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Post by desdemona on Jan 26, 2019 22:13:50 GMT -5
dark forums give me the forbidden rp ]]
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Post by desdemona on Jan 27, 2019 13:06:18 GMT -5
what if I skill checked all my rp posts before writing so all of my characters actions were up to my d20 ]]
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Jan 27, 2019 20:16:43 GMT -5
»Valaerys Fenrir ;; Traevine
Valaerys had heard the soft footsteps that approached from behind far sooner than most would, but he’d always been deeply in tune with his senses. He was like Ghost; he saw everything, heard everything, but made no sound himself. He was a spectre, flitting across the ground like a silent shadow. So he wasn’t at all surprised when the soft sound of breathing rapidly followed the sound of footsteps, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar shape come to stand next to him. The stark white-blonde hair that Elena had marked her as deeply and clearly as Val’s own dark hair did. Like Ghost, she stood out amongst a rather dark landscape. She bent, running a gloved hand through the white wolf-dog’s thick, course fur. Ghost flicked an ear, letting the female know he was aware of her presence. Ghost rather like Elena, but he was only truly fond of Val. The pair had a bond that few understood, but one that Elena respected. Val loved her even more for that.
She straightened, stepping around the wolf-dog to stand at his side. For a long moment they stood in silence, drawing comfort from the other’s presence. The wind continued to howl and hiss and thrash about as it swept down from the glaciers, bringing a biting cold that nipped at Val even through the heavy furs he’d donned. He was willing to bet Elena felt the cold too, but like everyone else she’d grown used to it. Traevine was rarely warm, considering its glacial environment, but deep within the halls of Fensir there was some warmth to be found from the countless tunnels of geothermally heated water that ran beneath the long-dormant volcano. The thick leather gloves that both Val and Elena kept their fingers safe from the cold, much like their heavy furs. In the depths of Fensir they’d take those furs off, but out here, exposed to the biting wind and weather, they were forced to add layers so survive.
Almost reflexively and spasmodically, his right hand clenched slightly again, and the sound of crinkling parchment rose over the wind for a brief moment. Elena glanced down at his hand, and at the raven-scroll that he held. She knew what it said, of course; she’d been in the room when it had been delivered to him, and he’d read it aloud to her and the rest of his advisors. Shortly thereafter he’d excused himself, stating that he needed a little time alone to think. Elena had respected that, but as usual she wouldn’t let him brood forever. Val was quite good at brooding, after all – one might even say he was the king of brooding as well as Traevine.
“Do you think…” Elena started, voice trailing off for a moment as she considered what words she wanted to use. Val waited patiently; she clearly wanted to ask whether Brasmid would turn his gaze to Traevine, but he’d let her voice the thought before he answered. They both knew the answer, anyway. “Do you think he would come here?”
Val remained silent for another moment, before he turned to look at his right hand. He removed his leather glove, holding it in his left hand, and then turned to remove one of Elena’s gloves. He then entwined their fingers, taking strength and drawing comfort from the presence of his soul-mate. The wind was freezing, but Elena’s skin was warm. “It’s possible,” he told her, voice soft and gruff. The wolf-dog at his side shifted so that his fur was pressed tighter against Val’s side. “There isn’t much here for him, but there are some things. The mines are what come to mind, considering it’s how Traevine made its wealth.” He sighed. “Still, I wouldn’t think Traevine would be worth the effort. We wouldn’t bow or bend or break beneath Brasmid, and it would be a hard-fought battle whether he won or lost.”
He turned slightly so that he was facing Elena more. “But from what I’ve heard, Brasmid got his fame by being a conqueror. He’s already got Selyria, and now he’s got his sights on Vellevyn. What comes after that? Calea? Brisingar? The world is only so large, and eventually Traevine will be all that is left unconquered before him, if he manages to overtake Vellevyn.”
