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+----- Thread: [AW] Coloring Outside the Lines (/showthread.php?tid=2971)
Coloring Outside the Lines - Regis - 12-13-2018
"I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable , I am an original ."
The journey from Delumine to Denocte was not a particularly easy one for Regis to make given his state, but he had been ecstatic for it the moment he learned of the celebration they were to throw. His parents and the other denizens of their home had spoken of a grand masquerade among a slew of other things such as a maze, daring feats, exquisite treats, a market full of wares that couldn’t be found anywhere else and so much more. It was nearly overwhelming for the colt to absorb so much information, let alone imagine experiencing it, but with each new thing he learned, his excitement grew until he was counting down the days until their departure.Traveling had taken quite a bit out of the still sickly colt, his hide slick from long days and summer heat, but duller than it should have been. His belly ached and oftentimes he was reluctant to eat, but his thirst was always great. His sides were sunken and thin in clear indication of his poor state, yet somehow the little Prince continued to carry on and fight in spite of his unusual, worsening condition.
A week or so prior, however, the man colored like the evening sky had arrived from Terrastella and begun to treat him. Not even Delumine’s medics had been able to offer him much reprieve from his unyielding sickness, but somehow he was already showing a bit of progress from the weird smelling concoctions that left a bad taste in the back of his throat.
Then, there was the recent addition of his russet companion he had dubbed Milo, the little fox who had never strayed from his side since that afternoon they had met and played ‘sticks’ together. Without anyone else to play with in the Kingdom that was of a similar age, Regis seemed to perk back up a little more in Milo’s company; together they curled up for naps, and the little Prince was even more eager to get up and move his legs. Perhaps most importantly, his appetite had increased, too.
Upon first entering Denocte’s capitol, the first thing Regis noticed was the shimmering veils which covered the countless tables. From where he stood near his parents’ sides, the youth watched curiously as other patrons plucked something from the tables and affixed them to their faces. When one such equine turned and he saw the extravagant mask which resembled a raven, Regis gave a gasp and stepped forward, chest pressing into the edge of the table as he examined each and every mask. Oh, there were so many! Some sported flowers, others feathers, several resembling other animals and a few that were minimal. Shuffling around the table as he searched for the perfect one, the colt eventually gave a soft gasp.
As his bonded picked out a mask, Milo himself leapt up onto Regis’ back, still too young himself to view everything with ease on his own, and placed his paws against the back of the colt’s neck for a better look. With a chuckle, Regis took one of the mask’s carefully between his teeth and turned his head to show his newest friend the one which resembled a rabbit.
And to that the kit gave a gleeful yip of mutual agreement.
RE: Coloring Outside the Lines - Moira - 12-13-2018
M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Denocte is a beehive, workers dutifully buzzing about their colony to make it presentable, to bring joy and peace and prosperity and love. Each individual put their heart and soul into every nook and cranny of Denocte, and finally when the doors were open others would come flooding in to a world of wonder and beauty. Even the summer heat could not kill the excitement that the phoenix can taste like a firefly on the breeze.
So many faces whirl around the stalls, flit past each carefully set table with scarves and shawls and masks and jewels to find the outfit that would suit them perfectly. A new family, a quaint couple with a child at their breast, finally comes in and honeyed eyes fall on them. The boy is ill - or was - as far as she can tell, and her instinct to help kicks in. For a moment Moira watches, simply watches, from afar as he joins in the merriment, races to tables and screeches to a stop when he finds a mask that looks like the little fox kit that bounds to his back. A smaller mask, a rabbit, is also selected for the boy's companion. When at last he turns, asking his parents, she approaches and picks up the two decorations.
Turning quietly, Moira whispers to her court friend behind the table and kisses their cheek so sweetly. A quick thank you, and then she's by the boy's side, bending ever so slightly to meet his eyes. "You'd make a dashing rogue when you grow up," whispers the healer. And he would, the orange lights up the blue in Regis' eyes, the triangular ears tower beside his horn making it seem all the more imposing, and it is as though the boy is nearly transformed. Careful not to disturb the rabbit mask too much, she hands it over to him. "For your companion, Milo, was it? Welcome," she smiles, "welcome to Denocte! Have you come for the festivities then? I hope you like sweets. I'm Moira, a court caretaker, would you help me pick out a mask?" For she hasn't the slightest clue what she should wear for the masquerade, not yet, and the life that resonates in Regis' breast despite his previous condition that still shows in the hollows of his ribs and shadows of his eyes is enough to draw her closer.
