The tap water rushed onto the woman’s pale hands, and her hand splashed the water onto her face. She exhaled deeply.
Her gaze lifted to the dirty mirror that was in the bathhouse. Her pupils were quite large, her eyelashes bashing as she stared herself down. She began to blink rapidly. Her torso flinched, squirming slightly as her hands went to cover her mouth. She giggled. The giggle turned to a laughter. The laughter turned to a yell. The yell turned to a manically sound scream. She thrashed her head around, her fist catching with the now smashed mirror. This could be heard from around the town. She continued to laugh insanely, going to skip out of the bathhouse.
A few days after this incident, a torn and damp paper appeared on the...
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June 3rd, 307 AC
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He pulled his mask off as Lightboots and the woman left. He should have asked her name, but then, Boots would probably get that by the night's end. He shook his head, thinking of the ordeal that had been the meeting. The Jesters and the Blonde's men both gathered. He never thought they would posed a threat, but it was tiresome regardless. He pushed the barricade door shut and locked it, before moving for the armory to switch back into common clothes.
He returned to the courtyard when he was finished, his graying hair it's usual mess, his purple coat and black scarf on. He peeked through the barricade briefly, before opening it, then re-locking it behind him. It wouldn't stay up forever, but he wanted to keep it...
A mangy man sat down, facing the stool backward as he faced you. It seemed he was a lot older than others in the bar, though across him sat an interesting fellow with a notebook and a quill, nodding for him to speak his peace. Though this man was no regular investigator this was a confession to whatever god flew above the clouds.
Blood, it runs through all of our veins and it now stained my soft hands as I stared up at my shaking victim who was now powerless at my will. This blade? Well, this blade was a curse for no mere adolescent to obtain, no, not at my age anyway. Yet what was I supposed to do… someone lay dead, for me, a boy of Kinverla to bury their body eight feet under only days prior. I couldn’t even close his damned eyes...
Thursday, May 30th, 307 AC
The journey was not an uncomfortable one at all: each and every invited house of the peerage given their own luxurious carriage to accommodate their attendees, the procession of horse-drawn vehicles trundling along the cobbled roads winding down from the Crown Isle to the more southern portion of Brissiaud. Among the banners flying there were those of House Howlester, Ravenstad, Black, du Brierüst, Peirgarten, Harhold, and Delmotte: each standard swaying and whipping with the occasional breeze.
After about half a day’s travel, the Redmarshes lay before them: vast swaths of coastal morass covered in dense thickets of winding, labyrinthian trees. In the northern reaches, just bordering the Hinterlands, lay...
♫
“I assure you now when this life has ended and the dust settles, I will find you in the next.”
The sun was crawling gently over the horizon as a pair of horses with their riders each wearing a red cloak around their shoulders dismounted and entered the small chapel on the hill. It was an old building, but one that was being taken care of by the elderly priest who greeted the duo as they stepped into the inner room of the building. After the formalities were settled and tea was set before the trio by the priest’s servant, the final preparations for the afternoon’s ceremony were settled into place. The trio fell into a comfortable silence having done this numerous times over the past two weeks to ensure that all was ready for the...
I know you think I got it all figured out 'cause
I walk around like my head’s in the clouds but
I’m just boy with his heart pourin' out
Of his head
I wish that you could see the pain that I’ve seen and
All of the time I spent being not me and
I hope you know it’s not always happy
In my head.
To put it simply Milo was scared. No, scratch that, Milo was petrified. After having found out people wanted the only stable presence in his life dead, he had no control over his emotions and almost snapped infront of them. He had almost told them everything he thought but he managed to stop himself and only briefly open up because, in all honesty, he wanted them to know how he felt. He had misplaced his trust in someone yet again and look where...
The announcement came earlier in the evening during mid-May. House von Rahm would be shutting her Regalian doors and returning homewards. Siegfried von Rahm would leave with it, returning to their lands within Hinter Calem- some of their kin would follow suit.
