Nothing says you can't write and play chess.
A slight point of interest: who other than Alicia (and Dreadfang, of course) has an excuse to be good at chess?
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You are the writing bug.
And I look forward to making more Nyx jokes.
She is a spoiled noble who has spent her entire life getting everything she wants and is willing to throw away her mortal humanity for eternal youth.
Not exactly meant to be sunshine and gumdrops (heh)
Not exactly meant to be sunshine and gumdrops (heh)
“Jacque, do you know what I hate more than sunshine?” The almost musical voice of the Liverian noble woman was measured and calm. She stood beautiful and composed at six foot flat and in the leather combat jerkin that she was encouraged to wear by the wolf-whistles of a few drunkards, the evening before. They had probably not been aware that the woman was actually a member of the newly created Queen’s Blades, or that she could have killed them very easily, were she not representing a prince. Such a pain, that little entitlement had become.
“Cucumber, m’lady?” Jacques’ voice, in contrast, was monotonous and controlled. Perhaps he had grown bored of being a servant for the Le’roux noble, or more likely it was because the pair had not been so fortunate as to have a good rest for nearly a week. The travelling had been uncomfortable at best.
“No Jacque…well yes, but that is beside the point. What I hate more than sunshine is all this damnable walking. Couldn’t they have provided a coach?” The tone of her voice had a genuine whine, but that was about the only thing genuine about her complaint. As a vampire, she struggled to feel fatigue at the best of times. It came with the whole ‘undead monster’ territory. Add that with the fact she’d travelled at her own pace, beside a man-servant who was shading her with a parasol, no less, and you begin to realise how unfatigued she was.
The reason she complained was a simple one. Basic court etiquette demanded that you have one fake weakness on display; one glaring ‘fault’ that an opponent might look to exploit or that a person might characterise you with. Take the whining, for instance. It portrayed the dark skinned woman as a creature of frailty: A damsel in distress, if you will. People would underestimate her, some might even strive to protect her. That presented her with an advantage. It was the same as in duelling. You present a fake weakness and someone is likely to take the bait. Deception, used correctly, is worth ten bodyguards or all the plate mail you can fit on a person. Which, considering her thin frame, was not that much.
Alicia let out a measured yawn as she contemplated the meeting ahead. She would be greeting with the fascinating matriarchs of the Renaltan kingdom. One of them, Kouri was of great interest to the vampire. She was rumoured to be a great many things: a ravishing beauty a competent swordsman, and a mage to boot. The other one was equally fascinating, although Alicia’s interest was a bit dampened by the knowledge of lycanthropy. She suspected that the second queen would have a healthy contempt for the Liverian noble.
Out of the blue, something took to interrupting the peace. The sky was darkened as a flock of ravens: A number in the thousands, no less, took to swarming towards the town. If ever there was a bad omen…
As if to compound the omen, a figure was rushing towards the group. She informed the gathered blades of an attack on their destination, and Alicia let out an open sigh. Jacque, who had been silent for as long as she had, could tell that tension was mounting in Alicia’s muscles. The tension was like a razor’s edge, the razor being that of an excited Alicia. She was looking to be introduced to a test on her very first mission for the Queens of Renalta. What a titillating concept!
“Jacque, hand me my weapons.” Obliging, Jacque handed the woman the parasol, careful not to let a ray of sunlight drift past the provided shade, before he advanced towards the donkey that had been trailing behind the pack. No self-respecting noble could be expected to carry her own luggage, after all. She had ordered Jacque to acquire her a weight bearing beast: and he’d returned with Beatrix.
Off of Beatrix, Jacque withdrew two long, thin bundles. He carefully unwrapped the two bundles and handed Alicia both weapons, which were swiftly looped into the sides of her belt. Two rapiers, one of steel and one of silver, both as finely crafted as money could buy. It took her a minute to be prepared and in that time, a good number of individuals had abandoned their position in the pack of Queen’s blades and left for various locations. Spotting one man in mid run, Alicia decided to follow after him, parasol still in hand as she half-jogged, half-sprinted towards the watch tower. She felt the light breeze pick up as her pace did, and the feel of wind touching against her neck was as delightful as a lover’s. A broad smile formed on her lips, revealing an elongated fang.
Alicia arrived much at the same time as Dirge began to speak. Her attention was solely on him and the way he spoke, not on the attacks put against the bomb makers themselves. ”people certainly like to rush things here. How boring. Even logic dictates that an attack like this should have been coordinated with a distraction for the orc.” Her silver eyes visibly rolled as she stopped between the orc and the archer: after he’d fired the first shot, of course. She cleared her throat and adjusted the parasol slightly: She was less-than-happy that the building provided so little shade, It would prove disadvantageous for her, should the orc manage to break the Parasol.
