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The chat's topic is: Carved from the mountainside, the monolithic stronghold looms in silent majesty. [Magic has become inexplicably difficult & draining-see “Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴛᴜʀɴ” post!]
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Visit http://deathstalkerempire.com to join! Also inform Drenai so he can upgrade your membership. [ Description of castle and region may be found here: http://tinyurl.com/os6ec53 ]
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Cазl†Cаdзяуи : wb)
сѧoιмнe : Thanks~]]
Saoirse : mortuary until his new home was ready. Her companion had nodded, and Saoirse smiled brightly and waved to both departing men, though it'd likely only appear she was bidding one farewell. "Women and men as equals? I'd never thought of it," she answered after a moment, her brows knitting with true concern, "But I suppose I've been busy being called a knife-ear and pixie and all sorts of inventive names that I haven't much noticed it was because of my gender." The necromancer paused, delight suddenly coming to her face, and she smiled at Saval, "-That's- why someone called me a "stupid cunt" instead of just stupid! I understand now!" She seemed genuinely relieved, as if it had been a burden on her to not understand -why- someone would call her such a thing, and was significantly happier for it. "I would like to go to the next one, yes, very much! Oh, thank you! I'll try not to move too much. Or make noise. Carrick tells me I'm loud sometimes," she withered a hint at that, <c>
Saoirse : but only because she desperately wanted Carrick to like her. Interesting dancing? Saorise's dark brows rose up high, "Is it a tribal dance they do? I didn't think city humans had much in the way of tribal culture." }
Saoirse : Wb! ))
сѧoιмнe : Thanks! <3]]
ΞSavalΞ : "It does resemble some tribal dances...it is certainly just as primal in its intent." He replied with a chuckle, "Perhaps the best comparison would be certain forms of ritual dance concerned with mating." He said with a chuckle. "Knife ear and pixie, are more racially connected invective, which I find as boorish as the concern some humans have with skin color...after all, as one of my acquaintances once put it...when the candles are out all women look the same." -c-
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ΞSavalΞ : He said with a grin. "If you will excuse me Saoirse, I have an appointment to keep, a house call if you will. It was good seeing you again." He said as he took his satchel from an apprentice and draped its strap across his body. "Until next we meet, may the wind be ever at your back, may the rain fall softly on your fields, and may the sun shine warmly upon your face." He said before he turned and moved off down the street that lead to the high street, whistling a tune,-c-
ΞSavalΞ : which was the story of a beloved doxy as told by her sailors. -d-
ΞSavalΞ : I have to go, but I'll be back later.)
Saoirse : Cool! Have a good one! ))
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Lινια : Welcome home, Cao!))
Lινια : -Fashionably late as always!-))
сѧoιмнe : Thanks Liv <3]]
сѧoιмнe : So I know I just popped in, but I got home from work and realized I need a quick little nap x.x]]
сѧoιмнe : I'll be back in a bit~]]
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ᗪσղղαlly : Yey <3 ))
сѧoιмнe : -snugs the owl!-]]
ᗪσղղαlly : :3 -bffs instantly- ))
сѧoιмнe : -if she remembers?-]]
Ḷeḭtḧ : ..... -stare.....- ]
ᗪσղղαlly : XD ))
ᗪσղղαlly : -derp owl turns back into the girl, Donnally derps and doesnt remember oops- ))
сѧoιмнe : -is ok with this, and understands-]]
сѧoιмнe : -throws a cracker at Leith's head.-]]
Ḷeḭtḧ : -:- Hazel-flecked eyes homed in on the pendant presented to him; his gaze witness to the pendulum like swing to it as his deemed little lover excitedly held it up. The contents within the vial were simplistic but meaningful. A token. At first glance, Leith couldn’t believe the sprightly strumpet was bestowing him with something so … .. precious. Therein the glass pendant, a mahogany feather tipped with cream and wound around a minuscule braid of Donnally’s hair were tucked in with obvious care – - care for him. Fingers were hesitant to take the maiden’s favor but instead of letting her place it into his hand; he instead placed a calloused, larger mitt over hers squeezing her freckled hand. “… thank you…” he said huskily, his eyes brimming with raw emotion. The elder Shadow Raven was still rather discombobulated over it all. He hadn’t received a sweetheart’s token in so -c-
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сѧoιмнe : welcome back~]]
Ḷeḭtḧ : gdmt]
Ḷeḭtḧ : But … .. wait, what if she was just doing this for their friendship? A payment for the kindness he showed toward her as her personal patron? A heaviness struck his heart. This is what happened when you fell in love with a prostitute. Nonetheless, the grizzly bowman wilted forward, running his bewhiskered mouth along the top of the Owlette’s head to show that he was grateful. Whether her feelings for him were true or not – he loved her and nothing would change this fool’s heart. Lightly, he grumbled, “… ..I have something for you as well.” He’d been meaning to give her this gift for some time and reaching into his leather jerkin; he pulled out a mithril bracelet, tied with a red ribbon along the metal. At first, the elder male kissed by fire struggled to speak as he held up the jewelry but eventually found the words amidst his grunts, “Summertime is around the time I -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : DAMNIT]
Ḷeḭtḧ : sweetheart's token in so long.** it broke off LOL]
Ḷeḭtḧ : met you for the first time and while you have no memory of the exact day of your birth – I’d like to think that … .. today would be your birthday in a way.” Gloved, fingerless hands presented the little thing’s wrist with the present; its gleam being caught in the dusky colors of the sunset upon the horizon. The pair of them had decided to meet on the edge of Immortalis city … .. coin had been exchanged for this meeting as Donnally was a well sought after fille de joie {especially as of late, as she had blossomed more in the past year.} It couldn’t be helped. She was a winsome little thing; with wide, cornflower blue eyes and long, mahogany hair. No one else could be compared to her. At least, in Leith’s eyes. The placid ranger now composed himself and let a hand fall through her locks once again. -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : They had the entire evening to do whatever they wanted. You bought what you paid for. But, that’s not how Leith treated the Owlette. He handled her gently {always} and as he stepped forward again, his travel worn boots passed along swards of greenery and he wreathed a strong arm around her petite waistline, his armguard pressing into her backside. “… ..where would the little owlet like to go this evening?” {e}
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Ḷeḭtḧ : welcome]
