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About Anon

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  • Birthday January 15

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    New York

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  1. I'll have my character sheet completed by the end of the weekend. Im excited to start!
  2. This expedition goes hand-in-hand with what Abe wants to do at the moment. I'm working on making the character sheet legible right now, but I'd love to bring him along.
  3. ~General Information~
  4. To clear up any confusion, it's pronounced ANN-in

  5. Woa I was asleep when you posted this but I'll post within the next hour for sure if I still can!
  6. Hey! If you've got space I'd love to join! One post per week is totally doable for me.
  7. Hey! I would totally love to jump into this if it isn't too full already! I'm also good to commit for casual roleplay, I can probably do 3-4 replies per week but I should be able to muster some more if really needed.
  8. @Aleksei ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As their dance concluded, Syr could feel Esme's fingers pressing into his back. He couldn't help but smile at her gentle panic. Frantic attempts at steadying oneself rarely ended so elegantly. A moment passed and he became aware that he was holding her too. The world seemed to still once more, and Syr began to wonder if this was a power she had, or if it was just power over him. Silence blanketed them both, insulated from the festival by their intertwining spirits. "You are a sneak!" Her words sundered their tranquil sphere, and her laugh enraptured him anew. So much so that he couldn't help but join in. Syr furrowed his brow and held his mouth agape in feigned incredulity, though the humor was clear in his eyes. His arms never left her form as he righted them both. The parting of their worlds was inevitable, and it was all he could do to convince himself otherwise. For now he sought refuge from the notion in her arms, where time always seemed to stand still. Eyes alight, he beamed back at her. "Now that's all a matter of perspective!" He exclaimed, "from where I was standing the whole thing was entirely expected!" He paused for a moment, tearing his eyes from her. "Speaking of perspective..." he trailed off. Glimmering harlequin eyes drifted gently across the sea of people. Only the height and majesty of the castle stood out from the endless, shifting forms. He pulled her a little closer, excitement burning luminescent spots in his eyes where the enchantment was beginning to fade. "I came here to see Renovatio, and so far all I've seen are a bunch of drunk people dancing, and you." He turned his eyes to the great dome atop the castle. "How about we get a better view?" Giddiness was welling up in him, threatening to turn him inside out. It was then that he became aware of the warmth washing across his cheeks. Some embarrassment subsided when he noticed that she had been blushing as well. It was more than attraction though, now it was the heat of excitement. From their perch on high, they would be able to see miles of this beautiful country. For perhaps the only time in both of their lives, they would experience the world the same.
  9. Phew! Sorry for disappearing there, I just finished school so I'll catch up and post in the next few days!
  10. Music bound the pair as they gamboled formlessly through the field of revelers. His smile only widened as Esme lead him into the thick of the crowd. Chuckles escaped him occasionally as she seemed to use him as a plow to carve their way through the host. Most of his life was spent avoiding people, so the significance of his stature had been lost on him. Among so many others, however, he became almost painfully aware of just how much he stuck out when he wasn't trying to stay hidden. No matter. Esme twirled and pranced around him playfully before settling one hand on his shoulder. Syr clasped her other hand firmly in his, now resolved to make his last few hours in this world last lifetimes. Syr participated in the most standard court dance he could dream up for some time. It had been some time since he had danced in such a formal setting, and the sheer number of eyes set his teeth on edge. The monotony of the dance droned in his mind as his eyes darted from group to group "One, two, three, four... one, two, three, four" he moved from a place of studious memorization, rather than passion, "step, back, step, turn... step, back, step, turn." A light tugging on his shoulder snapped his attention back to the petite form clutching his, and he was suddenly amazed that he had ever lost focus on her. She suffered through the monotony, whether she was aware of his mild paranoia or not. Still, her smile was warm, and her hands were warmer. For the first time since they started dancing, Syr noticed his partner on her toes. The light tugging he had felt was her dropping to her heels momentarily to help alleviate some of the pressure. Guilt like a spear pierced his stomach, yet another feeling he had a tumultuous relationship with. Harlequin hues peered into deeper forest, searching for something, anything to reassure him. Hardly a moment had passed before he found it. Esme was there with him, for him, and was undeserving of such a macabre display. "Besides entertaining everyone..." The question was quite unexpected, but Syr had become accustomed to her perplexing brand of ubiquitous conversation. "Well, I came here to practice more than anything else. I'm a..." his voice trailed off, and a deeper darkness flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before returning to his more jovial demeanor. "I'm a traveler" he continued, "I pride myself on having seen much of Valucre, and I couldn't bear to miss the opening of Renovatio. Nor could I bear to miss out on all the new and exotic drinks people would order; I also pride myself on having the most extensive drink menu of any bartender in Valucre." He winked playfully and returned his attention to the dance. The Hooded