“Dirge, was it? I apologise for my rude associates: they clearly lack class. I am Lady Alicia Le’roux, member of the Queen’s blade and quite possibly an opponent of yours…” Her fingers rested on the pommel of her steel rapier: ready to draw the blade as soon as the orc made a movement towards her. She waited for him to finish doing whatever he would in response to Dread Fang and Kasim’s attacks. “…Although I must ask, is that really what you want? You may be in the sworn service of one James Moriarty: but not all service is sworn willingly. Tell me, Dirge. Do you truly wish to fight and possibly die for this Moriarty fellow? Would he do the same for you?” She withdrew the rapier from her hip with a practiced flair. It was all for show, of course, but it served to demonstrate at least some of her talent to Dirge, before he made the vital decision. “Answer with words or answer with your steel. Either way, I am eager to hear your response.” Her lips curled into a sultry smile as she stared into Dirge’s eyes. To meet a creature who fascinated her so quickly. What an interesting day, this was turning into.
“Cucumber, m’lady?” Jacques’ voice, in contrast, was monotonous and controlled. Perhaps he had grown bored of being a servant for the Le’roux noble, or more likely it was because the pair had not been so fortunate as to have a good rest for nearly a week. The travelling had been uncomfortable at best.
“No Jacque…well yes, but that is beside the point. What I hate more than sunshine is all this damnable walking. Couldn’t they have provided a coach?” The tone of her voice had a genuine whine, but that was about the only thing genuine about her complaint. As a vampire, she struggled to feel fatigue at the best of times. It came with the whole ‘undead monster’ territory. Add that with the fact she’d travelled at her own pace, beside a man-servant who was shading her with a parasol, no less, and you begin to realise how unfatigued she was.
The reason she complained was a simple one. Basic court etiquette demanded that you have one fake weakness on display; one glaring ‘fault’ that an opponent might look to exploit or that a person might characterise you with. Take the whining, for instance. It portrayed the dark skinned woman as a creature of frailty: A damsel in distress, if you will. People would underestimate her, some might even strive to protect her. That presented her with an advantage. It was the same as in duelling. You present a fake weakness and someone is likely to take the bait. Deception, used correctly, is worth ten bodyguards or all the plate mail you can fit on a person. Which, considering her thin frame, was not that much.
Alicia let out a measured yawn as she contemplated the meeting ahead. She would be greeting with the fascinating matriarchs of the Renaltan kingdom. One of them, Kouri was of great interest to the vampire. She was rumoured to be a great many things: a ravishing beauty a competent swordsman, and a mage to boot. The other one was equally fascinating, although Alicia’s interest was a bit dampened by the knowledge of lycanthropy. She suspected that the second queen would have a healthy contempt for the Liverian noble.
Out of the blue, something took to interrupting the peace. The sky was darkened as a flock of ravens: A number in the thousands, no less, took to swarming towards the town. If ever there was a bad omen…
As if to compound the omen, a figure was rushing towards the group. She informed the gathered blades of an attack on their destination, and Alicia let out an open sigh. Jacque, who had been silent for as long as she had, could tell that tension was mounting in Alicia’s muscles. The tension was like a razor’s edge, the razor being that of an excited Alicia. She was looking to be introduced to a test on her very first mission for the Queens of Renalta. What a titillating concept!
“Jacque, hand me my weapons.” Obliging, Jacque handed the woman the parasol, careful not to let a ray of sunlight drift past the provided shade, before he advanced towards the donkey that had been trailing behind the pack. No self-respecting noble could be expected to carry her own luggage, after all. She had ordered Jacque to acquire her a weight bearing beast: and he’d returned with Beatrix.
Off of Beatrix, Jacque withdrew two long, thin bundles. He carefully unwrapped the two bundles and handed Alicia both weapons, which were swiftly looped into the sides of her belt. Two rapiers, one of steel and one of silver, both as finely crafted as money could buy. It took her a minute to be prepared and in that time, a good number of individuals had abandoned their position in the pack of Queen’s blades and left for various locations. Spotting one man in mid run, Alicia decided to follow after him, parasol still in hand as she half-jogged, half-sprinted towards the watch tower. She felt the light breeze pick up as her pace did, and the feel of wind touching against her neck was as delightful as a lover’s. A broad smile formed on her lips, revealing an elongated fang.
Alicia arrived much at the same time as Dirge began to speak. Her attention was solely on him and the way he spoke, not on the attacks put against the bomb makers themselves. ”people certainly like to rush things here. How boring. Even logic dictates that an attack like this should have been coordinated with a distraction for the orc.” Her silver eyes visibly rolled as she stopped between the orc and the archer: after he’d fired the first shot, of course. She cleared her throat and adjusted the parasol slightly: She was less-than-happy that the building provided so little shade, It would prove disadvantageous for her, should the orc manage to break the Parasol.