The moment the decree came from their patriarch, Winifred knew her cousin, Ernesta, would be making no such move. No, she had heard the muffled arguments consisting of Count and Countess and Cousin- woman demanding her same’s hand in marriage and going against the social standards many had obligated themselves to. It came such as no surprise that the young Eriunin heard marriage plans being murmured about from her cousin on the days leading up to the doors shutting on their...
“Like a carriage, that’s lost it’s horse. Like a ship, that’s lost it’s sail. Like an escort, that’s lost their legs. I cannot breath, I cannot see, and I cannot hear. Spirit help me.”
The woman chanted in a whisper as she sat on the cobble by her Aunt’s front door. Rain poured down on her knotted brown locks, dripping onto her eyelashes and her dress, forcing her firm, large stomach to show through the thin layer of fabric she called her night gown. Her breathing was hitched and uneven, as if the wind had left her lungs.
She cried out after chanting, her voice echoing through the empty streets. She felt so empty, so alone, so worthless, so bored. Yet, she had so much to be thankful for. Selfish, some call it. Some call it depressed...
The clicking sound of a rusty wooden key echoed through the empty house, and the door creaked open. The woman's shadow fell through the door, as she removed her cape hood and stepped inside with a sigh, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her eyes shut momentarily as a deep breath filled her lungs, the scent of fresh wood filled her nose. She then opened her eyes and peered around.
"This is where I will raise a family." She peered down to her peeking tummy. "And you will grow up, too." She smiled, going to set down her basket and cloak, now exploring the place she now called home.
╔═════════════════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═════════════════╗
Mood Music
╚═════════════════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═════════════════╝
There were only two left in that damned place, a land of pain, attempts at broken will. It was dark and decrepit. None but the sound of metal and shallow breathing, breathing that grew fainter with each passing day. Or what seemed of days. There purposely was no rhyme or reason to the actions of the Altalar. Every move, every planned thought, was an attempt to break the two. The two who had refused to be even slightly broken. The two who instead of being forced into submission, rather devolve into that akin of a rabid canine.
The Nelfin seemed confused of their burly brethren, their dedication and stubbornness not like any they had...
You and I, we're like firework and symphonies exploding in the sky.
With you, I'm alive. Like all the missing pieces of my heart, they finally collide.
Milo loved Amber. Loved her with all of his heart, yet he didn't. He loved somebody instead of her. He loved Uri, the boy with the cheeky smile much like his own, the boy with a sparkle in his eyes that just melted all of Milo's anger or aggression with one look. But he loved her caramel brown eyes. Her motherly comfort and her gentle words that could calm him from even the worst of his panic attacks.
So stop time right here in the moonlight. 'Cause I don't ever wanna close my eyes. Without you, I feel broke. Like I'm half of a whole. Without you, I've got no hand to hold.
He missed...
-= The Forest near Merkar’sarh =-
“Toddy, throw another log on”, mumbled Reynart as he reclined against the foot of the old oak, legs stretched out facing the roaring fire. “Do it yourself, dog.”, snapped back a Velheimer at the other end of the flames, who proceeded to take a swig from his hooch bag. “Are all you Calembergers so damn lazy? Built a wall so you didn’t have to fight us man to man.”.- “Oh shut up, Siggy.” barked Toddy, as he tossed another log forward. “They wouldn’t have to built it if you’d leave them alone.” Sigmundr sat up, laying a firm hand down on his great axe handle. “And what do you know, fucking Toddy? You spent months frozen in time in bloody mist, you don’t know nothing of our struggles.”
“Sacrebleu...
[theme]
Never before had the estate been so flooded with activity. It's usually quiet halls were bustling; a great number of servants planning and preparing at a haste. Flower bouquets and lavish, bejewelled décor transported out to a line of carriages, making way to a ceremony upon which no expenses had been spared. The grand display had attracted a sizeable crowd from the surrounding abodes – people upon their balconies or flocking to their streets to inspect the vast fuss. A single room of the estate however, told a different story. Almost silent aside from the emanating noise from beyond, its patterned walls filled solely with the presence of a pair of ladies. While both were well dressed, one definitively stood out. Vast waves...
