Aleksei

Finally, she rose above the edge of the pool she had been drowning in all these years. The buzzing in her ears stopped, and from the corridors of her mind, an echo finally came forth in the grace of clarity. It was shocking, to feel again after so long being numb and dull to the surrounding world. The disconnect had affected her more than she had thought, now that the world has come rushing at her in a swell of emotions. Wiping away one errant tear, the woman stood up and stretched her aching bones. She will not be the only person to feel that sudden shift in the air; she can already see movement off in the distance, something that hardly ever happens unless someone has a bone to pick. Someone always has a bone to pick, too. Mostly left to her own thoughts, the woman has been able to survive the last few years with only a few scars after someone slipped her title - former title - into the fray. None of the big-shots really liked the idea of being locked away with former heat. And really, who can blame them? Experience has taught her that trusting anyone with some kind of badge can make for terrible results. Gathering her wandering thoughts in a ragged row, she begins to walk forward, lead by the need to move and nothing more. Whatever comes her way will be dealt with swiftly, and respectively; there is no need to avoid confrontation, not in this place. She can feel the fields of magic dripping in, they rippled through her dry skin, tickled every nerve in her body, reawakening the hunger for more. People are going to start losing their minds now that there is a taste of possible freedom dangling right in front of them, barely out of reach. Just right there, in front of them. In front of her. Curling worn fingers into tight fists, Ethen soothes her near-boiling rage. Now isn't the time to think bitterly of the past; her future is right here, and she will not squander it.

"I am completely convinced the room has always spun," was her response, her words gently muffled by her head-down position. "There's no other explanation as to why it won't stop." When she finally lifted her aching head off the table, she eyed the man a bit before paying him a small smile that made her face softer and kinder. In general, Delaney is not a very intimidating figure, and she does next to nothing to appear so. Her smiles, be them broad or smile, aged her a few years, making her look younger and vulnerable. So, it's not often she gives anyone more than a small smirk; hopefully, the gentleman acknowledges her pleasure towards his little remark. "A grape depression. I'll have to pocket that for another time, preferably when I'm sober again." Before the conversation can go any further, the waitress returned with what looks like a bowl of warm soup and some kind of steaming concoction in a mug. The look on her face was unimpressed with just a dash of confusion - what was she supposed to do with this meal, eat it? Looking at the smiling waitress, she got the answer she was dreading: she has to eat it. Swallowing over the lump in her throat, Delaney shudders before giving her thanks to the waitress. Dragging her attention back to the wolfish figure at the bar, she points to the furs on his shoulders to the bowl in front of her. "You think that wild beast gnawing on your shoulders would eat this? I need to know if I'm being tricked, locked in a bad dream, or this is the reality I must face." Before she dives in and ultimately drowns, she takes this moment to greet the new arrival adequately. She could taste the magic pouring from his form like a waterfall that dares to sink her beneath its strength. It set the mood. "You smell like the ocean," she finally says, lifting her nose some to punctuate her words. "What brings you here to the Blossom? It's a rather ... odd time for random visitors." If she were asked for her opinion about the subject, she would say: it's better to be forthcoming, no need to be sly or coy. Plus, if the man wanted to remain incognito, he wouldn't have dressed so fashionably. Or be so magically inclined. Her abilities as a Seeker made it impossible for her not to notice the strengths of others. Her inability to keep quiet makes it impossible for her not to mention things as she sees them. It's not a move to flex her might or distort his visit; her words were an open line of communication between two strangers. "I hope it's not the food, because we may be lacking in that area." @Voldemort

This is 10000% perfect for me! I will be able to throw out a post tomorrow night!

Here are the answers to your questions. Let me know if you want me to add more or anything! Ethen has been in prison for about four to five years now, and she's been able to survive by being a smooth operator 👉😎👉 She was a Captain based in Casper years and years ago, and something went wrong (hella wrong, like big no no wrong (this is a old character and the idea I have in my head isn't written anywhere, before you ask for written deets), like yeah that's not good wrong) that landed her in prison. She has basically kept to herself, used her special set of skills to ensure no one steps on her and if they do, she makes them an example to why she should be left alone. Ethen's been on her own this entire time, choosing to not associate with any gangs, and hasn't really made any "friends" per say. She is also someone you can't miss. She has bubblegum pink hair and neon green eyes. Not really. I like Ethen and haven't used her for awhile and would like to reintroduce her back into my writing. Nope! Hella team up and try to escape! She's ready to blow this popsicle stand, she wants to make like a tree and gtfo.

In spirit!