@Regis I'm sorry this is so short ! I couldn't help but crash though.
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Denocte is a beehive, workers dutifully buzzing about their colony to make it presentable, to bring joy and peace and prosperity and love. Each individual put their heart and soul into every nook and cranny of Denocte, and finally when the doors were open others would come flooding in to a world of wonder and beauty. Even the summer heat could not kill the excitement that the phoenix can taste like a firefly on the breeze.
So many faces whirl around the stalls, flit past each carefully set table with scarves and shawls and masks and jewels to find the outfit that would suit them perfectly. A new family, a quaint couple with a child at their breast, finally comes in and honeyed eyes fall on them. The boy is ill - or was - as far as she can tell, and her instinct to help kicks in. For a moment Moira watches, simply watches, from afar as he joins in the merriment, races to tables and screeches to a stop when he finds a mask that looks like the little fox kit that bounds to his back. A smaller mask, a rabbit, is also selected for the boy's companion. When at last he turns, asking his parents, she approaches and picks up the two decorations.
Turning quietly, Moira whispers to her court friend behind the table and kisses their cheek so sweetly. A quick thank you, and then she's by the boy's side, bending ever so slightly to meet his eyes. "You'd make a dashing rogue when you grow up," whispers the healer. And he would, the orange lights up the blue in Regis' eyes, the triangular ears tower beside his horn making it seem all the more imposing, and it is as though the boy is nearly transformed. Careful not to disturb the rabbit mask too much, she hands it over to him. "For your companion, Milo, was it? Welcome," she smiles, "welcome to Denocte! Have you come for the festivities then? I hope you like sweets. I'm Moira, a court caretaker, would you help me pick out a mask?" For she hasn't the slightest clue what she should wear for the masquerade, not yet, and the life that resonates in Regis' breast despite his previous condition that still shows in the hollows of his ribs and shadows of his eyes is enough to draw her closer.
@
RE: Coloring Outside the Lines - Regis - 12-17-2018
"I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable , I am an original ."
It was neither his father nor his mother that plucked the masks from their spots atop the table, but rather a stranger who instantaneously captivates his attention. Tilting his head back to get a better look at her from his puny height, eyes wide with intrigue; she strangely reminds him of the sunsets he loved to watch from the vantage of the citadel, and although he does not know her, she elicited no fear in him. Her voice was far too kind, and thus far in Regis’ life, he has yet to truly know a stranger.The colt’s smile widens and he stands impressively still as the mask is affixed first to his own face, followed by the one meant for Milo, for which the russet kit looked all too happy to wear.
When she asks of his companion’s name, he nods wildly, jostling the very fox to some degree but somehow, he already looks as though he’s grown used to it.
She welcomes him and introduces herself as Moira, and his response is as fluid as was possible for a boy of his age and experience, for one vying for the chance to be just like his father.
Regis gives a soft gasp when she asks for his assistance in picking out a mask for herself, a task that he feels he’s more than qualified for.
This is sort of how I imagine the mask to be for Moira :D
RE: Coloring Outside the Lines - Moira - 02-10-2019
M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
There are galaxies in the boy's eyes, planets born from his lips as words fall like rain into her world. Innocence is a cloak pulled tightly about his shoulders, draping into his every reaction as he trustingly allows her to fasten the mask about his thin face. Moira smiles at her work, at his choice, and quickly moves to put the rabbit mask upon Milo while Regis continues his speech. Quick as kissing a sore scratch, the two match one another well enough and she stands back, smiling on the colt that talks a mile a minute, that stumbles over Denocte as though it is a phenetic beast, that finds her a stunning mask both dark and light in a manner of minutes.