290 AC - The Year before the conclusion of the Chrysant War.
Little Ernesta sat perched on the window’s ledge, her curly haired big brother was stationed behind her. Bundling her golden locks into a small bun. The door creaked at the entry of their beloved rosy-cheeked Nanny.
“ Oh Lewenhart aren’t you such a good brother, always doing little miss Ernesta’s hair.” The old woman cooed, approaching the two young von Rahms and sending a light ruffle to his head of curls.
“ Mama can do it better though! I don’t mind Lewey doing my hair, but Mama is definitely better. Mm. ” The little girl nodded repetitively which warranted an agitated grunt from her brother, who was trying to concentrate on the hair styling.
“Erny sit still, I...
Music
“Discipline. Remember your breathing.”
He held her shoulder, fingers curled and latched to keep her body steady.
“Yes, I-- I have it.”
Her cheek lay pressed against the stock, one eye squinted shut while the other peered ahead with lethal focus.
“Do you really?”
Her breath came from between her mask-covered lips in short, quiet, haggard bursts.
“I do, I can do it, okay? I have it.”
Her index and middle fingers twitched, laying hesitantly on the crossbow’s lever.
“We’ll see.”
She didn’t have much time to think about much of anything before the mass of russet fur poked his head around the corner of a large white oak some twenty yards ahead of their covered position. Father always said, when they’re in your sight...
The stone hearth in the decorated Songaskian home erupted, sending a burst of light through the room. The giggling of a little girl echoed through the area as the flames cast her shadow dancing across the ceiling. A silhouetted head of hair projected against the walls before the three year olds head shook in laughter along with a few soft thumps against the ground as the flames erupted again. Fathiyaa had awoke in the night, sneaking out of her room to the hearth once again. For the second night this week the little white haired girl was seated in front of the night fire toying with the flames, her hair flickering between snow white and a dancing fire.
Fathiyaa like the other Songaskians of the world, was born with the world...
The dark floorboards creaked as the girl lifted onto her toes with the pale pink silk shoes. She edges were hard as a box, making a quiet banging sound on the flooring as she went up. She quickly shifted the weight from toe to toe, and as she did so she turned, her hands flowing around her naturally. She then lifted a leg and shifted all her weight to her right leg, into what the Ithanian call an “arabesqúe”.
Milo stumbled down the street,his loud voice filling the air, it being completely out of tune and of key because of the alcohol coursing though his veins. He had been feeling like absolute shit today, and his depression had snuck up and hit him full force in the face, resulting in a drunken teenager singing love songs throughout the slums of Regalia.
"I'll swim and sail on savage seas
With never a fear of drowning
And gladly ride the waves of life
If you would marry me
No scorching sun nor freezing cold
Will stop me on my journey, sorry!
If you will promise me your heart
And love
And love me for eternity." A few people have him strange looks as he began to sing but the boy was too happy right now to even flip them of. His hair had long...
Elyon rustled through the halls of the sewers with shadows haunting her every step. She had scrappy clothes and a mask that barely covered her lime green and glowing eyes, and it shone with every step she took. Its glow gave light to the dismal dark of the mossy brick work and as Elyon continued on, she finally laid sight of a source of light.
She’d been exploring further every day and she stumbled upon many great hiding places, which can offer a good escape to safety should her life become even more tumultuous. It was then, as she scrambled past a few fallen and collapsed in tunnels, that she spotted the sickly sight of a Dulofall garden. So, this was the source of light? Elyon asked herself. She knew the answer and the proper...
Bedridden, with his gaze set on a slit between the curtains and the light filtering in, blindingly crossing his left eye. He wheezed and spluttered for a moment, bringing a cloth to his mouth and then rolling over to gaze up at the ceiling. His features were drawn out, the man's face seeming worn, thinned out. His hair was greyed and his skin a pale white. His usual bright blue eyes lacked the light they retained before and his smile had all but faded, a permanent look of pain situated on his face as he struggled to take in air.
He tried calling out, his dried throat quieting his shouts to the point where his raspy voice could only utter quiet words that made him feel so weak and defenseless. He rolled in his bed, trying to stand...
