Briza

𝓣ℎ𝑒 𝓕𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝒻 𝓐𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑎 & 𝓕𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡.

^{_{The First Dilemma of Lady Alyssana Grey}}

^{Part II}

𝓨our fair eyes were sad and bright,

𝓐nd voice was so sweet.

𝓐s sound of a pipe apart.

𝓞r murmur of the sea.

Finnegan was rattling some poetry as all this took place. His speech was slurred, and his body was strangely hunched. It was anything but appealing to any of the onlookers, and out of all the people, Lady Sylvia took the most embarrassment of it all. She felt as if she had been fallen for some latent buffoonery and saw that her own reputation had been corrupted by whatever shenanigans were going on. For this moment, the idea of a murder escaped her.

“I shan't leave.” The woman placed her foot down. The padding of her dainty leather boot made a sound against the hard, wooden floor of the laboratory, “By this I mean, I have heard enough of all your monkeying around...” She refused to buy anything of what they were telling her, and yet despite her disposition, she was pushed from the dwelling place and left to conjure her own story about what she had seen, not to just save her own skin but to tarnish the one that was currently written about Lady Alyssana Grey. The mention of murder only made things more interesting. Lord Finnegan was obviously up to something that she would soon enough spoil with the help of Lady Grey's name -

Walter shut the door quickly and turned the lock with a sudden click. The brass shifted and clinked to his twist. It was louder than he was used to having turned such an instrument, and he felt badly for it. However, now was not the time to apologize to door locks, even if Lady Alyssana would be understanding, “Y-yes... a murder.”

“Ap-ol-lo-logize for nothing, m-my dearest,” Finnegan raised a hand and suddenly, he fell backwards. He was much, much different from Lady Evelyn, but so was the way of this particular contraption.

“Oh, heavens!” Walter flinched as he scooped his body to catch Finnegan, who swaggered and eventually found himself in some sort of the same stance as he had found himself when he was lecturing Lady Sylvia.

“L-lady Alyssana...” Finnegan raised his hand again, as if reaching out to touch her face. Why, yes, he so wish to feel the softness of her cheeks as he spoke. It seemed appropriate given his feelings of affection. They were verdantly much stronger than ever, and how he dare not hide anything from her in this moment. It would be a crime not to reveal them. He felt them so strongly that hiding anything would have killed him. Of course, the other two sober beings already understood (at least, hopefully) that what he was about to do could lead to a further incident.

“Why, there goes not a moment when you are not on my mind...” And, again, why yes, he continued onward with some mushy lyrically said statements that only a many either madly in love or totally drowning in scheming debauchery for the virgin would unfold to a dame.

All the while, Walter was fiddling with little trinkets, wondering if he could drug the man further into a slumber to get him to stop his laboratory serenade. However, this was a sudden error on his part to think he could do his brother any justice.

I'll talk over him!

“Yes! Yes, there has a been... several m-murders...” He tried to mouth over Finnegan. This was all a chaos of ridiculousness. How was he supposed to say anything, let alone make Finnegan quiet his trap. It was the worst he felt, “I barely know much about it. Finny knows the most.”

“Not now, Walter. Alyssa ne-needs to under...”

“If you've noticed a flurry of missing persons in the paper recently, there have actually been more than usual. However, I think not all of them are even being reported. Apparently. Apparen-... Finny, please...” The man was pleading with the seemingly drunkard. Could the man not have been as docile as Lady Evelyn? Of course, not! That would have been convenient, “Shall I knock him out?” He asked evenhandedly. He was getting a headache dealing with all of this.

. ❖ .

^{_{The First Dilemma of Lady Alyssana Grey}}

^{Part III}

Post a random fact about yourself.

My son has officially been labeled ridiculous by his school teacher. Briza is proud.

Proud is a five (5) letter word.

Post a random fact about yourself.

@Gunther's got this.

Word association Game!

University

Sticks: A Blorbish Game

:::Create [[Super Happy Tree Climber]]

Character Contest #1: Voting

Briza's Vote

William McDougal

@Calle, I really enjoy his profession. He is by far the strongest out of all the characters presented for the circumstances. Although a little run of the mill with his backstory (I say this gently), it is appreciated. My curiosity would be how he reacts to all the characters who come in-and-out of the generational-owned Saloon. If I was the GM. I would have definitely accepted him and asked him to be moved over to the Character Tab. However, I would add that you should clean up some of the awkward line-error spacing (that omgosh, happens to me sometimes, too).

