Symbel diving onto my dinner plate is a tradition that must continue.
Ti Member
Kitti
- Last Seen: 7 days ago
- Joined: 3 yrs ago
- Posts: 298 (0.32 / day)
- VMs: 2
-
Username history
- Ti 3 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
BlackRoseSiren,
Echotech71,
Force and Fury,
rabidbacon,
PickYourPosion,
Silly,
TokyoPewPew,
Redrum,
Snowdrops,
Mole
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
 |
|---|
"Achoo~!" Amandine felt a chilly breeze as she warmed herself by the fire, hands outstretched as the flames licked them. She had been having lucid dreams lately, and one of the latest involved a shapeshifter turning into a plump pheasant, roasting itself on a spit for dinner. The juices ran down its flesh, crisping in the flames. Her stomach rumbled as she thought about food, and she sighed. Why were her dreams always more flavourful than reality? One part of her chastised her fixation on food, while another encouraged her to indulge, a third nagged her to focus on the mission, and a fourth gave her a sense of déjà vu. She sighed as she connected with her sense of self, finding the pitter-patter of rain on the leaves soothing, as she came into agreement with the parts. She bit into a piece of hard tack, then dimmed down the flames with her toasty mitts. "It seems you all have decided that I'd better get moving." She adorned her traveller's cloak, preparing to continue her journey.
As she walked through the dark streets, she could feel eyes gazing in her direction. Even with the modest travelling cloak, her features marked her as not being from these parts. In this area, they tended to think she was from the Sands of Regand, her swarthy complexion reminding them of the sun-kissed inhabitants of the south. Funnily, in the Sands of Regand, her paler complexion made her stand out as someone from the north. For those wiser and more travelled, she might be identified as one of the nomads from the Western Rife Mountains, a people who tended to keep to themselves. However, that would only be partially correct, as she was no nomad. In truth, she didn’t exist, and that is the way her people preferred it. Reclusive hermits of an ancient Dragonian temple, more ruins than a great city of eons past, who led a simple and monastic life, away from the eyes of the empire. Even within her temple, those who manifest traits of their bloodline like Amandine were prized amongst them, proof of their own existence. More secretive still, for those even more fortunate, they would learn of one last secret: that one true Dragonian still lives. “... and she is a bitch.” Amandine smirked widely, her lips curled as she recalled the Lady Phoenix, before making a ritual sign of respect.
Despite being out of place in these parts, her journey followed the footsteps of her shifu, ꁲꁅꍩꁲꂠ. The old man is considered one of the most knowledgeable of her people, though if they spent any time with him outside the ceremonial and formal settings, they might quickly question their assumptions. Less of a Sage and more of a Lore Keeper, she had been assigned as one of his apprentices, the one deemed from them to have any merit. Her day-to-day consisted mostly of travel to the ancient temple sites to keep the flames held in ancient braziers lit. A relatively mundane task, the nomads knew better than to camp within the sacred walls. The most common nuisances were ones that called themselves ‘Adventurers,’ seeking to plunder, vandalize, and destroy anything they got their hands on, in hopes of obtaining long-lost coveted Dragonian riches and treasures. It always amused her as they always seemed to expect riches to be sat on a pedestal, waiting just for them, or treasure troves filled with golden riches about to open their doors after hundreds of years. She concedes, sure, they do have a sacred treasure on display back home, but that quest is so foolhardy they would have much more luck trying to steal from the Emperor and his elite guard.
Amandine made her way to the Lock and Key tavern, opening the door and stepping through. Inside, you couldn’t ever find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy… in the town. The absolute title goes to the Volenstul Downtown district, and the fact one of the patrons was clearly from there in the crowd playing dice said enough. She wrinkled her nose as she exhaled the scent from the man’s magic from her nostrils, scanning the room. Her irises took a slit-like appearance as she gathered what she needed before blending in. She moved towards the fattened orange tabby cat on the table, her fingers stroking through its fur, pinching the flab. “Well, aren’t you a plump one.” Her eyes, however, were not focused on the feline, but on the one adorned with the best equipment in this place, Dorian. It seemed like with the gathering of armed persons in the backroom acting unfamiliar, multiple people had been lured here like a siren’s song.
When the Volenstul man began to gamble with a familiar-looking coin, her suspicions were confirmed. She watched as he was led into a back room. As the pair made their way to the door, she followed them, presenting her coin as she was challenged by Dorian, and followed through the door.
As she eyed the others who entered the room already, she unfastened her cloak and hung it up on a peg. “Now this feels like déjà vu.”
I have a feeling the bar has been set now!
Event: Ersand'Enise's most eligible bachelor and bachelorette? | Location: Ersand'Enise
The man stumbled out of the Forked Tower, rubbing his head with confusion. Curiosity had got the better of the cat, as it led him to Juulet's trap, which landed him squarely at the door demon of room 69. Despite attempts to explain the mistake, his words fell on deaf ears. Now, he found himself enduring the consequences of a gender-swap for an unspecified length of time. A quick change of clothes granted spared him from potential awkwardness with his transitioned figure, and now standing at 5ft 7, the Torragonese noble bachelor ventured into the town as he tried to make sense of his newfound situation.
Aside from the height difference, not much had changed much. He still has his long red hair, his blue eyes, though the petite physique was now lean and more masculine. The new clothes suited him well, a noble suit tailored to his size and dimensions, though in places it fit too snugly. A glimpse of his reflection in a piece of shining metal at the market revealed a resemblance to his brother, Jorge.
Adjusting to the social dynamics of being a man proved challenging. Men seemed to frown at each other, and even a friendly smile was met with derision from his peers and elders. When he looked towards women, his attention brought a mixture of results from hostility from the males, a disapproving reserved look from the women, and sometimes what appeared to be a blush and a giggle from the girls around his age. As he moved through the town, he maintained a positive demeanour, noticing some stray kitties and taking a moment to scratch them behind the ears. At least he still had his charm intact where it mattered. His laugh pleasant and sweet, as he displayed affection towards these wonderful creatures.
Wandering through the streets, followed by his new feline companions, he stumbled upon a crowd near one of the local restaurants. From what he could make out from the flyers, Ipte's Courtyard and The Taster’s Union were organizing a one-off event - a dessert tasting experience. With a sweet tooth intact, even with the transformation, he approached the restaurant. The catch: the special offer was limited to couples only. This posed a dilemma; he pondered convincing Rikard to join him, only to realize the challenge of explaining his current predicament and the unlikeness of him accepting whilst he was in his current form. He had considered his other friends, Maura, Zarina, or perhaps even Jocasta, though the humiliation from confiding in them would be merciless.
