mnkee

Current Mood in One Gif

>TMW you come up with an evil plot twist.

What Are You Listening To?

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Thalken Talink

‘Cause the harder you push, the rougher I get

- "State of My Mind" by Shinedown

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Stables
Skills: None currently

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Thalken's eyes squinted slightly, and he held up a hand to block some of the sunlight that increasingly trickled in the closer he neared the exit. He grimaced as it egged on the pounding in his head. Nevertheless, the outdoors called to him. Normally he was one who enjoyed seclusion, but in this case, it felt like more of a prison than a humble abode. He paused midstride when the guard's words hit his ears. He blinked. Had he heard the man correctly? He believed he had. He slowly turned around to face them with a deathly glare on his features. "Bite me," he growled defiantly but otherwise obliged to their request, order, question, ugh, he didn't know what it was and quite frankly didn't care.

He grumpily shuffled back over and into the stall. His nose wrinkled with disgust as he picked up his soiled pants and did the crappy job that was asked of him. When he was done, he folded it between the cleaner pieces of clothing and set it on the ground for the time being. He stopped to wash his hands vigorously with the soap before picking up the pile of clothes again and headed back out of the stall again. He gave the guards one last withering glare before shuffling towards the exit again. This time he wasn't about to wait for them or stop if they called him.

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Fyror Kildragon

I don't know how to be silent
when my heart is speaking.

- Fyodor Dostoevsky

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Location: Manchester, England
Skills: None currently

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Fyror looked back over at Gerard, his lips thinning at the man's words. In hindsight, he realized he had spoken a tad harshly. He didn't doubt that Mr. Connolly cared for Millicent and wished her no ill will. Yet, with that in mind, he couldn't wrap his head around how turning back, even if to protect her family, was what Millicent needed right then. Surely not. What she needed was to be rescued from the clutches of the master manipulator and serial killer that was Lord Rutherford. It was perhaps naivety on his part that led him to believe that the current predicament that she had found herself in was all on Lord Rutherford. In his mind, he thought that surely Lord Rutherford had brainwashed her into thinking that this was what was best for her and that this was what she wanted. It didn't dawn on him until then, until Gerard opened him up to the reality of the situation, that she had gone of her own volition. This was what she wanted. She was giving herself up to the devil in order to protect her family. How had he not realized this until now? How could he have been so blind? But, that's the thing about Fyror, he has a tendency to go in with his heart and not his head.

In that moment, he found that he had even more respect and admiration for Millicent. He saw her for what she was, a truly selfless human being. She had an inner strength that not many could proclaim to possess. Did this mean that he was going to turn back, that he was going to let her seal her own fate? No. He couldn't find it in himself to do so. All that changed was his opinion of her and his outlook on the mission at hand. Now he felt that he was not only saving her from Lord Rutherford but also from herself. The irony was that had he been in her shoes he would have done the same exact thing.

He started to turn to walk away when the voice of the Frenchwoman, the Lady Colette de La Fontaine, penetrated his otherwise muddled thoughts. His brows rose slightly at her outburst, and he slowly turned back to face her. His brows then furrowed as her words settled in his mind. He took in her features with a seemingly searching gaze. She seemed sincere about what she said, but did she know what she was truly getting herself into? That was what concerned him. Before he could say anything Gerard said one last thing, this time addressed to Colette, and handed the Frenchwoman a cotton handkerchief before he departed. Fyror gave the man small, strained nod in farewell before returned his attention to Colette. "Forgive me, m'lady, but I am unsure if that is wise. Lord Rutherford is a dangerous man and as such there is a chance that this could get violent. He won't give up Ms. Wyndham willingly, so I will take her by force if I must. I don't wish to see you become another one of his casulaties," he explained earnestly.

Current Mood in One Gif

>Me this morning when the horse I was leading spooked at the horse trailer sitting in the parking lot. Like, seriously, you do realize that you came here in a trailer?

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Alexandra Andonova

I'm a big child at heart. I think it's
important to stay that way and
not lose the wonder of life.