Areille figured that it would be best she allow Skacharm his moment with the new arrival. Her focus was more transfixed upon the atmosphere that's now thick with loss and understanding. Whenever one goes on these kinds of expeditions, they claim to understand that death is unavoidable, but they forget that it's the death of those around them, not just their own. Losing anyone remotely close to you can be jarring, as that person had a spot in your life, and now that spot is left empty and cold. She hopes Rysorian will be delicate towards those mourning, hopefully by saying nothing and going about his business. These people have lost, and they have the right to mend their aches without someone criticizing them for feeling. Rohini would have been just as occupied by the mood, if not for the wounds freckling his form. A significant problem with his abilities is the need for injury to drive him closer and closer to the edge of depravity. If one can't feel, blinded by the pounding of their blood and the desolation around them, they can fight harder and longer. The wolves had reawoken the thirst in his veins, and it overwhelmed enough to weakness. So he sits on the ground, bleeding and staring at the dead with bright eyes. The scene dared to tease a memory, but he was quick to shove it aside. "You're a bit of a mess, Rohini," Areille whispered while kneeling down at his side. "Mmph, still alive, though. Something they can't say," he said, a bloody finger pointing at the bodies. "Remind me again why we're here?" "To help." "Then help them first, and we'll figure everything else out later." The soldier hobbled to his feet, being as low-key as one can do when you're missing a piece of your thigh, and your ankle is nearly chewed to the bone. He didn't mind getting a few scars for his trouble; it's just a shame he can't wander around naked to show off his hard work. Giving her his hand, he pulled her off the ground and then shoved her forward so she can do her work. Areille has always been fixed behind someone, be it her mother or her siblings or just another person; she was always a follower. Imbued with reputable skills, she's only been given few opportunities to show her wealth of wonder to the rest of the world. Rohini has been on the tender end of her delicate touch before and believes that everyone within this little camp could use a little extra love. She did as she was told and approached those injured, assisting them by healing their wounds. Those mourning she gave words of comfort and understanding, doing her best not to minimize their feelings. It was the least she can do to help, especially since she was not there to help fight off the beasts. While watching his friend work her magic, a few individuals approached him. Their questions were about the manifestation of his sword, something he was still tightly holding onto and using as a small crutch. Others wanted to know about the type of magic he had used against the wolves, and how he came about learning it. He welcomed the distraction, plus he got to talk about himself, one of his favorite things to do!

The year this thread currently takes place, using the Terran calendar. Currently, in real time, the year is: Terran Calendar: The current year is 31 AO = 599 WTA. All new threads happen during the current year unless otherwise stated by the creator. You can find more information on it all right here in the good ol' lore article: So that means this thread is taking place two years in the past, which would make sense considering the loci event. All that said, may I sneak on in?

Kaori listened to Belah with half the attention the other woman so deserved. They have been going over the vitals of Oo'Xora, something that's done about every month or so to ensure they both keep up with the times. Belah would give this information to Kaori's mother, but time has dictated the young woman to take her mother's place. She wasn't sure if it was to give her mother some reprieve, or a strong attempt to show Kaori's father that she's not a whimpering pup. Maybe it's a bit of both. Whatever the reason, she has taken her new responsibilities seriously - until now. Just outside Belah's lavish mansion was a world mostly unknown to Kaori, and tonight she is craving change from the usual. It would not be the first time she's snuck about, though sneaking is used loosely here. No one has ever told her never to leave, always to stay inside, away from the rest of the world. It's nearly impossible when there is so much to do, that being leisurely with her time has become difficult. Some would say she is naive, sheltered, and coddled. All could be true, if only they knew how much she isn't a delicate doll. "Kaori." Red eyes tore themselves away from the window to look at the lovely woman. Belah, with her indigo eyes, had a way of snatching the air from your lungs, leaving you drowning beneath her overwhelming beauty. Kaori is one of many victims of the woman's natural charm. "Why don't you take the rest of the night off. We can continue this tomorrow morning." That's all that needed to be said. The two call it a night, allowing the young woman to dress and venture out into the world - with escorts, of course. Being a royal meant you had some freedom, just enough to give you space but not too much where you can go all wild. For Kaori, it did not matter much; her father and mother do everything to ensure her safety, including the abilities to protect herself if needed. The escorts are just disposable shields. They may come in use depending on what kind of trouble rolls itself before her.