What appeared to be a saving grace is the marketing was tailored to those like normally like himself. It was fluffy, pink, hearts and very feminine. This worked to attract the attention of girls walking past, or those seeking to find a mister to escort them through the door. His attention turned to a girl from his Darhannic studies class, a friend of Zarina. He recalled that her name rhymed with Taffy, remembering it was Raffie. Despite limited knowledge about her, she seemed pleasant and might make a suitable partner for him. Contemplating the best approach to invite her, he rejected the idea of being too forward, like many of the male peers might consider or the tall-tale Prince Charming approach, where they would hope to sweep her off her feet. Unlike them, he had insider knowledge to how a girl thinks, and it was time for him to take advantage of it.
Approaching Raffaella with a suave smile, he extended his arm, palm open towards her as he offered her to take it. "Mi’lady, will you accept my invitation to join in indulging in sweet desserts for the next hour or two?" The straightforward manner of the proposal cut to the heart of the matter, emphasizing the shared enjoyment of sweet treats without the unnecessary pretence that came with such an advance. As if on cue, one of the stray kitties brushed up around their feet and purred contently.
Raffaella was right outside the door of the event, absorbed in her prayers for happiness for the couples passing by. Some thought it quaint, others found it endearing. Only a few opted to actually stop and *join* the girl as she prayed over them, however. All these were Darhannic as well. In fact, *all* of the Darhannic students that came stopped to pray with her. They all seemed to know her, or at least know her name. Perhaps it was fitting for the shy girl who paradoxically tried to look her best without standing out.
She had just finished her latest prayer when a cat wandered up and curled on her foot. She smiled, giving in to the adorable creature's plea for scratches. "What am I to do with you? You're just so needy~" she "chastised" in her native language.
Then came the unexpected invitation. A hand outstretched as she looked at a familiar face. She'd *seen* this person before. Maybe. Or was it a relative? But regardless...
How could a *guy* be this..?!
Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed pink to match the rest of her, and she squeaked like a little mouse. "H... Holah," she said uncertainly, cuing in on his Torragonese accent. "E-Estoy..." she paused, as if she forgot what came next... nothing else came next, right?! "Raffie," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper.
She was shy, alright. In fact, she looked like she wanted to flee—but there was, presently, a cat curled up on her foot, and as all true cat lovers knew, movement in this situation was forbidden. "Um... I can't speak Avincian that... formally. I'm sorry!" She clapped her hands together in apology. "Er, or speak Torragonese, like, at all." She frowned and gripped at the loose floof of her dress.
Man, he looked *really* cute.
Er, important! Yes yes, VIP level nobility! Wow!
He smiled warmly at her as she searched for words, displaying patience and politeness. “Selam ben A… Selam ben Asier.” He almost stumbled over his own name, unable to reveal his true identity at the moment. Instead, he chose to adopt the name of his pet puff lion and esteemed ancestor. His cheeks flushed as he acknowledged the stutter, “My Virangish is just as bad,” attempting to play it off as a language barrier with a chuckle.
Asier noticed the cat moving on her foot, registering the panic on her face. He tilted his head, he crouched down, guiding the kitty off her foot with a gentle pspsps using his finger to scratch and brush against the cat's body. “It seems wherever we go, these cute lil’ furballs have a habit of following. Probably because we keep feeding them.” Looking up into Raffie’s face with a smile, he continued, “Speaking of which, are you hungry?” Patting his stomach to indicate his own hunger in that universal language, he took the girl’s hand within his own as he stood up.
Surveying the restaurant's interior, even with the spontaneity of the event, it was nearly at full capacity. Asier spotted a cosy spot near the kitchens, clearly one of the better seats for catching the attention of passing servers. Hoping his increased size included a bigger stomach, he gestured for her to take his arm, signalling the start of their entrance. “There seems to be a table in there, ideally placed for the two of us.” He motioned towards the greeter, indicating their desire for seating, as he prepared for escorting her inside.
Raffie couldn't help but giggle as "Asier" blushed. She wasn't sure why, but it just slipped out. "I'm sorry! I don't mean to be rude. It's... a good name. Your parents chose well." She smiled somewhat ambiguously.
She joined him in spoiling the cat, ruffling its fur. "Yup! We keep feeding them, 'cos they're cute!" she replied cheerfully. Then, she frowned. "Am I that obvious?" she asked.
"...Thank goodness!" she heaved a long sigh. "I thought I'd lost my touch! I wanna go inside so bad~! But all the boys are too nervous to ask me... not that I'm one to talk." She fidgeted a bit. It was her own fault, refusing anyone who was after more than just a one-off tea and dessert date.
Asier, however, seemed to share a similar goal in mind to Raffie. Somehow, being with him felt cosy, though she couldn't place why just yet. She clung to his arm without hesitation and...
Haha! As if! She was nervous as heck! She took his arm with a touch so gentle it could barely be called grabbing. She was understandably anxious with this tall stranger, no matter how vaguely familiar, friendly, and good-looking he might be. But at a second glance, she wasn't looking *away* from Asier so much as she was looking around at the other couples, and in particular, the other girls.
Will they get mad? Girls are scary when they get jealous... she thought as she sat down. She put her hands in her lap and tapped her thumbs together nervously. A few times, she almost put her hands on the table, and she abruptly stopped swinging her legs once or twice. Table manners didn't seem to come naturally to her. Nor patience, but she was trying!
Asier smiled widely, saying, “Named after the legendary lion knight himself, and as a consequence, probably quite a few kitties with that name as well. As for my parents, we are fortunate that they never settled on Harold. There was a girl whose parents were so convinced they were getting a boy, she ended up with that unfortunate name.” His smile softened as she attended to the cat, “Yes, you are a cat person, just like one of us. No turning back now.”
After his comments, Asier appraised her, examining her features. It's an odd feeling being so tall and looking towards someone shorter than you are. He isn’t tall for a male, but still a fair distance taller than his previous height. He smiled warmly as he looked into her eyes, “Worry not; you have this captivating aura that draws in people's attention and lights up the room. Any of those boys would be lucky to have you escorting them. Now, let’s investigate these puddings; they won’t eat themselves,” he winked towards her as he guided her inside, indicating to the wait staff the table he spotted and allowing them to be escorted inside.
As they stepped inside, a wave of warm air infused with the sweet aroma of baked goods and caramelized sugar greeted them. The dimly lit space gave a romantic ambiance as shadows from the candlelight cast across the antique wooden furniture and tapestry-adorned walls. The low hum of hushed conversation and occasional clinking of glasses and silverware created a lively yet intimate atmosphere. Each of the tables was adorned with crisp white linen cloth, showcasing an array of decadent desserts: Crème Brûlée with its crackling sugar crust, Trifles layered with fruits and cream, and Flummery moulded into shapes of sweet velvety goodness. Asier watched as Raffie appeared to be eyeing up the treats others indulged in, recognizing she is most likely just as looking forward to tasting them as himself.