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Location: Ville au Camp - Road to Main House ⇢ By the Oak Tree
Skills: N/A

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Alexandra looked over her shoulder when The Hat's billowing voice came to her ears. She and the children hadn't ventured too far down the road, so they were still in earshot of the Kitchen House. A grin lit up her features, and she gave him an enthusiastic wave before shrugging her shoulders in reply. She wasn't exactly sure where The Dice lady wanted the refreshments. She bit her lip as she watched, okay admired, him for a moment.

"Wow! Is he a giant?" one of the children suddenly exclaimed, which effectively snapped her out of her little trance. Her head swung back over and then downwards to look at the small wide-eyed chilrden.

"Huh? Oh," she responded, blinking before the child's words finally permeated her brain. She let out a genuine chuckle. "Perhaps."

She gave one last appreciative glance in Gilbert's direction before putting her full attention back onto the children. A soft smile graced her features. "Nov I think I've told you enough about the treacherous Yagababa, on to another Soulless. Hov about the Hraew? Da, let's talk about that one. For one, they stink to high heaven because they're literally walking, rotting corpses," she continued on. For emphasis, she wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her nose as if she smelled something nasty.

"They stink, metaphorically and literally. They also have a bad habit of biting people, and ultimately, they have a taste for human flesh, 'cause, you knov, they stink," she explained. She then shambled around the children, and with one overdramatic undead groan, she suddenly bent down and pretended to bite one of the children. Said child let out a scream before bursting out into a fit of giggles. Alexandra straightened back up with a wide grin as she let out a chuckle of her own. She looked down at them warmly, finding that she really enjoyed telling them stories and making them laugh. It brought her true joy, something of which she had felt deprived of for awhile now.

She looked back over towards the Oak Tree at the black-neck James's proclamation that the food was ready for the eating. The children let out cheers of happiness and as one freakishly dressed mob swarmed for him and the goodie cart. Apparently they liked food just as much as she did. She could appreciate that. "Vait! Vait for me! I can't run fast vithout shoes!" she called out to them, running as fast as she dared to on the gravel. Once her feet hit grass, she took off at a sprint in order to make up the remaining distance between them.

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Location: The Palace Lawn
Skill: Perception

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The corner of Lyra's lips pulled up into a smirk at her mistress's words, and she gave a slight nod of her head in agreement. This Malekith guy was hiding something; she was sure of it. He was too quick to defend himself, and if that wasn't an admission of guilt, she didn't know what was. Well, perhaps she actually did. There was something else that seemed off about the man, and it took a moment of quiet observance and reflection to pinpoint it. His demeanor. His demeanor was off. For one, he seemed awfully calm for someone who had just been accused of kidnapping someone, let alone royalty. He was too calm. Where was the fear? More than that, where was the remorse? He hadn't even offered one word of sympathy to the family who had literally just had their sister ripped away from them. There was most certainly something very off with this man, and it didn't settle well with Lyra.

Malekith, on the other hand, more or less ignored Valda's remark, his attention instead garnered by the brazen comments made by the leader of the Young Army. Well, that went downhill fast, he thought to himself as his gaze swung over towards Puck. The look in his eyes gave nothing away, quite literally speaking. Just as Lyra had pinpointed, there was no fear and no remorse in the dark blue depths of his eyes. And no amount of acting could ever replicate that mirrored glint of emotion that showed in one's eyes. His eyes showed nothing, just like he felt nothing. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Well, in Malekith's case, he had no soul, only Darkenesse. In the end, he didn't fear death. No, death and him were old friends. One thing was certain though. If this was to be his time, then he had nothing left to lose, and as such, he would take as many people as he could down with him.

He let out a small disgruntled noise as he suddenly felt someone's Magyk poking and prodding around in his mind. His gaze went back over to the source, Asha the Magykal, just before she was soon joined by the ExtraOrdinary Wizard Arya. Great, MindReading, he thought with displeasure. Good luck in there, ladies. You're going to need it. He stared them down, intently watching them and awaiting their reactions. Despite his mind essentially being violated right then, in some sick, twisted way it actually gave him pleasure. It would be its own form of slow torture, and he would relish in their pain. Even when he has since passed on, the images they witnessed would haunt them forevermore. They could kill him, but they would never be able to forget him and those images. And that was absolutely priceless to him. It was perhaps the ultimate form of torture.