Figure's eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment, as the warm breeze sent his horns flickering in and out of view. He maintained his hold on Esme's hand, and gently took the other from his shoulder. Stepping back until they were at arms reach, hands clasped between them, there was only one dance Syr could think of. Only one held the spirit of freedom he felt here; the freedom he felt with her. He pulled her to him quickly, spinning one arm over her head as she approached. Their bodies met, her back lightly brushing his chest, arms folded across her stomach, hands held at her waist. "Trust me" he mused playfully, "and don't blink." Music, patrons, politicians, merchants, it all melted around him. As he began the Valladeren, the sounds became those of the forest, and the revelers became its inhabitants. The movements were unusual, but anyone who had survived seeing both the dance and Syr's fighting would note the unmistakable parallel. Stances shifted from low to high, wide to close. In one breath Esme would be in the air, twirling around Syr's body and overhead; in another, Syr would be winding above the other party-goers in tight corkscrews and sprawling bounds. The pair twisted and spun and stepped around not only themselves, but the forest of people as well. Syr and Esme drifted with the wind, fluttering and swaying in the wind like the leaf which gave the dance its name. As the dance came to an end, so too, it seemed, did its structure. The last few steps were unpredictable and rather difficult for anyone who hadn't experienced it before. Somehow, he wasn't worried about her ability to keep up. He spun her around his body elegantly before tossing her in the air. He caught her at roughly chest level and lowered her to the ground, all the while maintaining his spin like a leaf spiraling to the earth. @Aleksei
  11. The Hooded Figure sat, hunched, in his meager room above what could only, optimistically, be called an inn. Crimson stained bandages lay in a mound at his feet, soaking the wooden floor beneath. With solemn strides, he quickly found himself in the small washroom. A large wooden basin dominated the square, stone room. Wooden billows, half rotted and stained from years of water damage sat on the ground beside the tub, pointed at a smoldering bed of coals. Syr couldn't help but be somewhat impressed that he had the option of hot water all the way out here. Pumping the bellows a few times, he lowered himself gingerly into the lightly steaming bath. Salted water penetrated his weeping lacerations, forcing the Hooded Figure to grit his teeth against the sting. Unpleasant as it was, he had learned long ago that the cleaner the wounds, the faster they healed. After almost an hour of washing his heavily tattooed body, Syr lifted himself out of the now sanguine water, his wounds open but no longer bleeding. Head hanging low, the meliae walked back to the humble reed cot in the corner of the room. The Hooded Figure reached into his pack and retrieved several more rolls of bandages and began reapplying them, feeling his wounds slowly close as he did so. Before long the room was vacant,the bloodied footprints leading to the washroom only evidence that anything alive had been there. Nighttime surrounded him like a third layer, smooth and dark as his cloak. It had been some time since the celebration in Renovatio, and Syr had not yet finished mourning his departure from that world. The trip back, one of the few purposeful trips he had taken, was akin to attending his own funeral. Contracts and missions had occupied his mind and his time in the weeks following, seeking to drown his longing in blood and coin. There was nothing left for him here, however. Already, he had relieved every scared farmer and scorned lover of their coin, and every hungry beast and adulterous cretin of their lives. Loose gravel crunched beneath morose footsteps as Syr traversed the single path through the nameless village he had patronized for respite. With the light of the tavern fading to darkness behind him, faint whispers wafted from the wood beside the path. Filled with curiosity and nothing else, the Hooded Figure approached the sound as an owl approaches a rodent. "...the Marsh must not be allowed to overtake the village..." Two figures cloaked in shadow conspired together among the trees. Clouds drifted overhead, and the emerging moonlight illuminated the pair. Syr was thankful for the light, his seeing in the dark would have required that he make himself easier to spot. The pair seemed too different in stance and demeanor to be acquaintances. The larger of the two, a woman as far as he could tell, was clad in armor far too ornate for a normal traveler. A glittering, gold and ivory scabbard hung at her waist. Clutched beneath her opposite arm was a helmet with the visage of a roaring lion. The other, a more lithe, cloaked figure, had no discernible features aside from a strained, raspy voice which seemed to echo within its own mouth. "...coin and glory await you , you need only..." Syr didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence, leaping into the branches above with a practiced efficiency. He moved silently from branch to branch until he was directly above the woman. Looking down, he could see her more clearly now. Burning orange hair cascaded down over gold and ivory plated shoulders in several braids. Her face was delicate, but with the stubborn purpose of an initiated soldier. Syr couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at what he was about to do. Another drop of water in an ocean. Sensing malicious intent, the soldier looked up into the canopy. Syr vacated one of his sheathes and dropped down between the knight and the cloaked figure. She did her best to follow his descent with her head, but was just a breath too slow. As her head came level, his dagger found purchase beneath her chin. Inky black tendrils burst through the burning river of her hair, writhing in the air above her head before retreating back into her skull. Syr pulled his dagger