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Post by oвlινισи ✧ on Jan 28, 2019 0:26:31 GMT -5
Elena FenrirTraevine
Elena held just as much mutual patience as her husband, accepting the thoughtful silence that came after her question was released into the chilly air. She turned her head just slightly, her peripheral vision allowing her another glimpse of Ghost as he rested dutifully beside the king. It was an odd bond to many, even those who had dogs of their own. Keeping wolf-dogs as tamed pets was not an uncommon aspect of Traevine society. Perhaps that was the overarchingly major difference, though. Ghost was not a pet. He never had been, and Elena always knew that. Ghost was a companion, an important companion in Valaerys’s life, like Elena was, in a sense. It was for different reasons, though, but all of those reasons were still highly important to Val and his busy world.
Yes, she respected the gorgeous white animal as if he were a person and respected the bond that he shared with her beloved husband. Elena was glad Val had someone else who understood him without having to say a word. Perhaps that was the main thing that she and Ghost had in common, if any similarities could be spoken. They were of different species, but they still held a mutual understanding of Valaerys and his ways. And they both deeply cared about him.
The silence that had befallen them was interrupted when Val made a move to respond, but it was a physical gesture at first. The white-haired woman was visibly surprised when he slipped the glove from one of her own hands, blinking thoughtfully at him. The curiosity was answered as her husband willingly took her hand, as if silently begging for a comfort that she could give him. Elena’s heart felt at peace, even as the world around them was not. Relaxing her shoulders, she smiled slightly as she studied their intertwined hands, forgetting the world and its problems for a tranquil moment.
When the king spoke, Elena intently listened to his thoughts, swallowing back the uneasiness lingering in her throat. “We wouldn’t bow or bend or break beneath Brasmid, and it would be a hard-fought battle whether he won or lost.” She glanced toward the horizon once more, mulling over that. It was the truth. The battle that would surely transpire would leave many causalities and potentially leave the land shrouded in the blood of both sides. Elena did not like war. She didn’t understand how anyone could. War and violence were not the answer. She did not care what Brasmid or Marcellus believed.
She would always desire for the peaceful route, although she knew that peace would ultimately not come easy. Not in the world they lived in. Unfortunately, war usually found its way to everyone’s doorstep, one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Elena did not like the feeling of waiting, of the uncertain anticipation. At any moment, their coasts could be invaded. At any moment, their people could be in grave danger.
“The world is only so large, and eventually Traevine will be all that is left unconquered before him, if he manages to overtake Vellevyn.” Elena got chills running through her body at that, the woman furrowing her brows as she finally glanced back at him. She studied her husband with a look of a thousand thoughts, all boiling down to the same conclusion. She didn’t know what was going to happen. Neither of them did. Elena’s jaw tightened and she opened her mouth to speak, giving a slow nod.
“Then we pray he doesn’t overtake Vellevyn.”
It was a murmured but serious declaration, Elena releasing a soft exhale of breath as she eyed the sky, trying not to imagine arrows raining down from it. “I have to keep hope,” she admitted, “Hope that we will be okay.” She was fully turning toward her husband now, her warm green gaze set on his chest before they flickered up to meet his own dark eyes. A slight smile twitched at the corners of her lips, although they both knew these were trialing times and that smile – though harmless – was a forced one at best. Other times, that smile could’ve been relaxed and genuine, especially if she were with Val behind closed doors.
Right now, their thoughts were clouded with the uncertainty of the future. Elena gently untangled her exposed hand from Val’s, only to lift it up toward the face she loved more and more every day. “I hope that one day we’ll wake up and not be troubled by the prospect of war.”
Elena wished that they would eventually live in a world that was not full of violence and fear. In the world they lived in, maybe that was too much to ask for. Nonetheless, the queen was adamant about her hopes for the future. Hope was truly a powerful thing, and, in these times, they would need it more than ever. No cause is lost if there is but one fool left to fight for it. That was a saying that used to religiously fall from her father’s lips nearly every day. He was a vigilant man of many words and teachings, but that was a phrase that especially stuck with Elena through the years. As a queen, she believed the words even more. She had to.
She gazed up at Valaerys, her fingers delicately brushing against his cheek, feeling his skin as well as his beard. “One day,” she echoed in whisper, her tone soft while her eyes glinted with a calm affection for him.