-Jason- : howdies))
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Aʟᴄʏᴏηε✧Dεαᴛʜsᴛαʟҡεʀ : Oh! If anyone wants to see the prettified version of Alcy, Carrick, and Caoimhe's rp last night, it's on the forum as "The Dream: Primordial Crossroads" 😀 ))
Ḷeḭtḧ : buwahahah]
ᗪσղղαlly : -hooos and reads- ))
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ᗪσղղαlly : Sorry I have been slow, Leith ;~~; focusing here D< ))
Ḷeḭtḧ : just making sure, net was wonky]
Ḷeḭtḧ : shhhh -pets-]
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Ḷeḭtḧ : welcome]
Ĵäɱɛș : Thank you )
ᗪσղղαlly : -{ The time had come to present her little token to the stoical Leith, and oddly, Donnally found herself feeling a twist of swirling butterflies making sport of her insides! Would he like it, would he really? Well! All she could do was find out, huh? She’d examined the simple token several times splayed out between her cupped palms, closing her fingers around it, then instantly flicking her freckled fingers open again to *just* be sure of it again! Okay, well, it was time to meet with her idolized, grumbly, gruff ranger! Although Leith compensated Donnally for her time that day with coin, in her mind she saw it as the key to allowing them to just enjoy themselves together (though she had no concept of how Leith might interpret it or find doubt now and then).  >>
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ᗪσղղαlly : Though, younger, and with a less than traditional set of experiences in life, she could be naïve in some things (okay, many). When she flit before the older, looming ranger, she didn’t see the intimidating figure to slightly skirt around like others might who didn’t know him, but the freckled lass felt a rise of exhilaration and hurried his way quicker. His scarred face and rough-edged appearance were interpreted to her cornflower gaze as dear traits about someone she utterly admired and..— thoughts broke! She collided into him while tossing her slim arms around him like little, speckly vines. “Leith!” She happily hooted his name. “Oh..!” Then hopped back a step and… well, was there a more artful way to present a gift to him? Most likely, but she just jut her arm out and dangled the token before him on it’s leather string, so the little, clear vial on the end dangled and swung. Inside, yes, there had been the one tawny owl feather, and the minute little wind of a braid with it. >>
ᗪσղղαlly : “You don’t have to wear if you don’t like it but I mean I thought it’d be nice to imagine, well, being with you anywhere! And… and a reminder to you I think of you!” she poured out her cheerful declaration in a rush. Her eager eyes rounded and fixed to his often reserved, (almost) unchanging expression. After the time they’d spent together, though, Donnally felt as though the nuances in his demeanor and body language were now as plain as someone else’s words. His touched expression (perhaps seeming detached to someone else who was not familiar with him) stirred relief and happiness in that bubbly, buoyant lass, and she was beaming a smile before she even realized it. “Ohh! You’re welcome!” She managed in oddly short reply, but he’d surely catch the bit of breathless excitement in her tone (to perhaps justify why she’d not babbled on in her usual way). >>
ᗪσղղαlly : Leith followed with an affectionate kiss to her brow, tickling and itching her skin with his beard’s whiskers – she hooted a small laugh, closing one eye over her slanting grin. Leith then spoke of a memory and…. And a gift for her, too…? It was his recollection that struck her the deepest, though, and she felt as though the soles of her beige little boots were suddenly stuck to the ground beneath them. No, Donnally did not know her own birthday, nor her family’s name, how many siblings she had, her parents nicknames – it was all lost to the jarring toss of the fae curse upon herself and, well, however it befell her kin. She might meet them one day and not know them for who they were whatsoever, or they could have been killed. Her end of the curse was to unpredictably become bound in feathers as an owl, for equally unpredictable stretches of time. The longer she was trapped as an owl, the harder it was to retain memories, for the owl’s brain was not suited to a human’s concerns >>
ᗪσղղαlly : or capacity. It had been a cruel joke in the fae’s retribution, for whatever had offended them so: the girl would say ‘Who? Who?’ as an owl, and likely would forget who she was. Indeed, ‘who?’ The first shift into the form of a tawny owl had lasted the longest, so between the time and inexperience, she lost everything except for ‘Donnally.’ As grim as it all seemed, she had also unconsciously retained more of herself, too: buoyant personality. Whatever hardship came, it was like a storm to a buoy, she might toss and turn and even go under for short times, but she always floated right back up. She did not dwell on negative things, or woes, or ‘what ifs,’ she tended largely to live in the present. Maybe that had been an unrealized survival tactic through the unfortunate events. For her now, the present was time with Leith, and he was first of all endeared to her for the token she had made for him, and more significantly to the young thing, he had thought of her in a way as though >>
ᗪσղղαlly : to give something back to her from her history, or rather, to craft a new piece to her own history: a birthday. She stared transfixed at the bracelet, as though it were the grandest thing she’d ever seen (and in symbolic ways, aside from its aesthetic loveliness, it was). “I have a birthday…” she mused aloud in a distant, dreamy sort of way, as if she were given a part of her name back, or reminded of something priceless that had been lost. In a way, though, despite the imagination of it, wasn’t that what he had done? “Will you celebrate it with me again next year? And! And maybe the year after?” She inquired as suddenly as the hopeful questions sprouted in her mind, colliding into his side and wreathing an arm around his back again as they took to walking side by side away from the city’s exciting boisterousness. Leith’s leather-clad arm rounded about her smaller figure, too, and while nestled close, they ambled on. >>
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ᗪσղղαlly : “Thank you, Leith… it’s the best thing I have ever been given…” she cooed. The bracelet? A birthday? Maybe she meant both. But either way, she was wrong. The best thing she’d ever *actually* received was the unintentionally forfeited heart of a stoical, gruff ranger. “Show me the summer flowers and herbs? I want to see if I remember them again!” She transitioned with what she might want to do that day. Leith did try to teach her about signs and practices one could take in nature for survival, though it didn’t *always* stick. Meanwhile, she could surprise him on occasion with observations about hunting she learned from her times trapped as an owl. <d> }-
ᗪσղղαlly : wb! ))
Jαƌϵ : thanks )
Lινια : Welcome home!))