Malekith most certainly wasn't let down as pained and horrified expressions came to the wizards' faces. A devilish smirk came to his features unchecked. A part of him actually felt that having his cover blown was perhaps worth it just for this little moment of unspeakable pleasure. The act was up it would seem, which meant so were the niceties.

"I suggest you wipe that smirk off of your face before I wipe it off for you," Lyra suddenly growled in warning. She stepped in his direction, her sword bared as she circled around him with slow, carefully placed steps. Her eyes were trained on him all the while until finally dropping when she came to a halt beside Asha and Arya. Normally she wouldn't avert her gaze from the enemy, but her concern was just too great to ignore. The fierceness in her eyes softened as she looked over at the two wizards. "Are you alright?" she asked earnestly, addressing the both of them, though her gaze seemed to linger on Asha.

Malekith held back an actual chuckle at Lyra's threat. Cute. His gaze went back over to the midget commander and Wendron Witch Mother. He scoffed at Jadis's words. "You know, I seem to recall your coven doing the same exact thing to your dear, sweet Valda. Would the death of one soldier truly have swayed you from your warpath? I mean look at the spoils you gained, a Wendron Witch crowned queen." he stated condescendingly, gesturing over to Valda.

Lyra's head snapped back over to Malekith when she heard the no doubt toxic words that just spewed out of his mouth. He was surely trying to place blame elsewhere in order to divert their attention from him. In other words, he was trying to save his own skin at the expense of everyone else. "Shut your mouth!" she hissed.

Malekith fought the urge to roll his eyes again. As the others began arguing over what to do with him, he took the moment's reprieve to look over his shoulder and out into the crowd. His dark eyed gaze searched for his fellow coven members, wondering if they were still out there or if they had already made their getaway. He fairly quickly pinpointed them, the twins' silver hair being a bit of a giveaway. He then quickly turned his gaze forward again, where it was to be met by Lyra's piercing blue green gaze.

Lyra's head cocked to the side slightly, having caught Malekith's suspicious attempt to look over his shoulder. Was he looking for someone, perhaps maybe his coven members? She looked past him to survey the crowd, seeing if anything, or anyone, stood out. Her perceptive gaze did a few passes over the large group before two individuals with striking silver hair caught her attention at the back of the crowd. As her gaze lingered on them, she also noticed a blonde, ginger, and brunette with them. They seemed to be huddled together conversing, which was a bit off-putting considering most people were panicking. Hmmm, curious. Maybe they're his coven members? she thought to herself. She looked back over to Malekith with a blatant smirk on her face. "Rookie move, Malekith," she taunted, before she turned back to Asha and Arya and told them of what she saw.

Or was it? Malekith thought with a barely concealed smirk.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Thalken Talink

The only way I'm leavin' is dead
That's the state of my, state of my, state of my head

- "State of My Mind" by Shinedown

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Stables
Skills: None currently

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It was a perplexing matter, the state of Thalken's head right then. His head was killing him, and yet somehow, he still felt entirely numb to the world. He was without a care in the world, making him seem more aloof than usual. His mind was mostly blank. There was no planning, no plotting, no brooding, just dullness. He knew how he had made it to this moment, but he didn't know where he was going from here. He didn't know if any of this was even truly worth it. But if there was one thing he did know, it was this. He had no home because he disowned the Talink name. Despite how much he despised feeling like a prisoner, this was probably the best place for him to be right now. The Russian circus folk would keep him in line, and in the meantime, his father couldn't touch him here. It was a win-win situation. So, why did he feel so depressed? Maybe it was because he felt that he lacked any purpose anymore. If he wasn't a Talink, then what was he?

