Novus
an equine & cervidae rpg
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Novus closed 10/31/2022, after The Gentle Exodus

Fight: Judged  - those are the pearls that were his eyes;

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Played by Offline Obsidian [PM] Posts: 380 — Threads: 45
Signos: 25
Inactive Character
#4



florentine


The dusk girl ignores her breath that plumes from her flared nostrils, for her gaze is riveted upon the brown, brown boy and his rather startled gaze. She is quite pleased that he wears such a look, for surely it means he may think of her as some unknown quantity capable of unleashing some awe inspiring battle skills. In truth, Florentine is as readable as an open book. Her pages are elaborate drawings – starlit nights and wild flower meadows. There is only one page dedicated to battle and it is a contrast to all the others. Blood runs in rivers and the mountain walls reverberate with the song of screams and the ricochet of rogue magic. Bodies lay strewn, prevailing warriors skittering between them. Florentine was not made for that page; She was flowers and too-sweet honey.
 
Their battle on this rocky outcrop, beneath a clear blue sky and a drowsy morning sun, is as far from that place of death. But the butterflies still flutter their worry against her stomach. Could she die here? It happened so quickly, so easily before…
 
It had been a kick that ended her once and just before the moment of impact, as their shadows do indeed become one, her brother crow-hops away. He kicks up, but her momentum is too much and despite the flash of memory that illuminates before her eyes, the flower girl collides with his rump. The bony point of his buttock crashes against the front of her throat. It is warm where a bruise begins to blossom beneath the worried skin of her neck.
 
Their impact sent Asterion twisting and circling his sister before he rears back towards her. His feet reach out, lashing the air towards her chest. Where Florentine had earlier managed to restrain herself from squealing now was not so easy… A most undignified cry rips from her lips as she notices with just a moment to spare, where his feet (albeit half heartedly) are aimed.
 
Her neck already smarts enough as it is and she is too unskilled to consider that maybe arching her neck to guard her chest may not be the most wise decision she has ever made… Flora brings her head in to her breast with just enough time for Asterion’s hoof to catch a glancing blow across her face.
 
What a cockup, an unhelpful voice chimes within her subconscious. Whilst the graze to her face is only minor in the grand scheme of injuries (she believes her death by crumbled ribcage as a suitable pinnacle for all injuries attained during battle), it is the implications of such an unsightly injury that have her staggering back.
 
Blood begins to blossom over the bony arch of her eye and her skin flushes a hot, angry pink where her brother’s hoof skimmed the golden hair from her face. Little, angry droplets of blood begin to blossom all down the girl’s face his hoof had tracked and her eyes are wide, wide, wide with shock.
 
“I said anywhere, but my face!” She would like to sound impressively angry, instead the words whine their way pathetically from her lips. ”It’s date night tonight, how am I going to explain a black eye to Reich?!” Even as she said it she wonders if, despite the impending black eye she will sport, Reich may award her ‘badass’ points. She would quite like a few of those…
 
As readily as the wind turns, so Florentine’s mind rolls on, driven by his words, “Dead!” She crows around breathless laughter, her amethyst eyes full of mirth. “There are no pretty girls to welcome you in death, although I would not have minded some hunky boys to welcome me…” She muses, dreaming of underworlds and handsome men.  She coughs, her voice lowering an octave for the growing bruise upon her neck roughening her voice.
 
She tosses back her head, freeing herself of the ridiculous tangle of hair and petals that persistently fall into her eyes. “Pfft,” The golden girl huffs dismissively. “It’s not a big thing and really we were too busy talking about daddy – who, I hasten to add, was also a king - to really bring up the topic of boyfriends.“ Her voice drops lower mimicking her brother’s earlier exclamation, of the word king. Really, kings were overrated.
 
Through narrowed eyes she surveys her brother wondering where might be another good place to hit him. She was beginning to get a feel for this. She should probably be staying light on her feet or something, ready for any other attack. Instead she stands, huffing at her brother, huffing at the injustice that she now will have a fat eye for her date and a decidedly manly voice.
 
Was this what having brothers was all about? Sibling scraps? Her heart warms with the thought. They were clearly making up for lost time.
 
With gusto and no real idea exactly what she was planning, Florentine throws herself towards her brother. She reaches him in two strides and pivots swiftly, wings flaring to balance her as her hind feet fly out towards his front left knee. If she was going to sport a black eye on her Emissary duties, well, he could hobble about like an old man with a fat knee. The attack is swift and sharp punctuated by a rather pleased, “ha!” Proud with her choice and execution of attack, Flora skitters away her eyes adrenaline bright, her smirk devilish.
 
“So.” Florentine begins again, emboldened and relentless as she drags their conversation back to their most pressing topic. “Aislinn is your idea of heaven huh?” Her breath is ragged, but her effort to make sure he hears each word nice and clearly is admirable. “What do you know about her, hmm?”

@Asterion







Summary: Florentine bruises her neck again Asterion's haunches as he tries to clear her attack and with inexperience blazing thinks it wise to protect her chest from his attack with her face. His hoof grazes her face causing more of a wound to her pride than anything else. She is more effective at dodging his verbal attack than his physical ones (good job they are practicing then eh?) and continues her verbal interrogation over all things Aislinn after trying to kick him in his left knee (front leg). Oh, and there is some very minor PTSD.

Attack Used:
Attack(s) Left:
Block Used:
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: N/A

Response Deadline: 9/11/17
Tags: @Asterion, @kay, @inkbone, AND @Sid






She is clothed with strength and dignity, 
and she laughs without fear of the future 






Messages In This Thread
those are the pearls that were his eyes; - by Asterion - 10-31-2017, 02:10 PM
RE: those are the pearls that were his eyes; - by Asterion - 11-03-2017, 08:02 PM
RE: those are the pearls that were his eyes; - by Florentine - 11-06-2017, 08:57 AM
RE: those are the pearls that were his eyes; - by Asterion - 11-08-2017, 12:12 PM
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