wut wut in the butt

[Lord Shiny Butt]

With a delighted smile, Yeon-ah watched Hiro devour her brownies with much gusto. It was cute how his face would light up at the sight of chocolate goodies. Just like a little child, she thought, and cute like one. It was probably the baby face, and it was always a challenge to not treat him like some overgrown kid. Why, those little crumbs scattered on his shirt screamed at her to dust them off. She drummed her fingers against her thighs, resisting the urge to reach over him. "Well, I'd be sad if you died too soon, especially if you died from brownies! That'd be some way to kick the bucket though," she said with a hint of laughter.

And Gilligan, the sassy old fart, had to retort. But it'd be a surprise if he didn't have something to say to her taunt. She raised a hand to her mouth and sucked in an exaggerated gasp, not to mention her smile added nothing to her sincerity. "I'm hurt! And you can't even handle a little friendly competition, that's so mean!" she mourned, wiping away at non-existent tears. Yeon-ah turned, sniffing a little too loudly to be real, and hid behind Hiroki, lightly grasping his shoulders with her hands. She bent her knees to hide more of herself behind the man and only leaned to the side to expose her face. "Hiroo, Gil's being a real butt to me," she whined. She stuck her tongue out at Gilligan. Exactly who was acting like the child now?

But she laughed, short and quiet, and brought herself up to her full height again, hands still resting on Hiro's shoulders. "But, you know, it really would satisfy me. Probably more than in bed." She winked. And she waved her hand immediately afterwards as to dismiss the whole topic. "Anyway," she said, pulling away from Hiroki, "that's so nice of you to notice. It is new actually. I did some last minute shopping last night since I'll be stuck on campus again for a while." Gilligan's advice made her look down at the skirt, her hand slightly tugging at the fabric. "Hm, really? I'll try to remember that next time then." While Gilligan could be an absolute p***k sometimes, he did have a great fashion sense; he was probably the best out of the staff, but she wouldn't admit that to him for at least another decade, mostly because his ego was big enough as it was. Still, it was fun to hang around him and get into little sass fights with him. She never took what he said too seriously, and she was pretty sure he didn't either - or, at least, that's what she thought. Sometimes there was a little sting on both ends but was usually gone by the next day. A little spice never hurt.

At Gilligan's question, Yeon-ha's eyes began to roam around the dim classroom. "Uhhh.. it starts at twelve, soooo," she drawled out, her attention focused on looking for a clock. "Um. Hiro? Where's your clock?" It wasn't pinned to the wall where it was last year, or from when she last barged into the teacher's classroom. Either that, or she really needed an eye check. Even if she wasn't technically a creature of the night, she should still be able to see in this degree of darkness - it wasn't like the room was pitch black, after all.


where HIROKI'S CLASSROOMxxwith HIROKI :: GILLIGANxxfeeling CHEERFUL :: PLAYFULxxform FEMALE :: HUMAN :: CLICK IMAGE
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translation:: n.a
ooc:: n.a
Codiva




Frothy Moaning

[Lord Shiny Butt]

FEMALE :: HUMAN

[url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/1c26d163-368e-400a-b330-f45893256838_zpsf531f596.jpg][imgleft]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonfemale1_zpsf220870c.png[/imgleft][/url][url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/1c26d163-368e-400a-b330-f45893256838_zpsf531f596.jpg][img]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonfemale2_zpsfcca22b3.png[/img][/url]

FEMALE :: FOX

[url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/640px-Kitsune_zps287701db.jpg][imgleft]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonfemale1_zpsf220870c.png[/imgleft][/url][url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/640px-Kitsune_zps287701db.jpg][img]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonfemale2_zpsfcca22b3.png[/img][/url]

MALE :: HUMAN

[url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/tumblr_mwg784k4611rcy5vdo1_1280_zps18d9c424.jpg][imgleft]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonmale1_zpsbeeddf88.png[/imgleft][/url][url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/tumblr_mwg784k4611rcy5vdo1_1280_zps18d9c424.jpg][img]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonmale2_zps896dd61b.png[/img][/url]

MALE :: FOX

[url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/640px-Kitsune_zps287701db.jpg][imgleft]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonmale1_zpsbeeddf88.png[/imgleft][/url][url=http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/640px-Kitsune_zps287701db.jpg][img]http://i1293.photobucket.com/albums/b584/GwiYeoWhale/yeonmale2_zps896dd61b.png[/img][/url]

[Lord Shiny Butt]

C y r u s XX Q u i n t e n XX P a v e l

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

XXBasic Information;;
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│● → Age ▪ ↓

XXXXXX Forty-six

│● → Race ▪ ↓

XXXXXX Wizard

│● → Status ▪ ↓

XXXXXX Master and businessman~ Sorta.