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Ḷeḭtḧ : -:- Dubious thoughts were a frequent visitor within Leith’s mind; like an irritating weed that refused to be fumigated. And yet, the dour individual would continue to act as the exuberant youth’s shadow {as long as she desired his patronage.} It was a bittersweet relationship; on both ends. One day, he could simply just decide to stop visiting her or she could resolve to just not receive his company anymore. There were many broken paths to this … .. whatever they could call it. Friendship? Relationship? Partners? Paramours? Lovers? Humankind had many monikers for what the pair of them were. In the weathered bowman’s mind – she was his little love, she was … .. his Donnally.  OPFFT! She collided into him, causing him to grumble in salutations to her, his rough fingers splaying into those dark locks of hair. Had they met outside of the city; what would have life been like for them? Would she have even given him a second -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : glance or – sensitive ears heard the fille de joie accidentally brush up against his coin purse and again; he felt that baggage of reality weighing heavily upon him again. He flinched. Chime. Chime. Chime. Deciding not to acknowledge that, he dove into the silvery fantasy that Donnally was now delving willfully in with him –  a wide smile upon her freckled face as she stared up at him, cornflower blues alit with elation at his mere presence. How could she be so happy to see him all the time? Was it the coin? He always asked himself this question. The coin was the root of all this but his facet never once betrayed him as his thoughts were made to be obfuscated from the youth who now stared up at him with such affection. Or was it for his money? Again, he felt his heart throb with pain. Shifting away from his discomfiture, he finally allowed himself to succumb to the -c-
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Ḷeḭtḧ : illusion. And now, a mirthful Donnally hooted her patron’s name, hopping back from his side – sticking out that willowy arm of hers canvased in earthy freckles; presenting him her gift. How eager she appeared to be as she held up her token, letting it dangle freely within her small grasp. Cheerily, she declared in a rush that he didn’t have to wear if he didn’t like it. Simply, he stared at the young thing. His cryptic demeanor may not have been so easily solved by others, but the jaunty lass {having known him as long as she had}; saw through those opaque layers he guarded himself with and beamed with delight upon seeing a spark of emotion within Leith’s detached eyes. He did not detest the gift. No. He adored it. Although, while his mien remained abstruse – his latest actions and husky words to the bouncing fille de joie held a different meaning {and she knew this.} What had him -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : surprised, however, was when she didn’t become loquacious after thanking him. Usually, she’d babble on like a non-stop brook – clinging to him as she spoke about her day or spoke about her new friend, Kioren. Hah … .. that bastard elf had no place in Leith’s thoughts tonight {or really any night, frankly.} The ranger wouldn’t allow himself to be overcome with such jealousy and instead, veered his mind towards a happier note with Donnally – presenting her his own gift: a mithril bracelet lined with a red ribbon. The strumpet and patron never questioned about their pasts with one another. Because on the nights where they were allowed to meet – they carved out their own memories and Leith wanted to make as many happy memories as he could for the fae-cursed owlet. It really had been cruel for the Woodlands to decide such a fate for her but if he hadn’t gone into the Shadow Ravens when a youth and she -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : hadn’t been fallen to her malediction … .. the two of them wouldn’t have ever likely met. So, despite how fiendish reality was both – Leith was wordlessly grateful for the time he could spend with Donnally {even if it cost him on his own coin for him to see her.} And while reality would continue to be a cruel mistress to both – never once did the buoyant lass let her grim situation of her past dictate her personality or her present actions. Ever was she cheerful and that was what drew many people {including patrons … .. Leith as well} to her. She was a lively spirit in an otherwise dark world to others who wanted to forget whatever circumstances haunted them in current and previous lives. That was what made her popular: her warmth, her smiles, her kindliness. And in presenting the bracelet to Donnally – the male wondered what she would think of it. However, he didn’t need to ponder long for she mused aloud in a distant, dreamy sort way that she had a birthday and Leith affirmed it -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : was to both**]
Ḷeḭtḧ : once again by grumbling affectionately at her. What caught him off-guard now was when she suddenly inquired if he would celebrate it with her next year and maybe the year after that if he so desired to do such with her. …. .. really? Seriously? For a time, he only stared at the girl, his hazel-flecked eyes directed towards her face. He couldn’t just stand there stupidly and not say anything, but ever she was patient with him and as he opened his mouth to speak, she now collided into his side – thanking him in a delighted coo. Instead of giving her a verbal answer; he wreathed his arm firmer around her petite body and began to amble down one of the various worn paths that led out into the forest, encasing her in his cloak to warm her from the developing chill of the evening. “… ..do you remember that one?” He’d raise a gloved hand towards a yellow wildflower on -c-
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Ḷeḭtḧ : wb]
сѧoιмнe : Thanks!]]