Kathryn E. Gamble

@Gwynbleidd, I liked your description of Kathryn and the stylistic writing you used to introduce her to the audience. I can imagine her very well even if in a mysterious sort of way, which goes alongside her profession. She has a pretty tragic life story, and I wonder what her actual thoughts about her status in society are and how it will play out especially given the current murders that are happening. Out of all the entries, yours was the most fluid and therefore, easiest to read. As I told Calle, if I was the GM, I would have definitely accepted her and asked her to be moved over to the Character Tab.

Theodora Shockley

@ayzrules, I am shock by how gossip-central your character is. (Lol?) Anyways, Theodora seems like a hoot and a half to have around town. You got some smiles out of me. I am curious as to how she would get along with William at the Saloon. There was something sloppy about the way it was written. The only rhyme or reason I have for the disorderliness is from all the backtracking commentary to explain her persona and backstory. Nonetheless, as I told the other two contestants, if I was the GM, I would have definitely accepted her and asked her to be moved over to the Character Tab.

And, without further ado:

（⌒▽⌒ゞ💬

Kathryn E. Gamble by @Gwynbleidd

What Are You Listening To?

[Briza] m a g 𝒾 c k _ e a r t h [SmileyJaws]

_{J e 𝓈 p e r A l 𝓈 t r o h m}

^{⤜ 𝒮 h e r w o o d - F o r e 𝓈 t ↠}

A static silence whispered through the air. It swept the unearthly stenches from their rest. The feeling of the uneven mud pressed beneath her boots. It did smell as wretched and terrible to walk upon. And, lo, with every step the foulness was stirred into the bitter air. No less, her many blessings were being counted. Such a position was decent and for her ranking, only half-earned. Granted with Terra's mercy, her own humanly stench was buried beneath the rituals of such a graven hiding spot, dusted in casts of the noonday shadows. And, ah, the shrubs were acting as husky, decent disguises. Such was the fairness of her decisions.

^{M e m o r i e s :}

“Jessie!” Victor called from behind the shed, “Ready or not, here I come!” His footsteps sounded like they were coming close, but they did not stop long enough to make any suggestion that he knew where she was hiding. For several seconds, she thought he may have been faking and was waiting to surprise her. He had an earnest desire to scare her, but he was never successful. His yearning was tremendous and puffed in his juvenile breathes, despite all his failures.

For this reason, being off guard was never an option. She loathed the thought of being caught by her brother, especially with all the times of successfully having defused him. There was an abundance of honor in her ability to combat his boyish notions, and even now, as she heard his gentle, suspicious footsteps wander further and further away from her hiding spot, she slowly flexed her thighs and raised her lithe body from behind the bushel. There was duty in her pursuit against him, and when he was behind the fence, she would move locations — just in case.

It was either kill or be killed. Whoever found himself as the last one standing was the man to be chosen. In Jesper's mind, there was far more to gain from this victory than to lose from a missing limb or even her own life. This much was obvious for anyone who entered the forest. The reward was far too lucrative. It tickled some greed, but the Ranger by the only thing she truly understood...

As so was proven, this was not some childhood game of Hide and Seek. Fences and thickets were not to be used as youthful endeavors. Here, wandering the sauntering bowls of the forest were men with far more cunning and braver wiles than anyone with whom her siblings and her used to play. There could be no questioning of her rationale on this one. (Laughable with pointed fingers and outset tongues to anyone who dared.) It was the deepest of truths, the Ranger had little instinct on who was stronger or faster or more cunning when she arrived on camp. For now, though, she had two kills, and the biggest dilemma was keeping herself hidden. In the least, she was not the weakest.

Even With no scratches on her garments, she considered herself only blessed for her victories. There was no saying she was the strongest or fittest for the prize. The first kill had been all too easy and almost a joke in and of itself. However, the second was by but a fluke that continued a small melody of pondering in destitute parts of her memory. Unfortunately, there was no time to calculate every measure of the past kill, as she could sense someone was nearer, and she bore no clarity as to where. A silent prayer was chanted in her mind to ease her racing thoughts; and she cooed her sword-arm, all ready and anxious with girth.