Milo was beaten. He was worn and frayed,just an empty shell of the man he once was. The only comfort he had now was his voice and even that sometimes couldn't help his shattered soul. In a barley audible tone,he began to sing, eyes unfocused as he stared up at the ceiling above his bed.
"I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by they river, and it made me complete." He missed running through the fields,feeling the wind rush against his body and the grass tickle at his unprotected shins. Splashing in the streams, coming home drenched with a smile on his face and mud sticking to his shorts and bare chest. Rolling down hills until he couldn't walk straight from the...
Thunder and lighting busied above the basement, creating a somewhat eerie ambiance in the house. The wooden roof and flooring creaked, settling with every drop of salty rain. A rough deep brown coffin sat in a freshly carved shelf lining the stone room, closed and locked tightly.
The teenager lay dressed in the finest fabrics for a commoner, her hair resting still against her collarbone. Her eyelashes were curtaining her closed eyes, her face occupied with light but noticeable makeup. Her hands were modestly folded together at her stomach, creepily still.
As a bolt of lightning struck and a blast of thunder shook the building, as an eye opened in the tight box. The girl's hands clasped a groove in the wood, her head lifting forward...
Pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders,the young boy let his head rest against the wall next to the bed he was supppsed to be in,but the mattress was way too soft and the pillows much to fluffy from what he was used to so he had ditched the bed all together and decided to sleep on the floor with the blanket,which wasn't as fluffy or soft.
"I know this is coming to an end. Aware of all the pain that we’ll ensue and when it leaves a hole inside my chest, I’m not sure how I’ll cover up the wound." The other kids here didn't understand him,Milo was the strange boy who didn't like to be touched by others unless he trusted them and didn't like talking about anything before he had arrived.
"My body’s filled with my regret and...
Music
There is an idea of them, an abstraction, but there is no real Velstadt. What exists is a performance: a metaphorical mask meticulously manufactured by that muse, no melancholy minstrel, made of madness and monstrosity. Rehearsed and practiced to a pointed precision, the finesse and fortitude they employ so surreptitiously in their played perfection fools even They at times. It is at times like this, that Velstadt is perhaps more than just lonely literature and an actuality within the actor’s mind: and so, they feel.
What they feel is a mystery in those moments, unknown to all but the poor player. It was in a moment like this, one moonlit eve, that they found themselves surrounded by stone in a sinfully sanctified sepulcher...
In an empty room at the top of a house stood a beautiful grand paino,it's keys shiny from the lack of use and it's lid covered in dust. A heartbroken boy had recently discovered this piano, and he came here every night to play it and sing. Lowering himself onto the stool,Milo ran and hand across the keys before pressing down on one, it letting out a low 'thunk' before he released it. He positioned his hands and began to play,his voice following soon after.
"Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say
I never want to let you down or have you go, it's better off this way
For all the dirty looks
For photographs your boyfriend took
Remember when you broke your foot from jumping out the second floor?
I'm not okay
I'm not okay
I'm...
His hair was falling into his eyes as the small boy squirmed on his father's shoulders,a grin spread across his lips. The bright yellow tossled hair of the older male was clutched in the youngers small fists, though not in a way for it to be painful,just a slight tug to keep the boy stable.
Hoping, Waiting one day you'll wake up. Thinking 'bout ne. Cant help this feeling. I know I messed up. You can blame me.
The boy now morphed into a slightly older version of himself,and was now watching his father leave on a ship,another boy who had almost the same shade of flaming red hair stood beside him,arm wrapped around the other's back. Both boys had tears staining their cheeks and the wind was whipping their hair out of their eyes and behind...
Well, you almost had me fooled. Told me that I was nothing without you. Oh,but after everything you've done. I can thank you for how strong I have become.
Milo was tired. Tired of pretending he was okay,tired of building up the walls around him to just have them just smashed back down again,tired of trying. People were just too much work for him,too much of trying to be what they need. Too much of lying to yourself for them.
'Cause you brought the flames and you put me through hell. I had to learn how to fight for myself and we both know all the truth I could tell. I'll just say this is "I wish you farewell".
