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Aleksei

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About Aleksei

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  • Birthday 02/01/1990

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  1. They tittered back and forth like a flock of birds exchanging casual gossip. Leoa attempted to keep up with the fingers and hands, but had long given up and instead put most of her concentration on what was being said. Desmond was yelling at them to hurry, as if by some miracle he was going to stand up and continue to fight. He even went as far to insult his mother, someone he considers to far more precious than air. Leoa wasn't moved by the insults, though she was slightly pleased to know he had enough life in him to be so snark. Surrounding her and the handful of ladies tending to Desmond's profusely bleeding wound, is her own guard of men and women personally trained by her. As much pride as she has when it comes to her own skills, she can't help but feel vulnerable standing in the middle of a battle pregnant with anticipation. The lull helped them catch their breaths and tend to the flailing Prince, but it also made them achingly aware of their tiredness. Like the waves of an active ocean, the people of this land crashed against them before receding, then again with eagerness before pulling away. The tactic was a horrible way to make them think they are gathering ground, when in reality they've only moved inches at a time - but those are precious inches. The land under their feet is now their's, and there is absolutely no going back. They've never had such a hungry foe beating down their door, and now they must put up with seasoned men and women dedicated till death to their Empire. Leoa slapped away a grabbing hand. Dirty, bloody, and wounded, the Empress declines all offerings of help. The slash to her talked whenever she took a deep gulp of air; a large gash on the side of her throat bled freely, staining her no longer white robes; the most prominent, and hateful looking wound, is a large gash running from the corner of her right eye to her hairline. Her damaged eye is completely red, with just a speck of green peering out from behind all the blood, showing that there is a remnant of her eyesight. She can afford to look the way she does. A Lion wears his wounds with pride to show his fearlessness and brutality. A single woman rose with Desmond leaning against her shoulder, afterwards another helped keep the man standing on his free leg. His face contorted in pain and drops of sweat freckling his face indicated things were not as grand as they all had hoped. Whatever the damage was, it can't be fixed on the battlefield and he would have to be escorted away. She thanks the gods that the Prince was too busy shifting between being conscious and unconscious to notice what was happening. Reconnecting with the outside world, she's bombarded with the all too familiar tune of war. It all overwhelmed her and moved her to fight, no matter her grievances towards their hateful actions. To her it had been moments of silence and peace, but for those protecting them it had been moments of fear and uncertainty as they fight their everchanging enemy. The Empress noted, briefly, the new additional bodies scattered around her group. A deep and deafening rumble shook everyone to the core. The seconds of pause became intensely charged as both sides began to move forward, determined to win this battle once and for all. She looked up from the prompting sound to see, not far off in the distance, a giant covered in abuse to keep it angry, roaring towards the nearest enemy. Teeth jagged and broken with a body made of mush and muscle, the giant was a sight to see and an obstacle they're going to have to get through. Especially because it's not alone. Three more follow after their friend.
  2. "They wern't smart enough to know what they were adoin'." Camille's venomous snarl curled her lips and wrinkled her eyes. They are dead and she's in the middle of this fuckfest and that means at least a whole nights worth of thrashing to her back. They know better than to get too handsy with her, something that she's exceptionally proud of. "Dae folk is this stupid shite!" You'd think everyone would have gathered outside to get a better look at what the hell is going on, but much to no one's surprise, the streets remain empty and the patrons inside the building had moved away from the windows. Already the news is going up the line and already the streets are warm with rumour. When she had yelled (with a brogue that's only found across oceans) she was only doing it to expel her frustrations. Not even then did anyone move forward to be curious. She felt insulted when he presented the bundle of lettuce, though she's not sure what exactly struck that sensitive chord in her. Did she really look that desperate for money? She liked to think she presented herself with a certain kind of poise, and with a self-conscious sorta action she wiped the palms of her hands on the thighs of her clean jeans. Right now she looked like the rat she's playing, but if he hadn't been so quick to judge, maybe he wouldn't treat her like the scum that's dead at their feet. "Aye, put that away." The woman tapped the bundle before lowering it down with a single finger. "I've got the words if you're willin' to listen, but obviously not here." She's already one foot in the grave and he's made it pretty damn clear he isn't going anywhere until he gets what he wants. Camille can be just as stubborn and so are the men who sign her paycheck. When she's asked what went down she will tell the truth with a slight twist, but only to protect herself from any rough handling - the man holding her obviously doesn't need protection of any kind. Bright eyes examined his gruff demeanor and smirked, finding a friend somewhere behind all that aged roughness but not at all willing to admit it.
  3. "Desmond, please." His lips molded into a lopsided smirk, a horribly charming feature that's forever been criticized by his loving mother. He's never hidden his eagerness for fairy-tale like love and the game of seduction. Women are delicious temptations put on this earth to make a man (or woman) lose their minds in the way their bodies curve, their voices rise and fall in the presence of a desirable man, and how their hearts beat underneath your fingertips. He's had his share of tempting creatures. Just as tempting as the eager lady before him. Trained to drag a man into the current of her gaze and the swish of her hips, not knowing that the jagged shore is close and drowing is unavoidable. He has been a willing victim more than once in his short lifetime and has lived perfectly well with water in his lungs. "Reserve your 'highnesses' for my mother and my father, our Emperor." He mentally laughed at the last bit. His father disliked titles (no matter their necessity) and it always pleased Desmond to see the man maneuver around such an awkward happenstance. He's the sort of person who would rather get straight to the talk; not at all bothering with the fluff and puff of those below them. Though there may be a small part of the man's heart where he takes pride in his titles. Perhaps he hides his coveted pleasures in a chest buried in some lost and forgotten lake. "I am assuming you lovely ladies are excited for tonight's festivities." Desmond wasn't. He has grown to dislike the huge amount of people stuffed inside the castle, especially the women leering at him (he leers back of course) and on top of that, the men who often frown at him and shake their heads at his decision to remain rogue. It is truthfully none of their business what he does with his days, unfortunatly, because of his position there is absolutely no hiding his infliction from the world. He likes to think his skin is thick, but the brooding wrinkles around the corners of his eyes say otherwise. Ariel quickly went ignored and Desmond turned to hobble back to his cane. His moods swung back and forth like a revolving door, and he did nothing to hide his displeasure towards his position. There's very little many can do to perk the young man up and many have honestly given up trying to make him see the brighter side. There's far too much bite underneath his calm demeanor. The Empress mearly shrugged her shoulders at the sudden swiftness to her son's movements. Now is not the time to argue nor does she have the energy to shake the man by his shoulders to wake him up. Too many nights have been wasted on yelling at the man and holding back from smacking him like the child he's being. Leoa has protected Desmond from Corvin's harshness and she's quickly realized her mistake from coveting her precious child. "Ariel, will you assist Desmond to his room?" Leoa shoots straight for the heart. If he's going to pout, she'll play his game. Clearly bristled, the Prince turns to face his mother, but twists too much for his person to handle. He unceremoniously flops down on the bench with a scowl on his brow. By this time his mother and the other ladies have excused themselves.
  4. She watched with smiling eyes as servants swished through the gardens and between columns, going about their delegated business with secret dignity. Their air of manner nearly drowns the colorful flowers in ten different shades of gray, which unfortunately makes the woman smile with interest. Her small stay here has made her increasingly aware that something is wrong, and whatever that something is, no one really wants to bring it up. All the workers are constantly on their toes, like ballerinas dancing to a tune that's off a few keys. The last few days have left her feeling needy, anxious, extremely impatient. She's so used to being up and going the minute her feet leave her bed and touch the ground. During her stay inside the castle almost everything has been handed to her, and for a second she had enjoyed the pampering, but it quickly became dull when she remembered she had a mind of her own. Lemoine had (guiltily) sent her charged servants away, telling them how she is capable of preparing for the day. Hopefully she hadn't offended them. Setting those feelings aside, she was a tad lonely as well. It's understandable that the King be busy now that he has taken his place on the throne. Every day this last week she had expected to be summoned by him, and every day she was left with a pit in her stomach. The immense weight on his fine shoulders must be bogging him down, leaving her feeling sorry for him, though she assumes he has his own court of people to assist him with the needs of his kingdom. Lemoine would have loved to help him, yet she refrained from offering her help to refrain from stepping on toes. She feels that her refrain will be shattered soon and she won't be able to hold back from saying something. She has some experience running a Kingdom and is empathetic enough to associate with people, making her a grand commodity when she's put to work. Exasperated, the woman closed her book and sat it aside for later. Lemoine had take refuge in the beautiful gardens, making one bench in paticular a favorite spot when she wanted to escape the servants. This morning she had tempted them with an offering of help, and ever since then they have nearly begged to assist her in all things from reading her book to feeding her. Much to her embarressment, the young lady has dressed with Lucis in mind. Her hair was piled high on her head, and a shiny gold ribbon threaded the soft curls. The gown was a strikingly simple one of white silk with a Grecian influence. The fabric crisscrossed the bodice, and bright gold trim enhanced the outline of the bosom. A train, secured by golden clasps at the shoulders, dusted the floor and complimented the effect. The result was at once both charming and sophisticated. Wanting to be comfortable for the day and free from corsets, bindings, and all the rest of the restraining finery, she decided on something simple. If there is a chance she is summoned by Lucis, she wants to be able to move with brisk grace, something you can't do when you're encased in jewelry and heavy brocades. Plus, if she were to accentuate her poor form with ridiculous amounts of lace and silk just for him, it maybe give him the wrong impression - an impression she's not even sure of. To put such fairytale-like bliss on her eagerness ... it may be too much. @Pasion Pasiva
  5. FIRST POST UPDATED @Alexei @Garion @Trigger2Red @Beles: The Shifty Banana @Neondragon7 @Pasion Pasiva @jaistlyn @Grizzly @Dradiro @Xioa @jack-attack @FirePenguinDiscoPanda @Grimmholt @Sir Nathaniel @King @Puranetto Ueivuzu @Song Sprite @TheCalmOne @Mag @Chappu @Slank44 @LorSanTekka @Trenchant Cogency@Akako Akari @Etched In Stone @Chappu @Al Sa-her @deadcasketburied @Galen Wolfe
  6. interest check

