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[Knight] Squire Imbrium of Castor // Pythia Adler Goto Page: [] [<] 1 2 3 [>] [»|]

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 28, 2017 6:36 pm


O Lord, truly I am thy servant

Pythia and Lacedaemon
Reg #1 - FIN
 
PostPosted: Thu Sep 28, 2017 6:37 pm


Mirrorscape: The Gauntlet

ORP
Battle #1 - FIN
 


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PostPosted: Thu Oct 19, 2017 1:47 pm


Bone of Man and Beast

Imbrium and Faustite - Halloween Mini-Event
Battle #2 - FIN
 
PostPosted: Tue Oct 24, 2017 9:34 pm


Solo #1 - Starseeds

Being new to this ‘page of insert planet here’ thing, Pythia knew that there were a lot of things she wouldn’t fully understand for a while. Every time she powered up would be a school day, full of lessons that she would have to take to heart, if she chose to accept this life. And every time she allowed that power to take over… well. Today, the redhead had learned something new, and it was the kind of lesson that there might not be any going back from. Thanks to a black-eyed stranger, Imbrium had learned about something called a starseed. Such a small, inconsequential-seeming thing. If she had seen someone carrying it, without the rest, then the young woman would have thought nothing more of it than being an odd little jewel, glowing in the dark. There was nothing to be seen in it that indicated what it truly was- The soul of a person, the essence of their being. She had never thought that something so vital and important might be able to be housed in a small rock not much bigger than Pythia’s thumb, if even that. There was nothing about it that told her just how much value it actually contained. "You can live without it for a time. Hours, days, maybe a week. But your body only clings to life through a beating heart and breathing lungs. One day, that clockwork gives out." Whoever the half-man half-monster had been, he had been explicit enough in his warnings to her.

They spilled through her mind now, as she stared at the small little jewel in her hand, watching a stranger’s life flickering in her grasp. Such a small thing- and she would have to work fast in order to take it back to the child who the strange, monstrous boy had taken it from. Susan, with her bat-wielding father, and the mother who had wailed her name so impotently. "I buy my days with other people's years,” he had told her, and yet he had handed her the jewel anyways. Given her the most damnable of favors. He had given her choice, and the weighty responsibility of saving a life. "What does it mean to you to save this life?" A question she hadn’t had an answer for, when she had first been asked. She still didn’t now, even as she held the life in her hand. How could she? Pythia wasn’t a hero. She craved strength for her own sake, not for the sake of others. Other people mattered little beyond the impact that they had on her own life. "You have a lot to learn. It's best you start with this." Best she start with the realization of what it seemed to be that was expected of her by so many. The few people she had met seemed so disappointed in her for her disinterest, but none had given her a tool to so easily study her ‘responsibilities.’ People… weren’t real, until they affected her personally.

The redheaded Page pushed to her feet, moving back in the direction from which she had come, her steps feeling unusually slow and heavy as she went. Her shoulder, where the bat had bitten her, was already beginning to itch, and she rubbed at the wounds idly, trying to use the pads of her finger in lieu of the nail. She would have to clean them out quickly, but you weren’t supposed to scratch… infection might set in, and lord knew that massive demon bat infection probably wouldn’t be the most pleasant thing to try and deal with...not to mention it probably wouldn’t be easy to try and explain to whatever doctor she ended up going to for medical assistance. But it wasn’t her own medical issues that were the problem at the moment.

As she approached the house, from which she and the half-youma had been chased by the father and his flimsy, limping baseball bat, she could see that the trio still sat there, framed in doleful yellow light. The mother, her daughter’s head in her lap, the splayed hair; hands, stroking their way through brightly dyed curls. The father’s hand on his daughter’s shoulder, the other on his wife’s arm. Tear-streaked cheeks. "Drop it on her chest… it'll sink in. She'll wake…” a simple enough instruction to follow, if given the chance.

