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Post by floruit on Jan 6, 2017 1:34:07 GMT -5
CrackedSkel“I’ll be twenty eight in a few months, as will this body. It’s not my original one, but I don’t really relish the idea of looking like I’m barely older than a kid for the next sixty years. Who knows, though? Plenty of Aevs have… they’re like mid-life crises, I guess, except they kind of happen whenever. Usually after you’ve had a few kids. You get freaked out about being perceived as too old and get a nineteen year old body to compensate for it.” The Aev culture was pretty weird about perceived aging. You could potentially live forever, provided you didn’t get sick of life, but youth was idolized. Remiel found it to be slightly off-putting. They stretched out as best they could without shoving Rhett off the couch, head tilted back to look at the cracks in the ceiling as they considered their next question. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever stolen?” --- “But you are making them miserable. I don’t think you understand just how difficult it is to live day to day fearing for your own wellbeing and that of your family. And you don’t think the poor families don’t notice you taking their money. They need every coin,” the knight said, walking slowly towards the dresser. “Do you know what people will resort to when they have no money and children to feed? Or do you not think about that?” Conla was talking to someone who didn’t see the harm in robbing and harassing her subjects—or perhaps she did, but didn’t care about the harm she did. “If you try to bewitch me, I’ll have no choice but to interpret that as an attempt at taking my life. I can’t distinguish between lethal and nonlethal magic.” She gave the threat in a very matter-of-fact manner. Experience told her that made it all the more frightening, because anyone who had ever threatened her life like that had no qualms about following through. “If you’re lashing out at your father by harming his subjects, you’re a coward. And if he didn’t care for your mother, what makes you think he cares about them? They’re worthless to him except for the goods they provide.” Insulting someone who was not used to being challenged was a dangerous move, especially when said person was a mage. The woman was tense, ready to dodge if the princess attempted to strike at her.
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 6, 2017 1:48:20 GMT -5
"I am absolutely fabulous."
OOC CHATTER - - ROLEPLAY - Liam rolled his eyes at the explanation of it not being their first body. Still, the thought of being immortal as they practically were was off-putting and he, while the thought of having to leave everything behind, was terrifying, her knew that when it was his time to go he would accept, as he had when he had lost the ability to walk.
Liam followed his gaze and made a mental note to check nothing lethal would fall through those cracks. He chuckled to himself at the next question. "I stole a man's wallet once." He started, "He was one of those really seedy type, ones that you don't want to be alone with if you're a female. It looks like he had eaten a truck and he was just lumbering down the street." Liam rested a hand on his own stomach. "In his wallet, he had ... ahem, male enhancing pills and several packets of condoms, all of which had been tampered with."
"I haven't stolen from them." She snapped. "Perhaps scared them, made their lives harder, but I have never taken a coin from them. If they threw coin at my illusions then that is their worry, but I have never purposely stolen from them. I'm not that heartless." She looked up at Conla through the mirror, and her eyes narrowed at the mention of the king being her father and it was everything she could do not to scream. Her fists clenched and she slammed the tome shut, making a dust cloud rise from the old book.
She sat down in the chair, dropping her eyes to the makeup that had been scattered. She rose a hand and she door unlocked. "Leave me. I have nothing more to say to you." -
"Knock 'em dead, darling."
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Bisexual
Skittles
like my posts so i reply faster !
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Post by Skittles on Jan 7, 2017 1:43:28 GMT -5
Skittles: She had to hold back a laugh as the girl suddenly snapped to attention. Had she been trying to catch a quick nap while standing up at her locker with her eyes open? That was a little weird, but she wasn’t going to call her out on it. Her strategy was to get in little naps whenever she could to get through the day. And although Destiny’s choice of location was odd, she could appreciate the effort. “I was out with friends until pretty late, then one of them drove me home and let me sleep on his couch. He’s a sweet guy. He brought me to school as well. And got me breakfast,” Tamara added, holding up the brown paper bag from the donut place as proof. How she had managed to get such nice friends (with cars! and apartments!) was a mystery, but she was grateful for them. They were good to her. “You might know him, actually. Anthony? He’s part of the ‘program’ we’re in.” Was she tired enough to think that finger quotes were funny? Definitely. “He’s been part of it longer, so we usually don’t work with him, but once I got stuck with him and two other people on this really weird mission to, like… somewhere in Canada to talk to the ‘talented individuals’ there.” She wasn’t really supposed to be talking about this in public, but it wasn’t like anyone would be listening to her. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned anything explicitly. “You’ve been on some cool trips, right? What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done?” ( rip me I'm like the most horrible person at coming back here I'm so sorry ) Destiny nodded to show she was listening to what Tamara was saying, rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of them. Though it seemed like she was about to fall back asleep again, she was wide awake right about now. She's like that - once she's woken up its impossible to get back to sleep. She decided to fix her hair right now a little bit at least, so she took it out of the hair tie and started fluffing it out with her hands. "Funn.... Ooh oh yeah I know him! I've met him before, a few times. I don't think he'd remember me though," she giggled. She hadn't talked to him in about two, three months. Funny thing is, Destiny still had his phone number, just never talks to him. Very doubtful that he still had hers. She remembered walking around the neighborhood with him and about 3 others. Why? A mystery. She smiled. "Canada? That's fun. I've never been there, but I wouldn't like the talking part," she shuddered, then continued, "I went to Mexico though, it was the only trip I did with that group. I had to build houses for homeless people or something." Destiny shrugged breifly, she didn't really remember much of it (as you can probably tell, she has a horrible memory!).
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Post by вlue вlood on Jan 7, 2017 19:36:02 GMT -5
( oml im so sorry this took me a ridiculous amount of time and it rambles so much lol hope it's an okay response though!! i don't even have an excuse for taking so long i'm still on holiday & being lazy i swear i will not take quite so long in the future haha )
Faris left before dawn.
In retrospect, he should have departed a fair amount of time earlier. The manor house stood enveloped in the sprawling acres of the Aetherton estate, and Faris had underestimated even that section of his excursion. No, not excursion - escape, maybe, would be the word, if he was in the mood for dramatics. Which he usually was.
Truth be told, he wasn't exactly accustomed to travelling any remotely considerable distance with his own two feet . That's why they had carriages, after all - but the noise would have been a disturbance. Even out of the peace of the estate, in its morning tranquil, the city wasn't filled with life at such early hours, at least not when coupled with the miserable weather conditions, and Faris hardly wanted to turn himself into a large, loud, and fast target. That one half-intelligent thought aside, he'd be lying if he said he was well-equipped with a plan here. As far as his mind was concerned, the details of this little adventure would just... fall into place. He was fulfilling a dream, his heart's desire. It was like destiny, right? Everything would make itself clear, he was sure of it. This was the first step of a new beginning along a road which would pave itself under his feet. Or, ah, he was a naive fool; an educated young man, who should probably know better, mind too addled with wanderlust to acknowledge the impossibility in his own silly notions of a free life without hardship. And that would probably be blindingly obvious to anybody except Faris himself.
But anyway. As far as his so-called 'plan' went, he just had to get into the city, find his bearings, and... yep, that's about where it ended. He didn't know where he was going exactly, just where he didn't want to stay. It didn't matter where he went. Somewhere new, somewhere exciting. Whatever place he could go to for the lowest cost and the least trouble and the fewest questions asked, he figured.
The issue of time wasn't the only mistake he was lamenting now, as he traversed the maze of city back streets, gloomier and narrower than those he was familiar with. Firstly, he felt a pit of worry in his stomach that the more he walked, the more lost he was getting - and hadn't he passed that same house three times now? Secondly, he could swear he could hear the echoes of warnings about the city that his parents issued him as a child, about safety in numbers and only going where he knew he was, about staying away from any 'shady characters' - or any strangers at all, in fact - and cautioning tales of thieves and criminals and cons. He hadn't a thing on his person to protect himself with, nor half a clue how to do so even if he did. The third problem in mind was the very reason he had crossed into this strange web of streets and alleys in the first place: he felt like a walking target with his clothing choice. His actual clothes were, thankfully, sporting the darker shades of his wardrobe. Still tailored and well-made, and announcing family money to the world, but it was his cloak that was the snag. He'd picked his warmest, thick furs on the inside and expensive fabric in rich shades of purples and reds on the outside, intricately woven into eloquent patterning. Even dampened by prolonged exposure to the drizzle (which also meant he was even more weighed down), the colours were vibrant and the very opposite of inconspicuous. The one thing he was trying to be right now, especially here where he could quite easily be recognised if in the wrong place at the wrong time. His choice of footwear was far from suitable too, not designed to withstand neither distance nor anything that could be constituted as 'weather', but that had proved itself a problem so early on that he'd actually become used to the pain and discomfort and had sort of forgotten about it. Plus one point for adaptability? No doubt this particular misjudgement would come back to haunt him later, though.
If he could just find some way of getting rid of the cloak, and some directions out of these labyrinthine alleyways, it would be a step in the right direction. There had to be something around here...
And it was that moment when some flicker of light caught the corner of his eye, or some sense of direction pulled his feet the right way, or some navigational intuition that he was quite convinced he'd never possessed turned him towards a building - a shop? - to his side. Turning his head across the narrow street, he could have sworn he had passed the small wooden door of the opposite building, with its rain-rotted edges and handle tilting the wrong way like it would fall or crumble if touched. Frowning, he turned back again, peering up again at this building which, if he wasn't already so turned around, he might have insisted was not there until this moment. And a little voice in the back of his head whispered magic?, but he dispelled it quickly with more sensible thoughts. Besides, he had bigger fish to fry at the moment. Though the thin thread of curiosity still looped itself around his thoughts as he stepped forward and, with fifty-percent purpose and fifty-percent apprehension, pushed open the door.