Ḷeḭtḧ : the offhand side of the trade route. The flower’s name was ‘arrowleaf’ but he wondered if the little thing would recollect it as well. Subtly, he gave her a hint by tapping at the back of his quiver of arrows before then letting his hand fall back down at his side. While his countenance remained with that one-ever facial expression; his eyes said differently and he somewhat parted from her to go pick at one of the various flowers from its stem. His hands, rough as they were, were delicate in handling the flower as he proceeded to twist it, eventually coming to place the flora gingerly into the sprightly nymph’s mahogany hair, tucking those stray strands about her eyes loosely behind her ear. “… ….each season.. things die… but they always come back, because that is their cycle. Each year that you have birthday – I will come back to see you, as long as you allow it … .. little owl.” Cupping the side of her face tenderly, he wilted and came to place his lips briefly against hers -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : before then coming to draw back. A pause came, his voice errant and husky as he spoke his inquiry towards the bobbing girl, “… shall I take you to the highest point I know then… ..? The stars are vast in that area of the Woodlands..” Grabbing her little hand again, he gripped it tightly and began to guide her forth towards the path he knew that wasn’t forged by man ... but by his knowledge of the forest. There were a variety of sounds which inhabited woodlands during the day; the occasional crunch of leaves or sticks by a deer, an overly twittering bird, a brook with the gentle sounds of water lapping against pebbles – even a pack of foxes were playing amidst the bushes nearby. It was an area full of life, untouched by humans and filled to the brim with creatures of the unknown. Had Leith and Donnally given up their lives in the city … .. what type of life would they live out here? As soon as the sun set, the shadows moved amongst the trees, creating an array of color. Golds, -c-
Ḷeḭtḧ : purples, and oranges painted themselves against the sky until the atmosphere above began to dim, leaving way for the stars to emerge. {e}
ᗪσղղαlly : -slow ass owl stops flying into a wall and resumes writing- ))
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ᗪσղղαlly : wb ))
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Ḷeḭtḧ : -pets Donnally-]
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сѧoιмнe : welcome back~]]
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Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Welcome )
Jεδïŧε : Thanks)
ᗪσղղαlly : -{ Leith had assured her that he’d adored the token she bought and tailored for him, not as much through words but through his expressions and attentiveness. His grumbles to her ears were euphonic, rumbling with affection and thoughtfulness that she was glad and eager to find any day she could… their schedules sometimes were difficult, what with her own evenings sometimes slotted to other men by The Syndicate, and Leith sometimes gone for days while doing whatever rangers did (neither pried, and of course she couldn’t know he was a Shadow Raven, or else the subterfuge of that disguised role for the Empire would be compromised). She stared with a slight round to her mouth while Leith seemed dumbstruck by something – gazing back down at her, hints of thought and shadows of confusion lurking behind the stoicism of his fire-torn mien. Tension tightened behind his expression, while hers remained airily light, waiting as she always would. His thoughts to her were prized, aside from >>
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ᗪσղղαlly : the lass near hero worshipping Leith, he was older, and always seemed to have some better way of looking at the world than she did, and she appreciated what kernels of experience he’d share. His contemplations were usually kinder toward her, too; praising, encouraging, or understanding. Did passersby who misjudged Leith for his warp of facial scars and gruff appearance think to find such a diamond in the rough? They continued their walk, though, as Leith’s thoughts remained his own while they took their time to develop and grow to a more acceptable crop. Soon they resumed their outdoor schooling, as Leith pointed out a type of flower… she stared, syllables floating around in her mind hinting at what it was, but never congealing into one, whole word to clasp at. “Leaf… um.. spearleaf… uh no… “ she mused aloud, then followed his gestured hint back toward his quiver. “Arrowleaf!” she chirped immediately after. >>
ᗪσղղαlly : Leith plucked up one of the flowers, careful and nimble to place it amid her mahogany hair, secured near her speckled ear. “Arrow….. Leith! That’s how I’ll remember it, I think. Leith and arrows – I think this is my favorite flower now!” she suddenly decided on a cheery whim for the association. While he still stood with his calloused hands near a shoulder and her jawline, he finally replied regarding her future birthdays to come. Her breaths steadily deepened, and when Leith wilted to press a fleeting kiss to her mouth, she held on for a moment longer, clasping his shoulders to urge for just a little more. She’d forgotten her birthday through the fae-curse, and he’d given her a new one; and more, he promised to return to her for every one to come as long as she would have him. He had offered more of her humanity back to her that had been lost to the curse’s strange style of dementia, there weren’t really valuable enough words to give to explain what it all had meant to her. >>
ᗪσղղαlly : He could believe it was merely the play on the silvery fantasy a fille de joie would weave for a patron, but she didn’t even consider that as a possibility in her candidly moved moments with the gruff ranger. To his next suggestion, she nodded, took his hand, and away they went, trekking beyond path and sign of civilization, until the sky opened up at a height, awash in starlight. <d> }-
ᗪσղղαlly : -owl flies off a cliff- ))
Ḷeḭtḧ : NOOOOO]
Ḷeḭtḧ : i mean -grumbles-]
Ḷeḭtḧ : -flies off with-]
Ḷeḭtḧ : thank you for the amazing rp, as usual]
ᗪσղղαlly : Yay same <3 ))
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Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : MY TURN ]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : TOOTS]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : -smacks her rear-]
Lινια : -Stares off with a look of fright, wondering what she will re- NEVERMIND!))
Lινια : -Takes up her popcorn again-))
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : ... ]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : Welp. -draws on spiritual contracts and... well, blasts Carrick into a ceiling with a deluge of ghosts. Hairflips, checks manicure. Woke up this way. ]
сѧoιмнe : -emulates-]]
сѧoιмнe : -did not wake up this way-]]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : Buahahahahaha yass, Carrick loses his mind oops ]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : LOL ]
Rħeŧŧ·Åıyłāř : -smiles and says nothing- )
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Lινια : -Messes Ophelia's hair up-))
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : ................................. ]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : ....]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : -sets Livia on fire-]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : Man, I figured you'd just step out of the way so I could seek my righteous revenge, but that works, thanks wretch 😎 ]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : Only I can fuck with my woman]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : ok... that]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : wait]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : -sighs and bribes officials- )
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : don't]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : that]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : DON'T COMMENT ON THAT]
сѧoιмнe : -emphasizes *fuck*-]]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : -just preening smugly off to the side- ]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Got nothing to add )
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : You're doing well enough yourself 😀 )
Lινια : I look away for 15 minutes...))
