amusing to see Tiber stumbling over his two feet, blindly weaving through crowded streets, and arriving a little bit winded. Cinder - 1, Tiber - 0, and it’s not even midnight! As Tiber stares at Nick like he suffers from some mental retardation, the tikifhlee runs over to the coffin and lightly claws on the wood, trying to telepathically soothe her mistress. Every so often she glares at Tiber, as if telling him that Lana is being held captive. Would he figure it out? Eventually?! Meanwhile, Lana is still unconscious, a bloody and bruised hot mess lying on her back, unaware of what’s transpiring in the parlor.

(Post 2 of 2) Nick smirks as Tiber makes an appearance, not bothering to give the cat a glance, as he figured Lanara would have reached out to one of her companions somehow. She always had a trick up her sleeve. “Lowell. How nice of you to join us…” The flask is nearly empty as he takes another sip, before giving it a swirl, showing off his battered knuckles, “Lanara -was- meeting her friends for drinks, but -I- got to her first.” He shrugs, “We had a lot of fun! She likes it rough, you know?” Sliding from the top of the coffin, the male walks around the room, his cerulean hues targeting Tiber’s location, “She defied me for the last time, Lowell. I don’t know what she sees in you! Well… I retract my statement.” Smirking again, he lifts the flask, “I don’t know what she -saw- in you, forgive me! A toast! To Lanara! May she rest in peace!” Nick throws the flask to the floor and points to the coffin, “See for yourself.” If Tiber falls for the trick, Nick will attack him from behind, aiming to smash the top of the coffin on Tiber’s head and render him unconscious.

Tiber is too dumb to look at Cinder now, for all he could stare at was the blue-eyed man before him. Tiber’s lips part and there is a small squint as he pieces the not-so-hard puzzle together. After observing the bruised knuckles and putting emphasis on the past tense word usage, the translator connects the dots. “And to think that I never thought you’d be -this- stupid. I would call you just a pretty face, but really, it’s not going to be here much longer.” To fall for a trick like Nick, Tiberius would have to be on a completely clueless level. “You know you forgot something!” Tiberius chimes loudly. “Cheers to Lanara, but also, to Nick the one with the baby,” yes, he definitely finished his rhyme, but some narrator had to censor the last word. The blonde Catalian looked somehow chipper. Perhaps Tiber had been so infuriated that he really did not have time to react that Lanara had been in that coffin because he knew he would have to kick an ass before getting to said coffin. Might as well start now. The chipper attitude that fills the air blinks away in an instant because Tiberius Lowell is now bolting to go full on tackle mode towards the Backstreet Bard. The fight was on.

Lanara :: Nick doesn’t look amused at Tiber’s little rhyme, but in the back of his mind, he’s totally impressed to learn that Nick rhymes with D--, the thought escapes his mind as the man is charging straight at his midsection! This is -not- how he planned on ending the night, and the fact that midnight is nearing, has his earlier ire returning. A metallic gleam shines in Nick’s gaze as he twists out of the way at the last minute and aims to jump onto Tiber’s back, trying to pull the male into a chokehold. He isn’t all that bright, but what Nick lacks in brains, he more than makes up for in martial arts. The lycan had trained for many years, so he’s not going to be easily defeated, especially where it concerns the heart of Lanara! Meanwhile, the scuffle has drawn the attention of a few people from the street, and a woman is heard screaming as she calls for the Cenril City Guards. As she calls for help, Nick is fighting the desire to shift, and he tries to aim a few punches at Tiber, “Looks like you are running out of time! Can’t get the girl -or- give me the ass kicking that I deserve, huh?” A soft whimper is heard from within the coffin and it seems as though Lanara is waking up as she tries to push and claw her way out, but her attempts are futile. It’s only as she starts to scream and has flashbacks of being a prisoner in Kelvar that it draws the attention of the crazed wolfman from her boyfriend, “Lana. SHUT UP! I don’t want to have to strike you again, please, stop testing me! It’s bad enough I have to deal with this jerk!”