His eyes only vaguely swept around the shop interior, only wanting to confirm that this place, whatever this place actually was, was somewhere of use. And it did appear as such, for which Faris was glad. Even a couple of minutes in the warm were much welcomed, and he didn't want to return to the grey and the drizzle just yet. "Good morning," he addressed the woman behind the counter. He had a honeyed voice: smooth, lilting, a little high, and with a kind of quality construed somehow in his accent and his pronunciation and the trained care which by he chose his words that screamed 'prestige'. If any of a hundred other clear indicators somehow did not, this alone singled him out as a swan among ducks. Undoing the fastening on his cloak with slightly numbed fingertips, he shrugged it off with as much grace as someone who was cold and damp and feeling quite of his depth could achieve. The underlying tones of confidence and authority rather died after those first two words though, as he attempted to gather the words he was looking for. "I, ah- I need something... darker. Lighter. I mean- darker in colour, lighter in weight," he explained awkwardly, a second of embarrassment showing itself as a second of a sheepish half-smile. "I don't need money," he added quickly, "Just, this... no longer in my possession," he gestured to the cloak now in his hand. Ha, what a conversational genius. He was well aware the garment was worth plenty, but for one thing, he just wanted it off his little list of mistakes, and for another, he simply wasn't a sensible human being who knew to seek the maximum of what he could. He was, after all, used to already having it all. Plus he'd never sold anything in his life. What was meant to be a day of firsts was really just becoming a day of winging it and slowly self-realising his own idiocy after the fact. Still. He was decidedly determined that whatever he lacked in experience and street-smarts he could make up for in will.
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Post by floruit on Jan 8, 2017 5:19:54 GMT -5
[ skittles, i'll reply later when i am less tired.
and that's fine, blue! don't worry about it. sometimes my posts take ages even when i'm not really busy. i love the reply, i'm glad you returned, and i'll respond to you as soon as i can! ]
“Honestly, if someone is that slimy I doubt you want to be alone with them regardless of who you are. You have nothing to gain by hanging around the scum of the earth,” Remiel said, not bothering to try to hide their distaste. They didn’t know many people of that sort, but being an Aev didn’t exempt you from interacting with the occasional person who shouldn’t be allowed to be around others. Unfortunately.
They couldn’t help but laugh as Rhett, who sounded slightly uncomfortable, went on with the story. “I hope you found a decent amount of cash too. You deserve it after touching something he owned, especially since you couldn't sell what you found. I mean, I don’t think you could. Buying the pills would be embarrassing, and I sincerely hope that no one would want shady resold condoms. If you’ve gotten that desperate, your life has probably already spiraled completely out of control.” It would have been easy to slip in another question there, but an answer for an answer was only fair. “I could ask some follow up questions to that story, but I think I already know too much. Plus, it’s your turn to ask something anyway.”
---
“Then what are you gaining from harassing them? Is it knowing you can do whatever you want to them without fearing the consequences? Are you trying to show how different you are from His Majesty by acting out? I don’t understand you. Certainly you know your actions aren’t harmless, and an urge to rebel does not justify your behavior.” This was something like the speeches she gave to young soldiers who tried to use their newfound position as a method of getting anything and everything they wanted. Conla had always been good at scaring those under her into behaving well. She rarely raised her voice—the incessant questioning was worse in some ways. It was far harder to pretend to not understand the results of your actions when someone was pushing you to acknowledge them.
The knight didn’t move towards the door when she was instructed to, although that took a concentrated effort. “Please excuse me, Princess Sofia, but I don’t think it is in either of our best interests for me to leave. I need to guarantee my kingdom’s safety if I am not meant to give out all the information I know on the mage terrorizing this kingdom. I am loyal to the royal family, but you are not my employer.”
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 8, 2017 5:47:27 GMT -5
"I am absolutely fabulous."
OOC CHATTER - - ROLEPLAY - "Stuff like that I normally pass throw out." He muttered with a sigh, leaning back in the chair. "Why did you want to come out here?" He asked, turning his gaze onto Remiel again, eyeing them carefully. "You don't have to elaborate fully, but you know what it's like down here so ... why?"
He was curious, and he really didn't know what to make of them at all.
(sorry for blehness of that post)
Sofia was sileny as she was scolded, feeling very much like it was her father shouting at her for some menial reason like he had done recently behind closed doors and away from the ears of the staff. "I am aware of my actions thank you." She muttered, playing with the dust and makeup that was on her desk. She didn't want to have to deal with this anymore. She sighed, lifting her eyes back to the mirror so she could look at Conla again.
"I am your superior, however." Her voice was tight this time and there was a hard look in her eyes. "And I am telling you that we are not going to discuss this further today. I have lessons to attend to." Sofia stood, tucked the book into the draw where she had pulled it out of, her hand lingered on it for a moment and she stepped past Conla and over towards the door. "Report me to the King if you wish. I doubt that he'll believe that the princess is the terrible mage." -
"Knock 'em dead, darling."
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Post by floruit on Jan 9, 2017 1:58:02 GMT -5
вlue вlood: It was strange to let his guard down, even briefly. In safe houses, there was always the possibility of being hunted down, no matter how careful he thought he had been. There was always something you could offer a person to get them to betray their friends. Everyone had a price. Ivetta wasn’t like that, though. While she didn’t exactly approve of his line of work, she didn’t try to keep him from it. The old woman only wanted to run her little store, and if criminals were the ones bringing in money, well, that was their business. She wasn’t going to risk losing half of her customers just because she didn’t like what they did for a living. Besides, the criminals were always the most polite. Micu was the perfect example. He had hardly been there for ten minutes before he was straightening up the place, focusing mostly on organizing the shelves of seemingly unrelated merchandise. Ivetta normally had a few assistants hovering around who handled the jobs she was getting too old to do—taking inventory, organizing the vast selection of items she had accumulated over the last couple of decades, feeding her cats. The usual. Most of them were orphans, although you had the occasional person who just liked the job and didn’t mind getting paid in food and odd knickknacks. Earlier in his life he had been one of them, which was probably why she didn’t mind him hanging around. Sometimes he wondered why he hadn’t just stayed with her. He liked to pretend he didn’t have any regrets—it made life more bearable—but that wasn’t necessarily true. If he hadn’t left, he wouldn’t be a thief now. He wouldn’t have met Mathieu and Isaiah. He wouldn’t wake up at the slightest sound and scramble for his bag before realizing no one was coming after him. His life now wasn’t bad, but it could also be better. How difficult would it be to disregard the past few years and start over? Ivetta would laugh at him if he said he wanted to turn over a new leaf. She’d tell him that he was more naïve than she thought, but she wouldn’t reject him if he wanted to start working for her again, especially now that he had picked up a few skills. He could estimate the value of most things at a glance, and he wasn’t half bad at bartering. A few times he had even managed to make the old woman give him a fair price for the things he bought from her. Even Ivetta’s favorites didn’t get discounts, but Micu had learned that the right mix of stubbornness and charm could convince her to disregard her own rules. Finding workarounds and loopholes had always been something he was good at. The young man perked up as the bell hanging above the entrance chimed, rising from his place on the floor where he had been cleaning up the lower shelves Ivetta’s assistants liked to disregard. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her check them, but she always seemed to know when something in her store was amiss. Once he had stolen something just to see if she would notice. He made it all the way to the door without her calling him back, then he realized she had locked him inside. She wasn’t upset about it. Mostly, she seemed amused that he thought he could outsmart her. He was only halfway to the front of the store when he heard the customer speak. The front room of the shop wasn’t too large, but it was packed full of so much junk it took skill to move around without tripping over something. “Good morning, young man.” Ivetta’s voice was clipped. She never really sounded happy to see anyone. It was painfully obviously if she didn’t like someone, though. Micu could tell that she wasn’t fond of this particular customer—and no wonder, considering the lilt of his voice spoke of good breeding and status—but he had never known her to turn someone away if they were offering her a good deal. That looked like what was going on here. As he stepped out from behind a table piled high with books of all sorts, he spotted the thing that the customer had been taking about. It was a piece of clothing—a cloak, he thought, or maybe a coat—made from vibrant fabrics and fur. Something like that could have kept him fed for weeks if he managed to swipe it from some nobleman’s carriage. Unfortunately, Ivetta had gotten it, not him. And she wouldn’t let him have it unless he promised her something of equal value. The old woman had also realized the cloak was a fine piece of craftsmanship and didn’t hesitate to nod as the young aristocrat laid out the terms of the deal. “You can leave this here on the counter. He’ll show you the other cloaks. You can pick out whichever one you think is most suitable.”Micu frowned. He was helping her out of goodwill (and some boredom), not taking orders from her. “Hey, Ivetta, what do you think I am? Your servant?”“Of course not. I wouldn’t hire someone so insolent. Besides, we’re friend, right?” She smiled as Micu squinted at her. Using something he said against him was uncalled for. “Think of this as one of the many favors you owe me. I’m giving you something to do. That’s why you’re here.”He would have liked to argue with her, but she had a fair point. He technically did owe her his life… oh, maybe seven times over. After four he had stopped paying close attention to it. And he was here as an excuse to entertain himself and not get frostbite. Instead of continuing the discussion, he shrugged and motioned for the nervous looking aristocrat to follow him. “Cloaks are in the back corner. Watch your step.” Following his own advice might have been wise, but he was familiar enough with this place that it was easy to navigate without focusing on where he needed to step to keep from hurting himself or—the more terrifying prospect—breaking anything. Once they were out of sight, the thief looked back and spoke in a soft voice. “If you see anything you like in here, you can probably convince her to throw it in with your new cloak. Contrary to how she may seem, she does have a heart and may feel slightly bad about giving you such a bad deal. Even though you brought it upon yourself. And you obviously don’t need the money. I thought I would give you a little advice, since you seem so out of your depth.” Normally Micu wouldn’t waste time feeling sorry for someone who clearly wouldn’t miss the coins the cloak was worth, but he had heard this man’s confidence dissipate with every word he spoke. Clearly he knew nothing about bartering. If he were to guess, he’d say the aristocrat likely had never had to shop for himself. That was what servants were for. He spun around abruptly as they reached the rack of cloaks, gesturing at it with a dramatic flair. Maybe enthusiastic service would put the man at ease. Or maybe it would just make the experience even more disarming. Micu wasn’t that concerned for the wellbeing of someone he would probably never see again. “It’s dark and a bit crowded back here, but if you want to try one on before you buy it I can help you get it on without knocking everything over. I’m sure Ivetta wants only the best for such a generous customer.” How easy would it be to pickpocket him? He probably wouldn’t be playing much attention to his money, and it would be simple to explain away the contact since there was barely enough room to move around without brushing up against something. Besides, he doubted the stolen items would be missed. This was the kind of situation thieves hoped they would find themselves in! Then again, stealing from a customer probably counted as scaring them off, and then Ivetta would be angry. Hmm. Perhaps he shouldn’t… Yeah, robbing him was a bad idea. That didn’t mean he stopped considering it, but Micu did clasp his hands together as he waited for a reply so he wouldn’t be too tempted.
