GambolMuse

Arcane RP!

Well hello there!

Did Arcane season 2 leave you feeling a bit blue? Do you want to explore some hypothetical what if scenarios? Would you like to answer more rhetorical questions?

If the title wasn't abundantly clear, I have a craving to write some Arcane material! And if you share that craving, perhaps we can be a problem together. Now, as a loud and proud lesbian, CaitVi is my ideal, but I am more than happy to write Timebomb as well, or any other ship (within reason) that you might find in universe! In other words, I'm happy to do FxM, or even some MxM, though FxF is my preference.

All that said, I do want to get a few quick rules/tidbits squared away!

1) I do enjoy romance (and hope you do too!), but it doesn't have to be the focal point. In fact, I'd prefer if we could hash out a plot! I have some ideas, but let's talk shop!

2) I'm old (relatively), and I'd prefer my partner to be 18+. Especially if we do anything explicit, or anything with heavier themes. That aspect isn't negotiable I'm afraid, so if you're under 18 we'll keep things somewhat calmer.

3) We can do this via a thread, or DMs. Whatever you prefer, I'm happy to do!

4) I'm a teacher, I'm busy, and I assume you are too. Post when you can, notify me if you'll be busy for an extended period, and all is good!

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Fiona Grear

Aurelia was not unaccustomed to the cold. Winters came and went, and Fiona had enough years under her belt to know how to handle herself once the blizzards rolled in. Even so, the storm at Dawnhaven felt particularly unpleasant, dragging on for what felt like a month. Had they offended some god, perhaps? Maybe Ayel, for all his posturing and gabbing, truly was important and held the favor of some such deity. If there was a god to cherish such a man so, Fiona would make it her life's work to smear manure on every shrine she could find as revenge. Fortunately for Ayel's would-be patron, and perhaps her mortal soul, no such vengeance was needed.

When the storm finally broke, restlessness sent her hurtling from her shelter. Dragging her cloak on, cheeks rosy against the cold, she bat her gloved hands against them as her breath plumed before her eyes. The chill stung and dragged tears out, blurring her vision. Fiona clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering, supposing not for the first time that she should have brought more clothing. She could close the cloak, sure, but that would drastically limit her mobility, and who knew when she might have to fend off a belligerent nobleman?

Along the way, she offered to lend a hand with clearing snow, both to try and warm herself through labor, and perhaps ingratiate herself with anyone who had more coin than her. Being locked up for a week had left her with little to do but eat and idle, and worse still, go without alcohol.

That was unforgiveable. She needed to rectify that immediately, and as much as she'd like to rely upon the generosity of strangers to give her free liquor, Fiona wouldn't hold her breath.

By the time she arrived where food and drink were to be served, slush dragged underfoot, leaving a trail of grayish slop in her wake. Shaking flakes from her cloak and hair, Fiona brushed through the gathered crowd, searching through the sea of bodies while doing her utmost to ignore the galling stink of them; she had bathed that morning, thank you very much, and she would not be having a repeat of her arrival to town.

She might be sober, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to be a bit belligerent. Pushing her way to the fore, she raised a hand to try and garner the attention of a barmaid, or whoever had been given the solemn duty of serving cold, impatient souls. "Oi! Ah ken you've got drink here! What's a lass need ta do for a pint?" When no immediate response was given - perfectly understandable given the crowd, Fiona scowled, putting a hand on her hip, blowing obstinate bangs from her eyes that fell right back into place with a groan. Incensed by the smallest inconvenience known to man, she turned to a taller woman nearby and made a face, something between a smile and grimace. "Know who runs this shite? Halfa mind to complain after freezin' my paps aff..."

@PrinceAlexus

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Fiona Grear

There were perhaps many ways to attend a speech, though few that were suitable for one of such gravitas. Laying prone in the dirt while your head spun was certainly not one of them. Fiona did listen though, closing her eyes as she let the news, of pretty, flowery words, grief intermingled with vacuous hope tangling together as Prince and Princess spoke. Politics and royal affairs were well beyond her wheelhouse, lacking both the education and patience for most formalities and courtly proceedings. Human to human, however, she could empathize with loss, knowing well enough what it was like. Addled as she was, she still retained enough decency to send a silent, if muddled prayer to the powers that be for the Queen's soul.