    I'll have the thread started tomorrow I work overnights Sunday, Monday, Thursday, and Friday so my sleeping schedule is a bit off. I'll tag you once it's up! Like I said above, and as @Mag has mentioned, I have a few things in mind if you're interested. Don't hesitate to send me a PM
  7. interest check

    IM ALIIIIVE!!! Sorry for disappearing for a bit there, been working. If anyone wants to do some fun stuff while we are waiting, pm me I'll be available tomorrow.
  8. Hey pretty lady, I am not sure how you're looking with activity right now. I am pretty slow going since Owain is going through some crazy fucking sleep regression, Mental Leap, and growth spurt...BUT I was wondering if you didn't want to possibly start a private thread, for the night after or something, for our characters? Might give us a chance to write without so many distractions. 

    1. Aleksei

      Aleksei

      Duuude, you are like a mind reader because I was just about to pm and ask you if we could such a thread! I think it would only be appropriate so they can actually get to know each other and start a real conversation without being interrupted. So far I'm able to shoot about a couple posts a day, making me slightly active and pretty much open at any time.

      Ugh, the growth spurts are probably the worst :aghast: It just changes everything!

    2. Pasion Pasiva

      Pasion Pasiva

      He's really trying to crawl. But for now he can't and he gets pissed off. He wants to move around and can't manage it so he yells at me -- all the time. Where is my sweet, darling, happy baby?! WHERE?

    3. Aleksei

      Aleksei

      Avalynn can say dad in the sweetest little voice. Whenever Robert comes home she crawls towards him like her butt's on fire and goes: dadadadadadaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! But when she wants mom it's: MA! MOM! Already she's giving me sass!

      Yay for crawling! It's so funny to watch them try >D They're like fish out of water. Avalynn is currently trying to walk. She'll stand up on her own and then look at us, wondering wtf she's supposed to do next. 

  9. "It's a pleasure to meet you Hana, you can call me Maren." She'd like to say that she followed in his footsteps, refraining from adding any additionals to her name. Maren's father was the type to tell you everything attached to his name, her mother wasn't far off either, but Maren has always held a silent dislike when people threw out their titles all nilly-willy. Plus, there's not a whole bunch to add to Maren's rather generic name; she has yet to earn anything worthwhile to speak of. "Hope I'm not too boring for you Hana, I'm not terribly in depth as Chris is." She stood from her chair and began to wheel it back to her desk, sure that Hana will follow close by. Maren heard the bits and pieces of the conversation happening between Chris and his wife. She doesn't have anyone waiting at home for her, except a cat of her own, but no one calls her to ask what she wants for dinner or what's for dinner, so on and so on. Part of her is happy for it because this kind of lifestyle is a destroyer of relationships, long-term and short-term. Unless you're dating or married to someone working in the same business, good luck keeping up with actually having a life. "So tell me what's brought you here? Not a whole bunch of people find any of this exciting." She sat back down at her desk and woke her screen up to reveal various tabs full of scrambled information and puzzle piece pictures. "I'm your seller! I'm the one who goes out to sell our product and build our product placement with buyers. I also go through all the codes associated with our product and make sure no bugs get in our way and that we're legitimately selling something with the best materials." A few taps and a couple clicks, she shows Hana the outline of the Hermes-001. "We're currently working on the sensitivity of it. It's proven to be a test of wills to get the prosthetic to jive with the non-prosthetic, but the last few test have shown what needs work on and they've been fairly successful."
  10. YAY FOR NEW CHARACTERS! YAY FOR NEW THINGS!