Tiber watches Nick twist away before pressing his own hands against the wall to stop the full-on-tackle impact. The bard jumps on the Catalian’s back and Tiber is going in circles to try to pry the man off of his neck. Tiber gasps from the chokehold, “I’ll kill you, Garter! I’ll kill you!” It surely is a sight to see with Nick on Tiber’s back and Tiber turning a beet red color. Tiber then decides that falling backwards full-force was going to be an option. Maybe on an angle on a coffin. Lanara’s voice echoes through his ears. She is alive. “Lana!” The man yells before concluding that he needs to get Nick off of him. Yeah, Tiber, the angled coffin will do it. ‘SHUT UP!’ strikes Tiber’s ears before the lycan backshuffles quickly and throws his body backwards into the edge of a coffin. "Lanara sees through your sick, twisted, creepy ways! Talk about a jerk? You gave Lanara a -noose-, you psychopath!" The edge of the oak strikes Nick’s back which shoots pain up the bard’s spine causing his arms to loosen around Tiber’s throat. Tiber would spin and throw a jab across the artist’s face over and over again before Nick would reach out in a world of red to press his hands against Tiber’s face. Tiber’s face squished against Nick’s palm and the man is forced back to stop the swings from hitting Nick’s, now, not-so-pretty face. “You’re dead!” A large foot would then kick Tiber in the gut to knock the wind out of him which would send Tiber against the glass of the window--cracking it a bit. Yes, guards, there was a mad brawl in the funeral parlor. Someone break it up already!

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara :: Nick cannot believe that he’s being bested by this weasel, even as he tries to see through the slits of his already swollen eyes, all he can see is red. Crimson gore is -everywhere- and this is surely the room for such a macabre display as death is imminent. There is a woman screaming from inside a coffin, groans and pants coming from the red handed Catalian, and Garter is covered in blood that a mixture of all three of their fluids combined! Even Cinder is leaving murderous pawprints all over the floor! Coffins are damaged, glass is broken, doors and wooden fixtures are splintering, and the crowd in the street seems to grow more and more riled up as the violence continues. Tiber and Nick continue to spew vitriol from their mouths, each skilled in combat, as they cause destruction all over the room and upon each other. It’s only when a trio of city guards enter the establishment that things seem to calm down, as one grabs ahold of Nick, another takes Tiber by the arm, and the other unlatches the coffin and pales upon seeing the state of the witch that lies inside. “Break it up, Lowell! I know all about you!” The guard sneers, waving a nightstick in his hand in a threatening manner, as this isn’t the first time he’s had to apprehend the Catalian. Nick is trying to fight off the guard holding him, as he continues to shove and curse, and so it’s no surprise when the guard mumbles something and zaps the man with an electrical spell. At least -that- shuts him up! The witch is gently pulled from the coffin and the guard holds her as though she’s a blushing bride and they are walking across a threshold into their new home, except she looks as though she had been caught in a stampede of buffalo and is covered in bruises and blood. “Tiber…” She begins to wail, pitifully.

(Post 2 of 2) Lanara motions that she wants to get down and the guard lowers her from his arms, though she’s so unsteady that she nearly falls several times. The room spins and she dizzily tries to point at her attacker as the guards want to know -who- is responsible for all of this, but she cannot tell one male from the other. Her heart calls to Tiber, her mind is so dizzy as she is seeing four men with blonde hair moving around the room, and she’s overcome with nausea. “There…” A wild sway of her arm, unfortunately, looks as though she’s pointing at the space between Tiber and Nick, and so the guards read them -both- their rights and place -both- lycans under arrest! Lana cannot even realize her mistake in her stupor, but as a few healers enter the room and try to steer the witch to a clinic, she vomits all over the floor and at their feet. Cinder, sensing the distress of her mistress, jumps into her arms and Lanara knows what she must do. She clings to her tikifhlee and the witch and her familiar vanish from sight! She needs to mend on her own and to try to recall what happened, as well as gather some gold for bail as it’s her fault that Tiber’s in the clinker. Later that night, when she’s a bit more clear headed, she thinks about Belgemine’s bucket list and although -she- didn’t spend a night in jail… It’s her doing that had two men arrested.