Finally ushered towards their table by the bustling kitchen, they settled in, and their anticipation grew. Asier moved his long red hair out of the way as he tried to position himself within the chair. Navigating this outfit was a new experience, especially when he noticed just how uncomfortable it can be to cross your legs, finding himself quickly rectifying that error with his eyebrows risen in surprise. Finally settled as he sat facing towards Raffie, he smiled widely as he looked over the menu, and it was then he came to notice something unusual as his expression changed. He had the men’s menu. Glancing between his and Raffie’s, he noticed the details such as the font being different, her list looked shorter, and more surprisingly, his had prices against the options unlike hers. A mischievous smile played on his lips, and with a glint in his eye, he lowered the menu onto the table, saying, “Just how big is your sweet tooth?”.
"Oh gawds, really?" She chuckled, picking up the pace. "At that point, why not just change the name? If I had a kid, I'd want to know right away if they're a boy or a girl!"
Distracted from her nervous musings, she looked at Asier. "C-Captivating?" She blushed. "You think? Everyone's looking at me, when I'm not looking?" she asked innocently. "Gosh, but that'd be embarrassing~"
She started fidgeting excitedly again as she picked up the menu. No prices. That means everything's probably really expensive. Shoot, he's actually really nice. I should tell him. I should tell him, but! It all looks so good, and he looks really rich. It's no skin off his nose, right?! Right!
Unbeknownst to her, she was gnawing on her thumbnail the whole time, looking mildly frustrated as she eyed the menu. Eventually, though, she caught herself. "Uhm, I'll just have one," she replied with a nervous smile. Then, her stomach growled. "Uhm, or tw... three," she relented, with a big goofy smile. *No more, Raffles. Any more than three and he'll definitely think you're gross. Like, a total pig.
Asier nodded with a smile, as he gleamed with appreciation, “You are definitely my kind of girl.” With a playful wink, he clapped on the table, and caught the attention of one of the waiters. “We’ll take one of everything.” he declared confidently, placing an order for each delectable item on the menu.
The waiter, adorned in a crisp apron, approached as a subtle smirk played on his lips as he observed the pair. With a measured tone, “Ah, Monsieur, feeling adventurous tonight, are we? One of each delightful delicacy, très bien. A feast for the senses, indeed." A subtle annoyance lingered in his voice, masked by the professionalism, “But of course, Monsieur, we strive to accommodate all preferences. A delightful selection, but may I recommend a few personal favourites to truly enchant your evening?” He subtly attempted towards a more well-curated selection over an exhaustive one.
Asier smiled as he sensed the waiter’s disapproval, and chuckled, “Ah, but we are very hungry, my good sir. The plan is to make this an evening to remember,” he replied, with a mischievous demeanour.
The waiter maintained his professional facade, nodded in acknowledgement. “As you wish, Monsieur. A memorable evening it shall me. Your order will be promptly served.” He retreated, perhaps with a hint of bemusement, to relay the extravagant request to the kitchen.
As he waited for the banquet of desserts to arrive, he got the napkin as he fastened it to himself with a flair, as he began to strike up some casual conversation. “What are your favourite things?”
Raffie's eyes widened in surprise at Asier's order. Her cheeks flushed pink as she realized that he'd seen right through her, and her embarrassment only escalated as he navigated the waiter's subtle barbs.
Then came the question. "Oh, you know! Cute things, fluffy things! Sweetness and pink, girly girl things!" she recited, as though she were asked every day.
Asier politely smiled as he ordered a bottle of wine from a passing waiter and poured some water into a glass. What a delightfully dull response to the question, he mused. He sat back and reflected, noting the absence of a follow-up question to encourage engagement. Perhaps he was always guilty of the opposite, recalling Rikard’s face every time he mentioned his cats.
“It is worth developing some niche or special interests,” he smiled wider as he leaned forward, “We enjoy a number of them. First is my animals, from my kitties who have the habit of sitting on me while we are in bed, growling every moment for me to feed them, appreciating their insatiable appetites. Also enjoy combing the long hair mane of my beautiful mare, and riding my royal froabas, with a particular favourite of soaring high with him at sunset, watching the light creep away from the world. Simply divine.”
As the wine arrived, he held his glass for it to be filled, and the waiter offered to fill Raffie’s glass as well.
“Second, we really love music, especially something with a strong beat. We find that dancing to a fiery flamenco can be so energizing and passionate, simply losing yourself in the heat of the moment. The moment the music stops, the lights go out, and the sudden coolness as the heat escapes your body. Exhilarating.” He took a drink from the glass, savouring the smell, texture, and taste. It was Perrench, as expected from an establishment like this. Certainly, one thing you cannot fault them for was the high quality of their wine, refined for hundreds of years.
He sat back and smiled toward Raffie with a playful smirk. “How about the trials? How are you finding them?”
*Now he's just showing off...* Raffaella thought, annoyed. *I'd love to have hobbies, if I had any time or money for them.* She didn't let her irritation show, however. "Ehehe, yep! Kitties are so full of mischief, but you just can't stay mad at them!" She curled up her fingers into little paw shapes and raised them up close against her cheeks, all giddy and giggly just thinking about them.
When the waiter offered wine, Raffaella refused. "Oh no, I can't~! Juice please!" she requested instead. Then, the next topic came up. Finally! A saving grace! She gasped dramatically. "I *love* to sing and dance~!" she proclaimed, even as Asier was still explaining. She covered her mouth in apology.
Of course, there were also the Trials. In truth, she was trying to forget about the next event. "They were surprisingly fun!" she admitted, leaving out the part where she, the team's namesake, had contributed almost nothing to their success. "But the next event is... how do I put it..." she rested her chin on her little hand in contemplation. "Totally barbaric?" she ventured. Then, she heaved another big sigh. "I can't fight at a~ll! I hope my opponents are nice. I don't wanna die..." She frowned, staring intently at the glass of grape juice in front of her.
Asier smiled as she engaged, even giving a chuckle as he watched her little cat impression. This is better, he thought. He appreciated her engagement, even if she interrupted him, not offended in the slightest.
“You do? We would love to sing and dance with you sometime. Warn you, though, things can get quite competitive.” He moved his hand onto hers, “Will drag you onto the dance floor and have those pretty feet of yours tapping away. You should have seen last time when we dragged…” he paused for a moment, “Well, it was electrifying.”
He continued to enjoy the conversation as she opened up, preferring to hear Raffie enjoy the moment. His hand lingered on hers, as if they were sharing a connection with the other. “They are challenging, fun, and intense.” He listened to her every word as he allowed her to express herself. He was in agreement; he had never killed anyone before either, and the thought of it, especially when it came to killing her friends, was unspeakable.
“As for Mano e Mano… there is an expression, there is more than one way to stroke a cat.” He squeezed her hand empathetically, then released it, “There is no need to kill anyone; you just have to get them to leave the arena.”