  11. interest check

    Ooooohhhh snaaaaap!!! Awesome!! This makes me most excited.
  12. interest check

    @TheCalmOne I know this is kinda random, but there's been talk and such that a nice little side thread would be enjoyable. With that talk, I was wondering if you'd be interested in a spar between Celine and Athena. It'll be a casual spar, nothing hardcore legit, which is nice if you're not familiar or comfortable with T1, but would like to enjoy some story fighting. I was thinking it would be fun to have everyone spectate and enjoy the scene. If not, no worries!
  13. Desmond looked over the contracts with misty eyes; his lips set in a rather grim line that does not accent his handsome face properly. His mother has gone to the edge of the earth in a feeble attempt to see him at least smirk (a long lost trademark of his), and to no avail he remained unmoving. Smiling no longer comes naturally to the young man. A rise of his lips is now used to please the mother's of the children he tends to, and some times he does bend to his mother's will and melts under her care. He is stubbornly changeable. The young Prince slaps the final folder down atop a pile of others. Paragraphs, shapes, and proposals danced in front of his tired gaze, and no matter of rubbing his exhausted sight made any of it go away. Hard Work is not an unnatural thing to him, if anything he prefers his time being spent buried under work, especially if it keeps him inside the castle walls. From his desk or the gardens or his bedroom or even the kitchen he can delegate tasks, all without having to work up a sweat. He sighed. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind for his life, but due to some unfortunate circumstances ... He blindly rubbed the ridge of his knee and his frown deepened. Being a failure at any level does not sit well with him, not when he could be exploring the world and actually doing something, something worthy of a growing empire, and something worthy of attention. There's no use in brooding, he thought to himself with a wane smirk. What's important is what is happening now, he can't change the past neither can he change the future, so there is absolutely no use in hoping and wishing. Today he needs to focus on the task at hand: acquiring a few helping hands. His mother (the ever bleeding heart) had wandered out of the castle to pluck a few, uh, soiled doves to occupy the company of their many guests filtering through their home. Leoa had bent to the rules, hopefully the women will do the same and keep their valuables to themselves. Prostitution of any kind is frowned upon, and so the Empire does its best to regulate it. These women are cared for, pampered, treated as if they are princesses by their own right, all for the sake of keeping disease at a low and making sure no random man or woman disrespects the people of the Kadian Empire. The beautiful ladies are also taught manners and dance and song, skills to entertain a slew of people without having to lift their skirts. Inside the castle they are not prostitutes, they are entertainers, and if they decide to sell their goods on holy land they are disposed of. The clicking of heels and the slap of naked feet snagged his attention. Looking up, he noticed his mother gliding down the hall like an angel coming down from the heavens. He is not a shy man when it comes to his overwhelming love for his beautiful mother. With as much grace as he could possibly muster in his condition, he rose and met his gracious mother in the middle of the beautiful solarium. Desmond grabbed her gently by the shoulders (abandoning his cane at his seat, he used her for leverage) and placed a warming kiss atop her sun doused head. He had to use skill to dodge the jewels dotting her hair and forehead, but his assault was successful. If any were to simply pass and glance at the two, they would assume their Emperor had turned back the hands of time. Desmond was the spitting image of his father, and often enough some made the mistake by greeting him far too graciously than necessary. "It looks like you were successful in your hunt," he hobbled back from her to examine the covered heads of three women. Leoa smiled up at her son, eyes beaming with obvious pride and adoration for the young man. "Only 3? You think that's enough for tonight?" "You know how your father feels about having our castle walls invaded by ... differences. 3 is enough for the moment, now introduce yourself to the ladies." Desmond had perched his hand atop his mother's slender shoulder, and now regretting his choice to abandon his cane. Introductions are no longer his bread and butter of attraction. He didn't want to terrify these poor women with horrible manners, but he doesn't want to disrespect a motherly demand. "It's a pleasure to meet you all," he shook when he bowed at the waist. A small streak of pain flashed across his handsome face, but it was quickly buried when he rose when a lukewarm smile pressed on his pained face.