Jump to content


  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won


Posts posted by Aleksei

  1. 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.

  2. v1V9U3i.png"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."


  3. 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.

  4. YANTpUd.pngAreille 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! 

  5. 22 hours ago, Dupin said:

    Another thing to note (I should've actually made this explicit, woops) is that this would going down in ~29AO IC. 


    8 hours ago, HollowCipher said:

    29AO? Whats that mean?

    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?

  6. 1UmGD6t.pngKaori 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.


    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.

  7. @Twitterpated @danzilla3

    TmSftZy.pngShe 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.

  8. v1V9U3i.pngDelaney 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.

  9. kmWgnCP.png'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.

  10. uhDCpqb.png"That is fair. There is no reason for us to stomp on the ground that's already done the work to separate. It would do us good to reach out to them and let them know our intentions."

    She was a careful cook, something someone had once told her at some point in her life. The years before she fell asleep were still a delicate blur, but the emotions and the voices attached to them haunt her. Once upon a time, she had entered this kitchen with someone, and together they talked about things that no longer matter. Whoever that person is, she hopes that they are well or at least productive. Unlike her, who is making a snack for a snake that's just slithered his way in, this is not what she expected to come out of her day.

    Reliability aside, she understood his need for her. Myrlande came into this blossoming relationship with courtesy on her side. She hasn't proclaimed her loyalty to the boy just yet, though neither had she done so with his mother, even though Myrlande's actions obviously said she was. Whatever ambitions she may have had were gone with time, and the only thing worth attending to is him. It will have to be enough.

    "Even if she returned, she would probably have the hope of bringing the Kingdom back to its original glory."

    She shrugged her shoulders while molding all the ingredients into a workable dough. A bit of magic here and there made the dough rise, but everything else was her doing.

    "Its original glory is gone, and we best not fall into the trap of grasping at the past while trying to obtain a future."

    Patting the flour off her hands, she thinks over his words for a bit. "That's a fair enough idea. Extend our hand forward, and we'll see who bites it, giving you the decision to either slap them or keep them close. While we wait for all that to happen, things should be done around the Keep."

    Cutting the dough into squares, Myrlande shuffles her mental notes around. They're going to have to work from the inside out and make a name for themselves to garner the attention of helpful people. Predators Keep is probably stagnant with the current situation, and that just means so much more work on their end.

    "I suggest you visit the underground and start making your presence known there. From what I can remember, it is an area with some color figures that could get you on the good side of those who matter." Pouring oil into a large pot, she turns the stove on and waits for the thick liquid to start rolling to a boil. "Charity work will get everyone to look at you - actions speak louder than words, and all that nonsense. You can perhaps make conversations with dragons and their riders if they still exist around these parts."

  11. Like anything new, the visitor has drawn in a crowd of interested mermaids. They all took turns to look him over, making about any excuse just to catch a glimpse. Humans come and go, deciding often enough that Ingemar's underwater world was nothing compared to the wonders of their dry land. It's another argument for another day, but nothing compares to the beauty of their magnificent kingdom in the opinion of the mermaids. Nonetheless, humans are not weird things found here, it's just not often one is allowed within the castle as if they had the immediate right to be there.

    It had become abundantly clear that perhaps Keone had made a drastic mistake in bringing the injured man down below. In a flurry, the human rolled off the cot and began screaming at the top of lungs, the shock apparently too much for his evident fragility. The healers were quick to form a delicate shield around the human, for his protection and their own. Keone watched, silently waiting for the healers to draw him in if needed. Having forgotten how delicate the human mind is, they did not consider that perhaps they should have slowly woken the man up instead of just allowing him to do most of the work.

    Paying for their assumptions, the healers drape the yelling man with their magic that would feel heavy and warm against him. He would feel the gentle, comforting touch of the magic seep through his skin and now irritated wound. They did not feel it would be necessary to bull the man into silence, it is shock enough to have lost an arm, he needs to be eased into the fact he is no longer on land.

    "Listen, you're safe," Keone says, his voice low and his hands raised. "We're here to help you."

    Keone is an elaborate mermaid. The scales of his fin were crystalline, shifting between the soft hues of purples and pinks; each little frill floated and danced against the water while he floated before the man. His appearance easily set himself apart from the rest of the group, allowing him to use his position as a distraction for the broken man. Taking this moment to help as well, the healers began to slowly lift the shield around Jin but kept him comforted by the strength of their magic.

    "My name is Keone, and who are you?"

  12. "How quick you are to flip-flop between us being friends and not being friends. Are you this constantly conflicted and broody?"