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Post by desdemona on Jan 28, 2019 14:32:15 GMT -5
god i need to make descriptions for two characters and i gotta say, im not looking forward to it ]]
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Post by desdemona on Jan 29, 2019 0:24:54 GMT -5
-- ezra bishara ; vellevyn.
Sneaking into the Redfowle palace was actually harder than anticipated, which Ezra chided himself over. Brasmid was a military king; of course he knew it would be heavily guarded, but he didn't think about how well trained each individual guard was. Yes, they would be able to do their jobs, but these men were more than simple palace knights at one point--they detected small noises, things out of place, and were always on alert. Brasmid either paid them well or terrified them, either way, he made it hard to be infiltrated.
But this was Ezra, and when there's a will, there's a way. If he couldn't get past this without alerting people, then he wasn't a very good assassin, now was he? Considering he'd been working on his techniques since he was very young, when his mother was working and couldn't see. And even if he had no personal vendetta against Brasmid, the man was wreaking havoc at the border. People lived there too, and the war affected the villagers, the farmers, the citizens of Vellevyn. Ezra had a claim to his country, and he wanted to protect it as opposed to what his father was doing. A war like this would kill many before reaching the homes of the judges, and a Redfowle rule would demand the changing of Vellevyn culture, of religion, of society. Ezra doubted Brasmid had the peoples' best interests in mind.
Having gained entry through the cells and only having to choke one guard after making too much of a mistake, he now was searching the maze of catacombs below the palace that contained a wide variety of things; storage rooms, wine cellars, torture chambers, some hidden offices. The last of which Ezra rummaged through, but they were only papers and documents from the last reign. Nothing that would help with Brasmid.
He heard footsteps on the cobble down the hall and hid, only to see it was a servant retrieving wine from one of the cellars. If he was seen, Ezra would have to knock the kid out, which wasn't something he wanted to do. The servant wouldn't be able to go down here again out of fear, and it wasn't his fault there was an assassin. He waited until the servant left and a few moments after until he slipped down the same hallway--a way out of the blasted place. The creak of an old wooden door closing came from around the bend, where there were stone stairs leading up to an exit. Thank the Gods, he thought as he carefully climbed the steps and gently turned the knob. He opened the door just enough to see that it opened to a backroom of the kitchens, and there were extra uniforms.
This was perfect--he had to be careful to make sure no servant saw he was not actually one of them, but it was a good cover. A guard or noble would not recognize every single servant, and that was what mattered. Ezra slowly opened the door enough to slip through, taking great care to ensure it did not creak as he closed it behind him. At last, access. He knew from a certain someone that Brasmid was back in the palace, and he would make sure of it that he never saw battle again.
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Jan 29, 2019 22:40:53 GMT -5
»Brasmid Redfowle ;; Selyria
Brasmid was a famously late riser. He usually arose after the rest of the city had started their day and eaten at least one meal. Today, however, he woke to the sun in his eyes. The sun did not often shine in Selyria, so when it did it was enough to startle even a dreaming, hung-over king into wakefulness. He sat up scowling. After a moment of glaring at the brightness of the window, which glared back with equal ferocity, he left his bed. A sheet trailed behind him, pinned to his right hip as he threw open the door and stalked down the hall.
"Your majesty!" called one of his startled attendants. "We have an outfit set aside for you today. If you just wait one mome--"
Brasmid dismissed the timid man with a wave of his hand. Just down the hall were the Amberle's designated quarters. He threw open the door without knocking and strode inside. Only once he was in the center of the room did he halt. Amberle's attendants gasped and squawked in horror at the sight of their less-than-fully-dressed king standing in the doorway. It was like a fox in a hen house. Flying feathers and all.
"Get dressed and send for your best horse. We're going to retrieve my son," he announced.
Only then did he return to his own flustered attendants. Once he was looking more presentable, he vacated the palace in favor of the stables. They were lower on the incline of the hill, nestled against it like the tail of a sleeping dragon. Housed inside were upwards of eighty of the finest horses in the continent let a lone the country. Brasmid had low standards for certain things (alcohol and women are the main ones that come to mind), but horses were not among them. He could identify the bloodline of a horse with a glance. He could guess the temperament just by observing them in the stable. The point is that he knew exactly what he was looking for.