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 9, 2017 2:00:40 GMT -5
"I am absolutely fabulous."
OOC CHATTER - boop hello ^-^ - ROLEPLAY - -
"Knock 'em dead, darling."
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Post by floruit on Jan 10, 2017 0:57:01 GMT -5
CrackedSkel: [ i’m still alive, and i haven’t forgotten to respond! sometimes i reply to posts out of order because i want to do the more time consuming replies first because i rarely set aside large chunks of time for rp during my school week, or because certain posts are easier to reply to because my character is engaged and i don’t have to pause to think about how they would react. also, i expected remiel to chill but they did not? so enjoy the long post. ] Remiel took a moment to consider the question. It wasn’t easy to answer. “Well… I haven’t explained this to anyone before, so it might not make much sense. Especially to someone who hadn’t experienced how the obscenely rich live. When you’re an Aev, the worst thing to be is bored. Even negative emotions can be fascinating, and if they get too intense, you can go back to the last time you downloaded your consciousness and spare yourself the suffering. No one wants to remember getting torn apart by a tiger because they decided they wanted to wrestle one, because that isn’t a pleasant experience. So, if your body dies, no big deal, right? Death is nothing!” They laughed, then the smile they had been putting on disappeared. “You get a nice new one and give up the memories you made that day. And if you can pick and choose the memories you want to keep—it takes away your humanity. People who have lived a couple of hundred years aren’t really recognizable as people anymore. I doubt you’ve ever seen one, but it’s… disconcerting.” Words couldn’t explain how they were wrong—the difference was almost imperceptible, but after you noticed it, you couldn’t stop noticing. “I don’t want that to happen to me. Let me be clear—I don’t want to die. I’m not the kind of person who would delete their backups and smash their memory chip because life didn’t seem worth it. That happens too. Sometimes it takes thirty years, sometimes a hundred, sometimes more. I don’t want to go like that. I want my life to be significant to me—and you can’t really appreciate something if you know you’ll never lose it. I want to be a real person. Or, you know, as close to one as I can be. I’m still an Aev, so it’s a little too late for me,” they added, hoping to cover up any vulnerability they may have shown with a quick joke. So… they had gone about two hours before revealing why they wanted to subject themselves to what would undoubtedly be the roughest few weeks they ever experienced. That was surprising, considering they rarely talked candidly about their feelings. Although that might have just urged the process along. After all, what was the worst thing that could happen? Rhett could react badly, but it wasn’t as if his opinion of them could get much worse. They would lose some of memories if he decided to destroy their chip, but Aevs weren’t stupid enough to rely exclusively on a tiny, breakable object to store their minds. “My reasoning is stupid, probably, but I haven’t really run it past anyone else. No one knows where I am now, and they never will know if I don’t go back. You are currently the only thing keeping me—this version of me, I mean—alive. And that’s scary. But because surviving is no longer a guarantee, I feel like I care more about making the present as good as it can possibly be.” This must be how non Aevs felt all the time. No wonder they were shocked and appalled at how flippant Aevs were about switching out their bodies. If your body was the thing keeping you alive, opposed to a little chip and some highly advanced computer systems, of course you were going to care about it. And now that they were thinking about how other people must feel, they realized they had assumed Rhett was fine with this whole situation. They would be lucky if he was, but that seemed unlikely. “I’m sorry for throwing all of this at you. I never really considered what I would do once I found someone who didn’t want to murder me immediately. I mean, I figured out our deal as I was explaining it to you. So, if you’re not okay with all of this, and you don’t want to deal with this responsibility, you don’t have to. We can cut this thing short and I can just go home.” Remiel didn’t want to do that, of course, but they weren’t the only person involved in this situation. They didn’t want to drag an unwilling participant into their risky, badly planned quest for a meaningful life. --- If she left now, this conversation would be over and it was unlikely it would ever be brought up again. No one with enough authority to do anything about it would believe her if she accused the princess of being a magic user—and on the off chance that they did, the consequences they would face if the information she had given them was incorrect could be deadly. Something needed to be done about this. She needed to make the princess understand that this was no insignificant matter. That was difficult when she didn’t understand her motivations, however. And when she was quickly losing her nerve. Conla had to fight against her own instinct to obey the first order the princess had issued her. For her, obedience was a simple matter of survival: if you were not loyal to the kingdom, then what was the point of keeping you alive? The potential damage you could do outweighed your usefulness. She had gotten this far by biting her tongue and deferring to her superiors. The anger that had pushed her to speak out was snuffed out by the reality of the situation. There was nothing she could do to change the behavior of a stubborn royal. She should be grateful that she wouldn’t face any repercussions for accidentally attacking the princess. “Yes ma’am. I’ll leave you now. Good day.” She had shifted back into the formal tone she had learned to use during her time as a castle guard, and her eyes were planted firmly on the floor as she opened the door and left the princess’s chambers. [ time skip to some point in the future? because we can’t really get any interaction from here onward. ] --- Skittles: “You should try to get on one of the upcoming trips. I don’t think you’d have any trouble convincing one of our supervisors that it would be helpful for you. Your abilities are still—” How could she say this without sounding rude? “—somewhat unpredictable.” It wasn’t something she judged the other girl for, but some people got upset when you started talking about how functional their abilities were. Personally, she wouldn’t hesitate to admit her own powers were terribly inconsistent. Sometimes they faded away for weeks at a time, only to reappear without warning and be better than they ever had been. Sometimes they were weak but could be used whenever she felt like it. No matter what, the results she got were based on luck more than skill. “Anthony is the only person I know scheduled to go on the next one, and I don’t always like the unfamiliar people who tag along. We’re going to some city in Spain—it’s meant to be a good time for us to talk to people like us who made it to adulthood, but you don’t really have to talk to anyone. Just sit through a few lectures. It can be boring, but it’s better than school, right?” Their high school wasn’t really for the best and brightest. Tamara loathed it a little more than she should have, as the teachers were usually pretty decent even if the curriculums they were asked to teach weren’t, but she felt like she had good reason to feel that way. Why bother with getting a diploma when she was making connections with unusual people all around the world in her free time? There were so many more useful things she could be doing!
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 10, 2017 3:58:25 GMT -5
"I am absolutely fabulous."
OOC CHATTER - i have no idea to respond to the first one. I hope it's okay... x3 - ROLEPLAY - Liam listened intently to Remiel as they talked, he didn't speak, but it looked like he wanted to several times as he explained his reasonings. In the end, the expression on his face was thoughtful, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it, Remiel's whole explanation about Aves and how they don't die. Finally, turning his gaze to the stairs briefly he turned his attention back to Remiel and he sighed. "I can handle the responsibility." He said plainly, "I won't send you home, you clearly don't want to go, but if you do plan on staying, you have to act like one of us." He touched his pocket and pulled out the chip that he had been given.
"And I know I am in control of this, and I won't destroy it myself. If you are hurt, you don't go back, you stay here and suffer until you're healed." Liam placed the chip away once again. "If you're killed for whatever reason, you don't come back, I don't want to see your face, whether it be this one I'm looking at now, or whatever one you claim once you're dead. You die down here when you're not an Ave, you die." He sighed, leaning away as he moved to pull himself up to stand. "Come on, I'll show you your room."
It had been two weeks since Conla had found Sofia sneaking back into the castle and the attacks by the make had somewhat died down, but they were still prevalent within the kingdom and there were reports about how a spectral figure was coming into their houses and scaring children. Sofia had been a lot more volatile too and had been sent, along with a guard, to her chambers for shouting at the King about some things that he didn't explain. It had happened again and Sofia was fuming as she stood at the door to the Throne room as she waited for the guard that was supposed to escort her to her room and keep her there for the rest of the day.
Normally, she would wander off at this point and start messing with her subjects, but her magic was sparking out of control and she didn't want to accidently kill anyone. She glanced up and ran her hands through her hair as she let out a frustrated growl. Of course.
Of course, it had to be Conla that was summoned. -
"Knock 'em dead, darling."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 10, 2017 10:58:40 GMT -5
The power that coursed through its veins was something that Kailen enjoyed. It felt the sun warming its pelt, powerful muscles punched and shifted as it watched the strange human. Honestly, it knew that it was the largest thing in this forest, knew that it was also the most powerful. Offensive magiks had never really harmed it, and those whom had tried had…been eaten. It was not hungry for human, however – it was very rare that humans appeared here, and it had never gained an appetite for them. From the corner of its eye, it watched the shimmering White Stag dip his head, watched as he took a long drink. The Cadragon’s senses, however, switched it back to the strange human once more.