She had less decency to tolerate Ayel's brand of pompous prickery. Being sprawled out on her back prevented her from lashing out, though she did kick once or twice, fussing like a toddler being told 'no'. Once apparent she would not wreak righteous vengeance upon Ayel's shins, she huffed, letting her head drop back down, staring up at the sky. Flakes began to fall, dusting her cheeks, a few landing on her lashes, and she blinked through the quickly melting snow.

Blessedly, the cold helped sober her up a little, and when approached by Persephone she gladly accepted the help to stand. She only wavered a little, bracing for just a pause before nodding, waving off any offers to help further. Dusting herself down, she cleared her throat, swiping her hand under her nose. "Aye... Over it anyroad, no worries. No harm, eh?" A lopsided smile was offered, and Fiona almost extended a hand to Ayel to apologize, then dropped it; she doubted he'd take it anyways, and he really didn't deserve an apology.

"Queen bein' dead... Now that's a tough break. You lot've got my condolences. Cannae say I knew her much, or well... At all." Awkwardly, she laughed as she rubbed at her neck. "But heard nothin' but good things. Mostly. Prayers for her and whatnot." The last thing they wanted or needed was some hungover Aurelian commoner giving condolences. Fiona dusted herself one more time before adjusting her cloak, tucking her hands under her pits, shoulders raising as she felt a lone flake land on her neck. With a soft yelp she shook her head, squinting up at the sky. "Ah ken I'm a proper mess, what with spendin' my night proper blootered and whatnot, but if there's anything I can do... Aside from rubbin' elbows with Mr. Prissy here, just ask, aye?"

@PrinceAlexus@Dezuel

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Fiona Grear

"I didn't threaten no one... I just... Threatened you." Did Fiona wink, or were her eyes blinking slowly, out of sync? Hard to say. Somehow, impossibly, she appeared to be getting worse as the morning wore on. Swiping her hand across her nose, she narrowed her glassy eyes, focusing on the three haughty noblemen stood before her. She could still take them! Three on one weren't impossible odds, and she doubted this... Sir Axel or whatever his name was could cut with a blade as well as he did his words.

She could tolerate being called a serf. She could even put up with having someone look down on her. Something about listening to Ayel treat Coswain like a lowly guard irked her though. It wasn't her battle to fight, surely the man could handle himself, but between a lack of booze and a growing throb behind her eyes, Fiona was rather short on tolerance.

"Oi! Listen here, you windbag! You... You gobsmackin', struttin', posturin', dick-waggin' good for nothin' piece of... Of shite..." A hiccup, slightly higher pitched, making Fiona jump a little. She shook her head and wagged her finger again at Ayel. "Ye cannae come 'ere and start treatin' people like your attitude; shite. Maybe you ought to get on yer knees instead and apologize, 'fore I lamp ya in the knob, ya daft weely-paller!" Maybe she'd try anyways. After all, nothing sobered her up quite like a good old fashioned brawl! Well, there was food and water, and just not drinking, but the first two were out of reach, and the latter was just unconscionable. Fiona sneered, cocked her fist back, wobbled on her back foot, and threw a punch.

Her imbalance and her own miscalculation sent her spinning around, carried by her own momentum. Her feet slipped out from under her and she ended up sprawled out on her back, groaning as she stared up at the spinning sky. "Trippin' me now, ya bastart? I'll get you for that... Soon as I get my arse up..."

@Dezuel@PrinceAlexus

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Fiona Grear

The amount of effort to compose herself should warrant commendation. Nevermind that being hungover at 10am on perhaps the most important day of her life was unbecoming; Fiona had mustered herself enough to be presentable. Ish. Surely, that deserved some recognition. Or at the very least a pat on the back. Then again, given the roiling in her stomach... Maybe even that would be too much.