Lινια : I suppose thank you for setting me on fire. Helps to counter how wet your woman makes me.))
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : Ohh -hairflipping intensifies- ]
Lινια : Lawl.))
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : .... urgh]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : COME ALONG, WRETCH! TIME TO POST! ]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : -[ Carrick, Ophelia, and their servant Ada had gone to the city market that day, later in the afternoon (…after all, Carrick had slept in fucking late, and even when he woke, he was a groggy, disoriented shit… and, well, … while she wouldn’t say so, she empathized with his pains during the height of the afternoon sun, and therefore feigned a preference to go out later anyway). Per usual, polished and preening Ophelia had dragged her cousin from expensive window to financially-destructive window (trimmed so nicely in gold!) for a shopping excursion, treating him like an accessory. Was he a purse today, or a cloak? She’d even asked him indirectly while she, out loud, pretended to contemplate the concept, tapping a manicured nail against one tawny cheek before purposefully turning just as his cantankerous reaction started >>
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : -++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : sorry T.T )
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : to wind up. She ignored him, pretending she heard nothing while he huffed and fumed and generally drew in an ominous atmosphere about his person to all other passersby. The only, *only* reaction she gave (to goad him all the more), was a casual brush of her umber locks across one cinnamon shoulder while he followed behind. Huff huff huff. Her wretch was extra grouchy that day, wasn’t he? A slow, bronzy glance shifted subtly back, hoping he’d not notice. She worried about him, though it’d hardly show in how she acted like he wasn’t there and she only deigned to endure him in the market that day. That was how they were, though, chasing and fleeing with their yin and yang synergy; antagonistic allies, devoted wholly to one another. That said, Ophelia abandoned Carrick. The tawny witch had a terrible sense of direction, truly suffering where spatial intelligence was concerned – something that seemed to frequently manifest with those who bore stronger intelligences in other areas. >>
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : For Ophelia, despite the airs she thoroughly enjoyed playing up as some sycophantic socialite, her genius lay in the complicated nuances of spiritmancy. Eidolic lore and communications were often foreign and difficult for the corporeal, but this was her niche. As was annoying (and loving) the ever-loving enmity (still love) out of Carrick. And naturally spending on fashionable (expensive as hell) goods. She was the reason they could have (and not have) nice things. Yes, Ophelia timed when she would slip away to a moment Carrick happened to glance away, meanwhile Ada had seen it all and said nothing, as was the servant’s awkward way. A gratified curve rose in the right corner of her crimson-painted mouth with a quiet snicker, and away Ophelia had vanished into the crowds, unafraid of becoming lost, and undoubtedly she would lose her way as quickly as she set it. Being one of the prestigious Vaskaris-trained mages, dubbed The Ethereal Dove once she completed the core of her >>
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : education, she had a confidence in herself, a self-assurance, that it did not matter where she was, she would be well. As she would ensure it to be so (whether or not that would always hold true, it was easy for a mage’s mind to draw such lines to follow). Thus, the Vaskaris Dove wandered on, admiring finer clothing, and privately scorning the gaudy kind, until night fell, and the lanterns of the Night Market illuminated. How long had she been away from her tetchy paramour and their servant? The longer the better, as he would be more frayed for it, and the contention to follow would be – despite their airs – undeniably enjoyable to both, functional as they were as healthy adults (…..k). Since parting from Carrick and Ada, Ophelia had gained a small parcel or two during chance shopping. Perhaps an accessory (to replace Carrick? Never, but she might say so!), or a new rouge. She trusted Carrick to find her eventually, or, they’d run into each other as the strings about their >>
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : dark fates often cinched. <d> ]-
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Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : welcome ]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Welcome )
Яoىә : hi))
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Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Ever joyful was the Reverie to be home within the comforts of the City. Ilalia would always hold a warm spot within the cockles of his heart. As it was what he had known for the many long years of his life. But he had seen, and experienced nearly every memory those stones held and more a thousand times. Immortalis was ever changing, ever beautiful, and for one whose art was to experience the joys, sorrow, and revelations within the stones man carved to protect themselves from the world. Change was a sirens song that called him to chronicle and adorn his shelves with ever increasing tomes of history, that he felt he alone would have the pleasure to share with the world. When ever relevant or desired. But of course, such leisurely strolls through the City would not be complete without a stroll the the mecca of activity within those man made walls. The Markets, at night the environment changed. If one could consider the Market a living and breathing thing, then it most certainly +
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Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : was a child of Gemini, it was Dulcet, and docile during the daylight hours, then at night, it was exoitic spice, with a touch if enigma. It was a Dynamic that the Reverie quite enjoyed whenever he saw fit to Visit his home away from home. He had not been in Immortalis an entire day, and there he was. His servant long dismissed to see to the cleaning, and preparations of his home. He enjoyed the Market from noon, till this moment at night. Fate, whom was often times as fickle as Ophelia would often see fit to thrust the boon of kin and kith upon his shoulders. (Even if he had hoped for time upon his own to 'prepare' for interaction with the others.) Nhyliss, whose disposition reflected the name he was granted was prone to spending a great deal of time upon his works, lost within the daydream, yet never losing his desire to chase the light and see the world as a radiant beautiful thing. As if staged, as his hand tenderly caressed a yet formed crystal, the visage of Ophelia +
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Aʟᴄʏᴏηε✧Dεαᴛʜsᴛαʟҡεʀ : welcome, everyone ))
Harrison_ONeill : <<Yo>>