The human, it noted, was moving. For a moment, it simply watched and waited, but before the human could get too far from it, it trotted after them and continued to watch, eyes narrowed and pupils mere slits in its odd eyes. Its head swayed side to side in an absent movement, more snakelike than catlike; not surprising, considering how it had been brought up.
When the words were spoken, its ears perked, and then a low mrrow escaped its throat. What..? Whatever the human had been trying to say, it truly hoped that that was not it.
I am in love with you.
Yeah, that definitely wasn’t it. The Cadragon made another mrrowing sound, no longer chasing (its claws retracted), and rather following, because the human was strange and quite clearly did not know how to pronounce Fae words. It sifted through its memory absently, checked to see what could be mispronounced as a confession. Hmm…there really weren’t many phrases that could be said that badly. One, it supposed, was ‘be at peace’, but that wasn’t a modern Fae saying. Rather, it was so outdated that Kailen had learned it when visiting Moira’s parents, which meant that it was a Seelie phrase that had to be a good sixty thousand years old. Maybe it was lucky that Kailen actually paid attention and had one Unseelie mother and one Seelie. It spoke both dialects fairly well.
It padded forward with more grace than a giant beast should’ve had, and simply laid down. It curled around so that it trapped the human, shifting until its paws were around said human. Yes, it noted that there seemed to be a space that it simply couldn’t pass, but that didn’t bother it. Its tail curled around to make another barrier, and it snorted slowly as it yawned. More of its large teeth were shown – yet none were as sharp or as truly massive as its canines.
The beast opened its mouth and chirped something – it understood what it was saying, and it was unaware of the human being unable to speak its tongue. Fae understood beasts and animals alike (as did it; Kailen had never lost touch with nature), and animals understood beasts because they were one in the same.
“Little one,” whispered a rather large bird (though it didn’t check to see what sort), flitting around its face before finally settling atop its head, “that human smells of magik!”
“Mmm,” it purred, tilting its head up slightly before lowering its gaze, once again, to the human. “I’ve noticed that. Don’t worry, though, I will get it out of the forest soon.”
“Your mamas are on the way,” said the bird doubtfully. “Should I tell them that the human is not harmful, or should I tell Moira to come and Aoife to stay home?”
“Yes.”
“Choose one!”
“Oh,” Kailen hummed low in its throat. “Uh, mama – Aoife – should probably stay home. She’s Unseelie and it’ll cause a rift between her and mother if she kills this one.”
“Gotcha!” the bird laughed, and took off again. “See you later, Kai!”
Now that the bird was gone, the Cadragon flicked its gaze back to the human and snorted. Its ear twitched as it caught the familiar Seelie scent, but it simply kept itself firmly in place. Moira would be able to communicate with the human, it supposed – though on the off-chance that she couldn’t, they’d have to…uh…get rid of it by force? That would probably work, and it would make Aoife extremely happy. A win-win situation for all by the human.
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Post by floruit on Jan 10, 2017 16:18:06 GMT -5
CrackedSkel : “Actually—” Remiel paused. They had talked enough for one night. “Never mind.” If they died in the next few weeks, the person they had become through their experiences during that time would be gone forever, but all iterations of them wouldn’t disappear. There were old copies of themselves that their family would use to bring them back if they could confidently declare them dead, but it was unlikely Rhett would ever run into any of those. And if he did, what was the chance he would even recognize them? And how would it matter? They could promise anything. If their current body died and there was no way to save their mind, the promise was null and void. The only way the person Rhett knew could come back would be as a ghost, and Aevs usually didn’t support superstitious thinking like that. That conversation could have gone better. Talking about it was fine, but the concept of them slowly recovering from a serious injury in some hovel was enough to inspire some regret. They weren’t expecting getting much in return for baring their soul, but some semblance of understanding would have been nice. Honestly, they probably sounded silly. They picked up their backpack, leaving a few of the food packets on the table, and stood up. “I’m not sure how not to act like an Aev. It’s the only experience I’ve ever had. You’ll have to show me. Not tonight, though. I’m tired.” That wasn’t a lie. They were exhausted, and now that they were more subdued it was becoming obvious. --- Conla had declared that she was taking a brief vacation from her usual responsibilities as a knight. She said she needed a few weeks to herself, and she meant it. All the information she had gotten about the princess and one of the most well-known criminals in the kingdom took her some time to decide how to deal with. In the end, she didn’t go to any of the nobility to share what she knew. The risk that she would suffer directly for it and that nothing would be done was too great. So she was hanging around the castle, offering her assistance to the castle guards whenever she had the opportunity. She helped out with their training and shared the tips she had learned with the new recruits, and it was nice. Under normal circumstances, she would have actually let herself relax, but doing so now would be irresponsible. She knew she eventually needed to continue the conversation she had with the princess. She hadn’t determined how she wanted to handle it yet, but she knew the longer she put it off the more disastrous the potential consequences would be. The princess was already acting out more than usual. The servants were used to royals behaving badly, but this had shaken those who had been employed in the castle for decades. Someone needed to deal with it, and Conla knew the king wasn’t going to be capable of that. He didn’t know the whole situations and, besides, Sofia abhorred him. Because of all this, the woman couldn’t help but feeling lucky when she was summoned to the throne room to get the princess and “ensure she didn’t get into any more trouble.” The high-society way to ask that she be isolated in her room, basically. When she arrived, her first impression was that the princess was infuriated. She wasn’t surprised. “Good afternoon, Princess. Would you mind coming with me?” Conla stuck to the script most castle guards used. She didn’t want anyone to notice that her behavior was odd, and she definitely didn’t want to seem overly familiar. Eyes and ears were everywhere in the castle, and a rumor could grow from almost nothing. She wasn’t going to ruin her reputation while trying to deal with a rebellious royal. --- @borderline : The beast seemed to react positively to his attempt at speaking fae. It meowed at him, which he took as a good sign. He couldn’t have butchered the phrase too badly if it got the Cadragon to respond. Knowing what the meow meant would have made things much easier, but he could infer that it wasn’t aggressive. Or friendly. Just interested. The one thing that kept him from panicking was that even though his ability to communicate was severely limited, he could communicate. Sure, he knew only a handful of fae phrases, many of which were outdated or not applicable to this situation, and he couldn’t begin to fathom how a human would understand Cadragon if the creatures even had a language. This wasn’t a situation a witch vastly more experienced than him would want to be found in. But he wasn’t getting torn to pieces, and that was good enough for the time being. He wasn’t safe yet, however. Eve couldn’t take more than a dozen steps before the monster trailed after him. Unless something far more interesting than him appeared, getting back to his home anytime soon didn’t seem likely. His protection spell would take a few more minutes to wear off as long as nothing interfered with it, and he had a couple of similar ones, but not enough to last him through the day. So—what now? Keep trying to get away and hope the creature would give up on him before he ran out of useful charms? He didn’t have time to come up with an alternative plan before the Cadragon laid down on the shore of the lake and curled around his protection spell like a cat with a ball. For a moment he was certain that his spell would shatter and he’d be left defenseless, but it held. Eve kept still as the beast settled down, unable to draw his attention away from its teeth. He once would have admired them while reading through some illustrated ancient bestiary or personal journal of a witch who had a particular interest in rare magical creatures, but it was hard to maintain a scholarly interest when he was thinking about how easily they could be used to chew him up. In fact, it was hard to focus on anything. He felt like there wasn’t enough space. Like he was being slowly suffocated—even though the air around him was fresh and there was more than enough room for him to stretch out without brushing up against the walls of the protective sphere. Protection spells weren’t something he was familiar with—he had the charm for a reason—but maybe he could maintain this one for longer than it was meant for if he concentrated hard enough. That was how magic worked, after all! It was all about intention. Eve tried to put everything else out of his mind. The loud rumbles and mrrows of the Cadragon faded into the background, as did the overlapping chirps of some bird that had perched on its head— don’t focus on it, don’t focus on it, there are more important things to pay attention to now—and he could feel the energy of the protective spell dissipating already. The sphere started to grow cloudy and opaque as some of his own magic went into it. Alright. This was working. The spell seemed more stable now. Eve looked back to the face of the Cadragon as it made some sort of sound and was reminded of the fact that this was his life at stake. He froze up. The sphere got darker and turned into mist, which drifted away with the wind. A sudden chill made him realize what he had just done—the protective spell also kept him safe from the elements—and he drew in a shaky breath. He really shouldn’t be staring down a Cadragon. That could be interpreted as aggressive. The witch couldn’t bring himself to look away, but some of his common sense still remained. He raised a hand to sift through the variety of charms around his neck, feeling for another glass bead like the one he had just used. Where was it? If this was the one day he didn’t bother to bring multiple protective spells, thinking that nothing in these woods that he couldn’t scare away would come after him, he probably deserved to die. How shortsighted could he be? Just because there were no humans didn’t mean there was no danger. He should have known better. The beast hadn’t attacked him so far. Maybe his luck would hold. No more fae phrases came to mind. He was too scattered to attempt to repeat the words he had said earlier. Instead, he returned to the language local humans used, hoping some of the intention would come through clearly. “I can’t hurt you. I’m not a threat. There’s no reason to attack.” Here’s to hoping that a low voice and a calm tone could be interpreted as ‘please don’t kill me’ by Cadragons.