│● → Abilities ▪ ↓

XXXXXX ▌Magic :: He's pretty affluent in general magic; however, some spells are more difficult than others, require more energy, or have a high chance of backfiring
XXXXXX ▌Black magic :: It's like his backyard! He knows a ton of hexes and curses, how to make your eyes bleed, whatever. But like above, the same cons apply.
XXXXXX ▌Elemental magic :: He knows a little, like cute fireballs or how to make ice cream in a snap. He's only good at beginner spells.
XXXXXX ▌Potions and charms :: Just stick everything in a bowl and mix~ Use tweezers as necessary.

XXXXXX ▌On the downside, he sucks at white magic (a.k.a sparkly healing spells), or at least, never cared for it.
XXXXXX ▌He's a potential disaster with how careless he can be with his spells. It's a wonder why he hasn't at least tried white magic.

│● → Personality ▪ ↓

XXXXXX ▌lax :: easygoing and dislikes situations that are serious or being serious himself
XXXXXX ▌playful :: sometimes casts spells to make pink puffs of glitter or to turn frogs into polka-dotted horses, among his less dangerous antics
XXXXXX ▌reckless :: often doesn't care about the dangers or side-effects of his actions, even if it concerns his own mortality
XXXXXX ▌clumsy :: if it can go wrong, it probably will go wrong
XXXXXX ▌adventurous :: enjoys risky, thrilling, or new things and events
XXXXXX ▌candid :: freely says what's on his mind
XXXXXX ▌expressive :: has no qualms with crying or laughing or anything really
XXXXXX ▌observant :: one step to learning is observing - that and he's quick to notice things
XXXXXX ▌resourceful :: will use whatever's on hand to deal with whatever's going down
XXXXXX ▌versatile :: in more than one way; a businessman has to be crafty ~ or something like that
XXXXXX ▌impulsive :: a reason why he's gotten into so many predicaments and problems (like the tragic loss of his familiar)
XXXXXX ▌detached :: it's difficult to form a strong, solid bond with someone else; will hardly feel remorse for those not intimate with him
XXXXXX ▌knowledgeable :: well-versed in spells, magics, and random facts
XXXXXX ▌bookworm :: usually has his nose in a book or a tome
XXXXXX ▌friendly :: gets along easily with others, though difficult to make deep bond
XXXXXX ▌lazy :: will sleep all day and hide away in his bed if allowed to
XXXXXX ▌obsessive :: not as an ever present trait; will go for days without food and sometimes sleep to accomplish what he has set out to do





XXRead Up!;;
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│● → A Bit of History ▪ ↓