It was all getting too much for the young boy,and the pain never seemed to end for him. He just wanted somebody to see that he...
[Mood Music]
- + -
For most people it was just a normal, everyday morning in the holy city, people had started waking up to get ready for work, eating breakfast and getting their children out of bed. It was, however, a slightly odd day in the Lupenzi household. In fact, nothing would be normal this day, but no one in the family knew this yet; the first sign that something was not quite right was that none of the dogs was up first to wake up the inhabitants, instead, the patriarch, Lazarus, was the first to open his eyes. The man seemed confused for a moment, looking around as if he was searching for the reason of why he had woken. When he found neither dogs or children he sat, looking to his still sleeping wife. She wasn't awake...
---#---
Mother had always been a pillar of safety. A tall tower of marble dressed graciously in red.
She had always stood above Haeddi, too tall for the young thing to peer up at her face more times than not. Still, the girl did avoid looking most times, in fear of seeing her mother’s usual unhappy expression. Rather, the girl would follow quietly at her mother’s heels with a fistful of the woman’s dress in her hand, like leashing herself along in order to avoid being lost.
On those rare walks through the gardens and into the city, her mother would sometimes get her a treat as they went. Those were the best of their days together, ones that Haeddi recalled happily, compared to many others. There were few and they were far in...
Milo's hands curled into fists,nails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried to keep calm in the damp cell. He had been caught. Again. It was the third time this week and he was getting kind of annoyed at the fact he couldn't pick a pocket like he used to. Another guard shuffled past his cell,peering in slightly before hurrying away. Nobody wanted to be around him,though that wasn't unusual. Leaning back to his head was touching the wall Milo began to quietly sing to himself.
"Once upon a time, I still believed in myself. I was happy being me and didn't need any help and then somebody that I trusted crushed the feelings I felt. I guess a happy never after was the deal I was dealt. True love doesn't have a happy ending,'cause...
"I don't see you." Milo began,his hair falling in his eyes as he stood upon the stage in the crowded Tavern,nerves coursing through his body but he didn't let them reach his voice.
"You're not in every window I look through and I don't miss you. You're not in every single thing I do. I don't think we're meant to be and you are not the missing piece.I won't hear it whenever anybody says your name and I won't feel it. Even when I'm burstin' into flames." A loud whistle rang out from somewhere in the corner,yet Milo ignored it,focusing on the music playing. His eyes drifted shut,yet that wouldn't be visable to anyone unless the were right at the front.
"I don't regret the day I left,I don't believe that I was blessed. I'm probably lyin'...
Milo let his hair fall into his face,the skin under his eyes dark from many sleepless nights,hoping it would cover them. Another tear slid down his cheek as he wrapped his arms around his chest and tucked his chin into the collar of his jacket,eyes lifted towards the sky where the light of the moon light up his room.
"I know you're somewhere out there,somewhere far away. I want you back. I want you back. My neighbors think I'm crazy but they don't understand. You're all I have. You're all I have" He sung,the cold wind pushing the hair out of his face.
"At night when the stars light up my room. I sit by myself. Talking to the moon, tryin' to get to you. In hopes you're on the other side talking to me too or am I a fool who sits alone...
╔═══════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
╚═══════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
Taking place within former Streke-enn lands, directly after the colonists rose and pushed the aiding Viduggla troops out, basically giving themselves control. Svante and his best friend, Eindride were sent to assist with the colonists and provide all they could for a short time.
Snow crushed under the duo’s hardened leather boots as they ran in fear from the hooves that stomped behind them. Of course, it was the most likely duo, Svante Viduggla- and his best friend, Eindride. Sweat boiled down their faces as they trotted from the cavalrymen, fashioned in axes and pelts that followed closely behind, as the Skodje calls could...
"Little so you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep." Milo murmered into the hair of the figure sleeping beside him,their nose tucked in the curve of Milo's neck.
"Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories. Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece." His voice was soft and gentle,still much too high for the average boy his age, though a slight husk was noticeable from the sleepless nights he had been having.