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Post by вlue вlood on Jan 10, 2017 19:15:21 GMT -5
( just to say, i'm gonna be on holiday until the 18th so i won't be replying to anything w posts of any remote length until i'm back! c: i absolutely loathe mobile version lmao )
Aware of the clipped tone of the woman's words, Faris could only blink for a split second. It was not a moment attributed to surprise so much as a slightly painful pinprick of memory - a reminder that there were places where any show of money (and Faris was quite aware he was a walking, breathing representation of that very thing) did not work in one's favour. At least not when it came to how you were perceived by others. It was, for him, quite an easy thing to forget, wrapped up in his own, safe little world. The people in the spheres he frequented were more... diplomatic with how they spoke to others. In fact, the less you liked someone, the more you had to compensate with false pleasantries. It was all terribly impractical, but perhaps it was the best kind of warfare for people with faces they'd consider too fancy to spoil and typically not much muscle to speak of in the first place. So, in some respects, this little bit of genuineness Faris saw now was sort of refreshing. In a different place, time, and situation, he may have found cause for offence; but offence wasn't really something he had the right to at this moment, so plainly out of his comfort zone - plus it's best not to cross people when you're in their territory. When it came down to three people under one roof, the kind of status and power that can supposedly be carried in blood - well, it only really matters so far as the other two people in the room allow it to.
Besides, Faris had been raised to be mannerly almost to a fault. Granted, until now most people he had encountered were all playing the same game, but his parents' philosophies were still buried in his head. People could be as thorny as they liked; so long as you smile in the face of it, you'll never be the cause of a conflict or scene. It was probably a good thing he'd never had to deal with much adversity in his life, though. There wasn't much a smile could do in terms of actually protecting yourself.
He saw the other person in the room appraoch in the corner of his eyes, but didn't actually turn to look at them until they spoke. A young man also, but after a moment of scrutiny he decided that he wouldn't want to put money on guessing his age. Not far off his own age, he figured - or maybe younger. Or maybe not. Hm. He didn't give himself any more time to dwell on that matter. At the woman's instruction, he folded the cloak over itself delicately and placed it gently on the counter. Something inside of him twinged, just a little, at having to part with it, and he mentally scolded himself for feeling sentimental about something that tied him to the very life he was trying to get away from. Ivetta, he caught the name as the other two spoke, and his mind tied it to her face. He was good with names and faces. He never forgot them, not even after years, not even if he barely knew them. Maybe it was just a natural good memory thing, maybe it was something he'd learned to be good at early on, needing to remember and recognise anyone who may strike up conversation at any social gatherings - of which his family hosted and attended many. Either way, now he only needed to hear a name once and it would never leave his head. Perhaps not the most useful skill in the world, but hey, there were worse things to be good at too.
As the other man turned away to lead, Faris took a moment to cast his gaze over the front room of the shop again. The warning was indubitably a valuable one to heed. Just about every inch of the place was occupied with... stuff. If there was method to the madness, Faris couldn't see it. Years of accumulation, presumably. But this other person clearly knew his way around, so he followed closely on careful feet - this wasn't a place for the accident-prone. But he was light on his feet and had a dancer's grace. Focusing on where his feet were stepping rather than where he was actually going, he did have a close call when he glanced up as his leader's voice when he turned to look back at him, and his toe caught the hard edge of something - but he thankfully saved himself from tripping or stumbling.
"I... uh, thank you...?" he replied slowly, the slightest upward intonation at the end of the word betraying the confusion he tried to hide. Though his expression said the same too. He was an open-book sort of person, only really able to hide what he was feeling and what was going on in his head when he concentrated on doing so. Oh, he could fake pleasantness as well as any aristocrat. Practice makes perfect, after all; but any more than that and his easy-to-read face was his own worst enemy. It wasn't that he was mistrustful, exactly. He meant his words - he was grateful - but he saw no reason anyone would have to give such advice. They were strangers, and he'd rather predicted the same reflexive dislike he had heard in Ivetta's voice. He was all too familiar with ulterior motives, but he didn't see how this could be such a case either. His gaze lingered on the stranger's face a moment too long, as though he might be able to answer his own unspoken question just by scrutiny. Not only that, he appeared even more visibly uncomfortable, having his own incompetence pointed out to him. Again, he had no right to offence; it was painfully true. Denying it wouldn't just make him out of his depth, it would make him downright senseless. Once they reached the back, it felt like something of an accomplishment to make it through without harm to himself or any of the objects around them. Momentarily unresponsive, he turned - a little hesitantly - to the task at hand, and began sifting through the varied supply of cloaks. He wasn't entirely sure if he was being insulted or teased, or if they were just being frank. And he wasn't enjoying not being able to tell.
"You put on rather a good show for someone who doesn't work here," he commented after a moment, in an idle tone, his voice remaining low as they'd spoken before. His lips held the faintest smile, but a question lingered behind the words, of why he was here if not to work. But it wasn't something he expected answered, nor something he cared about enough to ask directly. He too saw no reason to care much for someone he would not see again. His eyes and focus remained on his exercise, and he seemed rather in his element now. One benefit of owning objects of finer fashion (besides the blindingly obvious, of course) was that he knew quality when it was in front of him, and his hands - unmarked and smooth from a life exempt from a day's hard work - grazed the fabrics in careful evaluation and he sorted with fair efficiency. Sizing, he was less sure of with just his eyes' judgement, but he could guess well enough to count out anything obviously too long or short.
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 10, 2017 22:52:14 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ new header yeah
(also sorry for bleh posts) }}
ROLEPLAY - Liam stepped up and over to the stairs. He moved up the stairs first and he came to a hallway with three rooms. He knocked on the door and waited for a moment. "We're all tired." Liam sighed in response. "You'll learn very quickly that being tired is a default in this life." The door opened up and Chole put her head out, tilting it curiously as she looked at Remiel and then turned a questioning gaze back to Liam, who sighed. "He's going to be staying with us for a bit. Do you mind staying in my room?"
Chole's eyebrows furrowed and she made several hand gestures and Liam sighed. "It's only for a bit." Chole glanced at Remiel once and sighed, she closed the door, before opening it again. She pointed to Remiel and opened her mouth before deciding against saying anything. She slid around them and started over and went into the other room. "Don't touch anything," Liam told him with a sigh. "Sleep well."
Sofia glanced at Conla and let out a huff. "Yes, you may." She responded through gritted teeth as she stepped over to him. She walked behind her as they moved back to her quarters and she was brimming with magic. Anyone who didn't know what she was would likely think that she was angry or sad but the magic in the air was almost tangible. Once she was back in her room she started pacing back and forth, muttering and cursing angrily. After a few moments, she sat down at her dresser and leant on it.
She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. "...I haven't seen you for a little while." She murmured quietly, staring into the mirror. "How have you been?" -
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Post by floruit on Jan 11, 2017 0:59:00 GMT -5
[ вlue вlood: that's fine by me! trying to write long posts on mobile is truly hellish. i tried it a few times when my laptop was out of commission and i really wanted to reply. it was So Tiring. anyway, i hope you have a lovely vacation! enjoy yourself. wingdings, i'll reply to you tomorrow when i am not so sleepy. ] Micu tried his best to hide how pleased he was to be the one showing someone how things worked rather than being lectured at. Nowadays when he was out working, he didn’t take anyone with him. He was quite good at stealing, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of job you sought out an apprentice for. The money he made from pawning off various priceless heirlooms was worth the risk of being caught and killed for him, not for some young kid who had been forced to turn to crime. If he stole, at least he did so willingly. Ivetta would always take him in if he ever swallowed his pride and stopped being so headstrong, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. And no reputable shop would ever give him a job. Even when he cleaned up and tried to act like a model citizen, other people looked at him like he was seconds away from robbing them blind. It was hard to hide how poor he was, and most of the well to do shop owners suspected every poor person of being a thief. And just because it was true in his case didn’t mean it didn’t sting. He tried to avoid taking from anyone who wouldn’t be able to quickly recover from the loss, unless they were terrible people. In which case he didn’t really care. He had some morals, even if they were distressingly flexible. Besides, he couldn’t be held completely accountable for how quickly he disregarded what was right and made choices based on what was most helpful to him. Mathieu had spent years trying to teach him the importance of self-preservation, and eventually it had stuck. It was hard not to listen to what Mathieu said. Things were always easier when you went along with what he asked. He had never gotten hurt while following his orders, although there had been some uncomfortably close encounters with brutes hired to protect noblemen and jailers. He was kind of like Ivetta in that sense—neither of them would ever purposefully harm him, but they weren’t accustomed to not being listened to. He preferred Isaiah’s method of teaching. He would explain things thoroughly and didn’t mind if Micu disagreed or had another idea. Independent thinking was a good thing. Mathieu, on the other hand, was of the mind that the only thing you should ever trust more than the most experienced person in a group was your gut, and even then you should never disrespect someone who knew more than you did about a particular situation. Oddly enough, this aristocrat reminded him vaguely of Isaiah. It wasn’t his manner than was oddly familiar. Isaiah had been calm and pleasant in the way nobles weren’t. He was genuine. This young man wasn’t like that. He was being polite, but Micu suspected that this was the uncomfortable kindness that came from pity and discomfort. That was fine. He has gotten used to that a long time ago. The thing that struck him was the quiet uncertainty that was present in everything the aristocrat did. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if he hadn’t gotten used to spotting it, although it was briefly clear when he commented on how he was out of his depth. Normally he would have viewed that weakness as something to be exploited, but his barely noticeable, consistent air of nervousness was just a little too familiar for him to do that. Instead, he wanted to be kind. He decided against trying to pickpocket the man. Losing one potential target wouldn’t ruin his life. He had made more than enough money the night before to get him through the week. “You’re welcome. I pride myself in helping those who deserve it.” Aristocrats usually weren’t included in that group, but he was willing to make an exception. He was feeling oddly generous. Probably he was still coming down from last night’s success, which was why his mood was helpful and friendly rather than tired and irritated by everything. Sleep deprivation did not make him spending time in his presence remotely enjoyable, but exhaustion hadn’t hit him yet and probably wouldn’t for a few more hours. It was still early in the morning. Still, he could anticipate that the crash would come soon, and he leaned back against an overfilled bookshelf as the aristocrat perused the cloaks, eyes half closed. The thief perked up at “good show”, straightening up and grinning. Micu wasn’t accustomed to getting compliments. Any unprompted comment that was remotely positive was a rare occasion and should be celebrated. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not just naturally a wonderful showman. I used to work here. That was quite a few years ago, though. Now I just come in from time to time to help the old hag. She can be quite demanding, but I supposed she’s allowed to be after putting up with me when I was a kid. Ivetta has always been good to me.” He liked to make fun of her whenever he could get away with it. All the teasing was good natured, and she never let him get away with it. Making a comment about her age or her sour disposition only gave her an opportunity to tell him off, and, if you asked her, he didn’t get enough of that. “She still won’t ever give anything to me unless I clean the whole shop or bring her something nice in exchange, though. Apparently our long-standing friendship means nothing once the subject of money is brought up. She’d charge me rent for hanging around without doing anything if she thought she could get away with it.” God, he loved her. She was the closest thing to a family member he had. If he kept bad-mouthing the old woman the aristocrat might start thinking that he was actually angry at her, so he decided to save the rest of his insults for another time. All of Ivetta’s assistants were more than willing to complain about her when she wasn’t listening. As he had talked to this stranger like he was a regular at the shop, he realized he honestly didn’t know anything about the man. And now he was curious. He started off slowly, smiling faintly as he looked the young man up and down. “You know, you don’t seem like the type to come to a place like this. We don’t have many affluent customers. How did you find this shop, anyway? Did a friend tell you about a good place to take things you wanted to disappear? Or did you stumble across it? You can tell me. Trust me, if you’re here for some shady reason, the information will be safe with me,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I don’t know much about the aristocrats who live around here, and I don’t care very much about what things they get up to when they think no one is paying attention to them. I just want to know why someone would trade in such a nice cloak for one of these.” He made a sweeping gesture at the rack. “They’re all perfectly functional, but the one you just traded in was a work of art. Why give it up?”During his rapid-fire questioning he had stepped away from the wall and was now looking at the other man expectantly. “Satisfy my curiosity, and I’m sure I can help you work out a fair trade with Ivetta. Few people can say they’ve gotten one of those from her,” he added, leaning in a little bit closer. Being a bit more discreet about his interest might have yielded better results, but he was impatient. If he waited around and dropped hints, the aristocrat might leave before he got an explanation, and then he’d waste the rest of his day wondering about it.