His hand holding a piece of bread paused in midair on its way to his mouth when the guard's words hit his ears. His head slowly pivoted in their direction to stare them down for a moment with this cold, unblinking gaze. He cocked his head to the side slightly. They weren't going to keep him hostage in this stall. Hmmm, interesting. He turned back to his food and quickly finished eating. He downed the rest of the goat's milk then set mug down before brushing off his hands and getting back up onto his feet. He felt a little better having something in his stomach now, but it did little for the pounding in his head. He rubbed his head and glanced around before stiffly shuffling out of the stall. He glanced over at the guards, gauging their reaction, before making his way past them in the direction of the nearest exit. He didn't really have any particular place in mind to go, but surely anywhere would be better than just staying in the stables. As far as talking to someone, well, he wasn't in a talking mood right now, and whatever resolve he had to talk to the Lady Crypt had long since fled. Besides, the Tent City seemed secure enough to keep out the likes of his father. Her and the young viscount James should be safe here, and any "help" he could give would surely just be a hindrance. So, you could say that Thalken was moving on, or at least he was trying to. We'll see how long that lasts.

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Fyror Kildragon

No, if they tried to take her from him,
he'd rip the world apart with his bare hands.
And for some reason, that didn't terrify him.

- "Running Up That Hill" by Placebo

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Location: Manchester, England
Skills: N/A

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Fyror gave the woman another small smile when she accepted his offer and was willing to tell them about this attack. He nodded his head in appreciation and gestured for her to follow them. He listened intently to what she had to say, his mouth set in a hard line as she recounted the graphic details. His gaze took in her features for a moment, noting with interest that she seemed relatively unfazed by all the death and mayhem. Perhaps it wasn't the first time she had looked death in the eye, or perhaps she was just good at hiding her emotions. Whatever the case, it said a lot about her character, that she was out here trying to help people despite whatever tramua she herself might have endured. In the end, he respected her more for it.

However, he seemed to sort of stop in his tracks when the conversation took an unexpected turn. Perhaps he should have felt a sense of relief that Lord Rutherford and Millicent had been spotted in Manchester as recently as last night, yet instead he held his breath. Surely there was a catch. And how right he was. His jaw clenched when she mentioned that they had taken a ship, and he quickly looked away as the rest of his features hardened. There was a tense silence that pervaded him as they walked the rest of the way to the nearby church. He felt a sense of outrage once again bubbling up to the surface, and yet, this change of course did little to sway his resolve. No, he would follow through--or die trying.

As such, Gerard's words brought about a feeling of stunned disbelief from Fyror. Disbelief, and perhaps anger. His head whipped around to look at him with a wide disbelieving gaze. He was just going to give up?! Just like that. Just because things got tough. Millicent deserved much better that. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he tried to choose his words carefully lest he snap the man's head off. "Well, I'm not about to turn back now. Do what you must, but I'm going to follow this through to the end," he finally stated, albeit a bit tersely. He then turned back to Colette. "Are you alright from here m'lady? If so, then I have a ship to catch."

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Alexandra Andonova

I'm a big child at heart. I think it's
important to stay that way and
not lose the wonder of life.

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Location: Ville au Camp - Outside the Kitchen House ⇢ Road to Main House
Skills: N/A

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"And the Yagababa are sort of like ugly vitches that fly around in a mortar and veild a pestle like a svord," Alexandra continued on with her story about the Soulless. She zoomed around the children as if she was flying whilst making odd cackling noises and slashing and jabbing the air with her imaginary pestle, much to the children's amusement. She finally came to a halt, grinning down at them. "It does sound pretty silly vhen you think about it, but in fact, they are quite terrifying in person. Plus they tend to hunt in packs."

"What do they hunt?" one of the children asked, her eyes wide.

Alexandra looked around before motioning for the children to come closer to her as if she had some big secret to tell. She leaned in towards them with mock seriousness on her face. "They hunt children," she whispered. Her facade just about broke when she saw a look of borderline horror cross their features. She then straightened back up. "But don't vorry this place is free of Soulless," she quickly reassured them. Or at least I certainly hope it is... She still was a bit unsure if the entirety of this world, timeline, whatever you wanted to call it, was free of the plague that were the Soulless.