XXXXXX ▌The Pavel name belongs to a long line of sorcerers and has been passed down from generations to generations.
XXXXXX ▌Cyrus is born as the third son, making up the the most recent set of children to carry on the bloodline.
XXXXXX ▌Though not the heir, he and the rest of his siblings are taught the family arts.
XXXXXX ▌And the family business.
XXXXXX ▌Unsurprisingly, they all become masters of the craft, some excelling in particular areas than others.
XXXXXX ▌Cyrus has no talent in white magic - or at least, never showed interest in it. In return, he specializes in black magic, charms, and potions; but he still has talent in some other fields.
XXXXXX ▌He just really likes black magic and turning stuff into goo.
XXXXXX ▌When he became recognized as a proper Pavel, he was automatically recognized as a merchant of magic as well.
XXXXXX ▌Everyone does. It's a family thing.
XXXXXX ▌So he and his siblings set up shop. Not really. Their parents send them over to their uncle's because the guy wanted a long vacation.
XXXXXX ▌Business goes well, despite Cyrus's accidents. His siblings easily remedy whatever mishap he brings.
XXXXXX ▌Their uncle calls in, says to take over the shop since he's going mountain climbing and will hang out with the Tibetan monks for a while.
XXXXXX ▌They're not entirely sure what to make of that. They carry on as usual, however.
XXXXXX ▌Eventually the eldest brother, the heir, returns to the main house to do whatever magical heirs are supposed to do, leaving Cyrus and his older sister to the shop.
XXXXXX ▌After a while Cyrus gets tired of it and decides to work from home. He takes up his uncle's vacation home because why the heck not, furnishing it and decorating it how he pleased.
XXXXXX ▌The old guy's chilling out in the mountains anyway. He won't mind.
XXXXXX ▌Cyrus takes requests for his services and works at home or makes house visits, making a pretty decent name for himself and an even better living.
XXXXXX ▌Impulsive as always, he one day feels like taking a trip to Tibet to check up on his uncle.
XXXXXX ▌Except he gets lost. In Asia. And he accidentally turns his familiar, an owl, into goo in an attempt to transmute it into a compass. And he cursed himself. Oops.
XXXXXX ▌So he is lost, cursed, and without a trusty helper. Lucky for him he finds this cool mansion.
XXXXXX ▌The rules of the place are weird. But he rents a room and a pet for a few nights, setting up a magic circle to port himself back home.
XXXXXX ▌Forgot the uncle - he doesn't feel like visiting him anymore. With some difficulty, he pops back in his living room. He trips over his table, lands on his face, and sprains his ankle.
XXXXXX ▌Thinking back on it, the mansion was pretty nice. And he needs a new helper now. And maybe a babysitter. For himself.
XXXXXX ▌Hopefully his circle is still there. Now he just needs a little extra "oompf" and a couple days and that nothing too bad will happen in the meantime.

XXXXXX ▌He looks young for a man in his forties? There are potions for that. He drinks one every night.
XXXXXX ▌It's a secret family recipe. (Mushrooms and unicorns, man.)
XXXXXX ▌His great grandma doesn't even look a day past thirty.





XX Little Things Matter;;
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│● → Pleasures▪ ↓

XXXXXX ▌Goo :: the green kind, sometimes purple or pink
XXXXXX ▌Magic :: fun, fun
XXXXXX ▌Chocolate chip cookies :: fresh, warm cookies; don't bother him with pre-packaged ones though
XXXXXX ▌Fairies :: pretty great helpers, and they have neat magic dust~
XXXXXX ▌Sleeping :: needs at least 10 hours of it - unless he's going through his manic episodes again


│● → Displeasures ▪ ↓

XXXXXX ▌Store bought cookies :: just ew
XXXXXX ▌Spell counters :: don't mess with his spells!
XXXXXX ▌Nagging :: please don't
XXXXXX ▌Yelling :: he'll cry then maybe cast a hex on you

│● → Fears ▪ ↓

XXXXXX ▌Killing someone dear :: has no problems with accidentally killing strangers or acquaintances with a spell gone wrong, but it's another story if it's someone close to him
XXXXXX ▌Zombies :: freaking hates and fears them due to a childhood trauma
XXXXXX ▌Rejection by family :: he's caused a bit of trouble here and there, but they have always had his back - it'd be horrible if they one day turned their backs against him


XX Played By Lord Shiny Butt
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[Lord Shiny Butt]

With a little help from the tiny fairies living in his mulberry bush and mushroom rings, Cyrus had managed to clean off the wood flooring of one of his rooms. He dragged the last bit of chalk across the varnished oak and tossed it into some obscure corner, looking down at his completed magic circle. "Alright, that should do it!" he said in satisfaction, clapping his hands together. The charms were in their respective spots, the lines clean and straight, and all that was left to do was walk - or rather, limp - inside and repeat the incantation. While his sprain wasn't too serious, it was still uncomfortable to put much strain on it; it would probably border on painful if his arnica oil wore off. He didn't like the idea of walking around with an ugly crutch, but he finally had to surrender to his uncle's old staff that was collecting cobwebs in the living room corner - it made a nice walking stick. Cyrus had to admit that the old thing wasn't too shabby from what he's gotten out of it; it was better than that wand he broke last month. Besides, it was pretty! Nice rosewood with silver accents and amethyst snugged in. He had wondered why he hadn't picked it up sooner.

He knelt down to pick up his staff and carefully made his way to the center of the circle, taking care to not smudge any of the chalk lines. With a large grin, he raised his staff and tapped it on the floor twice and raised it again once more. "A caelo usque ad centrum - aah, woop!" As he brought down his staff, he forgot he was using it for balance, so he was sent teetering down to his left. But at least he was quick enough to tap the floor once more before he actually fell, the third strike sending him to his destination. Hopefully.

