Avatar of mnkee
  • Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
  • Joined: 8 yrs ago
  • Posts: 1018 (0.33 / day)
  • VMs: 3
  • Username history
    1. mnkee 8 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Most Recent Posts

@Lady Amalthea Here's the updated CS!
@Lady Amalthea I am done with Alexandra's CS! It's ready for review!






The hallways of the Talink Manor were oddly barren as Thalken stormed out of his father's study. The commotion that had occurred within that room just moments ago clearly did not go unnoticed. Servants and staff alike had vacated the immediate premises, giving him a straight shot route back up to his room. He was fuming to say the least. He was desperately grasping for what little thread of sanity he had left. To say he wanted to kill his father for what the man had done, arranging a marriage under duress, was an understatement. His father had backed the Lady Crypt up into a corner and had the gall to use the life of her innocent brother as a bargaining chip. He had forced the woman's hand in an unthinkable way. If or when the threat to her brother's life was past, she would have to live with her decision, a marriage to a man she not only did not love but also likely viewed as a monster incarnate.

It was either sheer stubborn willpower or sheer luck that got Thalken up the stairs and into the so-called private sanctity of his room. So many emotions, more than he knew how to deal with, were warring inside him all at once. The weight of it all was crushing him, and he felt his knees give out from under him. His walls crumbled revealing the broken man that he was on the inside. He was left with two questions that he had spent years trying to avoid answering head-on: When would enough be enough? When would he revolt against his father? Perhaps it was time he stop hiding in the shadows and thinking he could fight his father while remaining unseen. But this would be the point of no return.

Thalken was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He desperately wished to redeem himself, as such he could not justify forcing the Lady Crypt to marry him under duress. Yet if he didn't what would become of her brother? If they defied his father, the young viscount would be open to attack from two fronts: the Soulless and the Talinks. The thought of hunting down an innocent young boy made him sick to his stomach. It dawned on him right then that he was the sole person, at least in his mind, who stood between the Lady Crypt and his father's wrath. Despite the anger and bitterness he felt, a newfound determination filled him. He will protect the Crypts from the Soulless and from his father. His own life be damned.







Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City
Passive Skills: Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!



- "Mad Hatter" by Melanie Martinez



Where does one even begin to explain the cataclysmic chain of events that are to take the dear Alexandra Dorofeivna Andonova unawares? Well, let's just say that for this self-proclaimed queen of sass, karma's a real bitch. Nevertheless, I will try and walk you through it. Perhaps maybe you can make better sense of it all. Let's rewind back a little in Alexandra's timeline. Remember that booth where the vendor was selling the most decadent meat on a stick around? Yeah, probably not. She certainly does though, thanks to her stomach that's already begging for more. This girl could eat you out of house and home and still be hungry within the hour. Looking at her lean form, it's a wonder where it all goes. But that's a story all on its own. Now let's not get sidetracked. Back to that booth.

I guess you could say that Alexandra's hunger got the best of her, ultimately overruling her sensibilities. She had snatched a freshly prepared meat on a stick from the vendor's booth, not thinking much of it. Surely one piece wouldn't be missed? After all, the ton was not coming to the circus this night, thus all of that scrumptious food would go to waste. The mere thought of that was horrific. As such, she was more than happy to lend a hand, or in this case a mouth, to ensure no meat on a stick goes to waste. Well, this vendor apparently did not feel the same way as Alexandra did. Unbeknownst to her, he took a great deal of personal offense to her actions, so much so that he seemed to have summoned Lady Luck herself.

The chain of events that happened next is mindboggling to say the least. It all happened one after another in succession, like dominoes falling in a preset line. The vendor's fists to a board attached to a rotted out wooden peg. The peg giving way to catapult simmering gravy into the face of an unfortunate clown. The clown grasping for something, anything, only to light himself on fire from grabbing a lit brazier. The clown dunking himself in a water trough thus angering a horse. The horse kicking out and striking a poorly constructed signpost. The signpost falling over and partially collapsing a magician's tent, sending the man into a frenzy. The magician running with a sharp object that is not at all meant to be run with. A laundry bag in the wrong place at the wrong time causing the man to trip and sending what was more or less a guillotine blade soaring into the air. Yeah, you probably know where this is going by now...