When silence rings true once more, a tolling in their ears, only then does she chuckle and nod. Carefully Moira bends, offering the mask to Regis so that he may tie it about her eyes and carefully thread it atop her hair. When the task begins, she speaks once more. "Regis, what a fitting name for such a lovely young gentleman. I'll tell you a secret if you lean in close." Mischief dances in those amber eyes that are molten honey under the sun, laughter a secret on the corner of her lips. Leaning close enough that her breath tickles his ear, her whiskers play along his temple, she whispers as though they're to plan a robbery. "Here in this land I am a healer, so I can tend to any cut or bruise or bellyache; with that I know where every drip of sugar is and every sweet pastry you might dream of. We'll only have a few, enough so that your belly won't ache but you'll wear a smile the entire night. How does that sound?"
How fondly she smiles as she pulls away, rising to stare down at him with her crown of light resting easily about that molten gaze. Truly, with it Moira almost could look like some queen or foreign goddess. But she does not think herself so lovely with two wilting wings tucked tightly to her stomach, with her curling hair carefully pulled and pinned into its braids and buns and slipping out until it's messy enough to seem natural and carefree, with her restless mind moving constantly through library books. No. The phoenix woman is far too concerned with other matters to consider herself lovely in any way.
"I cannot help but think you've a talent for finding something that matches the client, young Regis. How would you like to see this festival with me for a bit? If your mother and father allow, I'll show you to the sweets first and then we shall explore!" So sweetly she sings for him, almost like a bird crooning to their young, beckoning them into the world, into the spring, into the light. How fondly she smiles, for the youth and naivety of a child is something so precious and pure here she cannot help but wonder what her life may have been should she not have been a Tonnerre at all. Oh, but she is a Tonnerre and as such wears that badge with pride. Her family holds sway in her heart that none may ever wrangle from her grasp, not even in her dying moments. Every family has their dark past, and she cannot help but to love hers despite everything they do differently and the affection that's hidden behind closed doors.
@Regis please accept my humble trash pile of words
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
There are galaxies in the boy's eyes, planets born from his lips as words fall like rain into her world. Innocence is a cloak pulled tightly about his shoulders, draping into his every reaction as he trustingly allows her to fasten the mask about his thin face. Moira smiles at her work, at his choice, and quickly moves to put the rabbit mask upon Milo while Regis continues his speech. Quick as kissing a sore scratch, the two match one another well enough and she stands back, smiling on the colt that talks a mile a minute, that stumbles over Denocte as though it is a phenetic beast, that finds her a stunning mask both dark and light in a manner of minutes.
When silence rings true once more, a tolling in their ears, only then does she chuckle and nod. Carefully Moira bends, offering the mask to Regis so that he may tie it about her eyes and carefully thread it atop her hair. When the task begins, she speaks once more. "Regis, what a fitting name for such a lovely young gentleman. I'll tell you a secret if you lean in close." Mischief dances in those amber eyes that are molten honey under the sun, laughter a secret on the corner of her lips. Leaning close enough that her breath tickles his ear, her whiskers play along his temple, she whispers as though they're to plan a robbery. "Here in this land I am a healer, so I can tend to any cut or bruise or bellyache; with that I know where every drip of sugar is and every sweet pastry you might dream of. We'll only have a few, enough so that your belly won't ache but you'll wear a smile the entire night. How does that sound?"
How fondly she smiles as she pulls away, rising to stare down at him with her crown of light resting easily about that molten gaze. Truly, with it Moira almost could look like some queen or foreign goddess. But she does not think herself so lovely with two wilting wings tucked tightly to her stomach, with her curling hair carefully pulled and pinned into its braids and buns and slipping out until it's messy enough to seem natural and carefree, with her restless mind moving constantly through library books. No. The phoenix woman is far too concerned with other matters to consider herself lovely in any way.
"I cannot help but think you've a talent for finding something that matches the client, young Regis. How would you like to see this festival with me for a bit? If your mother and father allow, I'll show you to the sweets first and then we shall explore!" So sweetly she sings for him, almost like a bird crooning to their young, beckoning them into the world, into the spring, into the light. How fondly she smiles, for the youth and naivety of a child is something so precious and pure here she cannot help but wonder what her life may have been should she not have been a Tonnerre at all. Oh, but she is a Tonnerre and as such wears that badge with pride. Her family holds sway in her heart that none may ever wrangle from her grasp, not even in her dying moments. Every family has their dark past, and she cannot help but to love hers despite everything they do differently and the affection that's hidden behind closed doors.
@
RE: Coloring Outside the Lines - Regis - 03-03-2019
"I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable , I am an original ."
If he were capable, Regis would be blushing at the compliment. His parents had referred to him as a gentleman numerous times and said that he should always try to be one, and so to hear a stranger also refer to him as such was one of few crowning achievements for a boy so young.When the lady of firelight and smoke urged him to lean in closer with the promise of spilled secrets, Regis did just that, ignorant to any and all potential dangers. Bright eyes gleamed from beneath the mask and his smile, while hidden, shone bright with anticipation. She was a healer, she explained, but far more importantly she knew the location of every single sweet in Denocte, a seemingly impossible task given just how big the castle was and the enormous mountains that surrounded it.
Still standing so so close to Moira who looked nothing short of otherworldly with her expressive mask of sun and moon, Regis listened as she voiced her proposition, and quickly looked back to his parents for approval. Perhaps it was his mere excitement that caused them to relent, but when they finally agreed to let him go (all the while probably following somewhere not far behind him), the dun Prince practically leapt for joy. His smile spread even further and like the child he was, he bobbed his head up and down eagerly.
Eyes alight with mirth, Regis dutifully followed whenever Moira made to move, knowing he needed to stick close to keep from getting caught up and lost within the crowd. As they went, he spoke up loud enough to be heard of the murmur of the patrons perhaps the most important question of them all.
RE: Coloring Outside the Lines - Moira - 03-11-2019
M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
The innocence he wears upon his shoulders, so oblivious to chaos and any dangers, is a reassurance that brings light back into her eyes and a spring to her step. The phoenix does not realize how she's ached for the laughter of children, for their ringing voices on stone streets, for the purity they bring that rejuvenates the soul and invigorates one's desire for life. And she is almost ashamed for forgetting so much.
But Regis is different from the children of the Tonnerre Estate. He is far more precious and loved and less proper or worried about displeasing the two who love him so dearly. The two who now give their nod to Moira. Absolutely beaming like the boy before her, she dips her head in thanks and kisses Regis' cheek. "Not everywhere, not yet. There are places that I cannot reach, places too high when I only know how to walk. But the sweets are not in the sky, not yet." And her laughter is like a torch being lit after an age of darkness over the land, it shines as a beacon, a dusk-laden invitation that makes others pause and turn to look at the odd pairing. A child in a fox mask, a fox wearing a rabbit's face, and the setting sun wearing both day and night as though a tribute and offering, all grinning like fools in love with life and too jubilant to care about anything darker.
At his urging, the phoenix' wing extends to wrap about her young charge and his bouncing companion, claiming him as her own to protect for their time together. He makes her smile, makes her remember what it was to be young and so full of possibilities (or those that she pretended into existence, and those that the twins dangled before her to liven her spirits when she had been so terribly blue), he brings her to life again. There is a light in an attic too long unlit, and at last it flickers on when the prince looks up and asks that simple question.
No one has asked Moira Tonnerre which is her favorite.
"I could no sooner choose a favorite star or story," she says with a wink. Then, lips purse and brow furrows. She squeezes him tighter to her side and whispers to them both "If I had to choose, sticky buns and cinnamon rolls are always a delight. And chocolate... I do believe you will like the chocolate, little prince. We'll go to their stall first so you can see! It is much sweeter than honey, much sweeter than clover. Come," she confides, ushering him forward with a warning look at any who dance too near them. "Come," she says and pulls them through bodies packed tighter and tighter as they go along.
"There they are!" The bright exclamation is nearly a cry of ecstasy, eyes alight while they go forward. He is so careful to follow her every move, dip when she dips, dodge when she dodges. He is her shadow, but much brighter than that. She careens to a stop, momentum pushing her closer to the vendor than anticipated and a slight chuckle and blush rising faster than her voice can. "Strawberries, Regis, try the strawberries in chocolate!" Eagerly she points to each item as they are named, floating one into the fountain of dark chocolate that drips in a beautiful display. Behind the booth, a man eyes them both, but his face is kind and he smiles when her soft moan escapes. It's been absolute ages since she's touched something so sweet and addicting.
@Regis don't mind her and her minor mindgasm over chocolate strawberries. Moira, please do not lose Reggie while you enjoy your treats !
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
The innocence he wears upon his shoulders, so oblivious to chaos and any dangers, is a reassurance that brings light back into her eyes and a spring to her step. The phoenix does not realize how she's ached for the laughter of children, for their ringing voices on stone streets, for the purity they bring that rejuvenates the soul and invigorates one's desire for life. And she is almost ashamed for forgetting so much.
But Regis is different from the children of the Tonnerre Estate. He is far more precious and loved and less proper or worried about displeasing the two who love him so dearly. The two who now give their nod to Moira. Absolutely beaming like the boy before her, she dips her head in thanks and kisses Regis' cheek. "Not everywhere, not yet. There are places that I cannot reach, places too high when I only know how to walk. But the sweets are not in the sky, not yet." And her laughter is like a torch being lit after an age of darkness over the land, it shines as a beacon, a dusk-laden invitation that makes others pause and turn to look at the odd pairing. A child in a fox mask, a fox wearing a rabbit's face, and the setting sun wearing both day and night as though a tribute and offering, all grinning like fools in love with life and too jubilant to care about anything darker.
At his urging, the phoenix' wing extends to wrap about her young charge and his bouncing companion, claiming him as her own to protect for their time together. He makes her smile, makes her remember what it was to be young and so full of possibilities (or those that she pretended into existence, and those that the twins dangled before her to liven her spirits when she had been so terribly blue), he brings her to life again. There is a light in an attic too long unlit, and at last it flickers on when the prince looks up and asks that simple question.
No one has asked Moira Tonnerre which is her favorite.
"I could no sooner choose a favorite star or story," she says with a wink. Then, lips purse and brow furrows. She squeezes him tighter to her side and whispers to them both "If I had to choose, sticky buns and cinnamon rolls are always a delight. And chocolate... I do believe you will like the chocolate, little prince. We'll go to their stall first so you can see! It is much sweeter than honey, much sweeter than clover. Come," she confides, ushering him forward with a warning look at any who dance too near them. "Come," she says and pulls them through bodies packed tighter and tighter as they go along.
"There they are!" The bright exclamation is nearly a cry of ecstasy, eyes alight while they go forward. He is so careful to follow her every move, dip when she dips, dodge when she dodges. He is her shadow, but much brighter than that. She careens to a stop, momentum pushing her closer to the vendor than anticipated and a slight chuckle and blush rising faster than her voice can. "Strawberries, Regis, try the strawberries in chocolate!" Eagerly she points to each item as they are named, floating one into the fountain of dark chocolate that drips in a beautiful display. Behind the booth, a man eyes them both, but his face is kind and he smiles when her soft moan escapes. It's been absolute ages since she's touched something so sweet and addicting.
@
RE: Coloring Outside the Lines - Regis - 03-17-2019
"I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable , I am an original ."
His youthful features creased as he furrowed his brow, puzzled as Moira spoke. Maybe when he was older he would understand the meaning behind her words, but his lack of experience and a childish view of the world caused him to take the words literally.
On the subject of sugary treats somehow rising into the sky, however, Regis left it alone when he was suddenly enveloped by a wing much larger and grand than his own. He wasn’t frightened, however, and neither was Milo. Were Moira to look down, she would be met by a bright smile and eyes glistening with excitement and anticipation, ready to seek out their hidden treasure – but first, Moira speaks of her favorite of them all, and his smile broadens. He doesn’t know the rich history of Delumine like his father, doesn’t know what flora surrounds their home and knows only some of the fauna, but what Regis has committed to was all the different types of sweets that their own cooks were capable of making.
They are years apart, Prince and Emissary, but Regis had found friends in everyone he had ever come across throughout his brief existence. If anything, Miss Moira was already well on her way to becoming one of his best friends. Together they moved, a trio weaving through the heavy foot traffic of guests clamoring to get out on the floor to dance, to find their friends and fix heaping plates of Denocte’s exquisite catering. Were it not for Moira’s deft footwork and her unwavering awareness of him, Regis would have surely been swept away and lost in the ocean of attendees, but eventually they made it to the proverbial shore in one piece.