If his bad luck wasn't as bad as he hoped, then his rented room should still be intact with his bags and more importantly, his magic circle.

On the night he had teleported back home, he had written a note on the nightstand saying he would be back in a few days and to please keep everything in the room as it was. He had also left a nice chunky diamond to hopefully sweeten the deal. (It had yet to be cut but 'twas a raw diamond nonetheless!) Plus, he had told Setsuko - the companion he had rented during those days - that he'd be back. Hopefully the dragon wasn't an impatient being full of wrath and fire.

It was short, the whole travelling via teleportation thing. It felt weird too; it always did. Cyrus would never be able to accurately explain the sensation, but it was similar to sinking in a giant thing of really smooth polyester sand while having a blow dryer blasting hot dust in his face. Or maybe it wasn't, since he sucks at describing things with his limited, everyday vocabulary. (What is smooth polyester sand even?)

When he opened his eyes - one should always close his eyes when teleporting! - he saw a wall but he also felt himself falling. The wall was going up out of his vision, followed by the floor. Oh. That's right, he realized, he was falling, that's why. Wait. OOOHHHH. He was falling. He shouldn't be falling, he thought, and especially not in a hallway. His other circle was in his room! He should be falling in his room, if anywhere. But as he outstretched his hands toward the floor to somehow catch himself, he realized that he sort of messed up his incantation with the 'woops' at the end. Woops. He felt his hands and elbow skid across the floor as the rest of his body followed suit, crashing onto the floor and making a stop against the wall. He heard his staff fall somewhere. "I hate everything," he sniffed, face-down on the floor. His ankle was throbbing too, and he definitely did not feel like moving.

And as much as it hurt, Cyrus really did not want to lay on the floor all day. He groaned and huffed, pushing himself up off the floor. Once he was at least in a sitting position, he placed his hand on the wall and guided himself up, leaning against it once he was standing. He then turned to looking around for his staff, which he quickly found but was a good six feet away from him. His robes were all uneven, his hair was a mess, well, it was always a mess but still clean! He didn't want to play hopscotch all the way to his staff, and crawling was going to hurt his knees. He wanted to cry.

However, just as he felt himself getting teary-eyed, he looked up to see the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes upon in the last ten minutes. "Aveliiiiiiiine," he cried out, stretching a hand towards her, "I need HELP. I'm DYING." He didn't so much need healing as much as he needed his staff. And maybe a hug. He kinda missed her. And Setsuko. He needed to find that snowflake, but he couldn't find him if he couldn't even walk two feet.

Cyrus may or may not have forgotten that he could use magic to just float his staff back to him.



where DRAGON'S - HALLWAYxxwith AVELINExxfeeling UPSET
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ooc:: sucH A DORK LOOL
Meeestache

[Lord Shiny Butt]

⊰Location⊱ the shopxxxx⊰Company⊱ Faustxxxx⊰Mood⊱ confused, grieving

His chest was hurting, his heart even more so. But slowly, Alistair felt his tension and bottled up sorrow ease away, one tear at a time. He felt something against his face - skin, fingers - and he looked up to have a hand pressed against his wet cheek. Through blurred vision, he made out the face of the other, those green eyes that seemed to hold a certain sorrow and mystery. "Very," he wanted to reply, but he couldn't trust his voice just yet; he didn't realize how much it had hurt until now. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to stop his tears. He had cried enough, and even though the man gave him permission, Alistair felt he really needed to stop. Letting out built-up emotions was one thing, dwelling on them in self-pity was another.

He sucked in slow, steady breaths, focusing on the comforting feeling against his cheek. It was gentle, and it reminded him of his own mistress' soft hand. It was strange, what kind of effect this man was having on him. First he gives off this uneasy feeling then fills him up with sorrow before finishing up with this sense of comfort and nostalgia. And his words, despite them being common words given to the mourning, Alistair felt he could trust him. Surely this was no ordinary person. The siren desperately wanted to ask, to know who this man was, but would he get his answer?