Hiccupping, gulping, she staved off the worst of it. With one small shudder and a grimace she righted herself, swiping a bit of sweat from her brow across her sleeve. If nothing else, at least this meeting would be brief, surely. Lecture? Pep-talk? She didn't know the nature of the meeting, come to think of it. Or perhaps she did.

... Where was she again?

Listless musings were interrupted by a peacock in human skin strutting in. His words were garbled, he reeked, or maybe she did. Squinting against the light, she gave the man a once over, sniffing. Impressed? Hardly? Annoyed? Most definitely. Oh, she knew his type alright; the sort to act like they owned the place, no matter where they were. Looking down their noses at everyone else, expecting people to grovel in their mere presence. Had he a mug of ale to offer, Fiona might have groveled, but he was empty handed, and she didn't. Instead, the perfectly polite, even-keeled woman that she was, she took a few unsteady steps towards the prissy patrician, wrinkling her nose as her nostrils were assaulted by whatever overbearing perfume the man wore. Another once over, another sniff, and an unsteady hand raised, wavering inches from his face.

"You... I..." A hiccup. "I... I know you... Ya painted fanny... Watcha thinkin', comin' here like... Like you owns us... I ought to... Oughta..." Another hiccup, and Fiona recoiled as though struck. A grimace flashed across her face, her complexion tinged with green, and she gulped, pitching forward and groaning as she raised her fists barely high enough to reach her chest. "Fuckin' mon' then, ya wee dick... I'll... I'll do ya..."

She meant in a fight. Surely.

@Dezuel

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Fiona Grear

Were she in better spirits or dire straits - her current problem being the distinct lack of liquor, Fiona might have made for a more jolly conversationalist. Instead, she squeezed her eyes closed and pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand, twirling the other at the wrist with a heavy sigh. "Aye, the Prince and his... Prince-liness. How could I forget..." It would be so much simpler if she were just there to be pointed at an enemy and gone into battle. As she would be, presumably, though not before an apparent clusterfuck of aspiring heroes and a likely long, patronizing speech from His Majesty.

Oh, they were all doing the realm a great service. They were all heroes whose sacrifices and efforts would be sang about for the ages.

Fiona couldn't care less about becoming some bard's topic right then and there. In lieu of alcohol, she wanted food. Since the markets were otherwise indisposed, like her better judgment and behavior, she groaned, lowering herself into a squat, sword scraping in the dirt as she rested her forehead against her knees.

"Right... New plan then. Save the bloody world so we can have a wee bit of food and a pint. Nothing is ever simple, innit?" Her stomach let out an unholy sound, something between a bubbling cauldron and a cat being drawn through a fishing net. Oddly specific, distinctly upsetting. Her face twisted into a grimace and she lifted her head, her face a faint pink, nowhere near the vibrant hue of her hair, but beginning to encroach upon it. "Wisnae reason ta wake up so early, was there? Bastarts said to get here here, yet the bloody Prince isn't even come yet. Fat lot of good this is doin' anyone..." With another groan she braced on her knees and stood, swaying slightly, then planting her back foot to keep upright. Shaking her head, she scrubbed at her face with her hands before glancing back at the guard-knight-guide turned twins. Seeing double was fine, probably. "Oi, can ye... Can ye..."

She swayed again, then gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth as her eyes shot open wide. "Oh shite... Tell the Prince to hurry, before I go paintin' the damn town..."

@PrinceAlexus

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Fiona Grear

Fiona was not half asleep on her feet; to suggest such a thing would be a gross dereliction of duty. What duty, one might ask? She hadn't been given one, but surely being almost comatose would be frowned upon. Ever a 'half mug of ale' kind of girl, she preferred to look at herself as "half awake". Semantics at the end of the day, but those were for engineers to fuss over, not her.

With hope, the boisterous gentleman that approached her then wouldn't take offense to her languid demeanor. Eyes lidded, staring more through than at him, she likely didn't come across as keen on any speech. Indeed, she held a finger up, covered her mouth, then leaned back, spine popping audibly. With a slight shudder she rolled her shoulders and flashed a lazy smile. "I cannae admit I had a clue what this was for." Except she did know, she had likely been told prior to settling in for the night upon arrival. In one ear and out the other. Were someone to blow into the left, they'd likely hear a whistling from her right.