She motioned for the children to follow her. She led them around the side of the Kitchen House to the road that would take them up to the Main House. She took in a deep content breath, the smell of butterscotch and cinnamon hitting her nose. I don't knov vhat that is, but it smells absolutely delightful. She shook her head to break herself out of the spell that the delicious scents had momentarily put her in. "Nov vhere ve? Oh yes, Yagababa. They turn young children into them by forcing them to eat their skin flakes."

"Ewwwww!" the children exclaimed collectively.

"I knov, I knov. It's really disgusting, but vhat do you expect from a Soulless?" she replied, nodding her head in understanding.

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Location: The Palace Lawn
Skill: Perception

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"Great," Lyra exclaimed grimly to Arya's reply. If fighting this attacker was even beyond the abilities of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, then what hope was there for her to succeed? She mentally shook her head. No, she couldn't think like that. For the sake of her mistress, for the sake of her Queen, she had to try--even if it killed her. Her lips thinned, and her hand tightened its grip on the hilt of her raised sword. Yet, all the while, the piercing quality of her gaze remained unchanged. Her brows furrowed and her head tilted back slightly as she heard Valda's question, but she didn't dare pull her gaze away from its current surveillance of the crowds. She gave a simple shake of her head in reply but otherwise stayed focused on the immensely important task at hand.

Out of her peripheral vision, she could see when Asha the Magykal stepped forward with her eyes glowing. She felt a small sense of relief knowing that the other wizard was here. Asha abosultely radiated with Magyk, so surely, that meant she was more powerful than the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, right? Maybe. But what did Lyra know. She had a strong desire to admire Asha while the woman performed her Magyk but quickly pushed that thought to the back of her mind. It was a selfish desire, all things considering, and she would have a long talk with herself about that later. Once again assuming there was a later...

Meanwhile, Malekith may have just thrown up in his mouth a little at Rhys's suggestive comment. In your dreams, boy. The only company we'll be spending together is me over your dismembered parts, he thought with utter disdain, as with long strides he caught up to Fleur in the midst of the panicking crowds. Yet, as he did so, he could feel something come over him and with it came the strong desire to go to the stage. A grimace crossed his features, and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to fight what was no doubt a Magykal intrusion into his mind. How violating. Unfortunately, however strong the warlock thought himself to be, he was no match for Asha's Magyk. His eyes opened once more and he straightened before he strode not of his own volition through the crowd towards the stage.

All the while, he mentally tried to figure out how the hell this even happened in the first place. He had no part, directly speaking, in Luna's disappearance so there really should be no means of tying him to it. He was too meticulous to allow for that. With that in mind, it really only left one other possibility. He was being set up. But who would do such a thing to him? It didn't take long for the answer to come to him. NERA!!! he inwardly cursed, his eyes darkening. He had to take a deep breath in order to calm the rage burning up inside him. Now was not the time for that. His vengeance would come, but right now, he needed to play his cards carefully.

A yelp off to her side quickly garnered Lyra's attention, and she instantly shifted her defensive stance to face the source. She blinked slightly when her gaze landed on Myrus, but that was not what truly gave her pause. No, it was what appeared to be a small explosion going off in the young prince's hands that made her think twice. To her knowledge, Myrus didn't possess Magyk, but what else could that have logically been? Well, she supposed that she would have to inquire of that another time, as she could see a tall, dark figure walking up onto the stage. The man was no doubt heeding Asha's Call.

Malekith walked up onto the stage, giving a slight respectful bow before his gaze landed on Asha the Magykal. "You Called," he said, more as a statement rather than a question. The corner of his lips twitched upwards the slightest bit before he corrected it. His gaze then swept over the group of people gathered before him to land finally on Queen Valda behind her self-proclaimed bodyguard. To his mundane pleasure, he noted how Lyra's muscles tensed in reaction, how her blue/green eyes narrowed on him, and how she lined up the edge of her blade to face him. Typical hero types.