“Dirge, was it? I apologise for my rude associates: they clearly lack class. I am Lady Alicia Le’roux, member of the Queen’s blade and quite possibly an opponent of yours…” Her fingers rested on the pommel of her steel rapier: ready to draw the blade as soon as the orc made a movement towards her. She waited for him to finish doing whatever he would in response to Dread Fang and Kasim’s attacks. “…Although I must ask, is that really what you want? You may be in the sworn service of one James Moriarty: but not all service is sworn willingly. Tell me, Dirge. Do you truly wish to fight and possibly die for this Moriarty fellow? Would he do the same for you?” She withdrew the rapier from her hip with a practiced flair. It was all for show, of course, but it served to demonstrate at least some of her talent to Dirge, before he made the vital decision. “Answer with words or answer with your steel. Either way, I am eager to hear your response.” Her lips curled into a sultry smile as she stared into Dirge’s eyes. To meet a creature who fascinated her so quickly. What an interesting day, this was turning into.
I'm working on my post now.
Edit: and my post is done. I believe we are waiting for Child on the east and that would have us at 5 people, if I count correctly.
Edit: and my post is done. I believe we are waiting for Child on the east and that would have us at 5 people, if I count correctly.
Bushi had been quiet in the drive home, as he contemplated just which simulation room he'd break this time. Although he was a picture of temperate serenity on the outside, inside he was furious at his inability to do anything that might have saved Robin. He kept trying to think of hypotheticals: things that he could have done just a little different, had he been given time or knowledge or maybe a real...
He exhaled, purging the self-doubt and deciding that the best way to forget about all these 'coulda-shoulda' games was with the application of more alcohol. He briefly looked at Angel, the closest thing he had to a drinking buddy.I hope his liver doesn't give out...
When they got to the base, and with Bushi have regained some of his more agreeable mood, the now-quartet were met with the ever delightful Banshee...Pink-hair...whatshername. She had a basket in her hand, and was quick to hand out goodies to each of the group. Bushi opened his and was left with a broad smile on his face. The Jinbei was expertly made, and it looked as if it would fit him perfectly. He looped an arm around the Banshee, embracing her in a one armed hug. "My thanks..." He heard Angel mention her name, as he opened his own present. "...Air."
Now he just had to remember it...Hopefully.
Watching Mai shred the gift was, in Bushi's mind, an outrage. He looked at Air's face, dropped in disappointment and the urge to lash out at Mia was high. His hand moved to one of the metal poles, still attached to his back, as he contemplated lopping off a finger. She could grow them back, after all.
His rage was quelled somewhat by Mia wrapping an arm around the slighted communication officer, in a moment of...what? Was she asking the communication’s officer to excuse her? It seemed like Air obliged, as her face perked up a little. Bushi, however, was left with a sour taste in his mouth. He stayed a few steps back from the group, although his fingers were no longer on one of the would-be-weapons.
At least Mia said one thing that Bushi found agreeable. She offered the idea of a BBQ meal, and since everyone else was willing to overlook the transgression, the Kami would also. It didn't pay to dwell on anger, especially when even the slighted had moved on. Mia called for everyone to get changed and meet outside the front of the building.
Bushi moved to his own quarters and relished the moment of solitude. It seemed that even now, he had an awful lot to learn about mortal creatures. Whereas some were so very impulsive, others were able to 'bury the hatchet' so very quickly. Did he truly just overreact to Mia's outburst? Perhaps the others were just forgiving the frustrated outbursts of an unhappy leader, and Bushi was the one acting unjustly.
...Mortals were confusing.
Still, he had to go and attend a gathering of mortals: so standing around and doing nothing made little sense. Mia had foolishly said the words 'my treat' and if Bushi could not avenge the ripped up clothing, he could certainly take some revenge on Mia's bank account. Bushi had always liked pork.
It took Bushi ten minutes to finish getting changed. In that time, he'd discarded his normal yukata and donned the Jinbei that Air had made. It fit him well, despite how she must have only guessed his measurements. The accuracy was a little shocking, to be frank. It was comfortable enough, though: and wearing the casual wear might encourage a little annoyance from Mia; one could consider it a little rebellion against the Werewolf.
Bushi overheard Angel speaking to Mia as he arrived, and Bushi responded with a smirk on his face. "You don't think I'd miss an opportunity for free food and drink, do you?"
*The orc moves slightly to the right and watches as a light 'ting' sound is made as the arrow bounces of plate mail.*
If I don't get any word from the New Yorker, I'll make Jay-Jay do something tonight.
Hank said
Nyx nyx nyx
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