"Were they really that hard?" Raffie pondered, tilting her head innocently. "I must be doing pretty well, then~! There's that one girl who keeps getting in the way, I guess," she remarked, referring to Taleja, vastly understating her annoyance with the woman.
She looked down at the hand that completely dwarfed hers, and realized that she'd left her hand on the table. Again. She smiled softly. Unlike a certain "maid," Asier didn't scold her for her bad manners. Bold of him to go for the hand-holding so quickly... but she'd let it slide.
After all, he was cu... ahem! A gentleman, yes.
"Can I really just make them leave? It's not like I can shove them off." She flicked a delicate finger, knocking a crumb of someone else's cake off the table. *Missed a spot, Mr. the Waiter. Not very professional, despite your carefully managed appearances.* A slightly impish grin curled the corner of Raffie's lips, though it wasn't obvious why. "I'd rather challenge my opponents to keep up with my dance moves. Ooh, or a beauty pageant! Since I'm just so~ captivating!" Her half-smirk became a full one as she teased him.
Asier smiled widely at the confidence, “Never underestimate an opponent; it is what happened last year, and we won. That caused quite an uproar.” On the topic of particular candidates, “Oh, quite a few of those. Marci is certainly playing the best so far, and Maura is after repeating her success from last year. That Vyshta girl is causing quite a stink, too… the boys are doing quite a poor showing.”
He beamed widely towards her proposal, “That sounds like a fun challenge. We would love to find myself facing you; we’ll even put on our best dress for the occasion.” He imagined the dress as well, the red and black one with the lion mask that he wore for Nox Arcanium last year, “Don’t think we’ll go easy because we like you.”
The desserts began to arrive at the table, crowding it with a tempting array of flavours. Each dessert hailed from a different region, allowing one to taste a varied palette. From Perronce came the Crème Brûlée, its caramelized sugar crust shimmering in the soft candlelight, promising on the first crack to reveal a velvety vanilla custard beneath. From Enth was the Trifle, a layered marvel of sponge cake, custard, fresh fruits, and whipped cream. The Panna Cotta was a creamy delight of vanilla and fruity drizzle, promising an indulgence of Revidian culinary finesse. Bitesized Baklava with layers of phyllo dough, chopped nuts, and honey promised a taste of Virang. From Torragon was the classic choice of churros, crispy on the outside and tender within, served with chocolate sauce. Vossiyrian Medovik provided a layered honey-infused cake to enjoy. A sweet variant of Moin Moin from Belzagg came on the table, prepared with black-eyed peas, sugar, bananas, cinnamon, then steamed to perfection. Lastly, Helwa tat-Tork from Djamant, the sweet and nutty fudge delicacy of sesame seeds and honey served in bite-sized chunks, graced the table.
“Is that all, Monsieur and Mademoiselle?” Another waiter brought along a pair of elegantly crafted long-handled spoons, clearly designed not for individual use, as they were handed over. Asier playfully looked at the spoons, “Looks like we can help ourselves to the desserts from the other tables with these.” The waiter, whilst bemused, sternly corrected the assumption. “Today is a special day by Ipte for couples to enjoy this fine dining experience together. This, Monsieur, is for you to feed your Mademoiselle. Enjoy.” The waiter politely made his leave, leaving the pair with their conundrum.
Asier blushed as he began to survey the table, “What would you like to try first?” as he offered to Raffie.
"I didn't make the cut for the Trials last year," Raffaella admitted casually. "They kept trying to push me to learn atomic or temporal, but I'm just not strong enough in the Gift." She said it in a sing-song voice, like it didn't really bother her that much.
At the mention of boys not doing well, she tilted her head. "That short lad with the funny hat seems to be doing alright. The one who wears a mask all the time?" she prodded, covering her mouth with a napkin. "Which team are you on?" she added excitedly. The conversation shifted back to dancing, however.
"I wonder if the crowd would get mad~" she remarked absentmindedly, like she didn't really care if they did or not. Best dress? she pondered. Is that some kind of absurdism that only makes sense to nobles? In the end, she decided that giggling girlishly was a safe bet as always. "Bah, do your worst, foul villain~! The ballroom floor shall see thy face smitten~!" she teased with a high-pitched war cry.
Then arrived the desserts. Her eyes sparkled unnaturally with arcane magic at the sight of them all. She did it so seamlessly; it was obviously an effect she practised often. "Gawds, I wanna try them all. ...Did he just say you're supposed to feed me?" She paused. This was something... couples did.
Oh. Yeah. They got in on that pretence, didn't they? So, it couldn't be helped if they had to do something like this. That said, why was Asier blushing?! "Oh, come on~!" she pouted. "Look, I see you blushing. This was *your* idea, so don't get cold feet now!" she gently scolded him. She was blushing too, though, looking at his face and imagining him doing it. "S-Surprise me," she demanded in that soft voice, closing her eyes.
Asier tried to recall someone who matched the description but struggled to think of any boys. However, he couldn’t resist some bemusement. “We can only think of the girl in Fait Accompli… Heard her name is Bella.” He clicked his fingers as he nodded affirmatively, recalling the name used. When it came to the team he is on, “We are on Singers and Saints… as a substitute when someone becomes inconveniently indisposed. Then we step in to help out.” He wasn’t exactly wrong, as he gave her a big grin, but it was certainly a stretch of the truth. “The Moon Prince to the Sun King.” In reply to her boast, “You would be purring like a kitten in our hands as we take you as our partner on the dance floor.”
Asier couldn’t help but smile when called out for blushing, the corners of his mouth lifting. “It is our first time doing something like this; it is kind of romantic when you think about it. Imagine if we were doing it as a real couple.” The tip of the spoon broke through the caramelized sugar as he began with the Crème brûlée, scooping up a mouthful of the delicious treat. He couldn’t help but feel his heart racing as he brought the spoon towards the other’s lips. There was just something so cute and vulnerable with her gesture; it made him want to feel… protective? Certainly, it stirred a sensation as he drew the spoon to her mouth. “It’s entering now.” He delicately pressed it forward past her lips, as he began to fill her with the sweet treat. One spoonful at a time.
"Eh? A girl? No way, right? What girl in her right mind would hide her face~?" She cackled a little. Then, her eyes widened a bit in realization. Wait, then is she the girl who went missing? Who just up and kidnaps someone that strong?! Scary!! Her face turned a bit sheepish as she realized that she might've been insensitive. She said nothing, however, and the two passed over the grim topic quickly.
At Asier's rebuttal, she seemed a little surprised. "First time? Really?" She averted her eyes shyly. "L-Lucky me." Is this what a romantic evening with a prince would be like? It is, isn't it! she realized, happily accepting the bite of crème brûlée. She cracked a wide smile as her cheeks tingled with delight. "Mm~! What's next?" she asked without missing a beat.