"Who are you considering today, your majesty?" The stable boy trailed behind him with the king's saddle slung over one skinny arm. It was the same boy who had greeted him the night before. Brasmid requested the boy over the other more experienced assistants. It was a mere formality anyway. He could prepare his own steed.
"Hellbringer," he said without hesitation. It was his favorite of the stallions, a black beast as hard-headed as they come. He horse was infamous in the stables for untying his own lead in order to chase after mares or to scarf down half the stock of apples. He needed a warhorse if he was going to face the mother of his child.
Not long after, the king sat upon his horse before the palace gates. Awaiting the arrival of his sister and frowning at the cloudless sky.
»Ysara Balleirak ;; Brisingar
The prince's hand enclosed around hers, halting her departure from the cover of the staircase. "No," he resisted. "My pleasant evening has only just begun." Still, he allowed her to guide back into the open rooms of the court. "I think we can lose our tail," said Thierry mischievously in her ear. Ysara shot him a glance, containing a smile.
"You think so, do you?" She gave a casual non-answer, but already her mind was turning. How exactly could they lose his guardsmen? They were like ticks on a hound but even more annoying. Thankfully, however, they were equally stupid. She chewed on the inside of her cheek.
Then, after glancing around for any exits, she leaned in closer to whisper, "I have an idea." She looped her arm in Thierry's and guided him through the court. They were still in eyesight of the guardsmen, who tracked them from a distance. But she was careful to stay out of earshot of the other people who occupied the open space. They were clearly conspiring about something, but what else was new?
"I'll say I'm returning home. You say you're going to sleep, and return to your quarters. I'll leave, then reenter the back way. Then we'll reconvene in your rooms. Alternatively, I fight both the guards and we escape like bandits in the night." She grinned at the last idea despite its impracticality.
»Aila Redfowle ;; Selyria
Her candle light shuddered as she entered the catacombs. Before she had a chance to take a single step, it vanished completely. All that was left was a single trail of smoke. The noblewoman sighed heavily. Darkness filled the underground tunnel, erasing the iron-bound cells and the nearby wine cellar. She stuffed her small prayer book in one of her pockets. She'd planned on doing some chants to frighten the on-duty guards, but it was pointless now. The book was useless without a light, and she didn't have any of the verses memorized.
Instead the lady settled for walking blindly along the corridor. She wasn't afraid. The catacombs were her favorite wing of the palace, it you could call them a wing. She felt at home with the low-ceilings of the vaulted chambers, the distinct scent of the underground, the gargoyles and the wailing prisoners. It was much more interesting than the rest of the enormously dull castle.
She nearly tripped on something, but caught herself on the wall. She then snatched it accusingly from the ground. It was long and sturdy. A broom? A spear? A detached femur? Aila wielded it like a weapon, more for fun than out of fear of running into someone. The catacombs were usually occupied only by herself and a spattering of guards.
Soon she reached a well-lit hallway. A guard stood by, but he was as stone faced as a statue. He watched Aila pass, then returned his attention back to staring blankly at the wall. What a boring life that man must lead, she thought. The next corridor was altogether far more interesting.
Her gaze fell immediately to the thing that was out of place: a guard, slumped against one of the cells. Was he sleeping? she wondered. Brasmid's men were forbidden from sleeping on the job, and she knew they feared him enough not to test the rules. No, something strange was going on. It was then that she spotted a shadow moving along the opposite staircase.
Her grip tightened around her weapon. Now that there were torches to light the way, she could see it was in fact a broom. She sighed in disappointment, but it was better than nothing. She followed the shadow, footsteps light as falling leaves. She reached the bottom of the staircase just in time to see a man disappear behind the door at the top.
Aila crept up the stairs. There was no hesitation at the top--she was armed. Besides, if she screamed, the nearby guards would come running. The room was a mere attachment of the kitchen. It was more of a closet, really, used for storing uniforms and other supplies. Standing in its belly was a man she'd never seen before. He was darker than someone native to Selyria would be, unless of course his parents had been foreigners.