Back to the present now. Alexandra barely had time to register the pain exploding through her before her entire world went dark. Her head was effectively severed from the rest of her body to land unceremoniously at Vladimir's feet. She was left with no time for goodbyes. She was left with no time to apologize for leaving so soon. She was left with no time to consider what she had ever offered this world other than a mouth full of sarcasm. She was left with no time at all. Perhaps if there was life after death she would have a second chance to make a difference. Now wouldn't that be something?




Location: Island of Cyprus --> Aboard a ship (Coastline of Port Royal)



- "Sleeping With a Ghost" by Tommee Profitt ft. Cappa



Sirena braced herself as she plummeted to the ground, the wind whipping through and past her incorporeal form. Every second felt like an eternity. She waited for pain to hit her, for darkness to engulf her, and for death to consume her. But it never came. Her blue eyes opened as she felt herself pass through that very beach that she had assumed would reclaim her life. Her surroundings, including its sights, sounds, and smells, changed abruptly as she continued to fall.

One would think the notion that she had cheated death yet again would excite her. However, the truth was that she felt stifled by this new reality. The reality was that in this place between life and death she lacked the freedom her soul begged for. This place had incapacitated her and held her prisoner. To think her undead life was only about to get worse by bringing forward a ghost from her past. Sometimes it is best that the past remains in the past. Why? Because sometimes the pain of the past remains as raw as the day you had first felt it.

Sirena's descent was finally cut short as she crashed onto the deck of a ship. The air was filled with the sounds of water crashing to and fro, and the air was filled with the smell of the sea. It should have been a picturesque occasion, but instead it would soon be clear that this was an absolute nightmare. Sirena pushed herself up off the deck and looked around. At first she felt oddly detached from it all. After all, none of this could truly be real. Could it? Her state of detachment was unfortunately short lived as a familiar voice came to her ears.

She spun around with a gasp, her eyes widening as she saw Harlianne before her. She should have been overcome with happiness, right? Yet all she felt was a tidal wave of emotional pain hit her. She staggered backwards, her gaze barely able to meet Harlianne's. She was filled with so many emotions and such painful memories. "I-I am dead. Y-you killed me," she stammered. She had yet to come to terms with what had happened to her, and so the gravity of her reality was finally setting in, now of all times. She held no resentment towards Harlianne. She knew Harlianne had not been herself. She had turned into a monster, and Harlianne had put her down. Yet the truth was hard to fathom nonetheless.
And just like that there was a Thalken explosion...




Location: Talink Estate (Inside)



- "Cold" by Five Finger Death Punch



Thalken sat on the edge of his bed sharpening the blade of his Dao with rhythmic strokes. As he put his restless energy to good use, his facial features began to relax. The dark intensity of his eyes was replaced by a look of focus. In the calm of the moment and in the privacy of his own room, his walls, that cold front he put on, came down. If only he could learn to take off that mask in the presence of others. Until then the man beneath the scowl remains unfathomable.

The sound of grinding metal nearly drowned out the whoosh and whistle of the wind outside. The window pane shook slightly from the gust of the wind before something faintly tapped against the glass. Thalken paused mid-stroke, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked up from what he was doing. His gaze flicked around before landing on the window. From where he sat, he could just make out a piece of paper stuck on the dew covered glass. His brows furrowed deeper as he placed his sabre and sharpener aside and then walked over to the window to investigate.

He bent down to where he was eyelevel with the thin strip of paper, and his eyes scrunched up slightly as he made out a few words. Oddly enough, the words were written in Cantonese, the language in which he had been trained in. He took a moment to mentally translate the words into English before stating them out loud, "Loose string monkey." He arched a brow. It was an old Cantonese proverb meaning someone no longer under control of their superior or guardian. He straightened up again and opened the window to pull the piece of paper off of the glass. Just about that time, he could hear a carriage pulling up.

"About damn time they got back," he grumbled, assuming it was his father and sister returning. He grabbed the strip of paper and shoved it into his coat pocket before shutting the window. He then quickly spun on his heels, grabbed his Dao off of his bed, and sheathed it as he promptly left his room. He took the stairs two at a time, his Dao rattling at his side as he went. He was more than a little anxious to find out what terms his father had given the Lady Crypt regarding the protection of the Viscount Wenwynith. He had a bad feeling that his father more than likely took advantage of her and the situation she had found herself in. He was about to march straight through the front door when his father walked in causing him to skid to a halt.

"What the hell took--" Thalken began, skipping greetings altogether. However, he paused his tirade when he realized that his twin sister Thalcona wasn't with his father. His eyes widened before narrowing dangerously. "Where is Thalcona?" he questioned through gritted teeth.