He wiped away his remaining tears with his sleeve, calming down to a few sniffles. He blinked a few times and felt his eyes begin to swell from the salty tears. Alistair looked at the other with a bit of uncertainty, but he gathered the will to ask. "Thank you, but.. Who are you?" he said, voice still a bit unsteady. "You know her, I think, but you're not a friend of hers, are you?" It was more of a statement than a question, but he couldn't shake off the feeling.



ooc :: it's a little short, sorry
The Little Earl

[Lord Shiny Butt]

→ Name: Alistaire Steele
→ Age: 107
→ Sexuality: Bisexual
→ Relationship Role: Seme

→ Height: 5' 10"
→ Weight: 155

→ Eye Color: Steel blue
→ Hair Color: White

→ Race: Vampire
→ Role: Knight

→ Markings/Scars: Alistaire has a permanent wound where his right eye once was; all that's left now is rotting flesh that can't seem to heal right, leaving him in dull yet chronic pain. He also has two puncture wounds on the left side of his neck, from when a vampire turned him but was not able to be healed.

..:::..::: • :::..:::..

→ Personality Traits: Alistaire is a generally quiet man who won't speak unless spoken to; he isn't too great in conversations, but he can manage some chit chat if needed. He tends to prefer seclusion, though he isn't opposed to company. Alistaire is amiable and flexible, able to conform to the situation. Now a man of servitude, he'll take the knee over the sword any day and bow in submission to those in power. He has no problem with swallowing whatever pride he has - which is very little - as he takes shame and humiliation quite well; in fact, he seems to be oblivious to them. The man lacks some tact, and he often ends up being blunt and straightforward with his words and actions. He appreciates flowery language, but he can't make use of it himself. His face often reflects his rather stoic persona, as he keeps most of his emotions in check and locked up. Alistaire feels, of course, but he's unwilling to show much to others.

He's only able to open up to those he trusts. And though loyalty is something he can readily offer, his faith and trust not so much. The man is a bit cynical, and as much as he would like to believe in the good of people, he simply cannot. Even when he's found someone he can love and believe in, Alistaire will keep his innermost thoughts to himself.

→ Likes: Flowers, arts, cleaning his weapons. Alistaire appreciates many things, though he has very few favorites.
→ Dislikes: Silent nights in bed, his reflection, redressing his wound.

→ Strengths: Nothing seems to quite bother him, and he takes things in strides. He's only ever been truly angry a few times in his life. Over the many years, Alistaire has had to endure the pain of his ever-rotting eye; now it's dulled to an occasional small ache. He's found himself highly tolerant to pain due to this. Because of his limited vision, he has learned to focus on his other senses, and they've grown to be considerably sharp.
→ Weaknesses: With one of his eyes done for, his field of vision is limited. His sense of humor is lacking, and words need to be more direct when talking to him. Sometimes, his eye will flare up and strike him with a sharp pain or migraine.

..:::..::: • :::..:::..

→ Natural Abilities/Skills: Alistaire's trained in all sorts of weaponry, from lances to hammers and more; however, he's a master of swords and daggers. He's significantly stronger than the average vampire, and due to having half his original vision, his other senses are heightened considerably.

→ Weapons: Alistaire will make use of anything he can get his hands on. On his patrols, he tends to bring a sword or some other blade with him, and he always has at least two weapons on his person at any time.

..:::..::: • :::..:::..

→ History: He was human when it all happened, when the war was over and the vampires emerged as victors. But Alistaire had caught himself in the world of vampires before the conflicts had risen; he found companionship in a vampiress. She was far from a monster, but instead a fair and beautiful lady by the name of Freiya, a woman he had become enamored with. He loved her, and she loved him. Still, it was a rocky road, seeing as they were from two conflicting sides. Alistaire was fine with it, however, and was determined to stay by her side. She could turn him, she said, into a vampire, so that they wouldn't have to go through such troubles anymore. As tempting as the offer was, Alistaire just wasn't ready. Throwing away his humanity and living as an entirely different being was daunting; he was afraid of the change and even the repercussions. He didn't want to lose his human bonds, his friends and family. He needed time.

When the war broke out, Freiya was whisked away to fight among blood and death. Alistaire hated to see her go, knowing that there was the possibility of her never returning to his arms. But he had no choice, and he waited. While his friends and brother went to battle for the human cause, he remained at home to care for his elders. Working as caretaker often managed to keep his mind busy, keeping thoughts of war and death at bay. Still, the silence of the night as he laid in bed gave him much too time to think.