Later...

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara  :: A short while later the two lycans pass through booking, each having to have his portrait scribbled onto some parchment to serve as a ‘mug’ shot, and each gives their statement. Naturally, Nick and Tiber’s description of what happened differs, so they are read their rights and charged with ‘disturbing the peace’ as it ensures that they will both be held until morning. It’s a bullspit charge and both men likely know it, but the guards can’t truly hold the men on anything greater because the only other person who knows what had occurred seems to have vanished into thin air. Along with the cat she held in her arms! The guards walk alongside Tiber and Nick, ushering them along the aisle as they pass several other cells, all of which seem to be rather crowded. All types of races and classes are within the walls, and everyone seems to be talking all at once, making sleep an impossibility. A draconian covered in edible body paint, with his hair in greasy pigtails reaches through the bars to try and pinch the Catalian on the rear, while an avian in another cell keeps cawing like an actual bird, pausing only to issue a catcall to the Backstreet Bard. A few others shout slurs to the guards, and one dares to throw fecal matter into the aisle, narrowly missing Nick’s shoe. “Alright, Ladies. We are a full house tonight, so you two are going to have to bunk together. If the dame from earlier shows up and gives us an account of what occurred, we will proceed from there. You may spend a great deal of time here, you may be free to go, or you may have to pay some hefty fines. It’s all up to her, if she decides to file a complaint and press charges. Also… Someone will have to pay for all that damage to the funeral parlor.” Shaking his head, the burly fellow opens the cell door and motions for Tiber and Nick to enter, “You Ladies better pray that the girl you beat up doesn’t die… Otherwise you’ll be charged with murder.” He smirks, before slamming the door shut and locking them inside, “And I don’t want to hear any trouble from your cell, either!”

(Post 2 of 2) Nick seemed to sober up after seeing the state that the witch was in, prior to her disappearing act, but once she had faded from sight, he had focused his attention to other things. Namely, Tiberius Lowell, the bane of his existence. “If you would have turned her, I wouldn’t have had to beat her up the way I did…-Someone- had to beat some sense into that woman!” He’s muttering beneath his breath, in case one of the others in the cells happens to be an informant for the Cenril crime scene. “I call dibs on the upper bed.” The bunks are eyed briefly, before he pales and spies the single bucket they had to share when they wanted to go to the bathroom, and at long last, the bard falls silent. This isn’t the ritzy suites he’s used to staying in when he’s doing a tour, nor is it a penthouse in a wealthy area, for his time off the stage. Were there bugs? Did Tiber have anything contagious? Would Lanara want a restraining order? He’s fairly certain she won’t press charges, after all, he had her best interests at heart. At least in -his- warped mind, that’s what he meant to do, to save the ‘love’ of his life.

(Post 1 of 2) Tiber :: Most of what happened in the funeral home was a blur. The broken glass, the splintering wood, the blood. It was only until the guard had tugged the Catalian off of the bard that he was able to come back to his senses. His senses. The witch had been a battered wreck--was she going to be okay? The dizzy stare that she offered to him and Nick made him nervous through his breathless pants. Then her swaying finger points to the middle of the two men, and the blonde man is shaking his head. “Lana, no--” And he is cut off by the guards saying the men’s rights. Were the guards out of their minds? The woman was clearly out of her own mind with the dizziness and physical state she was in. No matter because Tiberius Lowell and Nicolai Garter were being held for the night. Tiber’s head is in a whirl through the process of being checked in--a battered, bloody lip, a bruising eye, and a bruising neck. A bit of cuts on his back with the shards that pressed through his shirt in the tussle. Tiber took a good beat. The worst beat of all, however? Sharing a -cell- with Nick. The two men are left in the cell and Tiber is yelling at the guard’s loudly. “You’re going to leave me with this -maniac-?” His face presses against the bars of the cell before a hand reaches out to squeeze his behind. “Keep your sick scaly hands off of me.” The man warns with a fierce finger and a look of ‘I will murder you’ to the draconian. Tiber was on edge beyond the bars as the guard speaks of how Lanara needs to show up or both men are just going to be locked away for… eternity? Maybe, if Lanara died which Tiber was certain there was a ninety-nine percent chance of that happening tonight. Should Tiber commit -actual- murder? Headlines: Backstreet Bastard Throttled by Ruthless Catalian. Yeah, that sounded good.