    Tansy was utterly amused by the unfurling situation, feeling safe and sheltered in Immie's gentle hold. It allowed Marley to be a little more preoccupied with their company and menu, which was expansive and high-tier. Money held little value to the witch, he could spend it till there was nothing left in his pockets, and he would be completely unbothered by it. There had been a time he craved that golds and the silvers, like a dragon with a hoard, he hoarded his goods away. Now, none of those shiny coins mattered.

    As they waited for the waiter to bring back the drink that may or may not kill them, a few more jokers decided to interrupt their lunch. Unlike shit-for-taste, Marley did not have the exquisite chiseled looks nor the build of a man who has lifted mountains most of his life. A simple height with youthful features, he could be considered soft and delicate, two descriptors he isn't too offended by. He was not intimidating, and that's what makes it all the more fun.

    "Hey now, if you're going to talk to her like that, you could at least do her the courtesy of buying her a drink first to withstand your behavior."

    'Squishy witch,' said a familiar voice that danced across Marley's mind. It has been a hot minute since he's heard his companion speak, so his look of surprise was warranted as he looked to the relaxed Tansy. A bit of a rude analysis, but that's a bit expected from his friend. When you've been stuck as a frog for a few centuries, you tend to get a little salty and restless.

    "What do you plan on doing after this, Immie? I've got a bit more time on my hands, and I could show you around."

    The group from earlier did not enjoy Marley interrupting their fun, and it created a bigger fire under their asses. For whatever reason, men with just air between their ears always have to have the last word. They mumbled and grumbled, trying to make sentences between them as they decided on how to approach the soft-looking man who had dared to speak to them so rudely. Marley isn't looking for a fight, but he will gladly throw a few punches if it meant protecting Immie's honor and his face.

  13. ArITw9J.pngShe was silent, taking a moment to chew over the words she is about to provide the gentleman. Earlier she has mentioned how she was would enthusiastically offer him a reprieve, and now she wonders if she had talked herself into a trap. The whispering of battle and those behind it have also reached her, and by sheer pressure, she paid little attention to them. Being able to afford to set such issues aside can make one complacent, in all her minimal years, she is anything but, yet.

    "I must apologize for being swept in the earlier mood. I'm afraid I can't provide much comfort for this subject at hand. If anything, I think I may provide further discomfort."

    Standing, the Seeker sighed and clasped her working hands behind her back. This was not a subject she wanted to harbor, especially when there were other pressing matters. "I've heard the same, but not a rumor - truth. There appears to be something brewing among a group of individuals who claim to have that man's blood in their veins."

    Yellow hues dulled some, either in hate or fear, that is for her to know. "You know, as a slave, I had fewer things to worry about. A very distorted part of me wishes to return to a much simpler time," she said with just a hint of longing in her voice. Unlike most of the Mythal House, who had been sold into slavery, Delaney was born into it. It had once been the only thing she knew, and the memories are burned into her very core. "I'm sorry for being so shameless, but I am no tactician - not in war, not in speech."

    Delaney approaches the same shelf, fixing herself beside him while pretending to understand the words imprinted on each book. "It's a cowards approach, but I'm happy Milorian will be removing his House from these islands. I know it would survive another painful attack because they are not weak or silent," a speck of laughter trickles from her rising chest, a memory having tempted it. "I don't think I could survive another attack. You see, Milorian's father had bought me off the streets somewhere in Genesaris and raised me as if I had always been one of his own. This is my only family, Ser Andross."

    The relatively small woman looked up the relatively large man. "I've no intention of leaving Lyrei here to fend for herself. I know," she interjected before he had the chance to reply, "her husband will keep her safe, and you will be there. But she needs someone who can relate, so I hope your family can accept me and allow me to stay with her."

    Milorian had already received an earful from his siblings about Lyrei and her sudden marriage. It was not their way of doing things; some said; it was wrong, others have claimed. Not that they were entirely wrong, their way of expressing was tactless, leaving him to ignore their discomfort as they are nothing compared to the happiness of his sister. They've all paid the price for the comforts they've been given; they all deserve the fruits of their labor.

    Lyrei's hand melded atop her husband's, offering him strength and admiration as he spoke about the betterment of the people soon to collect beneath his flag. "She is troublesome baggage, but I suppose I can keep her at my side," was Lyrei's smooth reply, using Delaney's words against herself. More than a few times the woman had commented on how troublesome Lyrei is, and that she should act more like a lady. In truth, she doubts the Seeker means anything she says and is teasing to express her growing freedom.

    "I suppose there is very little for me to say in this matter, except for the answer you two are desperately needing."