But... shouldn't it be Asier's turn now? As if she suddenly had the realization herself, Raffaella nearly slammed her hand on the table to grab her own spoon. "No, wait. You need to try this too!" she backpedalled, taking up a sample of the crème brûlée in her own spoon.
Outside, in the grander world of Sipenta, with its politics, power struggles both economic and martial, and businesslike marriage arrangements for mutual gain, it was a man's world. But here, in this protected bubble of precious, even *sacred* romantic rites, the whims of the girl would direct the events of the evening. In this situation, as the man, Ayla's needs and desires took second place.
Yet Raffie, despite her obviously selfish motive in accepting Asier's proposal, made an effort to set her privilege aside. She had to raise her arm a bit just to reach him, and she held the spoon with a hand that trembled with signs of hunger and low blood sugar. "Open wide~" she said sweetly.
Asier opened his mouth wide, resembling a lion about to pounce, his mouth roaring as he moved to attack the vulnerable crème brûlée. It was as if the spoon had a mind of its own as he was countered, the crème brûlée getting mushed over his nose. He blinked in sudden surprise as the rich flavour invaded his nostrils. He paused for a moment, shocked, then burst out laughing as he moved to hold onto the spoon, guiding it into his mouth to consume the mouthful.
“Our turn,” he moved his spoon over to the trifle, ensuring to scoop a big dollop of whipped cream. As he approached Raffy, he kept his other hand on her spoon to disarm her. “Now make sure to open wide; we don’t want to miss...!” The custard prince threatened to make his date the cream puff princess as his movements hinted at getting her nose, then he would dive it into her mouth if she opened wide.
Raffie sat frozen in... fright? "Oh no! I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry! Please..! ...Forgive... ...me." But Asier had laughed it off. She was so surprised by his reaction that she almost missed the counterattack, but managed to react just in time to get *most* of the whipped cream. "*Ooh,* now you've done it!" She grinned mischievously.
What followed was a spectacle that some might call a more elegant version of a food fight. They jousted with their spoons as they feasted on the delectable desserts. With each bite, Raffie's smile grew wider, her laughter more raucous. The two had become the centre of attention, but she was too focused on Asier to notice. Her signature shyness seemed to just melt away.
Come to think of it, had it even been there at all?
Even as Asier finished, Raffie kept going, until there was hardly a crumb left on any of the plates. At some point, she'd finally stopped shaking. Oh dear. I really overdid it. She's definitely going to know that I've already had food today. Maybe this will be enough, if I go to sleep early. She covered her mouth and yawned loudly. "Gosh, is it getting late? So... sleepy."
Just like that, she was out. Fully asleep in her seat, as the waiter returned with the bill.
Asier had fun as he smiled towards the other girl. She definitely could out eat him when it came to puddings, a miracle in itself. He sighed whimsically, looking toward himself introspectively, wishing someone would do this with him, somewhat envious of the girl opposite. The waiter came with the bill after a delay, and after seeing the eye-watering price, he could understand why, especially with what appeared to be additional security by the doorway. He looked toward the sleeping girl, opened the coin purse, and essentially emptied it to pay for the dinner. “What shall we do with you?”
“If Monsieur is accepting suggestions, typically one should accompany the lady back home,” the waiter said, impressed by their appetites and the compensation in tips, “A true gentleman would wrap a young lady in his jacket and carry her home.” Asier smiled a little at the suggestion, “You are certainly a romantic at heart.” “It ended up with me being married for 24 years and counting,” the waiter politely nodded as he departed with his sage advice.
“Well, looks like we play this role some more, mi amor.” He removed his jacket and draped it over Raffie’s shoulders, then gently lifted the girl up in his arms in a bridal carry, escorting her out of the restaurant like a Prince Charming. As the fresher air hit his senses, he made a realization as he looked down toward her. “Where do you live?” He mulled over the options as he discreetly caressed her cheek, as he wiped away some of the crumbs, before finally deciding to escort her back to his place. He knew she would be safe there at least, he would have to figure out the rest of the details later.
Asier was able to pick Raffaella up without any difficulty. Beneath the fluff, she was even smaller than she looked. There were probably mid-sized cats that weighed more than this fully-grown young lady. Was this really normal? Or was Ayla just that much stronger right now? "Mmh... Ana... F-Fash..." she mumbled in her sleep, but didn't stir. While Asier walked and onlookers whispered and giggled, Raffaella slept peacefully right through it.
Asier may have intended to leave her in the care of Zarina, but he wasn't able to get far before a semi-familiar middle aged maid shrieked dramatically and ran over to him. "You! Put her down this *instant!"* she cried, causing Raffaella to jolt awake. However, she continued to pretend to be asleep, not moving a muscle.
Once she'd gotten a good look at Asier, the woman straightened her posture and bowed in respect, acknowledging his noble bearing. "My apologies. As I'm sure you can guess, this girl is my responsibility." She let out a hollow chuckle. "I'll escort her back to her quarters," she offered with her words, but not her hands. Perhaps she was too old to carry her; though, that was questionable.
Asier classically looked behind him, wondering what was going on, oblivious to the fact that initially, he was the one being hollered at. He eventually saw a maid giving him an evil eye, examining him up and down. She then became deferent in her mannerisms towards him, observing his noble bearing. It's a good thing he wasn’t trying to kidnap the girl, he thought, noticing the difference. He smiled toward the woman, “No apology needed; misunderstandings can happen all the time.” He looked toward Raffie, the girl tucked up like a baby kitten, snug within his arms. “It appears she doesn’t want to move,” as he shook her gently within his arms, trying to stir her awake, “If you like, lead the way, and we will follow you.” He smiled politely towards her. If this maid was like one of her old ones, Raffie is getting plunged into the nearest fountain to wake her up and get her moving if he didn’t offer.
"Thank you for your understanding, milord..?" she inquired for his name. "Good grief. She just does whatever she likes, this girl. I have my hands full every day. Expecting her to act her age is like trying to squeeze water out of a rock." Raffaella was trying not to smile as the maid laid her troubles on Asier.
She led him to a small, unassuming place just outside the Queensgate. It didn't seem like the kind of building where a young noble lady and her maid would live. Inside, however, it had a distinctly upper class vibe; it was a haven of luxury hidden in plain sight.
An elderly woman in well-worn, ashen gray mage's robes greeted them with a smile as they entered. She didn't seem the least bit surprised to see Asier carrying Raffie. "Leave milady on the seat over there, if you please. Then you may go," the maid said with a stern expression, gesturing to the chair next to the old woman. "Please excuse her rudeness. She has her hands full every day, you see." She cracked a mirthful smile. "Why don't you stay awhile and have some tea and cakes?" she offered, grinning as though she had said something witty.
"Milady, this man was currently making off with your daughter before I stopped him. He tempted her with sweets at that location she told you about earlier today," she dutifully reported.
