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ourlachesism

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    writing, reading, movies, music, dungeons & dragons, video games, outer space, the ocean, and other distant things.
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  1. ourlachesism

    A rose grows in concrete [dali]

    Iyalon, faithful and stoic as always, takes the sword from the younger Hildebrand’s grasp, straps it to his back with a firm nod. He then hands her a bouquet of white roses and daisies: hers and Merel’s flowers. Varda smiles and watches her sister turn towards her with a dazzling grin. “Shall we head in, Sis?” “Of course.” Placing her free hand quietly on Merel’s lower back to lead her forward up the stone steps, she turns to Iyalon and gives him a light smile. “Shall we?” They make their way to where Lady Dali is standing at the front of the manor, a red-cloaked man standing tall beside her. The sisters come to a slow stop before them. Her hands shaking in the stems of the bouquet, Varda gulps as she speaks her greeting. “Hail, Lady Dali. Thank you for inviting us to your celebration.” She curtsies and Merel follows suit. “We hope your families become more, um, blessed through this union.” Lady Dali gives them the traditional greeting of their house, and in the silent hug that ensues, Varda finds herself wistful for her mother’s embrace, something she would do all the time during her youth, before the sickness came and stole all the life from Lady Lynae’s body. She closes her eyes briefly before smiling at Lady Dali after she steps back. "My condolences young lady and young Lady. You are welcome to house Dali at any time. I'll be in the music room shortly." “Thank you, my lady.” Varda tightens her grip around the bouquet as she shuffles forward for the other houses to be greeted. Perhaps she’ll give the flowers later, when they have more time to talk. She spies the Mythals with Lady Dali and decides to greet them later on with Merel by her side. The man standing beside Lady Dali comes forward and places his hands on Varda’s shoulders, then Merel’s shoulders. “Aye, Lord Strom Hildebrand was a great man of even greater virtue, taken from us much too soon.” “Yes,” is all Varda can say, the faint smile on her face on the verge of fading away. She doesn’t quite know how to react to such kind words and the piercing ache in her chest. “We shall all raise a glass in homage to the legacy he has left behind and perhaps going forwards together, we can give proper respect to his memory that we all hold dear. Now please, make yourself at home inside.” “Thank you,” Merel answers him with a smile, and Varda can’t help but beam at the statement. Progress, no matter how slight, is still progress indeed. They arrive at the dining hall along with the Mythals, and she stares in curiosity at the opulent surroundings. “You hear that, Merel?” Varda pokes her sister lightly on her upper forearm with a bright grin. “We are welcome here whenever we come visit.” “Yes, Sis. I know.” Now, then. Varda gestures for her sister to follow her and approaches the Mythals, hoping for Merel to make conversation and get distracted even more. Granted, she has never met any of them before beyond hurried glances at the few events she was allowed to attend, but perhaps it can be helpful. She curtsies towards the group and turns towards the dark-skinned one with the yellow eyes. “Greetings, House Mythal. I am Varda Hildebrand. I, um,” her bravado falters, and she looks over her shoulder towards her sister with a panicked glance before snapping her gaze back to the Mythals. “It’s a family tradition for the—the Hildebrand house to give flowers as a, um, formal greeting.” She thrusts a smaller bouquet from the large collection in her hand towards them. “May you have, um—” “Peace and prosperity upon you and your own,” Merel steps in to save her, bowing deeply as she says the traditional words. Varda’s shoulders lift with a sigh of relief as she smiles towards the other noble house. @ethela penna @Aleksei
  2. All her life, Esme chases her own escape, chases that ever-distant star to lead her into greatness. “Excuse me, pardon me, sorry,” she smiles and nods apologetically as she weaves through the rowdy crowd, Reoldan shaking like a leaf behind her. All around them are the sounds of the marketplace, the exchanging of coin, the tinkling of children's laughter from green-patched alleyways, the hustle and bustle of yet another busy day in the life of the common folk. Esme feasts her gaze upon the colorful banners, the shop tents and the plentiful wares housed within. She enjoys the anonymity, here in the open world outside Ravenel Manor, far from the Hildebrand estate, far from Nai’s seclusion, Aspen’s nagging, Varda’s upcoming marriage to whoever-it-was from House Tankred. This town of Falcia, found to the northwest of Andelusia, is just one of her favorite places to cavort with the townsfolk, to be free from her bindings as a Hildebrand heir. Most of all, it is a place she is welcome to sing. “My lady, when you said we were just looking for a shop to buy bread,” the Orchid knight with her begins hesitantly, but the Hildebrand daughter shushes him, gives him a brilliant sunny smile. “It'll be fine, Reoldan. Besides,” Esme stops to place a golden coin in a beggar’s bowl before continuing, “it’s not like we’re doing anything bad, are we?” She hears a whimper behind her. “I would disagree—” “Oh, shush. I won’t let you come into any harm, oh sir knight.” Her mock-breathy words, crystalline echoes of light, rise above the din of the crowd. Esme whirls around and pats Reoldan on the shoulder. “I do this all the time. No worries.” When they reach the town square, the crowd thins around the stone fountain situated in the center, a small wooden platform waiting for Esme’s attention. She grins at the knight, taps her temple with a knowing glance, and casually steps onto the platform, facing the sea of townspeople. With a deep breath to steady herself, Esme closes her eyes and opens her mouth to sing. This little heart of mine, it’s cold Come light a fire in me She stands in the center of the town square, lets her voice fly, lets her words soar and shine. The world is frost, ice and snow Your hands are warm to the touch Embers deep within your soul Burning brightly People gather around her, the crowds pressing in closer and closer, like moths to a flame. This little heart of mine, it’s cold Come light a fire in me In this, she is content. In this, she is free. And in the deepest dying, smoldering embers of her heart, she knows this may be all she will ever taste of escape. @roboblu
  3. ourlachesism