Aila painted at him threateningly with the handle of her broom. "You won't find anything valuable in this wing," she said, voice steady. "If you're looking for gold or silver, I can recommend homes in the city that are much more easily penetrated and don't happen to be guarded by king's men."
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Post by oвlινισи ✧ on Jan 29, 2019 23:41:58 GMT -5
Amberle RedfowleSelyria
Famously late riser, he was. Amberle was not. She was an early bird and always had been. It had been a normal morning, until Brasmid decided to pull that stunt. The Lady’s quarters had transformed into a madhouse after the doors flew wide like the gates of Heaven were opening. Although, they probably wouldn’t open as abruptly and loudly. The attendants went into a frenzy of shock and embarrassment, gasping and blushing madly at the sight of their king with little to no clothing whatsoever. Her brother bared no shame in showing skin, which could also be said for Amberle. The two siblings had their little yet noticeable differences, but they were also alike in many ways. Having no shame was near the top of the list.
It was quite an amusing sight, everyone in that room looking startled and unhinged. All except Amberle, who was posted with a poised demeanor in front of her mirror. She had just started getting dressed, naturally being picky about what to wear for the day. It would also depend on the day.
The woman didn’t even flinch when Brasmid barged in like an untamed ram, and merely glanced at his reflection in the mirror, not fazed by his unruly appearance. “What does it look like I’m doing?” The retort was snarky, Amberle raising an eyebrow before humming as she watched her brother dip out. “Would you look at that, ladies?” She purred, turning around enough to study the door Brasmid left through. “The king is up at the crack of dawn,” she smirked in amusement. Amberle continued throwing out remarks about her brother, but aside from the behind-the-back mocking, she was looking forward to what the day would bring.
Another common similarity that the siblings shared was their keen eye for horses. Amberle may act like an untamed mare on the outside, but she was far more intelligent than people believed. Horses had been a part of their family’s livelihood since before she was born. She grew up around those great steeds. She could tell the differences of one horse compared to another just like Brasmid could. And knowing she was to visit her dear nephew that morning, Amberle opted to choose her finest horse. His name was Jove, a beautiful chestnut colored stallion who emitted a regal but firm temperament. “Look at you, up before the moon is nigh,” she teased as she rode up toward the gates.
Amberle calmly grasped the reins, humming delightedly to herself as Jove halted beside Hellbringer. “You say we’re receiving him…” She started in a slow drawl and let her voice gradually fade, a thoughtful but also mildly peeved look on her face. Amberle eyed Brasmid beside her, narrowing her dark optics. “Are we receiving him for good? Or is this just another afternoon visit at the castle for him and then back to mommy dearest?”
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Post by desdemona on Jan 30, 2019 14:41:28 GMT -5
-- ezra bishara ; vellevyn.
Had he not been so focused on getting out of catacombs, he might have noticed the presence behind him, the barely-there footsteps. He's trained himself for this, but he already made one mistake today, so it was all downhill from there. The woman's voice behind him startled him so much that he almost yelped, instead letting out a harsh whisper of a Vellevynnish curse and jumping a foot in the air. He slapped a hand over his mouth and whipped around on his heel to see a highborn, which would be an inconvenience to kill. And consider where he was, this was probably a Redfowle. If a non-royal was loitering around the catacombs of the castle, they would be tresspassing.
After gathering his bearings and assessing the woman's muscle mass in comparison to the broom handle she was wielding, Ezra groaned with his exasperation clear. "I would be a terrible thief if I didn't know what I was doing, and--Alright, it doesn't look like I know what I'm doing." He rubs his face with the palms of his hands, leaning back against the nearest wall. He wasn't threatened by a royal with a broomstick, especially considering it wasn't Brasmid. "Which one are you? Amberle or Aila? Why are you here? Oh, why'd you have to be here, come on," he groaned. He didn't want to hurt her, it's not her fault Ezra was sulking about all illegal-like and she wasn't a target. He really didn't like hurting bystanders, guards notwithstanding. Guards were active participants, a Lady wandering her castle was not.