(Post 2 of 2) Tiber keeps his hands tightly wrapped around the bars with his face pressed against the iron until he hears Nick mumble under his breath through the thick of hearing. Tiber rips himself off of the bars before charging towards the bard who is aimlessly yelling top bunk. “Oh don’t think you’re sleeping tonight.” Tiber points to his temple intensely. “I don’t know what is going on with your -sick- pretty boy mind, but I swear to the gods, I will find someone to shank you in this place. It’ll look like an accident. Or -better- yet, when we are out, I’ll -ruin- your career.” Tiber is charmed more by this threat and the man smiles wide in a wicked way. “Nicolai Garter, The Backstreet Bard Woman Beater. You keep telling yourself it was for the best. You’re the -real- murderer if Lanara dies, and frankly, you’re not too far behind her if you did.”

Lanara :: Nick looks ready to throw down for the upper bunk when Tiber states that they won’t be sleeping tonight, thinking that he would have to fight for the higher mattress. There’s -no- way his famous body is lying on the filthy floor next to a bucket of urine and feces! Plus, he -had- to get in a few hours of sleep, as he has a performance over the weekend, and he idly rubs his throat as the Catalian angrily threatens to ruin his singing career. Nick is nothing without his vocal chords, big blue eyes looking off into the distance, serenading girls all over the realm, and selling out stadiums for concerts. “Just -try- it, Lowell! At least I have a career!” The bard blinks, unsure if the man even has a job, as he doesn’t know him all that well. “I don’t even know what Lana sees in you! You don’t even love her, at least not like -I- do!” He shakes his head and runs his hand through his slick blonde locks, anxious about being charged with murder, “I -did- hear her ribs snap and I’m pretty sure I punctured a lung… I didn’t mean to hurt her -THAT- bad, Lowell! But she’s going to DIE, because you didn’t turn her, and she didn’t think to come to me, either! I wouldn’t even have known unless I stole that weird albino girls diary!” The cawing of the avian is piercing his ears and he flips the bird to the actual bird-man, causing a sharp pain to shoot from his middle finger towards his wrist. Can he still hold a mic? Reach into the audience? Testing his hand, he nods as he has a mental conversation with himself, before he returns his attention to his enemy. “Clearly, Lanara would rather be dead than be a wolf, she made it clear. You didn’t turn her, so I’m guessing your little princess kept her dead a secret -or- she denied you…” His eyes darken, “You wouldn’t turn her? Is that it?!” Nick looks as though he’s becoming unhinged as he glances around the cell, first at the empty bucket, then at the pillows. He can suffocate Lowell now, or he can wait it out until after he urinates, and then try drowning him in the bucket. The lizard dude from earlier is hissing and blowing kisses to Tiber, eavesdropping on their conversation, “Don’t worry. If your girlfriend dies I will make you feel all better!” He then winks and lowers his voice, “Don’t drop the soap, Darling.”