Her approach was silent, and it was not until her heel clacked against the step that the parents looked up at her. The father rose, aggression and sorrow at war in his husky frame, the bat gripped in white-knuckled fingers. “I told you to get out of here!” his roar was weak, despair reasonably victorious given the situation, and his eyes were rimmed red. Behind him, the mother still held Susan close, pulling her closer still as though she thought that Imbrium was here to somehow finish the job. And perhaps she was. If she gave them hope, and this failed, it would be the cruelest thing she could have done to them.

“You also asked what happened to your daughter.” Pythia tried to keep her voice holding at least some semblance of neutrality buried amid the haughty dominance of her insecurity. “I’m here to see if I can help.” she pushed past him, ignoring the bat and its dangers, ignoring the way the mother recoiled, still clutching her spawn close to her breast. In her hand, the starseed pulsed warmly, and she pulled in a breath of cold air through her nose. Her clenched fist opened, the gem within sparkling; and she knelt, tilting her hand to let it fall towards the young woman’s chest.

It was odd. The stone fell, and in the breath between one moment and the next, it was gone. Susan’s chest rose in an inhale, and the gem fell into it; as her chest lowered, there was nothing left behind. That young, smooth face twitched, and the pale death underscoring her lips seemed to shift to healthy, living warmth. Eyelids fluttered, and both parents gave a sob of relief.

“Her parents will laud you. It's the start of your fame, Imbrium." Fame. The redhead rose, stepped back. Teal eyes watched four loving hands caress their daughter’s arms, kisses pepper hair, the confused crinkle of a daughter’s brow. Pythia enjoyed the idea of being lauded, praised, adored… but for this? The relieved sobbing of a parent, the confusion of a child who could remember nothing beyond- a boy, there was-

Pythia stepped back, one, then another. They did not see her, and in this moment, that was fine. Was this what they fought for? "Your kind needs to know- for every attempt you thwart, the cost rises higher. The attempts grow greater. There can't be an armistice."

Her brow furrowed, teeth digging into her lip, and she stepped back into darkness. When the parents turned, there was no one to thank.
 


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PostPosted: Fri Oct 27, 2017 8:16 am


Tangled Webs

Imbrium and Arseno
Battle #3 - FIN
 
PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:34 pm


Destiny City 'Bootanical' Gardens

ORP - Halloween Mini-Event
Reg #2 - FIN
 


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:35 pm


Solo #2 - Don't Walk After Dark

Pythia did not usually decide to indulge in exercise. Mostly because she hated exercise, and hated the idea of anyone seeing her while she did it, and hated the idea of dressing up in those stupid little yoga pants and crop sports bra tops and jogging around like look at me, I'm trying to be so healthy and fit. UGH. Everywhere she went, seriously, it was like someone was trying to pimp out one fitness plan or another, or encourage someone to try their gym, or make a big deal out of all of it. She was poor, or at least middle class, and didn't have time for that crap. It wasn't like she was spending her money on beer and pizza, anyways; she'd be fine. Probably. Whatever. Her only interest in choosing to go exercise came from the discovery that she was slow, sluggish, and probably wouldn't look the best in her skimpy little magical girl uniform if she let herself go completely uninhibited. Plus, the idea of saving people's lives when she was barely able to jog around the block without declaring herself asthmatic and wheezing for a week... yeah. Still, none of this probably necessity bull crap meant that she had to like exercise. Sometimes you did stuff you didn't like. Attending a lecture on the nature and scope of political philosophy for example. She had better things she could be doing, like hanging herself with dental floss. As an example. Or as a start, that had been the worst lecture ever.

The outfit that she had managed to acquire for herself for this new found hell she was voluntarily throwing herself into had been like five bucks at the charity shop down the street, and good god, anyone who looked at her would be able to tell it. There was no way in hell she would be going out in the sunlight like this, and definitely not where anyone who actually knew her might go. She'd take her chances against psycho killers compared to the fashion police- one just made her life short, the other could ruin her reputation for the rest of an excruciatingly long one. The bright neon pink pants that she had bought were a size large- though not if she couldn't keep her face out of the free candy that was being given away tomorrow by some new candy store- and they looked like they belonged to some 80's horror movie, or Denise Austin in the 80's or some s**t. They dubiously MIGHT be terrycloth, and she wasn't at all sure how they would get rid of sweat, or if they would hold it and she would be- ugh, yeah, that train of thought was ending here. Choo choo, last stop. The tank top was only slightly better- at least it wasn't PINK. No; instead it was an awful neon yellow and white, and clung to her unsightly midriff unforgivably, reminding her every time she peered in the mirror that she didn't have a six-pack and that she'd bought a leopard-print sports bra.