free and grabbed a piece of cloth from beneath her gorget, allowing it to tear off as she fell backwards. He proceeded to wipe the black blade clean with the cloth before dropping it and sheathing the dagger. "Now then" he turned to the figure, "what's that about gold and glory." Glittering green-blue eyes flared red with rage, and the figure dropped its cloak to the ground. It was then that Syr saw that the creature was far shorter than he, but had been hovering almost two feet off the ground. Syr eyed the creature inquisitively. It was humanoid, with features resembling a man, but too soft, too brittle. Most telling, however, was the pair of lightly glittering wings protruding from the figure's back. "You dare deny me my champion!?" The voice boomed, sending a gust of wind billowing against Syr, who stood fast against the onslaught. "I'm offering you a better one" he retorted, unmoved. The creature glided toward him, tilted forward slightly. "And you would offer me yourself cretin? You, who are so bathed in greed and yearning." Syr didn't even try to hide his scowl. Insults he was used to, being read so plainly he was not. "I offer you whatever you need if you can keep your promise." Syr leaned in to meet the creature, dropping the illusion over his eyes. Burning green eyes met burning red, and the creature was taken aback. "You are -" It stopped, eyes returning to green-blue, "you'll do just fine." Syr gave the creature a thin-lipped smile, "and what exac-" He was cut off sharply by an ethereal woosh behind him as a portal opened. "Goodbye... ashblood" the creature mused. Syr whipped around, rage and confusion burning in his eyes. Before he could utter a word, the creature extended one sinewy hand and a gust of wind like a battering ram struck his chest, sending him tumbling through the portal. When Syr got back to his feet, midmorning sun washed over him. Looking around, he found himself at the edge of a clearing in a different wood. He touched his forehead with two fingers, replacing the illusion around his head to hide his eyes and horns. Voices permeated through the trees, prompting Syr to don his hood. Emerging from the treeline, he could see that a small group had already gathered. In the center of the group was a man eerily similar to the one that sent him here. Approaching, he took his place among the various travelers and listened to instructions regarding strange energies and distant realms, and something about a bag. It became apparent rather quickly that he was to protect the frail looking one within this strange land. Time came for Syr to introduce himself, which he did disinterestedly. "I'm Syr, my specialties include death, reconnaissance, and appletinis." Instincts and skepticism guided him now. Something deep within him didn't at all trust being thrust through a portal, nor did it trust this group of strangers. He could only hope that this was all real, and that his body wasn't just lying somewhere while his mind wandered. "Ashblood" the word echoed in his mind. There should have been no way for that... thing... to figure out what he really was. Syr quickly realized that he had no idea what he was getting himself into.
  12. Hey sorry I meant to post today but school got in the way. I have time to post tomorrow so expect one in the evening. Sorry about that!
  13. Everything she was continued to hold him, binding him to her form. It was quite refreshing, feeling free. Here, there were no assumptions or expectations. Syr had begun on this journey with this beautiful stranger, and was determined to see it through. He looked at her more carefully now, free from the clamor of customers. A lifetime in his world forced his eyes to all of her softest, most vulnerable points, as was custom when he was forced into such close proximity to another person. Even so, his eyes darted quickly to hers every odd breath, and he realized that he hadn't been forced into close proximity; he chose it. Once he understood where he was, and more importantly why he was, the Hooded Figure found himself unable to tear his gaze away from hers. Esme traced every feature she could see with an inquisitive eye. Syr shifted slightly under her gaze, almost painfully aware that she could most likely see right through him. Once more, she made him feel just a twinge unsure of himself. Syr was by no means an unattractive man, but the kind of people that existed in Esme's world were far better looking than himself. His features were sharp and rugged, but with a smooth delicacy that suggested some inhuman influence. It was specifically this influence, he suspected, that kept him from looking like a moving sculpture and more like a living being. He opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by the most delicate hand he had ever seen. A storm brewed in Syr's stomach. He had promised this woman anything in exchange for... well he wasn't really sure what he had bartered for. Waves of excitement washed over Syr at the prospect of dancing. It had been ages since he had danced, and even longer since he had done it for fun. He stood immediately, beaming. He stepped behind the bar once more and unbuckled a belt underneath his vest, just above the one holding his pants up. Bending down for a moment, he removed the two daggers from the belt and affixed them to the sides of his calves. Once he had finished rolling his pant legs back down he emerged from behind the bar for the final time, and took his place before her, the leather sheathes rubbing against his bare skin for the first time in longer than he cared to admit. "The honor would be mine" he said, doing his best worst imitation of a pompous nobleman. Syr outstretched his hand to Esme, and took in her entirety for the first time. She was a bit smaller than he had expected, her eyes at about mid chest. Even with his lithe form, she could almost hide her entire body behind his. Syr turned to face the crowd, maintaining a gentle grasp of her hand, and allowed his guide to lead the way. @Aleksei
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