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : distorted and multiplied by peering through the hazy rose colored quarts brought a small smile to his lips. which had him placing the Crystal down and allowing his dark eyes to pleasantly view the form of his Cousin. (As mirthful thoughts of the world being unable to handle more then one Ethereal Dove filled his mind.) Which was then joined by the warmth of his voice which resounded in its beautiful ethnicity within the confines of a space walled on either side by the living. " If there is a Goddess of fortune, then providence has landed me unexpectedly this day upon your path " he presented himself more forwardly, so that he was not hidden by the constant movement. " Hello Lady Ophelia. " Then expectantly he peered over her shoulder for one whom, despite his callous demeanor Nhyliss was ever joyful to be in the company of, that of course being Carrick, yet to his disappointment he was nowhere to be seen. " How does the Dove fair this evening? " -end-
сѧoιмнe : || Newly out of her element, Dream wandered. She wasn’t particularly well. Given that the translation from dream sphere to the well-hidden realm she currently resided in had a crushing anti-magic pact, she was reduced to a husk of her former self. It required magic to spin clothing from an imagined loom, fabricate sustenance from thin air, or any of the other tasks she’d taken for granted in the past. However, the perspective was refreshing. Caoimhe hadn’t really ever found -c
сѧoιмнe : herself wanting for something, and the experience of cold, hunger, fatigue… well, they left her feeling quite -human.- She wasn’t exactly fond of the feeling, but she was decidedly more inclined to empathize with dreamers in want. In regard to her appearance— it was, well, a bit shabby. Draped in a sheer cloak that hung over emaciated shoulders and kept her hidden beneath its strange inky fabric, Dream seemed strangely comfortable with her lack of under-pinnings (or anything, -c
сѧoιмнe : or that matter), which would have been remarkably in-human. All the same, the cloak concealed bone-white flesh. It was suction wrapped over weak muscles and sharp joints. Her features were gaunt, sleepless eyes dark in the hollows of her skull. Her lips would have been dry -like parchment- though drawn in a comfortable, pleasant smile. As uncomfortable as she appeared, Caoimhe’s interest was piqued. Long, wild raven hair fell to either side of sharp cheek bones, obscuring some -c
сѧoιмнe : of their edge and emphasizing the nearly-translucent pallor of her skin. She’d wished silently that she’d have thought to dream up some necessities before being pulled through Alcyone’s portal. Then again, Caoimhe been far too interested in both, her mental recollections and then Carrick’s interjection. It was understandable that she’d forgotten to pack for the trip. Who knew when you might stumble into a mana-starved realm? Certainly not Dream. It was Destiny’s job to know -c
сѧoιмнe : such things, and her elder brother did not often fill her in on the details of her journeys before they played out. (“It changes the outcome of things.” his dogged, ancient voice reminded her.) The Nighttime Market of Immortalis was boisterous around her, air thick with foreign scents and sounds. Dream had yet to experience this realm through the closed eyes of its inhabitants, so bearing witness first hand had its perks. She supposed. Aside from not having had the chance to -c
сѧoιмнe : sink her hands into anyone’s subconscious to gain a bit of footing with the city, things were fairly straightforward. Navigation, while physically cumbersome and lumbering, was easier here than in the stars. So that was something. Drawing in a punctuated breath, Caoimhe settled for walking through the throng of shoppers and vendors. It was notoriously creepy to linger in the shadows and people watch, as oft noted in people’s nightmares. So Dream assimilated, doing her best to-c
сѧoιмнe : blend in. (And likely failing tragically.) ||
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Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : going to be slow]
сѧoιмнe : It's all good. <3]]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : Shit. Those honeyed, diabetic notes were picking up again; purposely cloying at him – seeking some sort of reaction from the irascible evoker. Ophelia Vaskaris, as usual, was successful in causing the older Vaskaris to become fermented at her courtly antics and open philandering [especially towards random men in the street in passing as he carried those STUPID bags of hers.] Not like Ada Peebly, their personal servant, would provide succor anyway as she was ahead of their little group; turning left or right, or doing zigzags down shortcuts she knew throughout Immortalis city. The stone-faced maid, actually, was a private guide for Ophelia whenever she went out as the sycophant had a terrible sense of direction. Alright, no sense of direction. Snicker. [c]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : Just the thought alone about her shortcomings made the pallid mage grin impishly behind the bags upon bags and boxes he was FORCED to carry in this horrid outing into the Night Market. Yeah, he was crankier than usual today and his kin was immediate to notice this; deliberately goading him whenever she had the chance. He’d react with a huff or an outright callous imprecation – slouching forward as inky robes dragged along smooth cobblestones. This shopping excursion was exhausting to him and as he huffed and fumed about; there was also a feeling of contentment to all of this. His toils within the tower kept him up late at night [especially as of recent.] Huff, huff, HUUUUFF! Cheeks filled with air, [c]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : celadon optics narrowing at those ethnic, smoky raw sienna eyes of hers when she dare glance over her shoulder at him. Had he been able to flip her off with a gloved hand – he would have likely done so … … but then again – he felt satisfied just being able to be in her presence. She was that breath of fresh air for him and knew, just KNEW; the reason why they were wandering about in the Night Market was because she knew of his intolerance of the sun and feign it as she might – that cunt cared about him – loved him, even – shut the fuck up, we’re not touching this subject. And now, it was as he was taking a break by dropping her stupid shit [c]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : to the ground that he turned his attentions to a little café known for its sweets. “Oi, Ophelia – “ his asperous voice called to her, “do you want to get so--- …..” Auric sensory tugged at him. She wasn’t near him. His neck now snapped towards Ada who stood there with her hands neatly folded in front of her. “ -- - where the fuck is the wench?” He leered at the maid and she simply blinked back at him, unaffected by the daunting stature of the archmage as he approached her – not giving a single fuck about those bags [okay, kind of they were neatly piled off to the side now … … the carriage incident was not going to be repeated … he was a walking contradiction, swear to the fucking Gods.] [c]