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 11, 2017 1:05:54 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ no worries! sleep well! :3}}
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Post by floruit on Jan 12, 2017 0:22:57 GMT -5
[ CrackedSkel: i just nyoomed ahead and time skipped to the next morning bc i assumed nothing of interest would happen to remiel in the middle of the night. ] “Alright. Goodnight.” Remiel was often far too curious for their own good, but they weren’t the type to directly go against what someone asked them to do unless they had a good reason to. They closed the door behind them and flopped down onto the bed, hardly bothering to pull the covers over themself before they closed their eyes. The girl probably was upset at being forced out of her own room, but he’d rather have someone be mad at him than sleep on the floor. Besides, they had learned a little sign language a few years back for some reason or another. They didn’t remember much, and the girl might be using a completely different type, but they probably could figure out how to sign sorry. The mattress was hard and lumpy, not to mention nothing like the soft down beds they were accustomed to, but they passed out almost immediately. It was impossible to stay awake after everything they had been through. Some hours later they awoke, feeling sore and disoriented, then sat upright in bed as they tried to remember where they were. This wasn’t a familiar house, and they couldn’t remember having gone home with a stranger the night before… Oh. Right. Visiting the slums. They were staying with Rhett and his friend’s little sister, whose bed they were in. It wasn’t a nice realization to wake up to, but at least they could remember the night before. They spent a few minutes making the bed and changing into some clean clothes—a long, flowy grey shirt and black leggings—before they picked up their backpack and stepped into the hall. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Rhett. Wait. Scratch that. Not trusting the man they were staying with to stay out of their things was certainly part of it, but their backpack held everything they owned. They didn’t want to lose track of it. The house was old and it was impossible to walk around it without making some noise, but they descended the stairs as quietly as possible. “Rhett? Are you awake?” The light outside was a pale grey, and they could still hear it raining. Hmm. It could be anywhere from early morning to noon. --- Conla remained close to the door, watching the princess out of the corner of her eye. She was clearly upset, but at least none of the anger was currently being directed at her. That was an improvement. The room felt… odd. The air felt like it did right before a thunderstorm—heavy and stifling. Was that magic? It didn’t feel exactly like it did on the night she had her altercation with the princess, but that magic had been funneled into spells. This felt more chaotic. The knight was caught off guard by the question and swiftly raised her hand to stifle her laughter. Hopefully her amusement hadn’t been too noticeable. “Oh, the same as always. I’m taking a break from my regular duties for personal reasons. Staying in the castle to relax, as one does. Absolutely nothing has been worrying me. And you?” A genuine question didn’t warrant such a pointed response, but she had been losing sleep over the secret she was keeping and was in no mood for useless niceties.
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 12, 2017 1:12:02 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ - ello. I was playing overwatch and reading through your post a few times. I always like to do that just in case I read something wrong. - }}
ROLEPLAY - Chole was the one sitting in the chair, leaning back into the ratty cushions of the couch writing in a book of some sort. She looked up when Remiel entered and closed the book with the pen inside. She placed it on her lap and looked them up and down before letting out a huff. They lifted their hand and asked, 'Can you sign?' As slowly as they could so that it would be easier for them to understand it.
Chole looked over when the door opened and Liam stepped in, wearing a flimsy-looking plastic raincoat with water dripping down it. He stepped over to the counter and placed the wet raincoat into the sink before turning his attention back to Remiel. Chole looked at him curiously and asked him about food with quick hand motions and he shook his head. "Not yet," he replied to her and she pouted, signing something else, asking about when. "I'm teaching them out to survive out here. You're going to have to see if they can deliver."
Chole turned her attention back to Remiel, studied him and shook her head before returning to her notebook.
"Why am I not surprised." Sofia rolled her eyes, leaning down on the dresser. She waved one hand and a few cut-out pieces of paper in the shape of horses started to dance around. The magic that was in the air slowly started to dissipate. "The King has been keeping a closer eye on me since I was late to my lesson a few weeks ago. He believes that I have been sleeping in, because I don't want to be ruler someday. Other than that, I am peachy." She sighed, turning her head so her ear was resting on her arm, while the paper horses continued to dance in time with how she waved her hand.
"I suppose I should thank you." -
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Post by floruit on Jan 12, 2017 1:51:16 GMT -5
[ CrackedSkel: i hope you’re having fun! i’m winding down for sleep. and same, i try to reread a post at least two or three times as i’m replying and i still sometimes mess up and convince myself my partner Totally wrote something they did not. it’s fun and exciting. ] Remiel paused a moment, piecing together the words the girl had spelled, then signed back ‘no’. That was obviously a lie, but two letters were far easier to fingerspell than a phrase like ‘yes, but not well’. They still knew the alphabet and some basic vocabulary that could potentially be useful—fight, yellow, please, crocodile, sorry, thank you, hungry, thirsty, who, why, more, plus a disproportionate amount of insults—but getting out coherent thoughts took some time. They were a little better at recognizing what things meant. The girl still needed to move slowly for them to notice every motion, though. They flinched as Rhett opened the door, still a little shaken from the events of the previous day. “I don’t think the kid has much confidence in me, but, to be fair, I don’t either. Exactly what do you expect me to do? Find you two lunch?” They had managed to pick out something like hand wave, point and spin finger, ‘food’ from the silent portion of the conversation and inferred the rest from Rhett’s response. “I still have some nice food packets, if either of you are up for some chalky, nutrient rich gruel!” Wow, they were really trying to make that sound appealing. Succeeding, though? Definitely not. --- Conla took a few steps toward the dresser, trying not to show the full extent of her fascination. She was no scholar, but all the accounts of magic she had heard in her life had focused on how dangerous and devastating it could be. Aside from a few childhood fairy tales, nothing every discussed the beautiful things that magic could create. Then again, it really didn’t matter how nice it could be if the risk of accidentally harming yourself or others was incredibly high. “I’m sure he would be pleased to find out you aren’t rejecting the throne, only sneaking out at night to do illegal magic.” Okay, so that was slightly excessive, but after days of censoring herself, her filter was going to slip up eventually. “You shouldn’t thank me. This still needs to be dealt with. You need to find a better outlet for your magic, or else it won’t matter how well I keep secrets. Eventually, someone who isn’t disposable will find out, and you’ll have to address your problems directly. Do you know what you’re going to do then?”
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 12, 2017 2:14:18 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ - goodnight for when you do sleep! - }}
ROLEPLAY - Liam looked between them and laughed at Chole, who was giving Remiel the most deadpan look. "She can hear you." He told them blankly, muffling his chuckles my covering his mouth with his hand. "Chole is selectively mute," Liam explained. "Something happened-" Chole waved her hands in a shut-up motion several times and glared at the both of them before she returned to her book, scribbling in an almost annoyed way.
"You don't have to find us food, I can do that later. You wanted lessons on how to survive out here, then you're going to learn the only way I know how to teach. Head first." He picked up the raincoat once again and flicked it a few times to rid it from the droplets. He then limped over to Remiel and offered them the crappy piece of plastic. "Here, people seemed more inclined to ignore you if you look helpless."
Sofia shoved her face into her arms and muttered something about claims before she sat up again and the paper horse fell back to the dresser almost sadly as the spell was taken off. She had been able to get away with it for years, why did it now have to be falling apart. She leant away from the dresser and glared at it and in less than a minute, the paper horse went up in flames as the paper turned to ash. Sofia glared at the place where it had been on the table for a few moments before she sighed and resumed laying on the dresser.