    Greetins all!

    Hey welcome! I see that D&D in your post and it puts a smile on my face 😃 Hope you get to roleplay your heart's content around here, I'll be seeing you around 😆
  4. ourlachesism

    The Spokes of a Crown

    The siblings watch the Uldwar carriage leave their estate on the front steps of Ravenel Manor, the wind whistling change, as it always does in Varda’s ears. She glances sideways at the unreadable features of her brother, turns back to gaze upon the fading speck of the carriage in the distance. “A new king, they say,” she murmurs, the words low and lost to the breeze. In the isolation, in the united front they pose, Varda finds the inclination to speak her mind to her brother. “I’m not sure I did the right thing, but I do believe that what they’re trying to do is noble.” A new ruler, a native of Ursa Madeum, chosen by the people themselves. Despite the possible failure of such a thing after the regime of the Tyrant King, the thought of the constitution fills her with a faint sense of hope. Varda cares not for who sits on the throne of her homeland, as long as their ruling is just, as long as their ruling is fair. Anything less and she will do everything in her power to rescind her support from the constitution and the authority it will create. Jasper lets out a sudden chuckle, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he turns his gaze towards her. Varda raises an eyebrow at the sound. “You’re pleased with my actions?” He hums, takes his sister’s arm hand in hand with his as they turn away from the landscapes and the speck far beyond in the horizon. “You did well, stood up for what you believe.” Jasper pokes her cheek childishly, smirking at her furrowed brow. “I was merely thinking of what would happen if the constitution were to fail.” Varda taps his forearm with restless fingers, her gaze questioning as she stares at him. “And what would happen, brother?” Jasper smiles: sly, jagged, dripping promise. “Everything captivating in the world, sister.”
  5. ourlachesism