She made her way out of the apartment and considered where she was going to jog. There was a path that led near the back, along the line between this neighborhood and near a section of slightly wooded area, like someone was going to try and build up a park there, or a nature preserve, and never got around to it. The woods were a bit of a dead end though, with a circular loop that forced drivers to practically do a three-point turn, or back their way out. Or park. She'd avoid that way, kind of creepy. Up towards the front of the complex, however, there was the main road- busier, but also less likely to actually wind up in her murder. And not so busy that she thought people would see to much of her this late in the evening, unless they just couldn't look away from her a** in these weird pants. She wouldn't blame them- she certainly couldn't, though that was possibly because she was going to cry at what an awful scene she made. The white tennis head band that she put on to keep her hair from falling in her eyes rather completed the look- and good lord, she looked a mess. This might actually be the worst thing. The worst idea. The worst anything and everything known to man. But she was going to do this anyway, because clearly she hated herself, and wanted to see herself succeed or something.

The night was kind of peaceful, and the first three or four minutes were actually working out really well. She wasn't wheezing yet, which was a great sign. All she had to do was manage like... five more of these four minute sessions, and she'd be able to pretend that she had done a healthy. She was actually feeling quite proud of herself, truth be told. This was like... four and a half more minutes than she had exercised in months! That probably counted for something, right? Sure! It was odd, though- she hadn't seen a single car going by for the last few minutes, and not even a neighbor out walking their dog. Usually there was at least one plebeian out walking their little shitter; being dragged to and fro as the little monster demanded the perfect location to dump his burden and mark his territory. Tonight, however, she was alone except for streetlights. Or so she thought- until a flutter of cloth got her attention, and teal eyes turned to take in a solitary young woman, probably not much younger than she herself was, running down a side road that ran between the roads and one of the building. There was nothing but more woods that way, woods and a row of boring apartments. Pythia hadn't ever actually seen any cars coming from that way either, all she knew was back there was woods and dumpster and a few old farts. But it wasn't the location of the woman that got her.

She thought it was the tears. Probably. A long white dress, that looked like a honeymoon nightgown gone out of fashion, and the tears. Pythia couldn't stand seeing another woman crying, and so it gave her pause, even at this hour of the night. The woman was running, not unlike Pythia herself, and-- odd. She couldn't really tell that many more details. Just a crawling sensation going down the redhead's spine as she took the woman in briefly, and then she was moving past Pythia, silent as – lord, she was being ridiculous. It was that time of the year when college kids pulled pranks, but this was the most random hour and location for it, so it was probably actually a woman who was mourning, or afraid, or- something. So Pythia took a detaour, cutting across the grass, knowing she made a ridiculous picture. “Hey!” she called after the other woman, but there was no response, only running, and the creepy-crawling fingers down Pythia's spine. She couldn't hear the woman running, she couldn't tell id she was a blonde or brunette or redhead. She couldn't tell the style of the nightgown, only that it was airy and floated around her legs as she darted ahead of Pythia herself. There might be shoes on her feet, or her hair might be in a ponytail? She could be asian, or black, or white - later, Pythia wouldn't be able to say one way or another. All she knew was that in the now, she needed to go after her.

Though lord knew she didn't want to. There was something disconcerting in the way that the other woamn was moving, in the terror in her eyes, even though Pythia herself couldn't see anything. In the way she couldn't place any identifying features besides that dress, and the tear-streaked cheeks. Even if she wanted to call the police, there was nothing... so instead, she simply had to rush after her, and hope that the woman didn't do anything foolish in her hysteria. “Hey!” she called out after the running woman, hoping to get her attention, to get her to slow down so that Pythia could actually get a good look at her. But there was no response. Pythia followed her, and in between one breath and the next, she came to the end of the cul-de-sac, and the girl was gone from her sight. Had she run into one of the buildings? She paused, starting to inhale, and then the wave of chill poured down her spine, pulsing through her and stealing her breath away. Goosebumps rose on her arms, the hair pricking on the back of her neck, she blood curdling with chill in her veins. She couldn't see anyone, and even the windows of the nearby apartments were dead and cold. And then the streetlamp went out, and the redhead shrieked.