"You know nothing about magic." She snipped. "If I ever do take the throne, I will be making it legal, so long as we have people to police it, then there should be no worry about how it affects us." She clenched her hands and glared into the mirror. She sighed and her shoulders relaxed and just for a moment, she looked very vulnerable. "When they find out that I have magic, I'm going to lose much more than you think." Her eyes flicked to Conla's in the mirror. "What am I going to do then? I'm probably going to be kicked out or worse." She hid her face again, realising that she may have just given up far to much information. -
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Post by floruit on Jan 12, 2017 13:29:52 GMT -5
CrackedSkel: Remiel was clearly unamused. “I assumed so, since you’ve been talking to her. I thought it might be helpful to practice signing. Communicating without speaking seems like it could be a pretty valuable skill. Besides, if I learn enough to be decent at it again I can talk about you behind your back.” Because the two most important ways to group skills was by how they could help you survive and how they could help you be passive aggressive. Obviously. “Anyway, I don’t need to hear all the gory details. Sometimes you can’t talk. It happens, it’s not a problem.” They shrugged, then took the plastic coat with a frown. “Don’t you think it would be better if I didn’t look like an easy target? So no one tries to rob me? Or murder me? I’m really not excited at the prospect of dying on my first day out here, you know.” Or losing everything they owned. That would also be unfortunate, considering most of the things they had brought with them were potentially useful. --- “Is that supposed to be my fault? Magic is illegal. I’d be demoted in an instance and potentially exiled if I started showing an inappropriate interest in it. Besides, you haven’t made any attempt to tell me about it. How much do you know? There’s a difference between being able to do something and understanding how it works,” she said evenly, brushing the tiny pile of ash off the table. It wouldn’t be good for the servants to think that the princess had been starting fires in her room. That would be a cause for concern. Conla looked to the princess, expecting her to be as aggressive and obstinate as usual, but that wasn’t the case. She looked tired and defeated, yet was somehow optimistic about magic being accepted if she could only make it legal. If only it were that easy. The knight felt a brief rush of sympathy for the royal. Perhaps there was more going on here than she had first thought. Still, she didn’t want to appear soft. There was no guarantee that this wasn’t some ploy to get her to feel bad for the princess and let her continue messing around with magic unhindered. When Sofia met her eyes in the mirror, she looked away. “What more could you lose than your life and your reputation? Both of which I’m risking by not informing someone of your activities, in case you weren’t aware. If you want to keep those things intact, you’ll stop messing with magic and be the model princess for as long as you have that’s your only option.”
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 12, 2017 22:35:26 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ - bleh post sorry - }}
ROLEPLAY - Chole started laughing softly at them, and Liam rolled his eyes. "If you're so against going out in that, fine by me." He took the raincoat back and moved back to put it back into the sink. "I suppose I should teach you how to pickpocket before we go out so you don't get your teeth knocked out." He limped over to him. "It's harder for me to teach you your own technique, mostly because of my leg, but ... you'll get the hang of it."
"I don't know as much as the mages who live outside the kingdom." She said carefully, her eyes still in the mirror. "I know basic spells, like closing and locking doors and duplicate and some illusion spells, but nothing beyond that." She sighed, "if the king finds out that I am a mage, he will ... he ..." She rubbed her face as a shudder made her trembled. "He'll figure out that I'm - I'm not actually his daughter." The confession was whispered, and Sofia hid her face in her arm once again and her fists clenched into fists and her shoulders shook.
"A-and he-he he'll need a p-proper heir, w-won't he...?"
(please let me know if this implication is too much and I can change it) -
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Post by floruit on Jan 13, 2017 0:20:16 GMT -5
CrackedSkel: “I’m not against clothes that keep me from getting soaked. That would be stupid. I’m not trying to get sick, I just don’t want to look like an easy mark. Besides, I have a waterproof coat in my bag that shouldn’t make me look like an Aev.” Luckily, they had never been fond of the flashy styles only Aevs could afford. They preferred simple outfits in subdued colors that weren’t covered in brand names, which had proved to be an asset in the past day or so. Remiel looked somewhat skeptical when Rhett said they would catch on to pickpocketing eventually. “I don’t think fake it ‘til you make it can be applied to stealing people’s wallets, and that’s the primary strategy that has gotten me through life so far,” they muttered, but didn’t suggest another strategy. They weren’t the resident thief. The Aev crossed their arms and looked to Chloe. “Is he any good at teaching, or is this just another opportunity for me to show how little I know?” --- “Ah.” Now she understood. A bastard child, huh? Now that was something she had never heard rumors of before. The queen must have kept her personal affairs incredibly hushed up. Before now, she thought she had heard every occasion of adultery that had happened with the dysfunctional noble families. Understanding probably wasn’t what Sofia was looking for, though, and she took a few steps forward before pausing awkwardly beside the woman. What was she supposed to do now? Conla wasn’t good at comforting others. She didn’t like putting her own emotions on display, and empathizing with other people required some level of vulnerability. Even with fellow soldiers who had been through similar experiences, it was difficult to be honest. Honesty was dangerous and painful. “So, magic can only be inherited?” No. That was the wrong thing to say. She was sure of it ever before the words were fully formed, but there was no taking them back now. Perhaps she should try again, before the princess had a chance to react. The knight cleared her throat and leaned down so she was on the same level as the other woman, her voice taking on the firm, self-assured quality it had when she was giving orders but remaining soft. “Listen to me. That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to let that happen. No one else is going to find out about your abilities or your parentage. But you need to be more careful. If you keep behaving erratically, people will begin suspecting something, and they might get too curios for their own good.” [ it’s fine! as long as distressing things aren’t used as cheap plot devices or given in unnecessary detail, i’m usually good. ]
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 13, 2017 1:54:49 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ - - }}
ROLEPLAY - Chole looked between the two of them and shrugged. 'It's probably a little of both.' She responded, moving her hands slowly once again for Remiel's sake. Liam looked at her as if she had betrayed him before he moved over to them. "Pickpocketing is the easiest way to get money around here unless you want to resort to begging, which I doubt you want to do. Liam limped over slightly closer. "If I see a richer person, who I know I can probably fool I use the dropped cane technique. It hurts like hell doing it, but you always get plenty of money if they fall for it. I haven't seen an Ave dumb enough to fall for it yet." That was as close to a compliment that he was going to get right now.
"The best way for you to start is the brush technique. You hurry through crowds pretending you're late for something and as you move, you pull whatever you can and keep moving. I can't do that anymore, obviously."
Sofia opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted when Conla knelt down and spoke again. She turned her head to look at the guard directly, "Thank you Conla." She murmured. "I know I need to be more careful but the way that the king looks back on my mother makes me so angry. How he talks about her-" Her voice broke and she turned her head away again. "I'm sorry. What happens between myself and the King is not any of your business." Sofia seemed conflicted for a moment. "Magic is very volatile and when you don't use it, it builds up. What you felt before, that was my magic welling up and out of control from my anger." -
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Post by floruit on Jan 14, 2017 2:38:32 GMT -5
CrackedSkel: How flattering to be loosely classified as not one of the dumbest people Rhett had ever had the displeasure of interacting with. They did enjoy compliments, but their standards were slightly higher than “oh, you’re not the absolute worst”. Remiel wasn’t going to be pleased to hear something they had already assumed. “Having lots of resources doesn’t make you any less paranoid of having your things stolen. Most of the Aevs I know wouldn’t willingly part with a cent if they didn’t have to.” It didn’t make must logical sense for the group which could use money as fuel and still be obscenely rich to be so stingy, but, from what they had seen, the desire to accumulate wealth tended to trump logic. “So, to make sure I understand this: you want me to hurry past people and hope I can get their money and get away before they have the opportunity to beat me into the ground? That seems unnecessarily dangerous.” Yeah, stealing was probably an important part of survival in this area. It also sounded like a great way to get maimed, so they weren’t super excited about it. “Is there another method that lowers the risk of me getting caught?” And the inevitable injuries that come with stealing things from people? --- “The dead can’t be offended. Would she place her reputation before her child’s safety and wellbeing?” Conla had a rather pragmatic view on how to honor someone’s memory. You gave them the best burial you could manage, and then tried to live your life in a way that they would approve of. She had seen too much death to spend time being sentimental. Her loved ones who hadn’t survived as long as she had would want her to keep fighting even when they were gone, and that was what she did. “Since I’m the only person who knows of your, uh, abilities aside from you, I would consider information relevant to this to be my business. I don’t mean to disrespect you. That is simply how I feel.” Not that she thought her feelings were particularly important. Her actions were the things that mattered. The princess needed to learn that. “I need to be honest with you. It doesn’t matter how I feel, nor how you feel. Controlling your emotions is essential. If you let them get the better of you, you can do irreparable damage. Control over your magic would be helpful, but you can always demand privacy and do spells here if you think it’s becoming more volatile. Control over your emotions is more important, because if you get angry and put on a display for anyone in the castle, no one can help you. You understand that, don’t you?”