"Little do you know I need a little more time. Underneath it all I'm held captive by the hole inside. I've been holding back for the fear you might change your mind." His voice was now little more than a whisper, and he was absent-mindedly running a hand through their hair.
"I'm ready to...
I'm losing my faith though I was never religious. Losing my patience while I pray for forgiveness.
Brandishing his weapon Milo leapt forwards,a smile warping his features as he unarmed his opponent.
Washing my hands but the water is wasted. I tried the darker side and I liked how it tasted.
"It seems like I'm the one winning now, doesn't it." He teased as he knocked their legs out from beneath them,the other fighter ending up on his back with Milo's foot digging into one shoulder and the toes of another pressing against a wrist.
I try to stay away from the dead and the living. It's hard to find an end when you have no beginning.
The floored gave a weak nod, going limp under their hold.
"Ya win,ya win. Let me up now." He asked. Milo...
Osmund shook quietly. He sat in his tent, gently holding onto his knees, awaiting for the order to charge against the Harhold army. He was one of the many men who had been conscripted into Lord Tyrannian’s military as a result of Harhold’s declaration that the Veer would be turned into a penal colony. Even the thought of such a thing terrified him.
Osmund was a young, Anglian man of around seventeen years of age. He worked on his father’s wheat farm, and largely kept himself to himself. The only thing Osmund really knew how to wield effectively was a tiller, and that could hardly be used to kill a man. He was sweet on a girl in the village, but that all seemed far away now. Everything now was mud, blood, and sweat. He knew his friends...
Milo let out a choked sob,his tears staining the worn oak floorboards. His eyes were glazed over in fear and his body was shaking like a leaf in a storm. In his panicked state Milo hadn't noticed another figure push aside the curtian he used as a makeshift door or heard them walk over to him. Crouching down in front of them the figure said
"Milo I'm going to need you to calm down buddy." The boy whimpered and tried to push himself further away from him, fists grasping at air in a futile attempt to keep whoever it was at bay.
"Milo it's me,Anthony. Come on I need you to listen to me bud." Anthony said,his strong hands gripping the youngers shoulder,causing him to freak even more.
"No touch no touch no touch! Gerroff Ant,gerroff no...
-//////////////////////////////////////-
The following would be common knowledge by most, if not all sailors and pirates that roamed Alorian waters. The story of Captain Kyrk.
-//////////////////////////////////////-
289 AC
Sunlight. It shined through the wooden ports that laid themselves symmetrically along the sides of the vessel as the sea brought a rhythmic sequence of rocks and throws of the wooden frigate. Soon enough, thumps of hardened leather boots could be heard crashing down upon the creaking stairs that led to the Captain’s quarters where an aging man sat, scribbling down notes in what seemed to be a worn, almost yellowing, leather-bound book of some kind. Soon the wild thumps of the crewman stopped as they gazed upon...
Elyon knew she had to pick, and as months turned in to years, her childhood had suddenly run out. Here she was, as a fully grown adult. There was no more title to hide behind, there was no more excuses for her to not choose. She could be happy in either world; Altalar or Ailor. She had friends and family in each one, each as special as the other. There was Cyrus, brilliant and powerful. He was able to do anything in her eyes, and he could probably be considered another father figure in her life, although Aurelius took that role quite seriously. He was the one who took her from street rat to a respected commander, all while giving her love and cherishing her the only way a father could. He knew some of the most intimate things about her...
Pulling out a piece of paper,Milo grabbed a stick of charcoal and began to write.
*Often I am upset that I cannot fall in love but I guess,this avoids the stress of falling out of it.* Grinning he continued,a feeling of what one could call control,another may call power,washing over him.
*Are you tired of me yet? I'm a little sick right now but I swear when i'm ready I will fly us out of here. I'll cut my hair. To make you stare. I'll hide my chest and I'll figure out a way to get us out of here.* He began to hum to himself as he wrote,fingers drumming on the desk.
*Turn off your porcelain face,I can't really think right now in this place. There's too many colors,enough to drive all of us insane.Are you dead? Sometimes I think I'm dead...