With all the fervor of a melting glacier, Fiona tried to make herself a bit more presentable. After all, the Prince himself was to appear! A fact that her sleep addled mind didn't quite appreciate, as evident by her casual pace. She tugged at her gloves, removing one to shake out... Was that a cricket? Her fingers combed through her hair again, catching on a knot which came free with a few muttered curses. Her clothes were... Fine. A bit dirty, clearly rumpled, and obviously not armor, something she could remedy later. After all, it wasn't as though a farmhand had much coinage to go around and buy suits of mail with. What little armor she had worn before as a militia member had been hand-me-down, shared between herself and two other people of similar build. Her clothing stank, probably, but at least it was her own stink she was smelling. While she was nose blind to it, other people around her were likely less fortunate.

Another yawn into her palm, a rub of the eyes. Fiona smacked her lips as she stood on one foot, scratching her calf with the other, then gave her head a shake. "Ah ken they've got ale somewhere..." she grumbled, smacking her cheeks audibly, then wriggling her nose. Would the guard-man-person know where she might find some? Would it be improper for her to drink while the Prince was in attendance? Even her limited courtly manners - she had none, told her that would be a poor showing.

"Bastarts... Not leaving anything out for us..."

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Fiona Grear

Early to bed, early to rise. A fine sentiment when your commute to work was in the very town you resided. Less appealing when traveling incessantly, arriving late, then being expected to appear that same morning. Farmers prided themselves on their work ethic. Members of local militia needed to be ever ready, prepared to respond to any incident, any threat, with little to no notice.

Fiona needed to sleep for another five minutes.

Unfortunately, every other soul within Dawnhaven had missed that memo, and before she even had the hint of a spark of wanting to rise, sleep was stripped from her. Thrown to consciousness by the loud chatter nearby, Fiona pried herself from blankets and slumber, rising to aching feet and a full bladder; the former would resolve itself later, the latter was solved with a quick trip behind a tree. Shambling with all the liveliness of a recently buried corpse, she brushed down her tunic and trousers, shook out her aged, fraying black fur cloak, and strapped her longsword to her hip. Graceful as a swan, she hopped and hobbled, cursing under her breath as she fought to slip on her boots, narrowly avoiding going head over heels as she gave one boot a hard tug. Was she presentable? Her vivid red hair was a mess, and a quick glance in a bucket of water had her plucking small leaves from her locks. Using the same water, she splashed her face, gargled some, and promptly polished her shoes by spitting out all over them.

Not her most glorious start to a day, she'd admit.

In a world of potential heroes vying to save, well, the world, she didn't look the part. Her posture slumped, she trudges through the crowd, not at all envious or bitter of those more alert than her. Her clothing's rumpled, she's still yet to eat breakfast, and aside from her brief chat with... Someone the night before, she doesn't know anyone present whatsoever. A stranger in a new land. Or at least part of the land she'd never visited before. Were it not for the amassing of bodies by the vacant stage, there's a very good chance she might have wandered off in the complete wrong direction too. For once, she's thrilled to see so many people.

A sentiment that lasts about all of ten seconds. She grumbles excuses and apologies as she weaves through an amalgamation of bodies, nudging those who ignore her halfhearted calls to move aside. What she wouldn't give for another few moments rest. Where is she meant to stand? Should she be talking to someone? She could ask questions, she supposes, but questions mean she has to talk to someone, and she has to be awake for at least twenty minutes to engage in conversation. So, instead of doing the sensible thing, she meanders her way forward, wending through people until she's almost at the front of the collective. With all the fervor of a child taken to lecture, she puts one hand on her hip, the other rising to stifle, and failing to do so, a loud yawn. Blinking back tears and exhaustion, she runs fingers through her tangled hair, glancing around and hoping serendipitously for an explanation to fall into her lap. That, or for someone to accost her, which will at least wake her up a little.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Behold, my inability to do fancy formatting! :P

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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