Tiber stares at the bard with a flat gaze when he throws the insult of not having a job. Tiberius had many jobs, but none that had exact job descriptions. Sure, the bard may have been richer than Tiberius, but Tiber still made a solid amount of wealth, and had been pretty smart with investments. “Yeah, you ‘love’ her. SO much that you just busted her head, cracked a rib. Damn, you love so hard bro,” his last statement is laced in sarcasm and sounds like the typical surfer bro. ‘I did not mean to hurt her -THAT- bad’ escapes Nick’s mouth, and right now Tiber cannot even wrap his mind around the delusional man before him. It really made him want to rip Nick’s throat out, but Nick was too long gone to even waste any more energy tonight. Tiber was certain when he left this cell in the morning--please, hopefully? (Lanara can you maybe like… live plz?)--he was going to ruin Nick’s whole career from under the seams, and then finish the man until he was -nothing-. “Are you even hearing yourself right now? You know -nothing- more than a stupid diary you stole like a STALKER.” Tiberius looks exasperated. “I -was- going to turn her you a-hole, and it was going to be -tomorrow-!” So shove that in your face, Nicolai. “And even if I wasn’t, you took life away from her quicker and ruined something that could have been a -peaceful- goodbye, you belligerent narcissist.” Then, the lizard begins to talk again and Tiber rolls his head at the flamboyant lizard who is not shy whatsoever. “If my girlfriend dies, I’ll shove that goddamn soap somewhere you will never find it again. You’ll be blowing -only- bubbles for the rest of your life, pervert.”

Lanara :: Nick gapes at Tiber when he announces that he planned on turning the witch into a wolf -tomorrow- and he shakes his head, “You are unbelievable, Lowell. You know that?! Nothing like waiting until the -last- minute! Don’t you understand that she is precious?! If you -REALLY- loved your girlfriend, you would have bitten her the second you knew about her fate! But! Nope! Lazy Lowell waits until she’s a bloody pulp, literally dying in a coffin, to make up his mind?! I think you -want- her to die! I think you saw the way -I- took control of the situation and it made you feel like less of a man. You realize that you don’t deserve Lanara.” A smug expression is on Nick’s face as he crosses his arms and watches the Catalian converse with the flirtatious lizard, “I think he’s more your type, Lowell…” He has the audacity to laugh, which also has a few of the semi-psychotic males in the next cell beginning to laugh, and the strange avian caws louder than before. Even the lizard is giggling! “Everyone is laughing at you, Lowell. Because you’re a JOKE!” The stalker comment is taken with a shrug, before Nick randomly peers off into the distance and begins to sing softly, “You are my fiiiiiire, the one desiiiiiire…” To make matters even worse, the bard seems to be undoing his belt, which is stained with Lanara’s blood, “I’ll be the one… Da Da Da… But now I have to make number two, so no peeking, Lowell!”

Tiber may have twitched? Was that a twitch? Where was Tiber’s brain right now? The anger is seething through Tiberius Lowell’s features, but really what could he do? If Lanara was alive, Tiber had to make sure he did not touch the man in this cell right now. Nicolai spills his crazy words on how Tiber is somehow lazy, and Tiber circles the cell while ignoring the lizard. Nick begins singing. He is -singing-. Tiber is in hell with this looney popstar as the man sings his vocals and takes off his blood-stained belt. Tiber’s eyes are glazed on the belt. Anger was not enough to make Tiber satisfied. Punching Nick or murdering Nick was -not- going to give the lycan satisfaction. Really? Why? Instead, as Nick takes off his belt, Tiber stares away. When Tiberius was silent… most people knew that something intense was going to happen, but Nick knew nothing. Literally. Tiberius waits until Nick is on the bucket… keeping his eyes away. Then, he would climb up the bunk and sit on the top. “Wow, what a -loser-. You let your guard down. First rule of prison, Mr. I’m-A-Little-Rich-Boy,” Tiber smirks. Nothing like making a crazy person crazy with not getting their way. Tiber would then lean back dramatically on the top-bunk. “You know what, you know what band I like…? M-Sync. You know that guy? Justin Limbertake? Damn, he is something, you think?” Oh boy. Tiber was on another level now because yelling was getting the lycan nowhere with the bard.