    Milorian knew there would be no use in burdening the two with more pause, mainly since they've provided a future for the people who've suffered enough. Those departing with Austere and his wife have already abandoned their lives in Ursa Madeum for another in some far-off land. "Marina has no intention of leaving, and I would feel at peace if she is looked after. Delaney has her following, so I feel that a majority of Seekers will follow their Grand Master, and with them, Ylia will be cared for." He was thoughtful for a moment, an action to gather his racing thoughts. "Port Mars is a possible spot to care for if you two are feeling ambitious enough to give it a name. It had been given to our House as payment, as you well know."

    Milorian outstretched his hand, allowing Lyrei to grasp it. "Our House has always been your's Lyrei. You do with it what you wish."

  14. ArITw9J.png"That makes me extremely satisfied to hear, Ser. I hope my company lives up to whatever wonderment occupies your musings."

    Delaney understood the need for delicate words and the tip-toeing around those with titles and honors upon their name. A woman of wealth would never reveal to a gentleman her thoughts so quickly. Honesty has a difficult time mingling with courtly ways, as people of rank must always skirt the edges of propriety. She understands these things, yet chooses to speak plainly to Andross. The Seeker sees no reason to play the lady at court when she is no lady in title, nor is he the type of gentleman who would preen under such endearments.

    Before offering him her reply, she watched the man take a turn about the room. "You're like a great ship trying to find its destination," she commented on his size and visible magnificence. The Kholin men are handsome, and she sees no shame in stating the obvious - they probably already know. "I enjoy the view."

    Having been moving the entire day, she chose to sit down. Practically melting into the cushions, she fights the urge to kick her boots off and perch her feet on the little table in front of her. She is comfortable, but not that comfortable. Plus, from her position, she can get a more practical view of his sword that looked like it meant to be hanging from his hip. She wasn't a sword-smith, but she could appreciate the intricacy of the beautiful creation. Sadly, they are not here to speak on swords.

    "What has the wind been telling you, Ser Andross?" There were so many voices on the wind nowadays; she is curious to know what has reached his ears and what hasn't. "I have a rather poor delicate touch, but the least I can do is clumsily soothe your concerns with apt enthusiasm."

    Milorian found himself seated once again, his sweet sister having done him the courtesy of guiding him. He assumes that it is nearly impossible for her to ignore a pained animal and do whatever she can to soothe its aches. Usually, he disliked being pulled about like a lost child, but he could not sneer at his sister without fear of hurting her charm. Comfortably looked after, the elf had the finest seat in the house to listen to Alexandros give reason to the visit.

    Lyrei quietly sat, admiring the view of her husband drifting through the room with his usual air of demand. There was little for her to say in conjunction with his appraisal of Ursa Madeum and how it offered them little in terms of growth and activity. Things have gotten stagnant, a comment Milorian often found himself saying to himself and her. Change needs to happen, or else they'll just repeat history or at least a watered-down version of it. Her brother had planted the seed of urgency within her working mind, which brought her to believe in Alexandros and avowals.

    They hope to build a home that forever can't break apart.

    "And what of the siblings before her? What is it you will say to sway their hold on the lands they may or may not abandon?"

    He wished to know simply because he doubts his siblings will stop Lyrei from obtaining what belongs to her, but he wants to know the steps Alexandros would take. His attention switched to his sister's presence, which radiated with warmth and determination of its own. "You would step against your siblings and their children, to take their place?"

    "And their children's children, Milorian."

    Her smile was delicate and sweet, placing substantial meaning on her retort. She knows his aim and will gladly drift into the aim. The elf could sense that smack of a smile and did his best not to reply in kind.

    "You will unite your House with that of Ylia, a place beneath Seeker rule. What will you do to persuade her and those who wish to follow her?"

    It was like pulling teeth to make Delaney take over Ylia, forcing her to separate from Lyrei, forcing her to abandon her cause for another. There would have to be some kind of persuasion, he is sure, but nothing too terrible that it would throw the Kholin's plans out place.

    "And what of the Seekers and Delaney's position as their leader?"

    He highly doubts - can barely conceive - that Alexandros and his House would dispose of the items closest to House Mythal. Milorian does not need to worry about the safety of the little things that will stay behind, especially if those items are cared for by his beloved sister. Still, he had to ask. He cares for just about everyone that's gathered beneath his banner, but he cares, and loves Delaney as if she were his true sister. Her story is a sad one, and he doubts that she can take another heartbreak, no matter how fearless of a mask she wears.