"She went inside after all, did she? Naughty girl, going somewhere you shouldn't be." Her words seemed intended for Raffaella, but her emerald eyes stared right at Asier, accompanied by a knowing smile. "You may leave us," she said, regarding the maid. She looked like she wanted to protest, but she obediently took her leave.
Slowly, she turned back to Asier. "The last time I met your mother, I was sure she was expecting a girl. How peculiar." As ever, she smiled. "Did the two of you have fun together?"
“Asier”—getting used to calling himself that name would take some time. He idly listened to the maid as she led the way. He was simply relieved he didn’t have to host the girl somewhere and answer a series of increasingly awkward questions about accommodation and decoration choices.
He came across a humble abode, and it was fair to say, it looked bigger on the inside and far more luxurious. As instructed, he laid Raffie on the nearby chair and was about to leave as instructed until the maid was interrupted by the lady of the house. He raised an eyebrow to her about him running off with her daughter, and he didn’t take much convincing to help guide Raffie home. Though in hindsight, it wasn’t exactly wrong either, simply not correct. He ended up sitting down next to the girl as he joined them, albeit temporarily, to prevent an unintended slight.
Asier was certainly surprised at the idea of this woman knowing his mother, especially given he hadn’t revealed who he was. He questioned if it was some kind of intimidation, though he continued to act as if it was natural, “We do have a sister; perhaps it is her you are thinking of.” He left it open for the woman to further elaborate on her statement, “How do you know her?”
“The kitchen was kept busy, and our table kept fully replenished. We were not left wanting for dessert during our stay.” He moved to indulge in a sip of the drink offered to him. “And it appears that the excitement of the event was too much for some.” He gave a playful and knowing smile as his eyes moved to indicate the girl beside him. “It was a pleasant afternoon together.”
"Hmm. Perhaps my memory is going sooner than I'd hoped," she replied in good humour. "I've met with a great many noble families. Used to be quite the diplomat in my younger years. I never did give up travelling, though." She gently ruffled Raffie's hair, sighing contentedly. "Soon I'll be too old. Then, off to the long dream I go. It'd be nice to know that this girl won't be left alone when I do. I'm happy you made a friend, little one."
Raffie, still pretending to be asleep, looked like she might cry. It was no coincidence that, around the same time, the old woman put her back to sleep with a gentle but strong surge of chemical magic. "I'd like to thank you, Asier, for keeping her safe and well fed, but now I need you to go. I need to tuck her into bed before we all get in trouble." She smiled tightly, and did not elaborate. She was still pleasant, but she was very much urgently shooing him out the door, leaving him to speculate on Raffie's family circumstances.
Amandine of the Western Rife Mountains
Should Amandine make a return or not, that is the question.
In
We Aren't The Hero's Party - Fanrasy Anime RP (Cancelled)
→
10 mos ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
It is always nice to have some basic ideas in mind, especially when thinking of initial characters such as "I am feeling a tank character", or having an idea of what kind of skills/etc based on the lore so far.
I always find the best bit is when you get the juicy lore details for the world, then go "what would be fun in a world like this", there may be certain factions or nuances which are appealing. Then it is slotting the basic idea with the character idea, creating something fun and interesting to explore the world and tell a collaborative story with the GM and other players where all have fun.
I always find the best bit is when you get the juicy lore details for the world, then go "what would be fun in a world like this", there may be certain factions or nuances which are appealing. Then it is slotting the basic idea with the character idea, creating something fun and interesting to explore the world and tell a collaborative story with the GM and other players where all have fun.
Event: Envoy of ReTan | Location: Ersand'Enise
In the hallowed halls adorned with intricate tapestries and lanterns, Yawen, the envoy of the Twin Emperors of ReTan sat in regal composure amidst the fervent discussions of the Central Alliance. The air was thick with the Constantian’s apprehension, an unease that palpably overshadowed the proceedings. They spoke of Perrence, a looming spectre that haunted their every deliberation, a nation so dominant that its name was interwoven into every plan and suggestion.
Yawen observed the Constantians with a quiet disdain, her patience wearing thin with their incessant fixation on their perceived threat. When the opportune moment arrived, she gracefully rose to her feet, an aura of elegance and authority enveloped her.
“In the realm of ReTan,” she began, her voice carrying the weight of wisdom, “we pay no heed to the snarls at the gate when the true danger lurks with the wolves in the chicken coop.” With a measure gesture, a servant placed stone ships and figures on a map depicting the lands of the Constantian Yasoi, showcasing the Grey Fleet. “Allowing the wolves to feed and grow unchecked would only lead to their ravenous appetites expanding.” Further models were placed on the map, indicating occupation of Paggon, and the suggestion of expansion to southern Virang as they blocked the strait to the Ensollian.
The Constantian envoys reacted with a mix of amusement and scepticism, their jeers cutting through the solemnity of the discussion. One envoy, his tone mocking, addressed the Torragonese representative as he gestured to the placement of the new models. “And HOW is THAT a BAD thing? We might even see the fabled Torragonese Crusader Knights in action in Constantia after all, no need to fear the Darhannics if they are tied up in a war with the Tarlonese.” Some bemoaned the effects of the war on their own nations, “Those aberration addicted vermin plague our cities as they flee for refuge.”
As the room buzzed with varied responses, Yawen remained composed, silently contemplating the dynamics at play. The ReTannese envoy raised a hand, signalling for attention, as the servant clapped his hands and announced, “Listen, as the Envoy of ReTan speaks,” he declared, drawing focus back to Yawen.
“The strait connects the Asperic to the Ensollian,” Yawen continued, her words carrying the weight of diplomacy. “This connection is the lifeblood between the people of ReTan and Constantia. It is through this strait that wealth, prosperity, and military might flow. The Tarlonese do not care for your politics.” The implication hung in the air - without the strait, there is no access for ReTan. Intervention from her nation would be indispensable if there was to be an impending war.
A discontented murmur spread among the envoys as a recess was called, marking the end of formal discussions. Yawen only hoped she made her friend proud at this moment as she reflected on the discussion. Unofficially, the real talks began in the shadows, where fellow envoys engaged in clandestine negotiations to shape the destiny of the Central Alliance.
Amidst the opulent setting of the evening’s diplomatic exchange, the Torragonese envoy, a man with a suave trimmed beard and adorned in a fine silk doublet, took the floor, adhering to the customary formalities. “You made the impression,” he began, his words weaving a tapestry of diplomacy, “it goes without saying that Torragon and ReTan have often stood together in advocating for peace.” A corner of his mouth twitched as his gaze shifted toward Yawen. “We can understand why a daughter of the Emperor was sent when ReTan advocates for war.”
