Times are in SLT.
CU Cheer Tryouts and Practice
November 3 @ 12:00 pm - 1:30 pm
CU Cheerleading tryouts and practice on the playing fields
Times are in SLT.
CU Cheerleading tryouts and practice on the playing fields
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Word on the street... The bayou whispers darker today. Word has it the Haven’s façade crumbled—two fresh graves unearthed reveal bodies, real and ugly, buried by those who once called themselves kin. Someone’s paying bloody dues, and the shadows promise this isn’t the last secret unearthed. Meanwhile, fire swallowed the butcher’s den in a blaze that left more than just ash—survivors bear burns and bruises, with cops sniffing around trucks blocking escape routes. And down in the cracks of the city, a ruthless auction plays out, where debts are paid with pain, sharp blades, and boiling kettles—loyalty is currency, but fear the true owner. Hathian’s night bleeds into a grimmer dawn.
Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ Down at Laveau’s edge, the red-headed with the crooked smile slid close to the dark-eyed stranger in the peppered rum haze, teeth grazing warm skin like a slow threat—she whispered danger tastes sweeter when it’s near the river’s choke. The purple beer sweated on the bar, cold as the bayou shadows where the night thickened. ░▒ ▒░ And that wasn’t all stirring. The fog rolling heavier these past seven days now hums with strange lights and low chanting just beyond the docks, twisting through the moss like a warning. Whispers say the Silent Serpent’s grip is tightening, debt collectors trading flesh for fear beneath the swollen moon. ░▒ ░▒░ Deputy Thibodaux caught that look too—quiet, watching, like he knows the river’s secrets won't stay buried long. What’s lurking past the fog’s edge? The ledger waits, but who dares turn the page? ░▒ ✨ https://news.backwaters.sl
Rumors on campus... Columtreal’s shadows stirred again yesterday, weaving whispers thicker than the mist creeping over its mossy walkways. The girl in the slit dress—her stubborn seams barely holding—became the talk from Get Woke to Bleu Wag, a symbol of fragile façades ready to snap. Meanwhile, a leather-clad figure, more at ease in suits than gowns, hovered near Witch Way Alley, where tarot cards flipped like secret messages in the dark. And then there was the blindfolded girl, led silently through the night by a man who wasn’t her guardian, sparking uneasy speculation. In a place where tradition masks desire, yesterday’s rumors hinted at torn loyalties and hidden agendas ready to unravel.
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