One day, he had to deliver a package to his brother who was stationed at a base. It wasn't too far off, and seeing his brother's face again would be refreshing; he gladly took on the job. With parcel in hand, he rode on horseback and arrived with relative ease. The two greeted each other with hugs and smiles, chatting about the times they had spent in each other's absences. When the topic of the war came up, his brother suddenly had a look in his eyes; they shimmered with something. He led Alistaire to a well-bolted door, telling him that they had taken a prisoner - a vampire prisoner. They were keeping her locked up and starved, hoping to break and interrogate her. The brother opened the door and led him in. It was dimly-lit, and though her features had changed considerably, he recognized her face in an instant. Without so much a thought, Alistaire rushed over to her shackled and worn body, the shouts of caution falling deaf on his ears. He fell onto his knees and used his hands to lift her face up to him. He expected to see recognition on her face, just anything but the empty yet crazed look in her eyes. He hadn't realized his fatal mistake until he was violently pulled away from her. It was all too fast for him. One second she was right there in front of him, the next he had a searing pain on his neck as his brother desperately dragged him out from behind.

It was all too much for him to comprehend. She had bitten him in such violence that he hardly wanted to believe it. Alistaire almost felt betrayed. How could she attack him? Did she not recognize him? A swarm of incoherent thoughts plagued him as the poison set in, breaking him into a deadly fever. His head and body may have ached and burned, but he felt as if his heart was ripping itself apart. He couldn't handle the betrayal, he just wanted to die. He even tried to. With the poison taking its toll on his mind, body, and sanity, he reached for his glass of water and empty its contents, smashing it against the bedpost. He plunged the large remnant right where he felt the throbbing and pounding the most, through his eye and into his brain.

Alistaire couldn't remember anything past that point, only broken images, sounds, and pain. Perhaps it was days or even weeks that passed when he finally came back to his senses. It was night, and he woke up to an excruciating pain in his right eye and the taste of foreign blood in his mouth. He was too occupied by the pain to notice his brother by his bedside, a sword held firmly in his hand. Alistaire looked to his side, watching his brother in confusion and apprehension. He couldn't process his words. Vampire? No, he was human. Leave? Now? Why? "You.. did what?" It was the only thing he could finally say.

His brother had taken the blood of the vampiress and had forcefully given it to Alistaire. It was the only way to save him, else the poison would finally take hold of him and send him spiraling into who-knows-what then finally death. Alistaire was now a vampire, an enemy of humans, his brother told him, and he had to leave before anyone else found out.

So he left, trying to refuse believing his brother's words. He found himself lost for a time, not knowing what to do or where to go. He was a vampire now, there was no denying that, but he hardly knew anything about vampire society, and returning to his home was out of the question. He remembered, though, a friend of Freiya who had welcomed him once. So Alistaire backtracked, returning to the town where this vampire lived; it was his only option left. He found the man, thankfully, and he was received as a fellow vampire. Alistaire was taught many things: vampire society, mastering his new skills and strengths, how to cope with his new life, and how to deal with his heavy loss. He learned under his mentor, trained with battle-hardened soldiers, the very victors of the war. It was difficult, but he managed to find a sense of peace. For a time he occupied his time and life as a guard under his friend and benefactor. Alistair was encouraged to broaden his horizons, so he was introduced to the castle and its knights. Consequently, he eventually found himself in the castle, working in the service of the royals themselves.

Though he's moved on in his life and has accepted his change as a vampire, he still finds himself mulling over the past. His eye, for some inexplicable reason, never quite healed right, and he had made the decision to just take it out entirely. For some reason, however, it still tries to regenerate but never quite does, resulting in a useless rot in his socket and dull ache. The pain oftentimes reminds him of Freiya and the near-death experience from back then, despite the many decades it has been. Though Alistaire may be unhappy about his past, he's rather content with his current life as knight to the royal family.

..:::..::: • :::..:::..

→ Other: Naturally, he always has either bandages or an eyepatch over his wound.

[Lord Shiny Butt]

Alistaire had been up before the sun even had the chance to rise. It was his turn at patrolling the castle grounds that early morning, swapping in for a fellow knight who had been up for much of the night. His schedule led to unorthodox times; sometimes he slept during the noon or at night, sleeping as little as a few hours to a full day's worth of rest. He was grateful, at least, that he required little sleep. He had made several rounds throughout the grounds by the time the castle became more lively, passing by the castle entrances, gardens, and weaving through the many hallways at least four times. It was redundant following a set route over and over again, but with the rebels becoming more active with each passing day, it was prudent to take extra caution, as his captain had said. Still, Alistaire could only handle so much before his mind starts wandering elsewhere. Physically, he was fine and had no qualms despite having been up before dawn; mentally, his thoughts started to go where he would have liked them not to.