^{S o m e t h i n g R e m e m b e r e d F r o m t h e P a s t ;}

“I give up,” Victor said with a small gruff of annoyance. Losing to his sister was one of those things that made him hate himself. There was a pent up anger that he could not conceal in his voice. Although, he did try to muzzle it the best he could.

Jesper did not move. She enjoyed waiting until he had cooled down before revealing her location. She learned her lesson more than once to reveal herself too early. Her hands stayed still, touching the soft grass as she watched her brother begin to explode with anger. At the moment, she had no way to gauge how long his tantrums would be. Sometimes they did not happen; and sometimes they lasted far too long for her own endearing patience. There had to be a method to his madness. Although, if it was something as simple as being annoyed with the seventh morning of potato soup, she would have to pay closer attention to him.

A twist in the grass.

Jesper tensed.

A sudden whistle of a hiss.

It cut through thick and silent air.

Moan. Thump.

Someone was hit.

Mother earth rumbled at the onslaught, and Jesper shrugged further into the defending shadows of her hunched position. She felt that although correct in assuming her position was not the strongest, the low angle had not been a give away. It was right in the tree tops where she captured a perfect opening. The branches unfolded their leaves, and a man, crouched atop the muscular, twisting bark. Someone forgot to close his line. As the words scurried through her mind, her clothed palm carefully shifted around the hilt of her sword, and scabby fingers caressed the pummel. The leather grooves and metal works were soft against her cold fingers, sweaty with fear and excitement.

This was exhilarating. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest. It sounded louder to her than her own breaths. Yet, the midday wind, in all its vainglory, was still and as silent as the archer waiting anxiously in the tree above her. She held her breath, eyeing him carefully. No, not the sword, her hand slid into her leather pouch, pulling two darts. Their sharp tips pressed close to her veins. A dart had the ability to knock him from the branch and cause fatal casualty upon his landing. Such was decided.

^{A R e c o l l e c t i o n}

“She always wins. Always. Can't I just fuckin' win? Just bloody fuckin' once?” he howled. His boots stomped upon the grass, soiling and twisting the earth beaneath him in an angry manner; his body slumped and shot upwards, again; with a pulse of energy, his body slumped, again, and his arms pounding and pulled the grass; and with dirty fingers he was pulling his hair.

Jesper watched silently from behind the stump. Her head was steady as she watched intently, telling herself that he ought to treat not just the earth with more respect, but also himself. With a lack of care for being discovered and a seeming belief, she would never be at this rate, her eyes cast downwards at the grass. Her fingers played gently against the blades. It was her friendship with Terra that kept her so well hidden. This much she knew to be true, and yet she dared not speak of such kinship to anyone. Theirs was a private relationship, silent and secretive.

Now was not the time to get lost in memories. With the sun hovering over the hanging branches of the trees, the shadows were slowly moving their bodies to different positions. Jesper's very own would be revealed soon if action was not taken. A plethora of reasons as to how she could be sniped were at her fingertips; and the least likely if anything, was that the scent of her own would be made clear now that the midday's breeze was beginning to reawaken. But alas, the archer in the tree; his body was tense and ready to strike at the next creature who dared make any shimmer in the forest — the animals had been scared away by the shouting of men earlier. Death was haunting the forest floor, and all but the humans seemed to be honoring this fact.

A glint shot through the air. It was nearly invisible to the naked eye. The aftermath was nothing of the sort, as the handsome face came collapsing to the ground, flopping in a overtly ugly manner onto the muddied ground. His neck limbs twisted under his sturdy frame, holding a head slowly leaking blood from his temple. The complacent look of a dead man's shock was sewn over his face. If he felt any pain, it had been slight. He had died before falling from the large, winding tree. He was her third kill of the day, but merely just another mark upon on the memory:

_{𝓘 𝑨𝒎 𝓑𝒖𝒕 𝑨 𝓣𝒉𝓲𝒆𝒇}

𝑯𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕,
𝑵𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒆 —
𝑻𝒐 𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚, 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍.
𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝑮𝒐𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕.