if you wanna start a fight, you better throw the first punch
He lingers at the dimly-lit bar with a bottle of whiskey clenched in his teke, hovering just a few inches above the scarred wood -- every so often, he could be seen to take a swig of the liquor, his pale eye staring down into the stained surface. There’s just enough shadows to cover him, to dim the gleam of torch-light off the dented iron of his armor, and the buzz in his veins is enough to relax the tension in his muscles, if only for the night.
“Stop being so fuckin’ stubborn,” He grouses to his unwillingly-obtained companion, swinging his gaze to fix @Teiran with a single-eyed glare from beneath his faceplate. He plants the bottle on the bar in front of her with a sudden ‘thump,’ the liquid inside sloshing around from the force, and it’s likely a small miracle the bottle itself doesn’t crack or shatter. “Just take the damn bottle and drink, or go fuck off somewhere else where you’re not killing my buzz.” It was starting to get annoying, now, the mare just standing there and silently watching, seemingly unable to be shaken off even when he’d tried to lose her amongst the crowd of Night-Court partiers.
Where there was a party to be found, Pan could be found also. He had taken his time over the past several days, to explore the land and try to make sense of the strange dreams which plagued him. Time and time again, he’d dreamed of the golden girl with flowers in her hair, but he was still no closer to answers. Instead of worrying, he allowed his satchel to settle easily against his back and he bounced along toward the south, eventually making his way to the Night Court. When he walked into the kingdom, the first thing he noticed was… music?
Drawn like a moth to the flame, the boy made his way toward the noise and action of the masquerade ball. As the summer sun began to set and a sickle moon rose high into the sky, his path was lit with a river of silver, leading straight to the temple of Night. Excitement bubbled up within him as he danced a little faster along the way, stepping into the stone-lined temple with a quiet clatter as he tried to figure out what he was missing.
This was some party. Colors blinded him as he struggled to take it all in. There were ribbons, beads, feathers… it was more than he could ever have imagined. Reverently, the child steps forward to look at the beautiful wares, carefully selecting a jeweled silver mask which reminded him of the fish which schooled around him in the crystal sea. The mask rested gently against the bridge of his nose, giving him even more of a fish-like appearance as he began to explore the nooks and crannies of the temple.
He is drawn toward the dancers, wide eyed as he watches them sway to the music. Ribbons cascade from their hair, and Pan stops for a moment, his memories sparking a tinny laugh and a shimmer of pixie dust… but before he can see the source, the vision is gone as fleetingly as a shooting star. He sighs quietly, letting himself relax into the peace of the party, drunk simply from the presence of the throngs of masked others who press against him… and Pan waits for the magic to continue.
Despite the season, the beach always seemed so blissful, so sunny, so alive. Terminus was a home to many, even though Novus had yet to see their lands graced by those with fins. But did that ever stop anyone?
Truth be told, Terminus was beautiful and tragic all in the same moment. The sea, unforgiving in all its ways, swallowed the beach whole every high tide. The foam licked the sharp, jagged rocks; the current drug creatures out to sea - or worse, against those very rocks. But low tide brought a change, like another face to a beautiful woman with a terrible personality.
The beach was not unlike knowledge. Just when you thought you knew it all, had it all.. it could be ripped out from underneath you without a trace of anything that came before it. Knowledge sometimes begets violence.. and the Terminus sea was beautiful in its anger.
But in its beauty, it was easy to forget. Easy to be swallowed whole, to be so taken by the way the water moved and flowed so in tune with everything else.
It was part of the reason why Oriens loved the sea itself so much. How he longed to be able to walk the beach itself, to touch the ragged face of Praistigia again.. but Tempus himself forbid it.
And so he was left, watching from above, all but unknown to the inhabitants. Wasn't that silly? That the god that embodied knowledge and learning be forgotten by the very people he sought to take care of?
On some days, he heard Novus calling to him; louder and more insistent than the days before. He would never directly go against his Father and interact with the mortals under his care.
But nothing stopped him from leaving little gifts.
- - -
Oriens had watched Pan, in all his youthful cheer and zeal. It warmed his soul, to find someone so pure and so curious. But Oriens' heart ached. Without the gods - without Oriens himself - would this world taint Pan? Would it lead him down the wrong path?
He knew the boy loved the beach, and knew he collected many trinkets. His heart yearned to bestow a gift that might help Pan in his trek through life... but for fear of Tempus' wrath, Oriens himself knew that his gift could not be so obvious.. but still, he hoped. And on one of the rocks, he placed a shell unlike anything those of Novus had ever seen. The life of the creature that inhabited it - a species Oriens knew as Angaria Sphaerula - was brief and tumultuous, but the fruits of its efforts were truly spectacular.
Oriens could only hope that Pan would wander along the beach like he had so many other days, and discover this gift from a giver he would never know.
- - - - - -
When, and if, Pan explores along the beach, he will happen upon a small, muted pink shell no more than 2 inches across. A rare find, indeed! But upon touching it, the sensation it produces will be even more extraordinary that its looks. It will almost feel like a static shock, ringing every nerve from Pan's nose to his hooves.. and will produce a light thrumming feeling in his chest. Is it pain, some other unknown feeling, or...
wait? Why does Pan feel so alive?
If @Pan wanders along the Terminus beach in low-tide, he will discover upon a shell from the Angaria sphaerula sea snail, laying innocuously atop a rock. Should he touch it, he will feel a static shock, every nerve in his body alight. You may have Pan realize that this gift bestowed immortality on him - immediately, at a later time, or you may choose it so that he never actually becomes aware of his immortality.
The shell itself has no magical properties any longer, and Pan has no sure-fire way of knowing that this gift is from the gods, let alone Oriens. The shell may be given away or discarded at any point, and will have no affect on Pan's immortality. Giving the shell to another character will not grant them immortality, either.
Thread requirements: 1 reply, 500 words. Please tag the RE account in your reply.
How to tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk!
Once you respond, Pan's immortality will become effective.
If you wish to have Pan begin aging again: contact staff. If he becomes mortal again, you won't be able to re-instate his immortality without purchasing it again through the Agora.
Posted by: Pan - 01-18-2019, 11:19 AM - Forum: Archives
- Replies (10)
The summer sun rose high over Novus as Pan returned to a land that seemed familiar, and yet not. They would remember him though – the unique boy with a sprightly step, mischief in his eyes, and sunlight glinting from his green and silver scales. While he moved, he seemed to dance between distractions, digging in the sand, watching a colorful bird, and then humming a rather out-of-tune pirate song. His entrance was certainly not a quiet one, but then, Pan seldom worried about who he might be bothering. Instead, the boy simply minded his own business, picking his way across the border of the Dusk Court on some great adventure.
A well worn satchel is slung over the boy’s shoulders, jingling with every step as the tattered pieces of shell, sea glass, and rusted pieces of wire rubbed against each other. He carried his treasures as if they were the most precious items in the world, always seeking another cave or hidden place to store them. Also in his bag were a few of his trusted books – the one about a knight fighting a windmill, and a scroll from what seemed a lifetime ago, talking of a god he’d long forgotten in a place that was little more than a faraway mystery. He remembered the words, and how to read… but he could not remember who had taught him, or why, or what it all meant.
Instead of worrying, the boy simply found himself turning the pages, staring at the photos of the dashing knight and dreaming of the adventures he himself would take someday. What he had was never enough – he always wanted more… more exploration, more excitement, more friends. Hello? the boy cried to the summer wind. Is anybody here? And he hoped they were, for the child had been alone for longer than he could remember… and loneliness was settling over him like a well-loved cloak. He longed for the touch of another, for someone to laugh with and share in his adventures.
With a sigh, the scaled boy found a thick patch of grass, settling among it and rolling with his stomach facing the sun… and this is how he would be found, dozing away in the afternoon sun, with fragmented dreams filling his head – of a girl, with flowers in her hair, of a magical dagger, of pirates and mermaids and crystal blue water. But these were all just fairy tales…
It was not quite desperation that drew him at last to the gauzy tent door, but maybe it was a cousin.
Acton was well accustomed to enjoying parties, especially the kind that spilled into the street and across the city, the kind with bonfires and shouting and free-flowing wine. They had always been his favorite kind of chaos, a world he could be a king in, and he’d never even minded the wicked hangovers that always woke him with a groan the next day. But tonight was different.
Tonight he’d not had a drop of liquor, a sip of wine. He had no eye for the dancers, no interest in his fellows on the stage. Absent in himself was the age-old itch to perform, that hunger for applause like a thunderclap that had been with him since his birth, sure as a thumbprint from god on his forehead.
The only thing alive in his blood tonight was unease, more bitter than any awful brew he’d laughed over with Reichenbach a lifetime ago. Acton haunted the festival as he had a hundred others, but the only thing he watched for was Raum.
The sound of drums had followed him out of the castle, spilled into the night, ragged as his own heartbeat. He could still hear them echoing in his ears, in each muscle and movement, as he considered the tent flap, his jaw working back and forth. Acton had always been a strangely suspicious sort, something that must have traveled by blood from his mother; he did not care for witches.
But he needed certainty, and he could not longer get it from himself, or from the Ghost, or from his King, who had fled. The Magician sucked in a breath and stepped inside, and the silks rustled against his sides as he crossed into shadow.
Sit, the old woman bid him, but for a long moment Acton did not. He only studied her (what he could see, in the flickering and fluid candlelight), his chin toward his chest in something like respect. The tent smelled of incense, thick and cloying, but at least it did not smell like fear.
At last he did sit, though the pillows may well have been made of chain mail for all the comfort his expression showed. Acton’s blood felt like syrup, viscous and too slow. He cleared his throat, and then in a low voice he asked his question.
The Denoctian court was bustling, as per the norm.
Amidst the Solstice party-goers that rushed past towards the festivities, the Solterran Warden lumbered languidly on. It had been a long time since he stepped foot here, for mixed reasons. He wondered if many people here still remembered Aislinn.
In the rush and hustle, he found quiet solace among his own thoughts. There had been whispered rumors of his family, gone, and the pit that settled in his stomach was unexpected and unwelcome. Cynix, gone for more seasons than he expected - and Siavax followed long after. He never expected Araxes to leave, though. He wondered if the flood caught them, or if they left sometime before or after.
No sobbed goodbyes, no — not so much as a whisper before she became a ghost like so many others. He felt the silence grip his throat, and he didn't remember nary a gaze that he met as he wandered the once-familiar capital for what felt like too long. The only enemies he had within Denocte were long, long gone, and there was no hesitation in his step.
Eventually, he found a little nook that he could tell was distinctly hers. After the waters had flooded the capital and then slowly receded back to uncover their devastation, her presence was still here... On the balconies of one of the buildings - nestled in a crook beside a tall, old tree - there was a pile of soft cloth, books, herbs, and homeopathic concoctions.
Even standing below the balcony, he could tell it was hers. The smell, the little knick-knacks, the personality carved into such a tiny space... there was no doubt in his mind. For a brief moment, the world was lost around him as he stared up at the balcony, silence still holding its tight, unwelcome grip on his throat.
The birds are singing in your eyes today
Sweet flowers blossom in your smile
When the scrolls had been dropped from the sky, Fiona had read all about the festivities that Denocte was going to be hosting, with no intention of going. Perhaps if parties and crowds were her thing, if intrigue and mystery appealed to her. Even, perhaps, if it were not for the heartbreaking truth she had returned to when she had returned to her home in Terrastella with the other members of her court.
She had no home to return to. She had, instead, only a shell of a home; a burned structure with black scouring the walls and ash covering the floor. The rains had been heavy enough to put out the flames before they had reduced the entire thing to rubble, however much of the furniture within was unable to be saved. All the things that reminded her of her father, things he had built himself. Her books, sketches, notes.
Coming to terms with that truth did not make Fiona want to attend any sort of celebration, even one involving the magical and dreamlike. That was until the letter arrived, carried on the wind from Delumine. Rolled within the parchment had been a few herbs, and the script, flowing and elegant, belonged to Atreus. He asked her to meet him in Denocte for the ball when the time came, and Fiona could not find it in herself to turn him down. Perhaps, even, her heart beat a little quicker at the thought.
So, when the Dusk Court champion finds herself once more among the walls of the Night Court, she couldn’t help but remember how difficult the first trip had been. But standing there inside the citadel looking at all the glamor that surrounded her, Fiona was quickly swept away. Just inside the doors the room was lined with tables covered in masks and finery of every kind. She let herself be drawn through the crowd like a leaf swept away by a river, until she was standing before a table, alone in a sea of horses bustling around her.
Fiona looked down at the masks, overwhelmed by the selection as she tried to select one for the ball but instead found herself bombarded. One woman, dressed in silver and black draped a sheer scarf around her shoulders. It fell against her skin light as a breeze, covering part of her back and wrapping twice around her neck. She tucked the ends in so that it wouldn’t snag.
Another, wearing colors like the sunset gently placed a mask over her face, tying it with a gossamer ribbon. The first held up a mirror for her to see herself, and Fiona thought for a moment that she was in a dream. The metal of the mask was thin and flexible, and it hugged the curve of her face almost like fabric. It was silver, slightly lavender in color, and as delicate looking as the butterfly wings it was designed after. She was in awe, and wished that she could thank them properly, but they had already moved on, leaving her once again alone in the crowd.
Some bridges are meant to be burnt, some roads are never meant to be traveled again.
The market was abuzz with activity, more so than usual if one could believe that. It was this very reason Morrighan didn't spend much time around here - crowds weren't exactly her thing. There are several performers drawing groups near them, all being dramatic and doing the unthinkable. Personally she was most annoyed by the fire breathers as she hadn't quite yet tapped into any sort of fire magic of her own. Overall, it was over-the-top and many of the "tricks" could be explained by more careful observation. Yet, so many spectators fell for the game with their mouths dropping in awe. It made her eyes roll.
So what exactly brought someone like her here? In all honesty, she didn't exactly know. Typically she spent her time in the wilds exploring, but there was a pull here today that she couldn't explain. Almost as if there was an invisible rope wrapped around her neck that something - or someone - was pulling to force her forward.
Morrighan passed the moon carving in the center, but did a double take. Squinting her eyes at the monument, she realized she had seen this in a dream. There had also been this… strange mare that beckoned her forth, but before anything else happened, she had woken up. Was this a sign?
She snorted, not really wanting to believe any of this crap. Of course, it was this unexplainable shit that got her to the Night Court in the first place with her sign from Caligo. Maybe this was her doing too so she would see something - or Mor was just going crazy. Yet, the glint of something further down the path caught her eye and she noticed fire. Immediately she felt that invisible pull again and her hooves carried forward on the stone road.
The smell of wood smoke filled her lungs as she got closer and there was a sense of calm. The dancing flames had her mesmerized for a moment, but then her eyes locked onto a tent. It too looked strangely familiar, but she wondered if she should be following through with this. After all, what she was remembering was just a dream, so there was no way to know of what actually lied behind the curtain. Although, she felt pretty damn curious.
"Eh, screw it. It's not like I have anything to lose."
Mor let herself in, pushing the curtain aside with her nose. She got halfway inside when she noticed this was set up for a psychic. It had been hard to tell of her surroundings in the dream, but now things were much clearer. There were odd items everywhere, some more questionable than most. A single mare with striking silver eyes watched her come in - the one from her dream. Before she could say anything, the mare instructed her to sit and asked if she wanted to know what the cards said. Was that the whole reason her curiosity led her here?
There were a few seconds of silence before Morrighan let out a small laugh. "Sure, why not," she said to the mare, taking a seat but not letting herself get too comfortable. If this got weird, she was out of here.
Mor wasn't a stranger to psychic abilities and customs, though she hadn't partaken in any herself. What she at least knew about tarot cards was that you typically needed to think of a question you wanted to ask the cards. Something about putting specific energy in or something. She wasn't sure if she actually believed in any of it, but here she was, and the mare was waiting for something.
"Oh great mystical cards, what do you suppose I do next?"
It might be a vague question, but it was the only one she wanted an answer to. Plus, she was curious just how good of a mind-reader this mare was.
If you have purchased an accessory, enchantment, outfit, armor or weapon, you have the ability to change it's appearance once every IC year (eight real life months). To do so, you must post a form below so that staff can review, accept the change, and adjust our records.
Be advised: this DOES NOT allow use of both the original item and a "second version."
Once an item has officially been updated, you can only use the new version of the item. The old version of the item is considered officially retired and cannot be used. If you wish to have a second item, it must be purchased separately.
In the case of magic, if you would like to make a major change (ie changing elements), the Change Magic item must be purchased. Small updates, such as updating Tiers, are free; simply message staff to conduct another review!
For more information on the general restricted item process, please read this guidebook page.
Changing Active Magic
Code:
<blockquote>
<span class="officialheader">Changing Active Magic</span>
<u><b>Information</b></u>
<b>Character with Item:</b> @NAME - LINK TO CHARACTER ACCOUNT THAT HAS THE ITEM NEEDING TO BE UPDATED
<b>Link to original form:</b> LINK TO THE ORIGINAL FORM YOU POSTED IN THE REDEMPTION THREAD
<b>Date of Purchase:</b> WHAT DATE DID YOU PURCHASE THE ORIGINAL ACTIVE MAGIC?
<b>Last Update:</b> WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU UPDATED YOUR ACTIVE MAGIC? IF NEVER, PUT "N/A"
<b>Have you purchased the 'Change Magic' item?</b> YES OR NO
<b>-- If no:</b> IF 'NO' TO ABOVE QUESTION, HOW WAS IT OBTAINED? IF A CONTEST PRIZE, APPLICABLE THREAD LINKS MUST BE INCLUDED
<b>One/Two-word description of NEW Active Magic:</b> FOR STAFF TO PUT IN THE RECORDS & YOUR CHARACTER'S POSTBIT
<b>Opting for having a NEW related Parvus Magic?</b> YES OR NO, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE A PARVUS MAGIC - ITS A BONUS
<b>-- If yes, give a brief description:</b> MUST BE RELATED IN SOME FASHION AND MAKE SENSE, CANNOT BE ACTIVELY CONTROLLED, MUST BE WRITTEN OUT IN PROFILE TOO
<b>Is the Magic section of your character's profile filled out?</b> YES OR NO, MUST DESCRIBE BOTH THE ACTIVE AND PARVUS (IF PARVUS WAS OPTED FOR) AND HAVE A CLEAR CHANGE FROM THE OLD MAGIC LEVELS.
<b>How does the NEW Magic relate to your Court?</b> EXPLAIN HOW YOUR MAGIC CAN BE LINKED TO YOUR COURT'S IDEALS AND/OR WHY YOUR CHARACTER WOULD HAVE THIS MAGIC
<b>Reason for Changing:</b> ANY EXPLANATION FOR CHANGING? IC REASON? OOC REASON?
<u><b>Agreement</b></u>
I understand that I can only change my character's enchanted item once every IC year (eight months), and that I must contact staff before doing so. If I am found using a Magic other than the one described in my profile, both my Active Magic and Change Magic items will be revoked without refund. I am not able to mention this magic change in my IC posts until the staff have officially approved/redeemed it.
<u><b>Information</b></u>
<b>Character with Item:</b> @NAME - LINK TO CHARACTER ACCOUNT THAT HAS THE ITEM NEEDING TO BE UPDATED
<b>Link to original form:</b> LINK TO THE ORIGINAL FORM YOU POSTED IN THE REDEMPTION THREAD
<b>Date of Purchase:</b> WHAT DATE DID YOU PURCHASE THE ITEM TO BE UPDATED?
<b>Last Update:</b> WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU UPDATED SAID ITEM? IF NEVER, PUT "N/A"
<b>Old Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE OLD ITEM LOOKED LIKE
<b>New Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE NEW ITEM LOOKS LIKE
<b>Reason for Changing:</b> ANY EXPLANATION FOR CHANGING? IC REASON? OOC REASON?
<u><b>Agreement</b></u>
I understand that I can only change my character's accessory once every IC year (eight months), and that I must contact staff before doing so. If I am found using an accessory other than the one described in my profile, my purchased item will be revoked without refund. I am not able to mention this accessory in my IC posts until the staff have officially approved/redeemed it.
<b>Signed:</b> YOUR OOC NAME
~~~
</blockquote>
Updating an Enchantment
Code:
<blockquote>
<span class="officialheader">Updating an Enchantment</span>
<u><b>Information</b></u>
<b>Character with Item:</b> @NAME - LINK TO CHARACTER ACCOUNT THAT HAS THE ITEM NEEDING TO BE UPDATED
<b>Link to original form:</b> LINK TO THE ORIGINAL FORM YOU POSTED IN THE REDEMPTION THREAD
<b>Date of Purchase:</b> WHAT DATE DID YOU PURCHASE THE ITEM TO BE UPDATED?
<b>Last Update:</b> WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU UPDATED SAID ITEM? IF NEVER, PUT "N/A"
<b>Old Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE OLD ENCHANTMENT DID
<b>New Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE NEW ENCHANTMENT DOES
<b>Reason for Changing:</b> ANY EXPLANATION FOR CHANGING? IC REASON? OOC REASON?
<u><b>Agreement</b></u>
I understand that I can only change my character's enchanted item once every IC year (eight months), and that I must contact staff before doing so. If I am found using an enchanted item other than the one described in my profile, my purchased item will be revoked without refund. I am not able to mention this enchanted item in my IC posts until the staff have officially approved/redeemed it.
<u><b>Information</b></u>
<b>Character with Item:</b> @NAME - LINK TO CHARACTER ACCOUNT THAT HAS THE ITEM NEEDING TO BE UPDATED
<b>Link to original form:</b> LINK TO THE ORIGINAL FORM YOU POSTED IN THE REDEMPTION THREAD
<b>Date of Purchase:</b> WHAT DATE DID YOU PURCHASE THE ITEM TO BE UPDATED?
<b>Last Update:</b> WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU UPDATED SAID ITEM? IF NEVER, PUT "N/A"
<b>Old Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE OLD ITEM LOOKED LIKE
<b>New Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE NEW ITEM LOOKS LIKE
<b>Reason for Changing:</b> ANY EXPLANATION FOR CHANGING? IC REASON? OOC REASON?
<u><b>Agreement</b></u>
I understand that I can only change my character's outfit once every IC year (eight months), and that I must contact staff before doing so. If I am found using an outfit other than the one described in my profile, my purchased item will be revoked without refund. I am not able to mention this outfit in my IC posts until the staff have officially approved/redeemed it.
<u><b>Information</b></u>
<b>Character with Item:</b> @NAME - LINK TO CHARACTER ACCOUNT THAT HAS THE ITEM NEEDING TO BE UPDATED
<b>Link to original form:</b> LINK TO THE ORIGINAL FORM YOU POSTED IN THE REDEMPTION THREAD
<b>Date of Purchase:</b> WHAT DATE DID YOU PURCHASE THE ITEM TO BE UPDATED?
<b>Last Update:</b> WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU UPDATED SAID ITEM? IF NEVER, PUT "N/A"
<b>Old Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE OLD ITEM LOOKED LIKE
<b>New Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE NEW ITEM LOOKS LIKE
<b>Reason for Changing:</b> ANY EXPLANATION FOR CHANGING? IC REASON? OOC REASON?
<u><b>Agreement</b></u>
I understand that I can only change my character's armor once every IC year (eight months), and that I must contact staff before doing so. If I am found using a set of armor other than the one described in my profile, my purchased item will be revoked without refund. I am not able to mention this armor in my IC posts until the staff have officially approved/redeemed it.
<u><b>Information</b></u>
<b>Character with Item:</b> @NAME - LINK TO CHARACTER ACCOUNT THAT HAS THE ITEM NEEDING TO BE UPDATED
<b>Link to original form:</b> LINK TO THE ORIGINAL FORM YOU POSTED IN THE REDEMPTION THREAD
<b>Date of Purchase:</b> WHAT DATE DID YOU PURCHASE THE ITEM TO BE UPDATED?
<b>Last Update:</b> WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU UPDATED SAID ITEM? IF NEVER, PUT "N/A"
<b>Old Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE OLD ITEM LOOKED LIKE
<b>New Item Description:</b> DESCRIBE WHAT THE NEW ITEM LOOKS LIKE
<b>Reason for Changing:</b> ANY EXPLANATION FOR CHANGING? IC REASON? OOC REASON?
<u><b>Agreement</b></u>
I understand that I can only change my character's weapon once every IC year (eight months), and that I must contact staff before doing so. If I am found using a weapon other than the one described in my profile, my purchased item will be revoked without refund. I am not able to mention this weapon in my IC posts until the staff have officially approved/redeemed it.
The stress of the situation they had been thrust into was doing more harm than the good of having a talented healer to help their son was. Eulalie laid beside Regist, whose health seemed to change from moment to moment as she watched. She worried that each time she blinked she might miss something, might lose him. But the prince was as brave and strong as ever, holding on through it all.
He’d been awake for awhile now, long enough to see his father off as Somnus took a day to himself to hopefully unwind. But Eulalie could see the sheen of sweat on her son’s skin, the tired shadow in his eyes. So she’d gotten him to lay down so that she might read him a story. Her words weaved a world full of fantasy. Dangers abound, brave knights, powerful heroes. A world in which, like most tales, good won out over evil and everybody lived happily ever after.
The ivory woman smiled wistfully as she read, watching as slowly Regis was lulled to sleep. When at last his breathing was steady Eulalie set the book aside and, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek, stood to leave. Alba had remained behind Somnus, a connection to him should they need it, and the barn owl dutifully watched over the sleeping boy as she often did these days.
As she made her way to the door she asked Tabbriss to remain as well, and to not allow anyone that he did not trust into the room. She knew he would stand guard outside the doors as long as was asked of him. She also knew that the list of who he trusted was very short and consisted of, at most, around three individuals.
Eulalie’s steps traced an invisible path through the citadel halls, past staff and various other citizens of the court. Many, she was sure, looked on at her with pity. The mother with an ailing son. She did not meet their eyes however, her dark gaze looking straight ahead and yet at nothing. There was a weary set to her shoulders, a concerned crease to her brow.
Her meandering ended her in the great hall, quiet on a summer day when most were enjoying the time outside. She settled in at a table and her eyes occupied themselves in the grain of the wood, following the patterns it made. At some point a cup of tea, warm and relaxing, was placed before her and she gave a fleeting but grateful smile to the woman who set it down.
Eulalie was still lost in her mind when a shadow fell over her. She didn’t know how long they had been standing their for, hadn’t even heard them arrive in her trance, but the ivory woman glanced up to face the intruder on her thoughts, speaking before really looking, “Can I do something for you?”
