RomanAria said
Oh wonderful, another healer. Aemi is going to find herself not very useful, I suspect. Hehe.
Well, three's company, I guess.
MZambos Member
A Man for all Seasons
- Last Seen: 1 mo ago
- Old Guild Username: MZambos
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 124 (0.03 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- MZambos 11 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Well, three's company, I guess.
Is there no end to this day's madness?
Voodoo magic. Of all the things that could've happened, he now had to suffer through these unholy . It didn't seem to help that the man across the hall seemed to be the cause of it all.
"Well, now that you have just committed murder, what do you intend to do?" Asked Rozenn of the Jamaican man. "How far ahead have you thought of this?"
Voodoo magic. Of all the things that could've happened, he now had to suffer through these unholy . It didn't seem to help that the man across the hall seemed to be the cause of it all.
"Well, now that you have just committed murder, what do you intend to do?" Asked Rozenn of the Jamaican man. "How far ahead have you thought of this?"
ActRaiserTheReturned said
Oh, why doesn't your character like mine? ;)
I figured that it was a parental thing. Both of these characters parents are of Celtic origin, and they way that both are depicted in various forms of media and iconography led me to believe that the two would likely be at odds, and I wanted to portray this through their children (or in this case, child.) Cernunnos is often depicted as a demon-like figure in druidistic thought, and Sirona is a goddess of healing. I just like the idea of the two gods being at odds, and this being carried down to their children.
Of course, you could always just chalk it up to cultural differences. Rozenn is from Brittany, where tact is appreciated, and the fact that some boisterous American popped up and spontaneously started to talk about his genitalia would cause him to dislike Jakob.
It's nothing against you as an RPer, I just thought it would be an interesting thing to happen.
You should always knock before coming in. It's impolite otherwise. Also, take off your shoes. It's a carpeting thing.
Was that phone already there before?
In truth, it didn't matter. Thanking the man across from him, he made headway towards the phone, dialing his father's phone number.
Ring...
He wondered how his family was doing, and how they were reacting to the fact that he had been captured.
Ring...
I wonder how mother is doing? And what about young Annick? How was his dear sister?
Ring...
Will father be able to recognize my voice? It's been some time since I went off to study.
Ring...
There was no one on the other end. With a sudden click, Rozenn heard his father's voice on the other end.
"Demat Dit! Loic eo ma anv." Another voice chirped in. "Katarin eo ma anv!" It was his step-mother. The last two voices were all too familiar. "Rozenn et Annick eo ma anv!"
It was the damned answering machine. Despondent, Rozenn realized that nobody would be home at that time. He listened intently to the sound on the other end of the answering machine. For a sound he had heard so many times before, it was almost nostalgic to hear again. As he heard the beep of the answering machine, he recorded his message.
"Salud, Pera. Pell 'zo n'em boa ket gwelet ac'hanout." He said, quietly. "Ne gomprenan ket, hea eo ma archerien. Hea Karout a ran ac'hanout, et Mera, et Annick. Karout a ran ac'hanout gara. Ken ar wech a-"
He cut himself off at the last word. He felt uncomfortable using the Breton words for goodbye. He decided to use the French instead.
"Au revoir," he said hanging up.
The Breton words 'ken are wech all' were the standard form for goodbye, but they had a different meaning than what Rozenn wanted. The Breton was final, unchanging, as if he would never see his father again. Even if he knew it was true, he didn't want to think about it. The French "Au Revoir" meant something different entirely. It came from the verb 'voir', 'to see'. Literally, Au Revoir meant 'I'll see you again.'
Rozenn didn't want to think that any other outcome was possible.
Slumping over the table that the phone was on, Rozenn started to cry again. He had never been the strongest of men, and everything was slowly starting to break him.
In truth, it didn't matter. Thanking the man across from him, he made headway towards the phone, dialing his father's phone number.
Ring...
He wondered how his family was doing, and how they were reacting to the fact that he had been captured.
Ring...
I wonder how mother is doing? And what about young Annick? How was his dear sister?
Ring...
Will father be able to recognize my voice? It's been some time since I went off to study.
Ring...
There was no one on the other end. With a sudden click, Rozenn heard his father's voice on the other end.
"Demat Dit! Loic eo ma anv." Another voice chirped in. "Katarin eo ma anv!" It was his step-mother. The last two voices were all too familiar. "Rozenn et Annick eo ma anv!"
It was the damned answering machine. Despondent, Rozenn realized that nobody would be home at that time. He listened intently to the sound on the other end of the answering machine. For a sound he had heard so many times before, it was almost nostalgic to hear again. As he heard the beep of the answering machine, he recorded his message.
"Salud, Pera. Pell 'zo n'em boa ket gwelet ac'hanout." He said, quietly. "Ne gomprenan ket, hea eo ma archerien. Hea Karout a ran ac'hanout, et Mera, et Annick. Karout a ran ac'hanout gara. Ken ar wech a-"
He cut himself off at the last word. He felt uncomfortable using the Breton words for goodbye. He decided to use the French instead.
"Au revoir," he said hanging up.
The Breton words 'ken are wech all' were the standard form for goodbye, but they had a different meaning than what Rozenn wanted. The Breton was final, unchanging, as if he would never see his father again. Even if he knew it was true, he didn't want to think about it. The French "Au Revoir" meant something different entirely. It came from the verb 'voir', 'to see'. Literally, Au Revoir meant 'I'll see you again.'
Rozenn didn't want to think that any other outcome was possible.
Slumping over the table that the phone was on, Rozenn started to cry again. He had never been the strongest of men, and everything was slowly starting to break him.
Even after all of this. Even after he had been told to put his face and hands against the wall. Even after he was told that he would be staying here forever by that strange, disembodied floating head. He still rolled his eyes at what the American had said.
Some boys simply cannot control themselves. In a way, he felt justified in calling Jakob a boy. He appeared to about Rozenn's age, if not slightly younger, but something about the way he acted seemed to portray a degree of immaturity. Whether it was sexually explicit diction he used, or the childishly condescending way he acted. But there was something else. Something that resonated with him on a ethereal level. He couldn't explain it in words, but there was something about this man that made Rozenn hate him with every fibre in his body, something primal and instinctual.
He shook his head and tried to ignore him as best as he could. Looking across the hall, he saw the Jamaican man who had spoken up on Rozenn's behalf when the guard was yelling at him.
"Euh... Excuse me?" He said, in the best English he could muster. "I just wished to say thank you. For what did. I am very grateful."
Some boys simply cannot control themselves. In a way, he felt justified in calling Jakob a boy. He appeared to about Rozenn's age, if not slightly younger, but something about the way he acted seemed to portray a degree of immaturity. Whether it was sexually explicit diction he used, or the childishly condescending way he acted. But there was something else. Something that resonated with him on a ethereal level. He couldn't explain it in words, but there was something about this man that made Rozenn hate him with every fibre in his body, something primal and instinctual.
He shook his head and tried to ignore him as best as he could. Looking across the hall, he saw the Jamaican man who had spoken up on Rozenn's behalf when the guard was yelling at him.
"Euh... Excuse me?" He said, in the best English he could muster. "I just wished to say thank you. For what did. I am very grateful."
Don't make waves, don't make waves... thought Rozenn as he stood up. The way that the guard barked orders at him only served to increase his tension, but he stood timidly and turned to face the wall.
The man in cell opposite him had said something, and even though his accent was such that it was difficult to know for certain what he had said, he had picked up enough to get a general understanding of the sentence. He felt a pang of guilt when the guard yelled back at him, almost as if it was Rozenn's fault that the other prisoner had been chastised so. The prisoner didn't seem to mind, though. He'd had a sort of easygoing air around him, and knew full well that the guard wouldn't dare to make good on his threat.
Or, at least, that he wouldn't be able to.
Turning into the wall, Rozenn waited for the guard to do whatever he needed to do, and leave.
The man in cell opposite him had said something, and even though his accent was such that it was difficult to know for certain what he had said, he had picked up enough to get a general understanding of the sentence. He felt a pang of guilt when the guard yelled back at him, almost as if it was Rozenn's fault that the other prisoner had been chastised so. The prisoner didn't seem to mind, though. He'd had a sort of easygoing air around him, and knew full well that the guard wouldn't dare to make good on his threat.
Or, at least, that he wouldn't be able to.
Turning into the wall, Rozenn waited for the guard to do whatever he needed to do, and leave.
Rozenn just moved where he was led, not looking up and making as little noise as possible. More than anything, he was scared out of his wits, unsure how to proceed or what to do. Being forced into his cell, he looked intently at the glass door that separated him from the world.
My parents, does they know I am here? He thought to himself. What will they do if I do not call them or come home for holiday? Will they worry? he was getting more and more tense at every thought. Will I ever see them again?