  15. CteyxHP.png"Well, you should care."

    Riforte understood how he was feeling, and in all honesty, she is a tad jealous that he was so ready to show those emotions. There were times in her life she would have liked to explode and convey her feelings through action. Always one to hang back and watch the world set itself on fire, never being the fire starter. Looking at Nunzio, she can say she is a bit jealous of him too. These two men were ready to go to war and did not care about the repercussions, deciding only to deal with the problems once they come their way. A dangerous kind of operating, but she respects it nonetheless.

    Isadora nodded when Riforte spoke. They need to care because these individuals clearly do not, and that puts them all at an awkward junction. Overall this a giant mess they now got to untangle.

    "Whatever the case may be, we need to get down to the root of it all." Isadora gave her brother's scarred hands a quick kiss, offering him a bit of her tremendous strength. "I suggest we follow Nunzio's suggestion."

    She did not want him to feel left out of the discussion. Shaking one of her hands free, she reaches and pats Nunzio on the knee before allowing her hand to rest there. "Take back the bounty, brother. We've ruffled more than a few feathers, and as far as they are concerned, they got what they wanted out of you. There is nothing wrong with playing the flippant part in this entire thing."

    "How about we split this little party up?" Riforte interjected for a moment. Parting from the desk, she goes around it, takes a seat, and digs through the many drawers. Her search was for a pen and a piece of paper, items that will come in handy. "Isadora, I know you don't remember much, but how about a recap on what you do remember?" Finding what she was hunting for, the woman slaps the paper on the desk and prepares the pen to write everything down. Golden hues lock with red as Isadora fixes her attention on her friend.

    "One of the rooms was getting rowdy, and I went to break the events up. When I went in, there was a group of men, but no one looked like they had been fighting, let alone arguing." Isadora started her story simply, not wanting to work herself up before getting to the meatier details. Her hand on Nunzio's knee curled some, "I don't exactly know what happened after that. I can briefly recall feeling something sharp in my arm ... then I woke up blindfolded. I remember the distinct smell of still water."

    "How about noises? Was it quiet?"

    "No. I could hear people outside; it was busy, really busy. So early morning, right before the bars closed ... maybe?"

    Nodding, she finishes writing her notes before leaning back into the chair. She was comfortable. "That's good enough to go off of. I assume you boys can get some ideas on where to look. Next! I want to know if you guys have had any trouble with drugs around your parts." Riforte leans forward and points at Isadora, "She has something nasty flowing through her right now, and if left alone, could turn her into a vampire."

    Isadora watched the other woman, sizing up every word to ensure that Riforte was not pulling their chains. "How do you know that?"

    "Well, I've been around enough drugs to know the signs, but I'll indulge you. You start smoking whenever you step into the sunlight, and you've been uncomfortable this entire time - pain, right? Your general appearance and all that stuff." Shrugging, thinking that her explanation is enough, she dominates the two men with a look of interest. "I want to be part of this. I say me and meathead here go snooping around, and you can start doing a little digging through your family history. To go this far for revenge, you're not even aware of means there are some skeletons in the closet."

  16. tUqEpKu.pngShe took her seat and casually grabbed one of the offered refreshments with her only hand. It had become natural for her to be so casual with one arm; one leg balanced atop her knee gently, while the bottom of her glass sat atop the raised knee. She looked casual, comfortable, and overall welcoming to the company surrounding her. Knowing that she is a stranger between them, she has to do her best to be as kind and sweet as possible.

    It was her opportunity to be that kind sort when the conversation switched over to her. A delicate smile graced her features, her intrigue openly plucked towards Gustaf and his revelation. "My, now that is hard to imagine."

    They have been welcomed to stay, to get comfortable, but in order to really do the latter they need to attempt to rid themselves of Gustaf's company. Not exactly sure how they will do that, Elodie takes a moment to grab her company's attention with stories of her own.

    "Elodie Yves Corentin, at your service, ser."

    Her time spent in the Cold South had nearly rid her of her accent. The French accents laden with Latin influence accentuate her name, pulling her back to the roots she had long abandoned. Her name, like any crucial name, is a story of her lineage. Elodie would be considered her second name, while Yves is her birth-name, and of course Corentin is the name of her father's noble house. She comes from a long line of royals who can afford to give her a middle name, baptized her to give her a birth-name, and proud enough to grant her a house name.

    "Dilon is a sweet man with an awkwardness that is bound to catch any woman's eye. Mine was certainly snatched, if I'm to be bold."

    Elodie gave Dilon a sweet smile, paired with sultry eyes. "Tell me more! As much as I try, I'm unable to draw much out of Dilon."