    [A.N.T] Main Thread 1: The Arrivals

    Varda smiles wider as Lord Titus nods and accepts the flower from her grasp. "Fortunately for me however, he left quite the promising protege in his wake. I'm looking forward to your future accomplishments Lady Hildebrand.” She stops a frown from blooming on her face at his earlier words. Her father leaves her as only half a promising protege: the mind without the means to articulate well is only half a leader, in her eyes. Varda swallows down the bitter aftertaste of regret, grins hopefully with the promise of her future accomplishments. "Thank you. It is my honor to serve the people, my lord." “Meanwhile, enjoy the food! Everything you see was made and grown right here in Ursa Madeum." She spares a thought to wonder whether some of the food were from the very fields her family tends, from the very land she tills beneath her hands, and her heart warms in her chest: a bright, proud little thing. At the arrival of a silk-robed stranger, Lord Titus shifts his attention to him, with Varda following suit: a deep curtsy and a quiet smile. She will introduce herself to him later, she decides, after she takes a few moments to enjoy the night’s fare. Bowing to Lord Milorian and Lady Primera before making her way towards the food-laden tables, her footsteps slow as a blonde woman in a red dress catches her attention, her gaze passing curiously over the swell of her belly. Varda can’t quite recall who this woman is, exactly, but she is definitely not part of the nobility of Ursa Madeum. A sinking feeling in her chest aches at the thought of being seen as inept, for not being knowledgeable about other rulers. Jasper would know who she is, she thinks bitterly. Well. Varda straightens her shoulders and quietly turns to walk towards the woman instead. Her lack of knowledge can be rectified immediately. “My lady, if I may,” Varda begins when she comes near the blonde woman, extending a white rose to her with a shy smile, “I am Varda Hildebrand of House Hildebrand. It is a tradition in our family to greet others with flowers.” The words fall, practiced yet shaky with anxiety. Varda bows politely to cover the nervous gleam in her eyes. “May your lands be peaceful and your fields prosperous, as ours are.” @Red the Ambivalent @Aleksei @Ataraxy
  6. ourlachesism

    The Spokes of a Crown

    The spark in her brother’s eyes spells trouble, and Varda prays to whatever deity who would listen to keep Jasper in line. "All we need is the head of the house's signature to show you are formally supporting our idea, and we will take care of the rest." “Oh, of course. Consider it done.” Thankfully, her brother says nothing as she gingerly picks up the quill, watches her signature bloom on the parchment with sharp eyes and pursed lips. Varda ignores the piercing gaze as she looks up and shares the wide smile of Lord Uldwar. Ultimately, this alliance, this constitution, is for the betterment of Ursa Madeum and its people. Whatever Jasper thinks of this alliance, he’ll have to make do with what she decides as the head of House Hildebrand. "Yes, it is something of a tournament. Though it won't be like any tournament that Ursa Madeum has seen before. A strong sword arm won't win you the hearts and the minds of the people, only your ideas and your policies can do that." Varda hums in approval at Lady Uldwar’s words, watches her brother smile from the corner of her eyes, jagged and dripping honey. She knows what it means. Her brother fancies himself to be the perfect representative of House Hildebrand: charismatic, determined, generous with food and wealth. Perhaps he thinks he can take advantage of their father’s reputation with the people, use it to boost himself in their favor, she muses as she slides the document back towards the Uldwars. "I am afraid we cannot stay much longer, as we have to return to our living quarters in Andelusia so we can get a head start on meeting with another house on the morrow." “It was our pleasure to meet with you today, my lord, my lady.” She rise from her chair and curtsies again with Jasper falling suit with a bow, a beaming smile curving deep on her lips. “Perhaps you can visit us again for longer, as friends are always welcome in our home.” @Grubbistch
  7. ourlachesism

    Prenuptial celebration - Dali x Mythal

    I'm on board! All hands on deck 😂 though I'd most prefer if @ethela penna goes before or after me, as siblings often do 😄
  8. ourlachesism