If she tried to hit him with the broomstick, well, Ezra had two arms, muscle, and quite a few long daggers on him. A piece of wood swung by a protected Lady held no threat. Her cries for help, however, did, and now he desperately wanted to leave. "I won't do anything," he says, almost whines, "so, uh, do you think I can... leave?" Ezra lowers his hands from his face but keeps thm a bit raised in surrender and defense. It was worth asking, wasn't it? If she screamed, he would need to knock her out and likely kill a lot of guards, but quickly. He wasn't a fighter for the long game, he relied on stealth--which he would lose if she made a scene. Please, Gods, don't scream, I'll die, I'll have to send an apology afterwards, he thinks, fretting desperately.
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inky
I'm a free woman again! At least until the semester starts up :D
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Post by inky on Jan 30, 2019 18:06:37 GMT -5
Selyria- Inn Kean
Kean watched the other man toy with the pouch the coins came in, listening to every word her said. Anaris would be please that the countries had not turned their gaze to Calea, not that there was much to Calea, other than the market and sea port towns that were of value. Of course the kingdom itself was a rather good strong hold to have since it was buried in a mountain. Though the thought of Brasmid taking over didn't sound to good for his kingdom, it meant prices of good were going to go up if he was successful in claiming the kingdom.
A look of surprise crossed his face at the news of the halt. He knew Vellevyn army was little to none mostly made of boys who grew up on farms and men who they paid to fight for them. The halt wouldn't stop Brasmid for long that was for sure. "Surprising that an army of sellswords were able to stop a raid." He nodded a bit, that would be of interest to his sister, some good sellswords they had maybe some they could use for their own gain. The money was a bit of a problem, though Calea wasn't exactly poor, it wasn't the richest kingdom as a whole either. Their wealth was varied among the people and evened out to pretty normal at the end of the day.
Still undoing his armor he tossed the top part and it landed over the post of the bed, the arm hole fitting over it perfectly. His deep blue gaze remained lock on Kai, like a sell sword Kai's allegiance swayed with money.He couldn't afford to trust him completely but it also wasn't as if the two hadn't grown to know each other at least on a business level as time had gone on. Even before Anaris took the throne she and Kean would visit for information on the previous king. It had been thanks to Kai that they had found out about the kings indiscretions like taking money were it was not need from tribesmen. The two siblings thanks to that had slowly started turning people against him before Anaris took the throne after careful planning and of course Kean's training. He had already signed his life away to being a knight so the throne was not his and would never be his unless Anaris demanded it be his and even then. Of course by their laws he could just kill his sister but he cared for her far too much to do that. Plus being a king sounded boring he preferred being a knight there was always some kind of entertainment for him as the head of the Queens guard. Of course being a royal had it perks too, but if he had to pick one it would be knight.
"A coup huh? I will never understand how siblings could be so similar yet cause so much tension between each other." He said shaking his head. He pushed the now ruffled dark locks back, making himself somewhat presentable. "I will speak to the Queen, perhaps you will hear from us again." Maybe the Calean woman would take the man on his offer of an assassin, perhaps not to kill the royals but stir up some rumors in the men of other ranks. Cause disarry in the army they so loved. Pulling out a bag the same size as the on Kai already held he walked over, looking down at him for a moment before dropping it in his hands. "As always you've earned the price you charge. Pleasure doing business with you." The lord watched Kai for a moment longer before stepping back moved toward his bed.
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Post by desdemona on Jan 31, 2019 0:21:53 GMT -5
-- kai nicollier ; selyria.
He didn't hide his gaze on Kean's body--again, he never did, but he wasn't always so... ravenous about it. So close to touch, and were he a man of less resolve, he might have. For the most part, Kean was eye candy; you could look but not touch. And what a shame that was. He only tore his eyes away when Kean approached him with his second payment, smirking as he took the bag. "And with you. I'm assuming you're heading back out tomorrow, weather permitting?" he asked, feeling the weight of the pouch. "If not, you can of course stay another night. I might get more coin out of you," Kai almost purred as he then grinned, turning for the door. "But you know the deal. Have me summoned if you need anything," he said before leaving the room.