He paused once he made it to the gardens once again, standing still as he looked over the treetops. It was gray and dull, the low clouds just hovering about the trees, blocking the sun's rays from warming much of anything. Perhaps, if he was still human, he would be displeased by the weather; now, he finds the cool mist rather pleasant against his skin. Alistaire wore hardly anything that resembled a knight's armor, mostly because he felt it would be cumbersome on a mere patrol. Clanking metal and tight joints weren't very appealing to him, and he usually opted out of armor, despite his captain's complaints. A cotton shirt and simple pants were enough for him, and of course bearings to keep his sword and a few knives, but he at least had the mind to wear metal plating over his chest. His captain demanded at least that, and Alistaire could only refuse so much. He ran his fingers over the steel plating, wiping away some of the morning mist that had condensed onto it. He rubbed his fingers together, gazing over the scenery that was the garden. It was lovely, to say the least, and he was thankful that his routes included the garden. Naming all the flowers and species that lived in it was an impossible task for him, but that didn't diminish his appreciation for nature.

He spent a few minutes to rest a bit, standing there and taking in the sight, before promptly returning to his duties and taking off again. He only had a few more hours before his shift was over; he couldn't start slacking yet. As he passed by the barracks, he came across his commander, nodding at him in acknowledgement.

"Ah, Alistaire. Come join me for a bottle later? Once you're done and all. I already had the kitchen set one aside for me, but drinking alone is hardly any fun," his captain said, stopping Alistaire for a moment.

The man raised an eyebrow in slight bewilderment. Drinking during the hours of the morning? "It's.. rather early - to be drinking, that is," Alistair replied. He wasn't opposed to the occasional drink, but he couldn't find much appeal in drinking during the early hours of the day. He held nothing but respect for his captain, and the man was hardly an alcoholic; however, he did have a few quirks, such as random invitations at unconventional times.

"Never mind that. Besides, you don't have any duties afterwards. Also, a little buzz will lead to an interesting spar, don't you think? So anyway, just drop by the kitchen and tell them I sent you," he laughed, clapping Alistair on the shoulder before walking off, leaving no time for a reply.

That was that, Alistair supposed. Still, he hardly saw the point. They both knew their high tolerance could only let a single bottle do so much. Maybe his captain was only being friendly. It wouldn't be new, at least. He shrugged, remembering to stop by the kitchen once his shift was over.

------------------ x ------------------

His hair was awfully damp, he didn't think the fog would be that thick, and it had partially soiled his bandages. Alistaire would have liked to return to his room to shower and redress his eye before it bled through, but he had a bottle of wine to pick up and deliver first. He would hate to keep his superior waiting. He walked through the castle halls, nothing too brisk but neither leisurely. A few servants smiled or nodded at him, others kept their eyes straight ahead and ignored him; he nodded in response to those who acknowledged him and chose to keep his eye away from those who did not. Some of the staff were friendly, and he didn't want to seem rude, while others tended to be more focused on their work, and he respected that.

As much as Alistaire would have liked to avoid stepping on the elaborate carpet of the dining room, it was the shortest way to get to the kitchen. He at least had the mind to wipe his shoes before even entering the castle, lest he give the servants even more work. He pushed the door open, expecting to see the room empty. It was hardly the time for the royals to be eating, but his prediction ended up being wrong. As soon as he entered, his gaze flitted over to a singular figure resting in an exquisite chair. Alistaire was caught off guard; he hadn't expected the king, but his face revealed otherwise, remaining in its ever-present passive expression.

Alistair took a few steps forward and took a deep bow, keeping his hands to his sides. "Sire," he simply said, hair falling down the sides of his face, eye focused on the foot of the chair. He wondered, at that moment, how he must have looked, with his hair damp and disheveled, his clothes too probably. Well, there was no helping it, he supposed. Appearances weren't a part of his duty anyway. The king, however, always seemed to dress handsomely despite the curious outfits; he was the king, after all, it would be somewhat surprising if he dressed in commoner's clothes. He straightened up, raising a hand to move some stray hairs away, though he didn't bother with his right side - it was best to keep that covered. He kept his gaze away from the king's eyes, his vision hovering somewhere around the chin and nose. They may have met and spared a few words before, but that hardly merit any less respect. Concerning respect, Alistaire was unsure if he was allowed to move on, or if he was to stay until given permission; he quickly chose the latter, seeing that walking away without notice was in no way respectable.