Lanara :: Nick seems to be straining a little as he straddles the bucket, because his face scrunches up and he seems to have trouble hitting the higher notes. However, it’s at the precise moment that Tiber climbs onto the upper bunk that a ‘plop’ is heard, and Nick narrows his blue eyes in a frustrated glare. “I wasn’t -always- a rich boy. Some of us work for the things we deserve… Speaking of ‘deserving’ things… When was the last time you bought Lanara flowers? Took her on a cruise around Rynvale? Performed a song for her in front of a thousand screaming fans?” He’s on a roll, ranting and raving as he poops, continuously throwing glares and insults at the male that took -his- rightful position on the bunk beds. However, Tiber crosses a line that one should never cross with the bard, and his face is practically purple when he hears a single name. Justin Limbertake. “Oh no you didn’t, Lowell!” He jumps to his feet so abruptly, ready to throw fists, when his thick belt buckle smashes against the bucket and it tips over. The clang against metal is enough to alert the men in the next cell, and thankfully they step out of the way as a stream of feces flows into their unit. Finally, the avian stops cawing, as he’s forced to cover his mouth and swallow the bile that has risen in his throat. The lizard man uses this momentary distraction to woo the Catalian, “So… You like being on top?” The guards enter the area and smash sturdy bats against the bars, yelling at all the prisoners to ‘keep it down’ as it’s time for lights out. The lanterns all fizzle out at the same time, as though controlled by a magical force, and it’s hard to see your own hand in front of your face, let alone the others in the same cell. Nick uses the dark to his advantage and sneaks up the small ladder to sit directly next to Tiber, “Lowell. You take that back! We both know that The Backstreet Bards are -far- more impressive than that stupid M-Sync. They are posers! And Justin’s hair looks like straw glued together.” The belt from earlier is in Nick’s hands, and he’s imagining how it would feel to choke out the man, so that he could get some sleep. It should also be pointed out that Nick’s pants are -still- around his ankles, and that his bare, unwiped arse is resting upon the cot that he shares with Tiber.

Tiber covers his face as the bard takes a huge dumpity dump-dump in the bucket. The singer could not wait until morning? Then again, Tiberius had been used to this with his nights in the clinker--though this was internal torture. Nick goes on about the lack-of-romance in Lanara and Tiber’s relationship and that really irks the Catalian. Of course there was romance. Passion. Lanara was dying! Tiber just said he did not want to be without the witch, was that not enough? Was he not doing enough? Nick’s pants drop and hit the bucket in his fit, and the feces that leak. It is a -retched- sight and smell, but Tiber is resilient, and he will ignore it for now. “Wow, Nick you sure did prove the case on having a tiny--” the reader can fill in the rhyme. Then as the lizard speaks and fills the moment of silence. “I -love- being on top. You know who else enjoys it? I bet you could guess? Chocolate eyes, beautiful physique, and my -god- I could describe every inch of her. Her nickname rhymes with Dana, you know who I’m talking about, right Nick?” The Catalian looks towards the bard now to answer the question with taunt with a fist propping up his face while laying on his side as he plays the game. The true boyish side is coming out of the Catalian. Then, the guards begin to throw the tantrum with the banging of bats, and Tiber rolls on his back in delight at the irk of Nick. The lights go out, and Tiber’s senses begin to disperse. His feelings are sensitive, his eyes are more sensitive. He is instinctive for the time he has spent as a lycan. Now over ten years. Tiberius was getting used to how he was. The ladder vibrates and the man is next to Tiber and the smell is disgusting. Nick smells of feces and Tiber can hear the fabric rub from around Nick’s ankles. Tiber could hear the belt in Nick’s hands. “Seems to me like you have fantasies of dropping the soap,” Tiber waits a long beat before raising his legs up to kick at Nick to shove him off the top bunk to land in the feces below in a quick motion--if he could.