    When people take a trip down memory lane, they often give snippets of the current reality. Perhaps if the gentleman is forced to recount certain things about Dilon, it will lead him down a path that'll lead to Elion. They will probably be here for an extended amount of time, the two will need any information they can get. She is very determined to give her lover peace - once and for all.

    "Have there been other women, perhaps? Is Dilon some kind of scoundrel?"

  17. kmWgnCP.pngIt did not take long for her body to remember what to do in times of battle. Having spent the majority of her childhood under the tutelage of her father and Deiter, the young woman was taught the best by the best. Battle and all the nonsense that goes along with it have hardened her little soul, forcing her to take arms and fight against the monsters that often hide under your bed. She had seen the horrors of the Warp, she had seen many die, and she was in no mood to have that kind of bloodshed repeat itself - not here, not anywhere.

    Having explained her presence and easing their worries against her, Olympia grew comfortable hearing people call her Isolde. Everything else about her, her abilities and manners, belongs to Olympia, not her innocent sister who is unaware her name has been stolen. The weight of her title has kept her from revealing herself, along with the guilt that's piling on minute after minute. Like ripping off a bandaid, the eventual reveal will sting.

    It's not safe to reveal her battle readiness in cups; teaspoons better fit this situation. They will guide her into battle, tell her where to stand and what to do, things she can easily follow with nearly no rebuke. The bulk of the problem is seeded in her ease of shedding blood.

    Having declined the few snippets of armor, Olympia settled with a minor sword that will be used to modify and amplify her abilities. Trading in her previous garb for simple trousers and man's shirt a bit too big for her, she felt more comfortable and prepared. Rolling up the sleeves to her elbows, the delicate woman revealed the scars of war; the tails of the shirt tucked into the trousers gave way to her womanly shape hardened by constant training. One of the lady-folk took to the task of braiding Olympia's hair, weaving tattered ribbons through it, and tying it with the bell that had caught Nathan's attention.

    Prepared for the worst and hoping for the best, she took some time assisting in training the less than battle worthy individuals. They listened intently, drawn in by the ease in which she explained things and the pride she exuded. Teaching was not her strong suit, but her passion made up for it. She also helped with giving offerings of protection and purifying water, even igniting holy flames used at their discretion. These were the smallest of actions she could take to encourage those who are still weary about the upcoming battle. If possible, she would have offered some words of encouragement, alas she is a terrible speaker.

    Withdrawing from the rest of them, Olympia decided to hide in the comfort of the church that had just been discovered. These little areas, no matter where they are or what they worship, bring her a sense of comfort.

  18. uhDCpqb.pngMyrlande was intrigued, to say the least. She watched his transformation with her hands restlessly fiddling with the coins in her pocket. There was a need for her to be active, one way or another. Fiddling with the coins gave her something to focus on, reminding her that this was the live realm and not the sleep realm. A humble human has natural fears; understanding her powers is drawn from darkness and dreams, she is clearly dependent on the creatures that control such things. His transformation exasperated her need to fiddle because she wasn't entirely sure if he was real or just weird.

    Thankfully it was the latter.

    Giving the coins a break, she folds her arms across her chest as she kneels down before the boy and his kitty-cat. She evaluated him, her soft eyes bright with flames of wonder - something she hasn't felt in many a year. He is a problem, much like his mother; he is a child, much like his mother. The one thing she always enjoyed about his mother was her ability to remain a reliable individual with childlike ways. The woman was real, regal, and a person Myrlande had grown to respect. There is hope she can feel the same way for her child, or at the very least, she can grow to tolerate his company.

    "I am not a babysitter, but I am a pretty okay cookie."

    Exhaling, she stands up and goes about thinking this entire thing out. She will have to be his face in this whole thing, which means she will have to relearn everything about this place. That takes time, something she isn't fond of, but she is already one foot in the door. They will have to start from the very foundations of this place and work their way up. Already knowing that, it's just going to be more of a pain for her because ... looking at him, she sighs again. Because of him.

    Following her memory, she goes to the kitchen, fully expecting Kairos to follow her. The tower hadn't been wholly abandoned by the looks of things, so it's safe to assume that there are some foodstuffs they can devour while having a heart-to-heart.

    "How do you plan on bringing in people for the council? Do the original five cities of the kingdom still exist?" She asked him while going around the kitchen and gathering things to make them something to munch on. "Does the kingdom still exist?"

    If the five cities within the kingdom still exist, then they could begin pulling people from there. If they do not, then he would have to explain to her what had happened to those cities - if anything. This is a beginning for her, something she can build on in hopes this entire thing won't be a pain.


  • Create New...