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Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : welcome )
Aʟᴄʏᴏηε✧Dεαᴛʜsᴛαʟҡεʀ : welcome ))
Ilztas_Arkenett : Ty)
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : ‘She went off by herself and ordered me not to tell you.’ The answer was monotone, eyes creepily unblinking as she stared at her pissed off master. “I … I AM THE ONE WHO PAYS YOU SALARY – FOLOW MY ORDERS, NOT HERS---” – ‘But she’s nicer to me.’ – “I don’t give a fuck who is NICER – urrrrgh, STAY HERE – watch our stuff. DON’T let anyone steal it. If the hour grows later, summon the estate’s carriage and just go home; you’ll know where we are.” With that, Carrick dismissed himself from Ada’s presence rather filled with huffy ire – purposely stomping his booted feet along the road as he endeavored to search for his kin’s auric presence. What made him stop, however, was a somewhat familiar feminine silhouette in the distance. Sandy aka Dream. [c]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : “YOU! Help me find my cousin! It’s your favor to me for the other day. Just, fucking, HELP me.” Not like he had the authority to boss this random newcomer around but he was desperate at this point to find the Ethereal Dove, his thin lips framing into a frown. “….. ….. please.” He ground his teeth, seething. He LOATHED having to ask others for help. And if she agreed to come along – he’d be grateful and if she didn’t want to, well, then he’d just move on. Down, down the dimly lit street he sauntered – studious celadon eyes searching every nook and cranny he felt Ophelia’s presence in. She wasn’t THAT far, thankfully; for Kira’s evanescent presence appeared to Carrick seemingly out of nowhere informing the warlock that the tawny witch was near. “Goddamn, woman --- -- I …” he’d pause, feeling another presence beyond hers. It was a Vaskaris; one of their [c]
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Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Welcome home good sur )
Aʟᴄʏᴏηε✧Dεαᴛʜsᴛαʟҡεʀ : wb! ))
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : kin. He tried to surmise who it was but instead of standing there like an idiot, he pushed himself into the area where the honeysuckle had lost herself. Oh. Look. It was Nhyliss. Their cousin. Nostrils flared at the ophidian soothsayer as she appeared to be speaking with this fellow member of their family. He disdained their family but he actually sort of liked Nyhliss [not that he’d ever admit it – shut up.] “OPHELIA!” Ah, there it was – those cacophonous vocals of his making a scene as Carrick trumpeted on over to his kin; announcing his presence to her. The yin and yang would always find each other… but this time… the mage brought along some female company with him. How was Ophelia going to react to that? Immediately, he’d burst out, “IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THNIK! SHE WAS IN THE EMPRESS’S AND MINE’S DREAM AND – UGH … ER… ….. …..” he realized he hadn’t exactly explained why the hell his sleep was such shit lately and WHY he was so grumpy. This literally sounded so wrong and he was [c]
Oran : tyty))
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : only digging himself a further hole. "... ... Hello Nhyliss. Good to see you." And now, the Nova Warden prepared himself against the deluge of spirits that were about to rise against him no doubt sending him into the nearest carriage coming around the corner. [e]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : OK, my bad that was so long. I was trying to bring everyone together.]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : DEFINITELY will post shorter]
сѧoιмнe : <3]]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : (Grumpier than usual you mean XD )
сѧoιмнe : I appreciate your efforts.]]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : hah yeah]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : -[ During Ophelia’s time on her own, she had of course spent some coin, acquired expensively dainty things, and coquettishly befriended a pair of young noblemen along the way, who were not as good at hiding their licentious interests, which a sycophant like Ophelia could prey upon, even if simply for fleeting attention before discarding their rapt and hopeful devotions. One of them spoke something about poetry, trying to play the romantic intellectual type. Something something flowers. Something something beauty. The Dove naturally feigned her fascination with practiced subtlety enough to be believable (what imperial courtier could keep their place in the vicious, smiling seas at court if not? It was the highest game of subterfuge, after all, and she reveled in it). It’d been enough to have the other ‘casually’ compete and buy her some strand of jewelry she had ‘coyly’ flickered her bronzy eyes at a time or two, until >>
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : that competing second nobleman thought it his own idea to surprise the cinnamon-skinned noblewoman with it. “You really shouldn’t have, but it’s gorgeous!” Ophelia had preened with a pinch of sheepish surprise to season her tone while admiring the silvery strand against her wrist. She, playing flattered and interested, meandered about with these two noblemen for a time, but eventually had realized the hour and felt an urgency to depart to tend to evening requirements – she was so sorry, it was lovely to spend time with them each, subtle wink, fingertips trickling down across her lips before they rose to send away the suggestion of a kiss with her refined wave. Then, Ophelia exit stage……. Wherever she was. Left, right? Yeah, left, to wherever-this-is in the Night Market. When Ophelia had turned, initially she was unaware she had been caught in the fractal cut of a gem that Nhyliss had held – and truth told, >>
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : he likely didn’t expect for the stone to become some scrying crystal ball, showing visions of his near future to him. Alas, the Vaskaris mages had crossed paths, the geomancer catching sight and realization of the spiritmancer’s presence first. In this throng of people, it was more difficult to detect the subtle, familiar filigrees of another Vaskaris’s magical signatures, more so with the dampening on magic in the world in recent times. Carrick was more skilled at that extrasensory detection than she ever would be. So when raw sienna eyes lifted, it was by physical sight alone that she discovered… “Nhyliss, take care, for gods and devils trade misfortune for prosperity.” She teased at his kindly salutation while approaching the scholarly mage. Nhyliss was one of the kindest of the Vaskaris mages, rivaled only by Wren. The rest of them? Psychotic maniacs, really. Polished psychos, anyway. Hairflip. “It’s good to see you,” she commented >>
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Oran : FUCK ME!))