    [A.N.T] Main Thread 1: The Arrivals

    The red-haired woman—Grand Kommadant Primera of Renovatio, she believes, as the emperor had called her—takes the rose with a lovely smile, and Varda is charmed by her acceptance. Behind her, she hears the entrance of a few other nobles and rulers, reminds herself to greet each of them personally later. For now, she focuses on the three leaders before her. “I should like to visit Renovatio someday, my lady,” she curtsies to Lady Primera: voice hushed, eyes lowered, head bowed. “I've never been outside the borders of my homeland.” When Lord Milorian offers his condolences for her father’s death, however, the smile on Varda’s face freezes, shrivels up like dying roots in the burning sun. You are Lady Hildebrand, and there is no room for grief. Taking the flower he offers her with shaking hands, Varda adds the peony to her dark hair and gives Lord Milorian a white rose of his own, a fragile smile blooming limp on her lips. “Thank you. My father was a good man.” She closes her eyes in remembrance of her father’s exuberant, aging smile. “He would've wanted to come here in my place.” And he would’ve been here if he hadn’t been murdered, she thinks furiously. Varda bites down the sob growing in her throat, turns towards Lord Titus with a respectful bow. “But I am grateful to have been invited here and to meet with all of you.” She extends another white rose to the emperor of Taen. She is Lady Hildebrand, and there is no room for grief. @Aleksei @Ataraxy
  9. ourlachesism

    The Spokes of a Crown

    Varda pours another cup of tea for herself and her brother, quietly taking in the untouched food of their guests from where they are seated. Let it not be said that House Hildebrand does not know how to be generous hosts, but given the matter of discussion, it is not something to be taken lightly for the Uldwars. "Naturally we will be selecting one of our own to become monarch of Ursa Madeum. Each of the houses, if they are willing, will bring forth one person as candidate for king or queen." The siblings share a glance at this information. This is something they will further discuss between their other family members, Varda decides. "For House Uldwar, we will be selecting our daughter, Illyana, for the right to rule Ursa Madeum." It is loud and clear to everyone in the room, the nervousness of the Uldwar couple. Varda cannot wrap her mind around the question of why. Why would they have unease over their selected candidate for the throne? She has never met Illyana Uldwar, has rarely heard any information about the Uldwar family from her secluded life before, as mistress of the fields, toiling in the sun while her other charismatic siblings learned the ways of politics and social interaction. “Excellent choice, I must say, my lord and my lady,” Jasper strokes his chin in thought, seemingly approving of Illyana Uldwar’s candidacy. Varda cannot fathom why: whatever is going through her brother’s head is a mystery even to her. However, she knows that Jasper is a well-travelled, well-educated Hildebrand, so perhaps he would already know who Illyana is. Varda makes a note to personally meet the Uldwar daughter in the near-future. "So what say you, House Hildebrand? Will you give your support to this idea?" The siblings glance at each other, hold the stare, come to a conclusion simultaneously. Jasper turns and smiles, cool and languid, at the Uldwar couple. “You’ve found yourself some allies in this venture. We would be honored to support such a wonderful idea.” Varda takes a bite of barley cake before chiming in herself. “What else would you need from us, aside from our support of this constitution?” “And,” her brother says, and she raises an eyebrow at him for the sudden addition, “I find myself interested by this idea of a candidacy for the throne. One from each noble house, my lord? Seems like a tournament of sorts, to determine the one most worthy to rule.” @Grubbistch
  10. ourlachesism

    Prenuptial celebration - Dali x Mythal

    We aim to deliver for a fellow noble house 😆 let's party! 😉
  11. ourlachesism

    Welcome to the Festival of Blades (Ursa Madeum)

    @Diremast I'd like to put down Iyalon Izora representing House Hildebrand for Act II and Act III, and Varda and Jasper Hildebrand for the mingling parts of the event 😃 I don't have a character profile for them (yet), sorry! 😔
  12. ourlachesism