Yawen, with an air of regal stoicism, raised her eyes toward the Torragonese envoy, meeting his gaze with a silence that resonated with authority. The envoy, slightly taken aback by her silent response, listened as she spoke, “ReTan has adopted a new policy and wishes for greater prosperity with our allies. Tarlon threatens not only the Alliance, but also the people within. Whether it be Retan, Severa, or Constantia. The Tarlonese have made their intentions known after Ai Medda, and they will not squander this opportunity while our allies do not resolve their petty squabbles with the Perrence.”
As he spoke with a flair, the Torragonese envoy reassured Yawen, “The Tarlonese envoys have repeatedly announced that their affairs pertain only to the Yasoi. If they move on Paggon, Virang shall move to keep them in check. Our spies have indicated that the ruler of Paggon has petitioned Osman directly for assurances against a future invasion by Tarlon.” he declared, his hand absent-mindedly stroking his beard, “Our spies have indicated that Osman will respond to this request, and has sent word for mobilization in the south to deter Tarlon. In Torragon, we have given notice for our lords to prepare themselves, just in case they grow too impatient waiting for Tarlon and catch us unaware.”
Yawen, acknowledging the gravity of the information, nodded thoughtfully. “We believe King Sancho is a wise ruler of peace. In ReTan, we have a proverb. When the blades of adversaries forge a plough, fields of harmony flourish.”
The Torragonese envoy raised his eyebrow, his scepticism evident, “No puedes estar en serio, esto es Virang, they would never accept such terms.”
“Like the silk threads weaving through the looms, our prosperity weaves through the nations of Severa. Silk, Porcelain, and Spices.” Yawen responded with unwavering resolve, and gestured a subtle reference to the man’s doublet. “We can enforce such an agreement if it may come to this.” The Torragonese envoy prepared to protest, “Is Tarlon such a priority to invoke such measures?”
“If we say yes, will you suggest our proposal to your king?” Yawen pressed, her eyes locked onto his.
"King Sancho escuchará las palabras de la Envoy de ReTan," the Torragonese envoy conceded.
Within the sanctum of her personal quarters, Yawen was disturbed by a growing commotion among her servants. Irritated, she called out to them, “What news do you bring to disturb me with?”
The two servants approached, the superior one speaking first, “I am sorry, she insists- a nuisance calling herself the Governor of Longwan requests an audience with you,” he explained dismissively. The other servant attempted to interject, “But she insists she is a close friend of Lady Yawen-”
“Be silent and mind your tongue in her presence,” the superior servant snapped, cutting off further protest.
Yawen, feeling a flush to her cheeks as she smiled shyly inwardly, stifled a giggle, appreciating the irony of the situation. She extended her senses towards the so-called ‘nuisance’, and instructed them to grant her an audience befitting the Governor of Longwan. The superior smiled insidiously whilst the woman issued apologies toward Yawen.
As the servants left to manage the situation, Yawen moved to the audience chamber as she seated high on the platform, regal in her yellow hanfu with her sword of office across her lap, as she awaited the arrival. The doors swung open to reveal the Governor of Longwan, Maura Mercador, escorted by armed guards. Dressed in a splendid blue hanfu, adorned with a dragon knot-tie, Maura was seated in her thronechair that moved seemingly unassisted. She was accompanied by an array of puppets, each expressing a life of their own.
As they approached, the superior servant called for all to kowtow to the Grace of ReTan. The puppets mimicked the gesture as they arranged themselves in front of Maura, while she bowed in reverence. The servant, displaying insolence, demanded that everyone should kowtow, and as he clicked his fingers, the guards withdrew their weapons towards Maura, causing the girl to look concerned.
Yawen, impassive until now, stood up and declared, “All must Kowtow.” Her steel gaze swept the audience, compelling them to all get down before her. Slowly, the assembly registered her command, including the guards who shortly followed suit. The superior servant, however, remained rigid as a puzzled expression crossed his face.
Descending from her platform, Yawen approached him, her dragon knot-tie hanging from the front of her outfit. “All,” she uttered, drawing her blade to cut him at the knees. He howled in pain, collapsing before her. Turning toward Maura, Yawen extended a hand, declaring, “Allow me to assist you,” Maura hesitated before accepting, and Yawen supported her to stand.
“The Governor of Longwan is my personal friend,” Yawen asserted, “Those who show her disrespect, disrespect me.” She gestured for the superior servant to be attended to, whilst the other who accompanied him earlier was instructed to get refreshments.
“Walk with me to the garden,” Yawen insisted, tugging on Maura’s hand, signalling the girl to follow. In the relative seclusion of the garden, Yawen embraced her friend with a girlish giggle, “Life is really simple, but people insist on making it complicated. I have missed you.”
Maura returned the hug, her expression softening, “We were worried for a moment.” The conversation flowed easily between them, as it touched on the trials. “Xiulan and Ai have kept me informed of the events, they have spoken well of your Teatro Sorridente”, Yawen intrigued, inquired about its meaning.
“It means the Smiling Theatre”, Maura replied with a wide smile, with Yawen following suit.
Seated in the garden, surrounded by blossoms and tranquillity, the two friends continued their conversation. After a satisfying exchange, they parted ways, and Yawen watched as Maura, in her chair with puppets in tow, left. “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart,” Yawen murmured to herself, returning to her work with renewed focus. These stubborn envoys won’t convince themselves of Tarlon’s threat.
Event: Ashon & Juulet | Location: Ersand'Enise
When he first saw Juulet, it was a pleasant surprise, and she greeted him enthusiastically. Their time together in the past was brief, but it was memorable, and she became his first friend following the death of his parents. In his childish way, he perhaps even entertained immature feelings of belonging with her. She was a girl who had lost everything, and together, they could take on the world and put everything right. Even in those days, she spoke of being the avatar as her eyes sparkled with vision. However, things were not to be, as she went toward the selection committee. As for him, some Time Walker needed a servant boy to tend to things. Maybe it was Juulet who originally put him on the path of serving the avatar Vyshta way back when, before his true purpose and mission came to light. There was some guilt he felt as he looked toward her. He had said he would return to support the Avatar, and yet, he never came for Juulet. Even if the clue was cryptic, the redness in the avatar's hair was not there. Tyrel, Juulet, and many of the other candidates like them. They might be blessed and strong in their own right, used as pawns and tools by greater powers, but they were not the true avatar.
He had always been an actor, and he even knew he fooled others, and most of all, himself. It was easy to become what she wanted him to be, and part of him longed for it as well. She was the key to what he needed; she was of Hyparii, and he had seen what became of Mandelein. The prophecy was becoming true—the forest was burning, there was war, death, and destruction. Here she was, the perfect ally, a girl of such determination, strength, and power. He needed her; he needed Juulet, avatar or not. Perhaps together, like they were as children, they could do great things. Create a future for his own family and children to enjoy.