Escaping from the dead end, she had never run so fast, and chances were? She never would again. But even though she ran home and curled up in her blankets, she couldn't outrun the cold fear in her veins.
 
PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:37 pm


Solo #3 - Pumpkin Problems

Pythia, and it pained the redhead greatly to admit it, was what was commonly known by some on the internet as a “basic white girl.” She more than enjoyed her Starbucks lattes, and her selfies were everywhere on her Instagram, and heart emojis were sent with fervent devotion to those she deemed worthy. She could quote Mean Girls, adored Pitch Perfect, and would cut someone over the last jar of Nutella in the store- especially on the rare occasions it was on sale. Pretty Little Liars was becoming a favorite since she had found it on Netflix, and yes- sometimes she indulged in leggings as pants, because what sane, comfort-loving woman wouldn't?! But she supposed that her greatest offense of all... was an unholy, unnatural love of pumpkin spice. Oh, she tried to deny it, even to herself; she called it bland, boring, tasteless. Yet she kept buying it. She tried pumpkin spice everything. EVERYTHING. She had even gotten pumpkin spice hand soap, “in honor of the season” and not at all because she was basic as hell. Because she wasn't. Clearly. She had exactly 0 Uggs in her closet, and the only Forever 21 she had was off of the rack at the pre-owned clothing shop.

All of this was, of course, her defense and explanation for her decision to forego her usual Starbucks run in order to go to this 'local' place. Apparently, they knew how to get very inventive with their pumpkins, and half of the girls in class had been raving about how absolutely amazing this pumpkin spice mocha cappuccino was, and an actual pumpkin spice caramel latte, and pumpkin spice white chocolate cocoa? Well, far be it from her to try and resist the feeding call of the wild latte; after class was over, it was her extreme pleasure to pull out her phone and tug up directions to the coffee shop, lips pursed and the heel of one flat boot tapping against the ground in a rhythmic tap-tap-tap. It looked like the place wasn't too far away from here- she might be able to swing by on her lunch break, after her next lecture? That was usually when she went on lunch anyways, so the afternoon pick-her-up would do some good. Possibly there was a nice little bagel or something to go with it? Or something vaguely inexpensive to supplement her inevitable intake. She'd gotten a few extra hours this week- she could handle the indulgence.

The walk was cold, but it could have been worse. The line was impressively long, and almost had her turn around and go back to campus to try and grab something out of the snack machines. But after a moment she could see that they were churning out orders fairly quick; so she happily kept her place in line, peering at her phone in an effort to get people to not talk to her, so she wasn't chowing down on someone's throat before her coffee. She really needed her caffeine, that last lecture had been the most boring- “Hi!” as she got to the counter, her entire countenance changing at once to effervescent cheer. The dead-eyed stare of the retail worker behind the counter was one she was all too familiar with; there would be no point in continuing to try and be bubbly for this one. Instead, Pythia placed her order cleanly and efficiently- she had decided on the the pumpkin spice macchiato, with extra foam. The extra caffeine would keep her from a murderous rampage, and while the pumpkin spice caramel latte sounded delightful, she wasn't sure she wanted to bother them with the fact she'd probably need soy milk in order to make it through the rest of the day.