where DINING HALLxxwith KING LUCUSxxfeeling NEUTRAL
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ooc:: xx
Jam81

[Lord Shiny Butt]

Shiori remained mostly impassive, save for the arched eyebrow. The little thing certainly was feisty. It vaguely reminded him of a chihuahua. While the spirit was busy complaining, its owner had no qualms about its treatment. No reason to let go then, Shiori believed. He quickly followed the guest inside, letting the door swing back closed. They walked across the lobby, the other taking in the inn - it was definitely his first visit.

It was soon enough that the guest requested his companion to be released, though the very furball began protesting and complaining against its master. It was quaint, bearing witness to this argument - if he could call it that; it would have even been amusing if the situation was different. Shiori was reluctant to let go, but he was going to have to sooner or later. Well, after they get to the desk then. He led the way, making it to the other end of the lobby and gestured his free hand toward it. However, he soon had a slightly confused expression. That was odd, there were usually at least two or three receptionists at a time. Perhaps they were in the back? But he turned his mind back to the young man. "I might have some bad news, though it's all up to chance- a slim one, too. Our waitlist is.. long, and about 99% of the time, you need to have a reservation beforehand. If not, well.." He trailed off, confident that the guest - Sasa, according to the ayakashi - would catch his drift.

Ten thousand kilometers? That was certainly an odd situation. Shiori wasn't going to pry, though it did leave a strange impression, especially due to the casual tone.

Ah, so the spirit was named Ume. The little thing was growing increasingly restless, struggling against Shiori's grasp. It certainly did not enjoy being in captivity. Trusting Sasa's judgment, and his own, he loosened his grip on Ume, though his decision led to his first mistake of the night. Sasa was dead on when he said, "Oh s**t." It was precisely what went through Shiori's mind. The damn ayakashi tore out of Shiori's grasp at the first opportunity, hurling a flame at its owner. (What kind of undisciplined little -). There was a scream (or two). Fortunately Sasa dodged the attack; unfortunately, the main desk took serious damage. And again, fortunately, there was no one behind the desk to get injured. The desk wasn't quite set ablaze, but was rather smoldering in soot and smoke, though strangely enough, not enough smoke to set the sprinklers on. Which was a good thing, he supposed. But firstly, he was relieved that no one was at the desk. His second thought, on the other hand, wasn't as reassuring: there could have been someone there, there could have been someone who got hurt.

Keeping his composure together, Shiori quickly scanned the lobby for any panic. Luckily, there weren't too many people. He cleared his throat, and took in a sizable breath before raising his voice, "Everything's alright. Please carry on, I apologize for any disturbances. The smoke will be cleared shortly." Next thing on the list was to actually get the damn thing cleared up. He unclipped his transceiver and pressed down on side button, promptly issuing requests and orders to the lobby. He was also going to have to explain this to Yuuma; he thought sent a slight pang of guilt, but he tried to ignore it. He wondered if the burning odor was strong enough to reach wherever the manager was. Whatever the case, they really needed to get rid of the smell and the soot and, well, just clean up everything.

Though there were still tasks at hand, there was still the guest to attend to. Ignoring Sasa's claim on having the desk replaced, he gave a solid glare at the perpetrator. He could have them removed right at that instant, and the temptation was great. But Elysium shouldn't turn away a customer if they could help it, even if they just burn down a desk. It was an accident, and and accidents happened. Right? There was unease simmering in the pit of his stomach, as he grew conflicted about the situation. It wasn't intentional, it was just some bad luck. (Wasn't he supposed to precisely prevent that, though?). He tapped the side of his thigh, trying to come to a decision.

Ah, whatever. He'd leave it up to the waitlist. If there was something available, then fine, Sasa could stay for the allotted time; if not, he was out of there. Shiori went to the other desk, motioning for the guest to follow, and asked if there were any available rooms. Maybe luck would be on their side, maybe not. Still, Shiori wasn't too pleased about the whole thing, and he could feel something festering in the crevices of his thoughts.

"Well, it looks like someone's in luck," the receptionist said.


where LOBBY (by the burnt desk)xxwith SASAxxfeeling DISPLEASED, REGRETFUL
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ooc::
[quote"beau a deer"]