    Train to Ignatz

    Liir watches Clotho dig into his pockets, give a coin freely, and he thinks that perhaps he might have underestimated this man. “Didn’t know I was running around with a couple-a-whatsits, mechanics?” He lets out a snort, because really. Of all the plentiful things Liir can do with his hands, mechanical work is not something he particularly excels in. "I'm a scientist. Not a magitech scientist, but I know enough."  Magitech? Liir only knows the barest skeletons, the faintest hints concerning magitech, although he has dealt with them before, the Eliordelian technology he might or might not have stolen from the royal vaults a prime example of this. But a scientist, she says. His guess was right: definitely an intellectual. Liir grins widely as she continues to speak. "We have to find out what's wrong." Carina stands and starts walking closer to the station. Okay then. Liir shrugs at Clotho and trails behind the Doctor, hands leisurely tucked in his pockets. While Carina busies herself with inspecting the building and conversing with the haggard man in charge of the station, Liir takes notice of a map stuck to a nearby wall. Map of Terrenus, it says in bold print, landmasses foreign to Liir’s knowledge sketched onto the paper. Lines that must represent the Lightning Rail connect various dots across the map, the city names in small scrawl: Ignatz, Casper, Blairville, Tia, Last Chance. Oh, what a vast world for us to explore, partner. The thought stirs up the image of bright yellow eyes, sparkling and curious: childlike eyes to see and explore the world. A gaze like the sun. The world is wonderful, isn't it, brother? Blinking rapidly as he banishes the thought, Liir commits as much of the map as he can to memory, makes a note to sketch it onto his journal when he meets up with Jal. “We need to get out here. Around a thousand and a half kilometers away.” That’s a long way away, he notes. “What's over there?” Liir follows Carina’s finger to look at the section of the map she highlighted, intersecting lines on the paper. “We’re going to the stranded train?” There’s probably something the Doctor wants to acquire, but the distance can be a problem. A hand perched against his face, he absently taps his cheek with a finger as he assesses the situation, listens with half an ear as Carina questions their other companion about the speed of Casper’s transportation. “You have any more interesting gems on hand? We may need to buy Nth and Auranite.” “Oh, so I’m the financier of this project, then?” Liir raises an eyebrow at the Doctor, faintly amused at the idea. Sure, he has plenty of trinkets, but when it comes to buying foreign magical materials to fix a defunct train—well. “I get that we need to fix the train, but doesn't the government—or whatever form of authority you have here—have jurisdiction over that? Can’t we just ask for a commission?” He leans against the wall, stifles a yawn with his fist before continuing. “Do correct me if I'm wrong.” @Csl @ethela penna
  13. ourlachesism

    Named spells for Terrenus ft. you

    I've come up with a few plant-related spells for House Hildebrand, but they're yet to pop up any time soon, so I'll hold tight for a while 😃
  14. ourlachesism

    Welcome to the Festival of Blades (Ursa Madeum)

    COUNT ME IN! 😃 For socialization and fighting, yes! 👀
  15. ourlachesism

    The Spokes of a Crown

    Varda is almost convinced. Certainly, the Uldwar nobles have made a persuasive argument towards their cause, backed up by their masterful way with words. She tries not to look in Jasper’s direction, lest he sees her already turning, giving in to them this early in the discussion. "What's worse is this insult of a noble house, Singlance, that mocks what it means to be a noble. Along with these outsiders from Genesaris, it's quite clear who the Taen empire cares about. Clearly, there will be push back, not just from us, but from the people as well.” Varda lowers her gaze in thought. She's never had the opportunity to visit the new noble house of Singlance, much less hear from them directly, but surely she’ll have to give them the benefit of the doubt. From what she's heard through Hildebrand’s ears on the ground, perhaps they only care about developing new infrastructure for Ursa Madeum, and she cannot condemn them for a noble cause. However, there is the matter of them being foreigners elevated to noble status by the Taen government, and some deep, dark shard in her cannot accept the fact that they have done so with ease, where the oldest noble houses have worked for generations upon generations to arrive at this point of wealth and influence. Perhaps Lord Uldwar is right. Sooner or later, the power of the governors will overshadow the influence of the noble houses. When it comes to that point, what will become of the noble houses, of them, other than a means of food supply? “We know for certain that conflict between the houses and the governors will only hurt the small folk in the long run. That is why they will accept our constitution." Varda takes another sip from her teacup before she replies. “A king of Ursa Madeum under the Taen empire, is what you mean?” She tilts her head in consideration of the idea. “A king to empathize with the people where the governors cannot. A collaboration, not puppetry.” She can see the appeal of such a prospect. Varda turns her gaze to her brother. However— “Pardon me, but who exactly will this new king be?” Jasper calmly takes a bite from his slice of barley cake, ignores the faintly startled look from his sister. “Color me curious. Surely you have one in mind already?” @Grubbistch
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