@Twitterpated @danzilla3 She hadn't worried much about the upbringing of children. The Mythal House was full of children; almost every member had a child or four with more on the way. Milorian was the only Mythal brother without children, and Lyrei can also be included in that category. Still, Delphine had a feeling the lady-elf will be populating Ursa Madeum soon enough. It's heard on the wind that Lyrei and her beau are an envious pair, that the Lord Kholin has already sworn to gather a crown of stars for his beloved. Delphine would not be there to help raise Lyrei's children or the rest of the Mythal brood. A bit of a melancholy thought to file away for later, for now, she preoccupies herself with the new faces being introduced. She was courteous, using her newly learned manners to her best abilities as not to offend. A small bit of her felt proud of it all. So long ago, she had been terrified of humans, and now she is mingling with them as if normal. It's something she will keep reminding herself as the night goes on. "Water, please." A woman with simple needs, her pregnancy has made her insufferably practical. Grant has been the ever doting lover, attending to her every need, mothering her to almost death, and pretty much driving her wild. She knew it was a combination of a few things, so she could not blame him much for his hovering. A simple request for water will turn into a grand quest to hunt down something fresh, cold, and perhaps paired with a snack. She will let him figure out the rest, just as long as she gets her simple request for a simple thing. While waiting for her beverage, the elf took a moment to look around. Earlier, they had been introduced and spoke to a few individuals, but one in particular kind of stuck out. He looked a bit lonely when he had introduced himself as an apparent friend. From her position, she couldn't necessarily pinpoint his location, making her curious little search somewhat tricky. Jin wasn't someone you quickly lose in a crowd.

Delaney was close to nailing the door shut, its constant opening and closing grating her thin nerves. The night's festivities before were finally settling, leaving her more than a little irate about her chosen surroundings. It was her fault, after all, since the Cursed Sword is known for its lively atmosphere, and she was the one who wanted it for the last hoorah. A small portion of the Seekers who've chosen to leave Ursa Madeum is now on a ship to their new home, the memory of their company pasted against the woman's heavy heart. They are her family, no matter the miles spread between them, and she will miss them dearly. "What'll you have, Ms.?" The waitress had been a sweet caretaker, ensuring that Delaney wasn't left alone to wallow in her terrible decisions. Sifting worn fingers through pale hair, the Seeker took her time to think the question over. What will she have, hm? Food is probably the best choice she can make, though there wasn't a single thing that spoke to her. Soup? Salad? Grass? A bullet? At this point, she is more than willing to be led to the back and shot, because she's just as useful as a lame horse. "Water and whatever you think will cure this hangover." The waitress giggled before patting Delaney on the shoulder. She has seen the Grand Master deep in her cups before, but the night before had been something else. She and her followers had nearly drunk the tavern dry; if you listen close enough, you can still hear their rambunctious songs embedded into the floors and walls. Drunk they were, but not a single man or woman was disrespectful to the patrons and the staff of the Cursed Sword. Delaney had ensured those gathered beneath her banner are the best in all things: sorcery, fighting, courtesy, and drinking. All those things were shown the night before. While waiting for the waitress to return, she pulled her jacket tighter and gently plopped her aching head against the cold table. As much as she hated feeling like this, she worked to remember why she wanted someone to put her out of her misery. Things are changing, and last night was the pinnacle of those changes. Around her, the tavern was dull; almost all remnants of last night's party have been removed, returning the Cursed Sword to normal. The people were jovial, enjoying their conversations while a few others were speckled across the place doing their own thing. It was busy, just not as wild - even though the door can't stay closed. It set a bitter scene for the woman, but she was thankful, as was her swimming head.

'Your father would have purged the entire area by now,' the voice said, their opinion clear with every word. "Is he only my father when it comes to such things?" Olympia remarked aloud. Over the last few days, she has been in constant communication with her sister, the glorious figure keeping Oly's kingdom in order while she is away. 'When he is sanctimonious - yes.' Both women share a laugh, knowing their father is everything under the sun and more beyond it. He was a cold ruler, perhaps a little too heavy-handed, but he was a kind father who tried his best with the hoard he had produced. Far from perfect, the gentleman turned god did what he could with what little knowledge he had. Olympia is possibly the only child who looks upon him with complete adoration and limited harsh opinion. Not utterly ignorant of his shortcomings, the picture of her father is one to admire. Much like Nathan, the woman could change her attire to fit the mood. Having declined soft leather in previous offerings, settled mostly on everyday attire, Olympia is not blind towards her limitations as a semi-human being. Arrows still hurt, and swords can even nick, and enemies can be hungry for blood and death; she can't allow herself to take these minimal risks. Plains clothes turned to the armor most SoulSeekers of higher rank wore; white robes edged in red flowed about her, revealing snippets of intricate black armor that familiarly hugged her form. "Even if we could eat the undead, I'm sure they'd be a little too chewy." Olympia liked Igni, she was a relief from the goings-on, really. "I don't know about you, but I'm not for spending hours just chewing my food." She approached them all in her glory, with shield and sword hanging from her form, and embellished armor all aglow. The hood to her robes was thrown back, revealing her eager smile and bright eyes. The battle is soon to commence, and the young lady looked as if she was prepared to talk a stroll.