It didn't take too terribly long for her order to be ready. The bagel that she had ordered had already been made, though recently, and they needed only to slice it, toast it, and butter the savory bread. She had watched attentively, mourning each streusel crumb lost. “Pithy-ah?” The guy who called her name looked unimpressed as the cashier had been; his ronunciation of her name, at least, was close enough. And at the very least the spelling was correct, probably because they copied it off of her credit card. They likely had a lot of people purchasing the pumpkin spice items because of the season, which would explain the unusual speed. She carried out the pumpkin spice bagel in one hand, and the drink in the other, enjoying the warmth of each. One was much hotter than the other, but it would serve as a brace against the growing chill. The other dropped crumbs along her front every time her laptop bag bounced against her hip. At least it wasn't the other way around- losing her caffeine down her front wouldn't be a good way to continue her day by any stretch. The flavor was good, for both; she took a casual stroll back to the campus, polishing off the filling bagel happily. A little dry, perhaps, and the streusel topping came off as easily as she thought she had observed during the toasting process. She stowed away the wrapper in an outside pocket on her bag until she was able to find a trash can, and carried the beverage in both hands.

But by the time that the redhead made it to campus even that last little bit of her warm beverage was gone. Her mind felt a lot better, what with the fresh influx of caffeine and warmth to wake up her mind and uplift her spirit. She'd have to go back, she decided. Oh, her belly was complaining about how quickly she had eaten and drank, but she had that happen far too frequently when she'd skipped a meal, or waited too long between them. This time, however, was an unusually unpleasant situation. The closer that she got to campus, the more it seemed that her gut cramped. The cramping was painful, making her visibly wince, eventually biting into her lip to keep from showing it on her face. The bathroom wasn't far out of her way, and- oh, damn. Her clenching, angry, roiling gut was not to be trifled with. She could already feel the sweat beading her brow, and it seemed that no matter how much caffeine she'd just had, today just wasn't going to be her day. Pythia might not even make it to class, if she couldn't- She burst into the restroom with a gasp, holding her gut. She had never thrown up in a public toilet before, and gods willing, she would never be in a situation where she had to again. Though if it was her stomach or her- yeah, she was not going to continue that train of thought. It seemed that Pythia wasn't the only one having issues today either- all of the stalls bar one were full when she arrived, with the sound of bulemia, and the scent of-- pumpkin spice. Oh, ugh.

It was a blessing that she had gotten the last toilet stall. There were others who were having some 'issues' with their intestines too, and not all of them were going to be as fortunate in where they had to take care of it. At least one other woman was vomiting in the main area of the bathroom, possibly on the floor, and the sink and trash can were being used in ways they probably weren't meant to be. In the master stall next to her, she could hear a girl crying. Oh, she felt you strange girl. She felt you. Though why there were so many people having issues all at the same time- ugh. Maybe there was something in the water? Maybe they had all been poisoned? The last time she'd been in a room with this many sobbing women had probably been like- s**t, what was that movie? The sad one, with the kids in love. Whatever. She didn't actually care. The point was, she needed out of here, and her body was being very uncooperative. She closed her eyes, stretching her arms above her head, and tried to think lovely thoughts. Peaceful thoughts. Thoughts not about the fact that she was probably skipping the rest of today's classes and going home and dying.

Coming out of the stall a few minutes later was a blessing. Her hands were shaking, but the real problem came when she went to wash her hands. The extremities that touched the warm, wet handles were orange. She stared at them for a moment, before lifting them up to get a better look, in the light. And then she saw the mirror. Her- her face. Her face was orange, which clashed with her eyes. It looked like- she looked like a spray tan gone terribly wrong. And judging by the horrified moans she could hear coming out of the stalls behind her, it wasn't only she who was so... tangerine.

Oh yeah. She was definitely going home.
 


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:41 pm


Picking a Fight

Imbrium and Alum
Battle #4 - FIN
 
PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:43 pm


Icy Limes

Imbrium and Lime
Battle #5 - FIN
 


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:44 pm


Tipping the Scales

Imbrium and Larimar
Reg #3 - FIN
 
PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:45 pm


Ballroom & Balcony

ORP - Masquerade
Reg #4 - FIN
 


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:46 pm


Dance of the Fox & Phoenix

Pythia and Jack
Reg #5 -
 
PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:47 pm


The clawing dead

Imbrium and Alphubel
Reg #6 - FIN
 


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:50 pm


Shopping is OVER!

Pythia and Lovi
Reg #7 - FIN
 
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