Kai wondered off to his safe, only then counting the coin he had earned. He set some aside for his employees, for the inn, and some for himself and his network. As he was about to return to work, he stopped and truly considered for a moment before sighing and going to his current bartender. "Can you cover for me tonight? I'll pay you," he asked, to which he got the response "Hell yeah." Oh, these were his employees, after all.
As he went back down the hallway, the elevated heels of his shoes clicked loud enough that Kean would hear his approach. The heel was unnecessary and certainly not an aid in any fight--in true highborn Selyrian fashion--but it made him taller, sexier, and provided an intimidating noise on hardwood and flatstone. And that's all that really mattered, now wasn't it.
Kai knocked lightly on Kean's door and then came in with his own key, eyes again settling on his abs. "...I was wondering something," he said slowly, considering. "That involves breaking one of my rules."
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inky
I'm a free woman again! At least until the semester starts up :D
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Post by inky on Jan 31, 2019 2:31:47 GMT -5
Selyria- Inn Kean Vass
The much taller man had noticed Kai's gaze, he noticed it every time but had made no move to act upon anything. It wasn't like lords didn't test the waters of those under them, he'd just never made any advances. "Yes, weather permitting, I will return in the morning." He said as he cracked his neck. He almost laughed at the next comment but all that came out was air accompanied with a smile. Once the owner of the inn had left he sprawled out on the bed placing his hands behind his head.
It wasn't long before he had begun to drift off it had been a long ride to the inn since the last one between here and Calea. Shortly after he had really settled in, the sound of heeled shoes echoed in the room, growing closer with every step. Kean opened his eyes, looking toward the door moment before the knock and the person behind the steps clicked in. A small smirk crossed his face seeing who it was. Now, this was new, Kean was only ever given one visit with each visit. What could this second visit be for?
A brow raised at the other and he sat up, feet resting on the floor as his harsh blue gaze remained locked on Kai. The man licked his lip before biting the bottom one shortly after. He stood up and made his way toward the innkeeper, the door was slightly open so he leaned over Kai closing the door lingering for a moment. "What rule would that be." He leaned down getting rather close to his face. "As a lord, I have my own rules and I don't think the one your breaking is against any of mine." In a surprisingly soft but swift motion, he'd pulled Kai to the other side of the room away from the door. "Let us see how good at breaking rules you are."
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Post by desdemona on Feb 1, 2019 19:52:26 GMT -5
dropped a class ]]
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Post by desdemona on Feb 7, 2019 18:19:51 GMT -5
-- kai nicollier ; selyria.
In the morning, before Kean awoke, Kai snuck out of the room to clean himself up before tending to his other duties at the inn. He didn't leave a note--he wasn't the type--and besides, if Kean wanted to find him, it wouldn't be hard. Many of his employees gave him sh*t-eating grins, to which he responded with in the same fashion.
Kean had held to his promise--his body hurt, all over, and there were many marks he had to hide under a higher collar than usual. Luckily, he was practiced in this art and knew how to act unaffected; nonetheless, Ace had made him an herbal tea. Served with a grin not unsimilar to what he received earlier, and a small pot of honey. Kai took it gratefully, going over the financials was he stirred in a spoonful.
Part of him regretted it--there was too much danger, too many variables he couldn't control. Kean was the head of the guard and technically the Crown Prince of Calea, as well as a customer. Even if he had hidden his status from Kai, it was easy to tell he was high born from certain ways he handled himself--including from the night before. Kean was definitely used to getting what he wanted, and Kai didn't like that type of man. Granted, he himself was also used to getting what he wanted, but not out of expectation or status.
The other part of him enjoyed it enough that he briefly considered going back for seconds, but his aches, pride, and the common sense that had left him the night before quickly doused the prospect. Instead, Kai decided he needed to find a regular partner he could depend on so he didn't lose him mind and break one of the only rules he had.
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Post by desdemona on Feb 7, 2019 18:20:19 GMT -5
short but im in a friends class ]]
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Post by desdemona on Feb 17, 2019 23:39:13 GMT -5
currently the owner is on hiatus bc of schoolwork! ]]
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