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : wb. Stay awhile and listen! ]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : -gets the lube...- I mean welcome back )
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : ....]
сѧoιмнe : -shoves sandy fingers in his brain-]]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : lmfao ]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : omg, where the fuck is this going]
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : lube and sand and omg i'm out]
сѧoιмнe : He didn't say where.]]
Oran : it's so sweet and yet so frightening!))
сѧoιмнe : -mindfuck'd-]]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : Bahahaha ]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Chris Angel )
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Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : welcome ]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Welcome )
Krush_BloodHammer : ty))
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : welcome!]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : next, her gravelly contralto bearing less of her usual, sycophantic honey. She noticed the geomancer, dubbed The Reverie when he gained the right to a Vaskaris mage title, glance beyond her shoulder, and seamlessly she replied in casual demeanor, “I abandoned him earlier, he’ll turn up eventually.” The latter words fostering a trickster’s brief grin. “As for myself, I’m quite satisfied with the day and with life in general,” she crooned, seeming as a satisfied feline. “Yourself? How go your studies and travels? How long are you in Immortalis again?” While she spoke, though, the spiritmancer, who specialized in the study of incorporeal beings, felt the warm trace of intuition up the back of her neck, trailed by the more familiar chill and subtly raised small hairs. Something curious was here, leastwise to someone so deeply delved into her niche study. Mage filigree shimmering about their veiled auras was one thing, and Carrick was far better at finding those than herself, but >>
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Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : something distinctly born of spirit and incorporeal origins – these chimed like distant, small silver bells to Ophelia. But… where? The crowd in the Night Market muddied the origin – and really, in such a metropolis, and in a busy place as the capital’s marketplace, there were often little murmurs of incorporeal things. What else truly jarred the sense of who and where, was the fact that the source – Caoimhe – was walking among them in corporeal figure. Did Ophelia know Dream? No, not directly, not beyond some esoteric summary in some tome or two, at any rate. The poltergeist that haunted in Ophelia’s wake, bound to her in a mutually beneficial contract, had wafted nearer to the gaunt figure of a woman. Kira, the ghost of a murdered Vaskaris mage, was now naught but an ethereal fog, whose silhouette never wholly remained visible, even to those with ‘the sight’ to even realize her existence. The monochromatic mist of a woman hovered then hung nearby to Caoimhe, >>
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : meledeh ]
Ʌlαυпєуl : meledeh ))
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Welcome home )
Ʌlαυпєуl : Fanks. ))
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Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : welcome home]
Ilztas_Arkenett : Hi sexy drow-lady!))
Saoirse : Thanks boss! -moves quills when he's not looking.- ))
Ʌlαυпєуl : Lol hey. ))
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : -SCREEEAMS-]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : which helped mark where Ophelia wished to look. Bronzy eyes turned toward the gaunt, pallid woman, curious of her, with a sense of indistinguishable déjà vu.  When she realized she’d been staring, she now owed the due of at least greeting the woman. “Good evening. Care to join my cousin Nhyliss and myself? Call me Ophelia,” and she extended a hand to offer in salutatory offering – for a handshake if the newcomer would. Kira shivered her existence suddenly inward, just before Carrick bellowed his own grumpy (relieved) discovery of Ophelia. Away Kira dissipated, hiding behind some mossy, greased barrel in a dingy alleyway no doubt. Ghosts seemed to seek out these most isolated places, and sometimes foolhardy and curious people, ill-equipped to their tasks, purposefully ghost-hunted in such locations. For now, though, that spirit was safe. "Ah, my ever graceful cousin, Carrick." She offered in harassing introduction, tone steeped in honey. >>
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : open scene in the Night Market atm. Ophelia, Nhyliss, Caoimhe, Carrick ]
Saoirse : Wee~ ))
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Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : trolol, you hairflipped them the fuck out )
сѧoιмнe : hahahaha]]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : XD ]
сѧoιмнe : Welcome back!]]
Ʌlαυпєуl : Idk why the fuck this is happening recently, ugh. Ty ))
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Saoirse : ffs it happened again. ))
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Ʌlαυпєуl : Wh! ))
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Welcome home )
Ilztas_Arkenett chains Alauneyl down in the basement))
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Ʌlαυпєуl : Wb ))
Ḷeḭtḧ : omfg]
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Ʌlαυпєуl : HA IT MOVED TO YOU ))
DuräŋgoBläck : lol ty )
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Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis has made Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis a Participant.
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : urrrrrrrrrgh]
Ņħyliss Ṿḁṩkḁris : Welcome back )
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : thanks]
Ʌlαυпєуl : Wb. ))
Cαяяιcк·Vαskαяis : thanks]
Ophεliα·Vαskαяis : Though, an association between Carrick and Caoimhe became plainly visible, and suddenly Carrick was making loud, defensive declarations regarding it when her bronzy eyes fixed with unspoken inquiry (think, needles jabbing the skin). His words did nothing to assist his situation in the eyes of the Vaskaris Dove. “Oh, dreaming of one another, are you? That’s so fascinating,” Ophelia crooned, all accusation set against Carrick – and in subtle undertone at that. She wasn’t actually angry, what was there to be upset about? The truth was, especially so with tempestuous recent history resolved, she trusted her cranky wretch. “A dream you say? Elaborate, we’re all probably quite fascinated to hear it,” she serenaded on further, purposefully raising the wrist that had the newly acquired, silvery bracelet slipping along her arm, framing her chin now with her manicured fingertips. <d> ]-
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