"I believe there has been a bit of a misunderstanding. I didn't snatch Princess Luna, but it would seem that someone would wish to make it appear as though I did. In other words, I've been set up," he explained with a certain ease, addressing Queen Valda specifically.

"And that's exactly what someone who is guilty would say," Lyra scoffed.

Malekith fought the urge to roll his eyes at Lyra's interjection. She thinks she's tough, but I've squashed bigger bugs than her, he thought derisively. His gaze once again swept over the people on stage. "Use your Magyk, and tell me if I'm lying, he stated simply.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Thalken Talink

I've said it so many times. I would change my ways.
No, nevermind. God knows I've tried...

- "Call Me" by Shinedown

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) - Stables
Skills: None currently

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Thalken leaned against the doorframe of the makeshift stall, stopping to rub his temple in a vain attempt at easing the pounding in his head. His brows were furrowed, his eyes downcast, and his face was contorted into a grimace. Even the dark ruminations that normally pervaded his mind were put at a standstill by the pain of his massive hangover. He was essentially forced to just live in the moment, a very sucky moment to be precise. Yet, the concept wasn't something he was particularly adept at, always too busy obsessing on the sins of his past and ever anxious about how they would affect his future. It was a pointless endeavor really that only served to make his life a living hell in the meantime. So, perhaps in some messed up way, this situation would prove beneficial, therapeutic even, for him. Maybe. Or maybe it would just give him amble opportunity to screw things up for himself once more, to sabotage all his hard work leading up to this chance at redemption. Well, only time would tell.

His dark eyed gaze came up as he heard a commotion. His gaze looked past the guards to the woman they had brought in and were now conversing with. When his gaze landed on the platter of food and drinks in her possession, his hand fell back down to his side and he pushed away from the doorway. His stomach gurgled as he eyed the food, and he absentmindedly licked his dry lips. He was parched and famished. He tapped his foot impatiently as they wrapped up their little chat with the now miffed looking woman followed by their moment of joviality at whatever had just occurred. He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally brought the food and drinks over. And then, the guard suddenly pulled out a damn pistol on him! Thalken's eyes narrowed slightly and he cocked his head to the side with a expression that said "really?" He let out a small huff of annoyance and gave a roll of his eyes before slowly backing up into the stall with his hands raised.

Thalken waited for the guards to safely retreat before he went over to the platter of food and drinks. He restrained himself from rushing over to it like he wanted to. He didn't want to give the guards the satisfaction. He sat down cross-legged and picked up the mug with the darker looking liquid. He recoiled as the unmistakable scent of alcohol hit his nose. Like hell. He unceremoniously tossed the mug, liquid and all, over his shoulder. He cringed slightly when he heard the mug shatter into pieces somewhere behind him. Oops. He then reached for the mug of goat's milk and gladly took several generous gulps of it before digging into the food.

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Fyror Kildragon

Good people are like candles;
They burn themselves up to give others light.

- "Vengeance" by Zack Hemsey

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Location: Manchester, England
Skills: Court etiquette, Leadership

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Fyror's gaze, which had otherwise been transfixed on the ruins of Manchester, moved, as out of the blue a woman's voice floated to his ears. He turned, following the sound of her voice, to face a foreign blonde-haired woman. The sternness that had previously overcome his features soon softened, taking with it some of the intensity of his mangled face, as his gaze landed on her comparatively more diminutive form. He inclined his head out of courtesy. His auburn brows furrowed the slightest bit at her words, and he was about to say something in reply when Mr. Connolly suddenly made his presence known.

He looked back over at Gerard and nodded his head grimly. "Indeed, we must make haste. We can ask around a bit here, see if anyone has heard or seen Lord Rutherford or know of his whereabouts, but if we can't get a solid lead we must continue on as we were," he replied, taking on the role of leader with a certain ease. His attention then returned to the woman, just as Mr. Connolly's did too. "And I am Sir Fyror Kildragon, infantry captain of Colchester Garrison," Fyror added with a soft, albeit slightly strained, smile. "Perhaps you could tell us about this attack whilst we accompany you to the aid station, with your permission, of course."