The booth was clearly constructed with children in mind, and while Regis could easily look beyond the glass display to see the various items offered, he had to rest his chin on the edge of the countertop to see the vendor himself and the glorious chocolate fountain. It spilled endlessly over itself, and idly Regis wondered how he could obtain such a magic as this until Moira’s urgings banished the thought from his mind. He focused instead on one of the strawberries, and with shaky magic he plucked one of the strawberries from the table, to the fountain and then into his mouth. Chomping down without reservation, the boy gave a gasp as he gazed up at the two adults as though in shock.
He looked back then to Moira, absolutely beaming.
RE: Coloring Outside the Lines - Moira - 03-24-2019
M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Such sunlight, such happy memories, she pauses to admire those that he will be left with (she hopes) after today. This brightness in his life, the phoenix does not remember being shed upon her own. Quite the contrary, despite the sweets and treats she talks of, spewing from her like an ocean pushing waves, they are so small a part of that part of her life. She cannot recall laughing as Regis laughs: bright, carefree, so young and innocent. Yet, there is nothing that can make her frown when she is by his side, eating up his every response just as he gobbles down treat after treat.
Quietly the phoenix, with her mask back in place, slips coins on the table and a nod of thanks to the man that beams, pushing even more forward for them to try upon Regis' request. Oh ! What beautiful pastries: eclairs and baklava, cannolis and macarons, strudels and pies and florentines alike spread out for any who wish. Not even the Tonnerre Estate had such diversity, such richness as the Denocte. Her heart is happy for it, overflowing where once only an aching lived and breathed. As golden eyes fall upon the child, she cannot help but grin again and take up a strawberry hamantash to feast upon once more.
"Perhaps we will learn to fly together, Regis ! Until then," she pauses, looking between the two with raised brows for but a moment, then turns to the table and packs up what must be nearly a quarter of the treats on display into a container. "We have a delivery to your mother and father to make, the three of us! Lead the way, my kind sirs, and I shall follow as your shadow." All the revelry in the world could not hide the way she glows and beams, how the Emissary dotes on the Prince with such sweetness that one could almost imagine her with little winged, wild things of her own to chase about.
Almost, but not quite. And so she lets him set off on their new adventure, feeling their parting coming all too soon, yet ready to return and find Isra in the crowds, in the rooms, in the music of the Night.
@Regis <3 I'm good to stop here; I look forward to their future threads as well ! They're so wholesome imo
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Such sunlight, such happy memories, she pauses to admire those that he will be left with (she hopes) after today. This brightness in his life, the phoenix does not remember being shed upon her own. Quite the contrary, despite the sweets and treats she talks of, spewing from her like an ocean pushing waves, they are so small a part of that part of her life. She cannot recall laughing as Regis laughs: bright, carefree, so young and innocent. Yet, there is nothing that can make her frown when she is by his side, eating up his every response just as he gobbles down treat after treat.
Quietly the phoenix, with her mask back in place, slips coins on the table and a nod of thanks to the man that beams, pushing even more forward for them to try upon Regis' request. Oh ! What beautiful pastries: eclairs and baklava, cannolis and macarons, strudels and pies and florentines alike spread out for any who wish. Not even the Tonnerre Estate had such diversity, such richness as the Denocte. Her heart is happy for it, overflowing where once only an aching lived and breathed. As golden eyes fall upon the child, she cannot help but grin again and take up a strawberry hamantash to feast upon once more.
"Perhaps we will learn to fly together, Regis ! Until then," she pauses, looking between the two with raised brows for but a moment, then turns to the table and packs up what must be nearly a quarter of the treats on display into a container. "We have a delivery to your mother and father to make, the three of us! Lead the way, my kind sirs, and I shall follow as your shadow." All the revelry in the world could not hide the way she glows and beams, how the Emissary dotes on the Prince with such sweetness that one could almost imagine her with little winged, wild things of her own to chase about.
Almost, but not quite. And so she lets him set off on their new adventure, feeling their parting coming all too soon, yet ready to return and find Isra in the crowds, in the rooms, in the music of the Night.
@