Part of him wished, truly. But he had known from the beginning this could not be the case. When Dory uttered those words in Mandelein, he knew who they were about. He didn’t know what happened to that girl he knew as a child, but rumours spread long before he left his homeland. He heard of those ‘broken’ by her in Dervishers, her appetites, her… peculiarities.
He watched, he listened, he played his part well. Likewise, he heard the tantrums, the crazed rants. He spoke with her, gleaned what details he could have back home, though it always seemed to be focused on the past and not the present, as Juulet resisted letting him in. She targeted some of the other students, some names he barely recalled anyway. Though he grew uneasy, what if next time it was someone he cared about? What if…
He frowned inwardly; the mere thought of Penny in danger caused his stress levels to increase dramatically, and with what she allowed him to know, he knew he had failed her. The idea of allowing that to happen again sickened him, to the pit of his stomach. Especially now, as she was carrying three of his beautiful children.
Juulet entered after another long night out as he sat waiting for her, “Vail’saluuv, suunei?” "bitter sleep, sister?"
“Nah.” Juulet made her way into her temporary residence in Ersand'Enise, crutches under her arms and her hops particularly vigorous. She was worked up, but not enough for there to be any sort of catastrophe. “Just thinking about our next move. The Yaniis - they're gonna make us look like chumps. Can't have that.”
A light tug with the gift had her draw a chair out of its corner with an obnoxious creaking to go with it. She sat a couple of metres away from Ashon, elbow over the crest rail of the old seat. “What about you?” she inquired, lips distorted as her cheek pressed firmly on her forearm. “Trouble with that Yanii girl?”
He simply nodded and yawned, expressing his fatigue. "Yanii girl...," he tilted his head for a moment as he weighed his thoughts, "Eh, not particularly that one. There is another that has been a cause for concern, though." He went over to pick up a couple of purple bananas, then moved to crouch on the chair beside Juulet, offering her one of the fruits. "Though, could say two yanii concerns. We now have a tan-zeno yanii to deal with, a particularly strong one at that. We've got to hope luuntai turns up soon like a benny, or we won’t be winning this thing."
“Luunai, eh?” Juulet accepted the banana and manually peeled the thing before taking a bite. Crude as ever when appearances weren't necessary, she spoke whilst chewing. “Don't worry 'bout it.” she gestured in dismissal with her idle hand. “I can handle that crippy blonde. You just gotta be sure that the other Tarlonese clowns carry their weight.” she pointed the banana right at Ashon, seemingly as a threat first before she began to giggle. “Oh, by the way-” she regarded Ashon with a growing smile. “Remember those stories you used to talk about regarding that Legend.” she snapped her fingers as she recalled the details. “Yeah, that Jamboi-man with a magic stick and had to go on a Journey somewhere?”
He raised his eyebrow, saying, “Why you bothered picking them is beyond my simple understanding,” as he huffed in reference to the Tarlonese.
Jamboi smiled widely as he saw the banana pointed toward him like a gun, moving forward to take a bite out of it as he playfully disarmed her. “The legend of the Monkey man who journeys everywhere?” He clicked his fingers, “Why, yes, you are looking at him,” as he posed toward her, spreading his arms with a goofy smile. He opened his own banana and took a bite. “… but there is the tale of the traveling illusionist from ReTan that I used to love. Though, I find I prefer to smash things,” he said, squeezing what remained of his banana as the sweet and sticky fruit oozed between his fingers.
“Because they're strong. Simple as.” Juulet added dryly. “And it makes me feel very warm inside to boss around Tarlonese. What can they do about it.” she snickered.
The banana was finished and the skin was tossed for a future passerby to slip on. Truly the most wicked villain they had ever met. “Yeah, that tale. He had a stick, right?” Juulet gleefully reminisced as she drew a paltry amount of temporal energy. “I've got something just for you - And it helps to smash.” a small portal opened before her. Her hand dived into it and retrieved a ReTanese style Bo Staff. One attuned to the arcane magics in particular. A small droplet of blood could be found on a tip. “Ta-daaa! Mister Monke.” she extended the gift with both her hands.
Focused his eyes on the stick as the coldness filled his gut, he felt cold. His smile grew wider as his fangs were bared, “Ah, you have been out shopping for me? I feel flattered.” He reached out to take the stick within his hand as he swung it around him, rotating and spinning. He brought it down on Juulet’s head, the blood-spotted end stopping just shy by a hair’s width before contact, then tapped it. **Bonk**. “Qitoip. This is an agile stick.”
“You like it?” smiled the gleeful Juulet. She followed the movements with her violet eyes, and didn't do as much as flinch when it nearly hit her. “Ow.” she playfully uttered. “That lost thing was gonna get stolen. So I figured you'd like it.”
Then, she opened her arms for a hug while still sitting on her chair.
“Oh, someone misplaced a stick like this?” He looked up and down the length of it, “Don’t tell me, a yanii’jexof.” He shook his head knowingly as he looked toward her in the eyes. “You rescue it from them?” he questioned, curiosity in his gaze.
He moved to step up from the chair, crouching down to pick Juulet up within his arms, as he stood up, hugging her. “Tell me all about it.”
They hugged, and then she leaned back, eyes up to his visage and hands on his shoulders. A dimple-revealing smile graced her expression as she nodded energetically. “Left behind and forgotten. Now with a worthy wielder.”
When Ashon pushed for details, however, she canted her head and reached her palm out to caress his cheek. “Oh Ashy.” her thumb gently brushed under his eyes with a tenderness none could ever expect from her. “She'll be fine. I'm sure.” and with that, she shifted to stand up on her one foot with her crutches being drawn back toward her. “You can do whatever you want with it. I won't be mad.”
He smiled as he brushed his thumb over her lips, caressing them gently. He returned the tender gesture, tugging lightly on her lips, “Where is she?”. His thumb pulled down on her bottom lip, a playful motion prompting her to respond, letting go as it flicked back up.
Juulet shrugged, but didn't want to leave. If she could purr, she would. “I dunno.” she confessed. “Somewhere in the lands.” she hummed, palms and digits brushing over his chest. “It'll be okay.”
Ashon grinned in agreement, “I know, because I will make it be okay.” He pointed his thumb back towards himself, “After all, I’m the great Jamboi, with the stick, who goes on great adventures.” He moved his hands to lightly pinch Juulet’s sides as he whispered against her ear, “She needs to be here if we don’t want the yanii to succeed in their schemes.”
Juulet frowned. “You're a fool, Ashy-Jammy.” she pressed her index finger to his forehead and pushed him back a few feet. “The Yaniis won't stop me. Even if they hurl their best.” and with that, she began to turn toward the adjacent hall. “Don't waste your time on caring about them. There's enough of their kind to do it for you. Your people will need you, Ashon. Imminently.”
In
We Aren't The Hero's Party - Fanrasy Anime RP (Cancelled)
→
11 mos ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
This looks very fun!
© 2007-2024