(Post 1 of 3) Lanara :: Nick’s face had been red when Justin was mentioned, however, now that he’s hearing about how Tiber likes to be on top of Lana, he turns a fierce shade of purple. “That’s it! You are going to die -now- and I don’t even care if I’m condemned to a life behind bars!” The belt is raised and both hands lift to try and wrap the leather about Tiber’s neck, a gleeful smile on Nick’s crazed face, as he imagines the satisfying snapping of the Catalian’s neck and then the length of silence that is sure to follow. However, nothing is going to plan tonight, and so as that blood soaked belt comes within a mere inch of Tiber’s neck, it’s then that a foot makes contact with Nick’s exposed privates and forces him off of the cot. The descent from the top bunk to the hard floor isn’t the worst of it; it’s the pain in his groin that has the male howling and rolling from side to side, in his own defecation. The stench is unbearable, the squelching sound of poop being rubbed onto his body has the avian actually vomiting, and the horrors of the night all float through the bard's mind. It’s -his- fault that he’s in this mess, and in his actual excrement! He had badly beaten the woman he loved, he allowed the Catalian to best him in a physical -and- verbal spar, and he deserved to sleep on a feces coated floor while in the company of all these sick souls. “Shut up…” That’s all that he manages to say, as he fumbles to pull his pants back up and retreats to the lower cot for the remainder of their stay.

(Post 2 of 3) It’s nearly dawn when a guard unlocks Nick and Tiber’s cell and tells them both that they are ‘free’ to go, “Try to keep yourselves out of trouble, okay? You both should consider yourselves lucky that the woman didn’t press charges.” Shaking his head, he escorts them to the end of the hall to collect their belongings and sign themselves out, before he quirks a brow, “Oh. Lanara and her friend are waiting in the conference room. She wants to talk to you both before you leave… So. I’ll leave you to it!” The guard exits the area and the door to the conference room opens on its own accord as though beckoning for the men to enter. Once they step inside they will see the illusion of Lanara, looking as lovely as ever, without any visible bruises, scars, or injuries. Not a hair is out of place, a pleasant smile is on her pretty face, and she chuckles as she eyes both of the men. “Which one of you is Tiber?” The voice isn’t the voice of the woman they know rather well, and upon seeing their confusion, a hand wafts through the air and the vision of Lanara fades from sight. The woman that stands in place is nearly as lovely as the witch in appearance, though she has blonde hair and blue eyes, and gazes at each of the men expectantly. “I am Gia. I am from Kelvar, and I was supposed to meet Lana for drinks tonight, before all of this manifested.” Now that she knows Tiber from Nick, she tosses a haughty scowl the bard's way, before continuing. “Lana obviously was in no shape to be bailing you two out of jail, so she sent me and Maude to sort everything out...”

(Post 3 of 3) The other woman appears to be older, wears a no-nonsense expression, and has raven curls that reach her knees. Although she’s wearing a crimson cocktail dress, the men will likely spy a few bloodstains from where she had tended to Lana’s injuries. “Nicolai Garter… I have a message for you, spoken from the lips of Lanara, so listen close and hear me well, for I won’t repeat myself! Lana considered you to be a close friend, someone that she could trust. You have risked your life to save her in the past, and she was more than grateful for what you and your brother did during her trial in Enchantment. You have crossed the line too many times in making unwanted advances, but she always shrugged off the attention, because she never wanted to hurt your feelings. Tonight you hurt Lana in ways that she never thought you capable of, and although she sort of understands your distorted way of thinking, she knows that she can no longer trust you or call you a friend. You are -never- to break into anyplace she may dwell in again, you are -not- allowed to ever visit the animal sanctuary, you are -never- to steal from her again, and you are to stay a minimum of one hundred feet from her at -all- times unless she says it’s alright for you to come closer. You are not to send any letters, gifts, or messengers, nor does she want you bothering her sister. If Talyara addresses you first, that is fine, otherwise you keep your distance. Also. You are never to harm Tiber, in any way.” Maude takes a step closer and plucks three hairs from Nick’s head, which she tosses into a small vial, “If you accept these terms, perhaps in time, Lana may learn to trust you and will one day call you friend. Please, spit in here.” The bard trembles for a moment, before he gives a slow nod and spits into the offered vial, “So mote it be…” Maude seals the vial, “If Lanara should perish or reject the change, this vow still remains. -I- will use your hair and saliva to cast a hex upon your vocal chords to ensure that you will never sing again, let alone speak.” She moves to the other elf’s side and they both silently wait for Nick to exit the room. Gia and Maude share a ‘look’ before the blonde faintly smiles at Tiber, “Lana is stable… For now. But, not for much longer, I’m afraid.”