Quietly, he sat down in the corner of his cell and began to cry. The days events had started to overwhelm him. The guards had all spoken so loudly, and he could hardly understand them, his understanding of English being as weak as it was. All he had wanted was to go home, but it didn't seem like that would ever bee a possibility. He was just a boy, unused to conflict and violence, and today had taken everything he was comfortable and used to eviscerated it.
Looking up he tried to see if there was anybody else in his cell block he could speak to.
My parents, does they know I am here? He thought to himself. What will they do if I do not call them or come home for holiday? Will they worry? he was getting more and more tense at every thought. Will I ever see them again?
Quietly, he sat down in the corner of his cell and began to cry. The days events had started to overwhelm him. The guards had all spoken so loudly, and he could hardly understand them, his understanding of English being as weak as it was. All he had wanted was to go home, but it didn't seem like that would ever bee a possibility. He was just a boy, unused to conflict and violence, and today had taken everything he was comfortable and used to eviscerated it.
Looking up he tried to see if there was anybody else in his cell block he could speak to.
Name: Rozenn Erwann
Gender: Male
Parent: Sirona, Breton Goddess of healing.
Age: 19
Appearance: Here! Click me!
Serial Number for prison: 677483776
Powers: Can heal most wounds, and control snakes.
Abilities: He can speak fluent French and Breton, though his English is rather broken.
Job or Skill: A medical student at Aix-Marseilles University.
Background: Born in Carhaix, Britanny, Rozenn experienced the pain and trouble of poverty. For the longest time, he was told that his mother had died in childbirth. As his father remarried when Rozenn was only four, he was well acquainted with his step-mother, who treated him kindly, to the point where Rozenn simply became accustomed to calling her his mother. In his childhood, he realized that he was rather different than many of the other children, and when he asked his father, he was told everything about his biological mother. As he got older, he thought to use his powers in a way that made the most logical sense: working hard to get the best grades he could, and pass the IB exams, he got a scholarship to Aix-Marseilles, and attended university there.
Then the rest is history.
THREAT LEVEL: Little to none.
Gender: Male
Parent: Sirona, Breton Goddess of healing.
Age: 19
Appearance: Here! Click me!
Serial Number for prison: 677483776
Powers: Can heal most wounds, and control snakes.
Abilities: He can speak fluent French and Breton, though his English is rather broken.
Job or Skill: A medical student at Aix-Marseilles University.
Background: Born in Carhaix, Britanny, Rozenn experienced the pain and trouble of poverty. For the longest time, he was told that his mother had died in childbirth. As his father remarried when Rozenn was only four, he was well acquainted with his step-mother, who treated him kindly, to the point where Rozenn simply became accustomed to calling her his mother. In his childhood, he realized that he was rather different than many of the other children, and when he asked his father, he was told everything about his biological mother. As he got older, he thought to use his powers in a way that made the most logical sense: working hard to get the best grades he could, and pass the IB exams, he got a scholarship to Aix-Marseilles, and attended university there.
Then the rest is history.
THREAT LEVEL: Little to none.
Tyki said
"th... thanks..." shiro gasps out as he clutches his chest, his own injuries healed enough for him to have regulated breathing again but he was still worried about reopening them so he remained kneeling and spoke quietly, leaving his hood off since now that his curse had been revealed to these people there was no point in trying to cover it up or lie about it. "so what now?" shiro asks quietly, trying not to talk too much as he focuses on regenerating his lung, occasionally expelling the excess blood from his mouth until he clears up enough to be able to stand up, sheathe his sword, and sit against a tree, resting as he contemplates the now masterless sword and wonders what could bring such a thing into being and why it was so adamant about cavalcading around in the hands of such an ancient warrior when it could very easilly find much more capable hands, but he doubted that if it had the choice it probably would have found much more capable hands
Walking over to Shiro, Mihai'en couldn't help but notice that there was something different about the boy. Ears don't typically look like that, nor do they go there, he thought, dryly. Of course, at this point, he'd become rather used to the strangeness, and it wasn't as if Mihai'en had been all that forthcoming about everything either.
"Are you alright, laddie? Ya' took a nasty spill there," he said, sitting down next to him. It was pretty clear from his actions that the young man werewolf was still in immense pain. "Do you think you'll make it? I've seen other people take less and perish." He was naturally concerned, but he did his best to make it seem as if it was casual conversation.
It was odd to see the lad without his hood, though. The ears were a sight, sure, but there was still a young man sitting in front of Byrne. Probably wasn't always like this, he wasn't. He told me just last night about how he lost his family. He smiled, bitterly. Ought to've paid more attention. This really shouldn't have been a surprise.
"Do you need me to get you something? Some water, perchance?"
© 2007-2024