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 14, 2017 3:09:02 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ - i have a question about the first plot .... did you want anything to happen to Remiel while they're out pickpocketing? And if so, what? I ask because I'm a little lost on how to respond right now. - }}
ROLEPLAY - Sofia didn't bother to correct her in that she had been referring to the arguments with the king and not about the magic. She was very aware that she needed help with her magic especially if she got found out. "I understand." She responded quietly, absently tapping away on the table. "It's difficult, you know. Having so many responsibilities, lessons, meeting seniors from other kingdoms, advisors." SHe was quiet for several moments. "There's talk of me marrying a prince from a neighbouring kingdom." -
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Post by floruit on Jan 14, 2017 3:50:06 GMT -5
[ CrackedSkel: honestly, in rps like this where the plot is really mutable i just do whatever i feel would be interesting to write about. i don’t have a specific goal in mind as of right now, so i’m pretty open to anything! remiel could slip up around the wrong person and get utterly wrecked, or they could get lucky and get some illegally acquired cash without getting caught. both have potential to be interesting. tbh you can throw in anything you think will make the rp more enjoyable and i’ll probably be down with it as long as i’m not being forced to respond in a certain way. i like getting some surprises in rp! if i wanted to anticipate everything, i wouldn’t write with a partner. i don’t like things where it’s like “alright so your oc has to do this thing now” but that doesn’t happen too often. basically: if you have an idea that seems like it will be fun for both of us to write about, go for it! if you don’t know what to write make it a situation your character cares about and can respond to. ] “I’m sure it is.” Part of her wanted to ask how heavy a burden to bear Sofia’s duties could be if she had enough energy to go out in the dead of night to mess around with magic, but she resisted the temptation. She had said a lot of things recently that could have gotten her stripped of her title and ostracized by other residents of the kingdom if they were received badly. So far the princess had responded to most of them calmly. Still, the knight was nervous about pushing her luck too far. Conla was neither politic nor eloquent. Talking to royals and nobles was something she had avoided up until recently, despite having plenty of chances to speak to them. Someone could misunderstand her, and before she knew it she could lose everything. It was shameful how she feared to speak her mind, but keeping her opinions to herself had rarely harmed her before. “Would the marriage be helpful to you? Having allies who are guaranteed to fight beside you is always helpful.”
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Post by CrackedSkel on Jan 14, 2017 4:12:35 GMT -5
"CHEERS LOVE!"
OOC CHATTER {{ - I understand what you mean by 'your oc has to do this' and I try to be very aware of not doing it, and if i do, please call me out.
I had an idea reading through your post. what if maybe a few weeks in Remiel decides that they want to keep the memories and skills they have learnt and record to a new chip (which they give to Liam again) and maybe something happens and police / other thieves catch wind of what Liam has been doing and they don't like it and they attack and perhaps Remiel gets seriously hurt (though not immediate death) and Liam destroys their chip to them back to wherever they came from to save them from whatever happens during the attack?
would that work?
but for now, perhaps we could have them actally suceed in getting money so that they're a little bit more confident with it? - }}
ROLEPLAY - "It depends on this prince's view on magic, and on me." She pointed out. "If I become just a plaything of his, something for him to parade around, I doubt he will stand at my side." Sofia sat up and started to run a brush through her hair. She didn't like the castle guards, she never did. They were always too nosey, always sticking it in places it didn't belong. It was the main reason that she was caught sneaking in two weeks ago - that and the fact that she had been reckless. Conla, Soifa realised, was different to any of the other bumbling fools who protected her. She tried, and she did so unlike any other guard she had met. In some ways, Conla reminded her of her mouther before she fell ill.
Sofia suddently felt her nose start to burn and tears gathered in her eyes as it once again hit her that her mother was never coming back, and that this was the first time that she had been able to speak clearly about her abilities without the judgement that would come should she speak to anyone else. Conla was nothing like her mother at the same time, but she was here, and she reminded Sofia of the times with her mother and it was like a tidal wave of emotions once more. She let out a quiet sob and buried her head into her hands as she turned away from the knight. -[/font
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Post by floruit on Jan 14, 2017 5:18:08 GMT -5
[ nah you've never done it! you're all good. and that sounds interesting! you can reuse chips as you please unless you damage it, so remiel could just use their old chip. it probably sends out an alert if it gets broken, too. most likely situations and vague outcomes for something like that idea might be: remiel dies and chip is shattered (so if liam tried to talk to them he would find a version of remiel who had no idea who the hell he was), remiel dies but the chip is intact (in which case liam could get them back with all but their most recent memories), or remiel gets survivable injuries and the chip is shattered (which is terrifying because Hello Possible Legitimate Death because their family could always disown them if they found out they were a criminal and a disgrace to the family name, although they could also throw liam directly under the bus and try to fix it later). ]
Oh, this was bad. Had she said something wrong? She hadn’t said more than a few sentences, and suddenly the princess was breaking down in front of her. None of her training had prepared her to deal with this. She was absolutely not equipped to dealing with crying people. Letting her ride it out on her own didn’t seem appropriate, but telling her to push down her emotions and deal with it was indisputably the worse idea. Comforting people who were basically strangers was not something she was remotely good at. “Are you alright, princess? Should I give you a moment to collect yourself?” Conla’s attempt at sounding concerned came out more like awkward and uncomfortable, which was no surprise. She had been caught off guard, and the subdued manner she tried to put on while she was doing her job was crumbling rapidly.
The knight straightened up and moved back to give the woman some space, looking around the room as if she would see instructions on how to handle emotionally distressed royalty scrawled on the walls. No such luck. She was just going to have to figure this out as she went along. “Is there—do you need me to do something? How can I help? Do you want me to leave you alone or stay here?” Asking simple questions as probably the best way to go about this, although asking them one at a time may have been better than saying them all at once.
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Post by вlue вlood on Jan 14, 2017 16:55:54 GMT -5
( ayy been writing when i can't get to sleep haha hopefully it didn't end up too disjointed!! c: )
Faris listened to the stranger with quiet, curious interest. He could tell from both the way he spoke of the woman now and how they'd spoken to each other earlier, that he meant it as one of those funny sorts of affection. Friends, Ivetta had said, which to Faris sounded odd when this man explained that he had worked for her previously, but it wasn't like he was going to question it. He just furrowed his brow in a passing moment of confusion and curiosity. Even he, adept at remembering names, wouldn't have even known those of the vast majority of those who worked his family, only those most prominent, and mostly only those who worked right in the manor house. But the house alone, never mind the entire estate, was also of vast size; for anybody, knowing everyone there would be quite some feat. So he figured the situations weren't really all that comparable.
"Got a better job offer?" he murmured, which was his way of wondering aloud without really asking what he meant. Again, a question to which he didn't really expect an answer. In fact, the most cautious, most sensible part of his mind was telling him that he probably didn't really want to know. Just a intuitive feeling he had. Quite definitely, the feeling that he had landed himself in the very sort of place that his parents had warned him against, with the very sort of people they would tell him not to associate with. However, that meant far less to him now than it did in the past. After all, his parents would also advise against the heir of the estate running away to pursue fanciful dreams of a free life, and yet here he was. For just a moment a thought snagged on his mind: would his parents scorn him for running from the expectations they'd spent twenty-five years teaching him to carry the weight of? Or would they simply be upset? Angry? Running away, he thought, sounded like such a childish notion. So long as he was in that house, the wide hallways and vast rooms he had called home, he would not only be his parents' child, he would in all eyes be a child. It was only out here in the open world where he was, as far as most could know or tell, nobody's child, that that feeling left him. He was an adult. Perfectly capable of making his own decisions in life. Thankfully, the not-worker's questioning pulled him out of his mind, saving him from the downward spiral of over-thinking. He shook his head slightly, as if to physically clear thoughts from it.
"I should think that an untrustworthy person would say the very same," Faris mused in reply, again with a small smile; but in spite of his own words, he - perhaps naïvely - believed the man was speaking honestly. At least in this case. Maybe it was because he had already offered his advice that he felt easier to trust, or maybe the little interrogation was in its own way convincing, if only for its unabashed intensity. Once again he couldn't detect nor imagine any ill-meaning motive the stranger could have. He might trust the guy for whatever arguably insubstantial reasons, but he also got the impression that if he wanted anything from him, it wouldn't be a matter of asking. Maybe he should just accept a good turn of fate where it appeared to have come.
He didn't turn to look back at the stranger until the same moment he fixed his own gaze in return. The meeting of eyes was quite disarming to him, and he could only hold the other man's gaze for what he found an uncomfortably long moment before casing his eyes away again. The cramped quarters of the shop back probably didn't help his tension either. His mind fumbled momentarily as it ordered his answers to these numerous questions into actual response. "Well... For the shop, I suppose that would be the latter - or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it found me, rather than the other way around?" he considered, with the slightest shrug and a moment's glance back. The same word which had crossed his mind when he had stumbled upon the place hovered in the air now, still present, but unsaid. Of course. Some things, trust present between speakers or otherwise, were best left unspoken. He didn't feel any need to elaborate on that answer, anyway. He had a pretty sure feeling, from the way the question was posed, that he would know what Faris meant. "And if this is where things come to disappear, as you put it, then it seems I'm in the right place. The cloak," he continued, hesitating just a second, "is too... conspicuous." He turned back to task again, but slow now, and his eyes flicked back often as he spoke. "That's not what I need right now. And it was heavy, and I have no place to leave it, nor any need to keep it now anyway," he summed up. Okay, so it probably didn't answer the real question, but he had said that he didn't care about what the aristocrats were getting up to. He just asked about the cloak. So that's what Faris answered for, even if it was hardly a satisfying answer for curiosity. He was a bit of a pedant, really.
He picked out a cloak now, turning his full attention back for a moment as he examined the stitching, the material, the sizing. Repaired twice, he should think, but repaired well. Probably one of the older garments there, but the sort of age that suggested durability; the material would do to keep the rain off and enough of the cold out. As had been pointed out to him, nothing here would really compare to what he had given in return, but he would get the best he could. Nor would anything fit as well as what he had owned - the clothes he'd always owned were made with the convenience of money, materials, measurements, time. But that didn't really matter much at this point. "This should do," he decided quietly. Their quiet tones had set a precedent. He shook it out gently with what little space there was in the back of the shop. He'd rather thought the man's offer to help him try anything on was unneeded, until now, when he glanced around himself and was suddenly acutely aware of all the things around them he could possibly knock in to. And he had a feeling Ivetta would not look kindly upon anybody who damaged anything in her shop. Asking for help was not something he was used to so much as simply receiving it, without ever the need for request, and the correct words failed him. Instead, he just made an awkward, sheepish gesture and hoped the meaning would carry across.
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