"She's taking first watch over the viscount. I assume the servants told you of our whereabouts," Beowulf replied almost nonchalantly. Something wasn't quite right with his father, and Thalken couldn't quite put his finger on it, at least not right away. His narrowed gaze followed his father like a predator watching its prey. Thalken noted that there was a brightness to his father's eyes and on the man's face there was--there was a smile?! In fact, his father seemed quite pleased. The man was usually pleased when a deal went well, but this was something else entirely. Thalken's metaphorical hackles raised, and a dark shroud seemed to fall over his features with every passing minute. "What were the terms? What were the terms of your deal?" he growled as he followed his father to the study. His gut twisted in anxious anticipation. He had a bad bad feeling about this.

Beowulf let out a irritated huff, as if Thalken had just put a damper on his good mood. The man sat down at his desk before addressing his son, who was, unknown to the both of them, moments away from explosion. "The terms of the deal were simple enough. In exchange for the protection of the Viscount Wenwynith, she must marry you," Beowulf replied, not sugarcoating a single word of it. All the while, there was not even an inkling of remorse or sympathy in his countenance. He might as well have lit Thalken aflame and watched passively as his son suffered in agony.

And in that exact moment, when those words left Beowulf's lips, is when Thalken's world exploded into a fiery inferno. Not much could elicit an explosive reaction from Thalken. Not much could make him lose his mind. But this. This was the second worst thing his father had ever brought about. Second only to his mother's brutal murder at the hands of those who were gunning for his father. You want to see a Talink explode? Well, prepare yourself.

Thalken's countenance darkened tenfold. His jaw clenched so tightly that it was surprising that he didn't break his teeth. His breath came in and out sharply, and his dark eyes glazed over. His whole body shook, as if struggling to contain the years worth of pent up hatred that seemed to be coming to the forefront with a mighty vengeance. If looks could kill, Beowulf would certainly be incinerated. "YOU DID WHAT?!!" Thalken roared, his voice echoing throughout the manor. "And she accepted the terms?! GOD DAMMIT!!!!" He let out a yell that seemed more animal than man, before he started breaking things in the room. It was all he could do not to kill his father right then and there, to end his suffering here and now. He vowed that one day his father would die for all the wrongs the man had done. Beowulf's blood was the only blood that Thalken could justify having on his hands. And yet, the only thing that seemed to keep grounded was that that blood thirst terrified him.

"Get a grip son. After you marry her and take her title and property, you can always kill her and that little brat of a brother of hers," Beowulf stated callously over his son's tirade. Thalken's head swung over to glare daggers at his father, his nostrils flaring in his rage.

"This is low even for you," he growled in between pants. He then spun on his heels and left the study in its current state of disarray.







Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City
Passive Skills: Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!



- "Hot Mess" by Cobra Starship



The echoing bellow of The Great Bazhooli no less reached Alexandra's ears just as she led her Brivaldi horse Balaur out from the stables. The ever vibrant man was shouting something about salad not being food. "Salad a food? Pfft. Lettuce eat meat," she remarked, snorting at her own pun. She had a cheerful smile on her face as she turned back to her not as amused horse.

"Lighten up Balaur. Ve go fast soon. You like that, da? Da," she chided him teasingly as she tossed the reins over his head. She tightened up the girth before vaulting up into the saddle with practiced ease. Once aboard her trusty steed, she cued Balaur forward and began weaving a path through the hordes of practicing circus folk. From her higher vantage point, it was easy to pick out The Great Bazhooli milling through the crowds with his young charge Adam. She steered Balaur towards them, deviating from her orginially intended course.

"Good evening!" she greeted the two with a warm smile as she rode up to them. She brought her stout horse to a halt in front of them. She then hung herself upside down from the saddle, a classic trick of the Brivaldi trick rider that was usually done at harrowing speeds. "Hello dovn there little one," she greeted Adam, now conviently closer to eyelevel. She gave him a playful wink before pulling herself back upright in the saddle.

"I hear the Grand Duchess is all thaved out now," Alexandra stated to Vladimir, already attempting to crack a joke to liven that dark situation. "Too soon? Too soon. No, really I am glad she is feeling better." She gave him a friendly smile, unfazed by her blunder.
@Lady Amalthea Okay, Thalken explosion is done. Let me go feed my goats, and then I will write up a post for Alexandra. :3
Reserved
© 2007-2025
BBCode Cheatsheet