(Post 1 of 2) Tiber found himself howling as he is able to knock Nick off the bunk onto the defecated floor. The Catalian’s roar of laughter echoes in the cell before it comes to a slow and the blonde is content. Nick is silent and has accepted his defeat in the gruesome floor where he relies. Tiber slips hands underneath his head and stares at the ceiling with a smirk for the rest of the night. A smirk until the dawn came, for when the light began to hit the cell, he knew that a cue would come from the guards whether he was going to be let go or not. This would determine Lanara and her state. Was she gone? Was she gone for good. The stare that looked at the ceiling was one that was grim now. Staring into an abyss of concrete walls. The time takes him in his whirl of heavy heart before the guard unlocks the cell. Tiber’s head lifts at the key hitting the lock before jumping down the bunk. He misses the spill on the ground, thankfully. “Yes, yes, yes. Get me out of this stanky place.” He says with anticipation. Lanara was alive. Lanara was -alive-. Somehow she managed to come back for him. Once the two men are discharged, Tiber anxiously nods to see his girlfriend in one piece. As they enter the conference room, the man eagerly walks up to Lanara who seems to be… untouched. Something was off. “Uh,” the Catalian blinks as he is taken aback. How had she healed so fast? ‘Which one of you is Tiber’ echoes and the lycan is thrown. Did she lose her memory? “You gave her a concussion,” he glares at Nick before the illusion fades and it is a woman named Gia who tells them that Lanara is still bent out of shape. That sinking tide reaches his gut again.

(Post 2 of 2) Maude comes into view with a stern look and Tiber begins to reflect that expression rather than the boyish one he held in the prison cell. Nicolai Garter had a sentence from Lanara. A restraining order. That was it? Another chance? Tiberius wants to breathe, but he cannot because… Nick is still alive after all he had done. Internally, Tiberius boils, but he knows what has to be done--make Nick’s life a living hell and get under his skin. Tiber has nothing left to say to the bard. Only a look of disappointment and disgust. Seriously. The man is covered in… yuck. The spit from Nick is sealed in the vial and then the man exits. Tiberius has a tight glare on the bard as he walks out… well, he wanted to say ‘clean’, but that was not the word for it. Amber eyes set on Maude and Gia as he listens intently to the two. “Stable…” He says slowly, but full of uncertainty. “I think we know what we have to do, and… we don’t have much longer.” It was time. A tale that was old as time was becoming something… new for the beast. It was time for change.

Lanara :: Gia nods slowly as Tiber seems to take in all that remains unspoken, her blue eyes forming a film of moisture, “I’m not sure if she will survive the change… But, you have to try, right?” The younger elf looks over to Maude, who seems to be holding herself together much better, “She’s in sad shape, and I have half a mind to cast a hex on that jerk whether he follows the rules or not! She would have had three or four days… To prepare, to rest, the both of you! He greatly shaved time off the clock for our Lanara.” She shakes her head and studies Tiber, “We tended to her injuries the best we could, she’s freshly bathed and dressed, and we placed her in a deep sleep. She will not wake for a few hours, and it’s imperative that she gets some rest before the change.” She pauses, “Lana was hysterical when we found her, and she wanted to come to you. She feels awful that in her confusion she pointed -between- you both, and she kept saying how much she loves you.” Maude nods to Gia, as the blonde prepares to leave ahead of them. “Gia will go watch over Lana, and -you- will come with me. I gathered some important items you may need for the change… You will be in your werewolf form, so it’s best you are chained, yes? There are other items too, as the first three days will be very telling. And a sacrifice should be made, but… That will come later.” Maude pats the Catalian gently on the arm, “First, you will get yourself a hearty meal. Then we will get you cleaned up and a little rest, before we go and see Lana, okay? We have a few hours, and she is alright for now. But you -both- have to be at your best for this to work…” She prays to the Goddess that this works.