LINK TO PROOF:Journal SACRED WEAPON TYPE: Staff (Defensive)
Joy was overwhelmed and was finding it rather difficult to handle. This whole war was turning out to be extremely complicated. Far more complicated than the clear-cut "us against them" she thought it would be. She was feeling numb for the most part, mind and heart still trying to process the events, brown eyes staring at the floor when a knight approached her.
Dumbly, she looked up, blinking a few times before the words finally registered. She ought to be excited and happy that she'd proven her worth and mettle. But the heavy haze of discontent weighed her down. Still, she forced a smile and followed after the knight.
Eventually, they got there, wherever there was. All Joy knew was in the very center was a pool. Full of weapons. Her grip on her halberd tightened, was she expected to throw hers in? Was she being stripped of her already-low rank?
No? Oh. Well, good.
Her nerves were getting the best of her but she pressed on, the thought of running away left a vile taste in her mouth. Tentatively, she knelt down to reach into the water.
The night was surprisingly warm by Autumn's standards. The harvest was done for the day and Joy was settled by the fire, tasked with the darning and mending of frayed clothes and torn garments. They didn't have much and needed to make do but Joy didn't complain. As the eldest daughter she'd taken to learning the ways of needlework from her mother.
"That's woman's work that is," her father had stated when Joy'd asked when her other siblings would be along to join them. "Hope's still too small, the needle's as big as her finger!" And he roared in laughter, so warm and pleased that everyone else soon joined in.
Joy found she rather liked the work. Even if her several first attempts left her fingers and the garment bloodied (perhaps even because of it though she would never say so out loud.) She got better. Both from the injuries and in skill. She could manage the thick, hardy shirts and tunics as well as the trousers along with the socks and scarves.
But that evening, what she had was special.
It had taken months of saving and scrimping to finally have enough to trade for to get the precious few squares of lovely-colored cloth she had in her lap. She set about embroidering a corner: two lines for her father, three for her mother, a cross for her eldest brother, a moon for little Hope, a flower for herself, and a star for-
Joy's eyes flew open. A star for whom? The memory was fast fading and though she struggled to recall, it slipped from her mind as sand trickled from fingers. Slowly and shaking her head, she stood with her new weapon in hand.
Mmur was surprised to be summoned so soon. It wasn't that he didn't feel ready or was afraid, he had just been preoccupied by, well, everything else. There were creatures to fight and darkness to push back, but if venturing into some dank cellar for a few minutes would help him do any of that more effectively, he supposed he was all for it.
Only this wasn't a dank cellar at all. And someone else was here... speaking to him. An invisible someone.
With narrowed eyes, the apprentice approached the pool, drawn forward by the one who called him. The voice guided him to one weapon in particular, and though the room was noticeably chilly, when he knelt and touched its grip, it was warm.
"The farm is yours. The house, the far barn, the pond, Daisy, everything. You'll have it all when I'm gone and you're welcome to stay while I'm still around. I don't care how many girls you don't marry or what people whisper in town. You're my son, you're a good lad, and I love you."
When he realized where he was and what he had seen, Mmur found his hand tousling his hair just as his father had. The memory was bittersweet, a pleasant balm for his fear and shame. Everything was all right. And now he knew who Daisy was.
Quote:
My character's name: Mmur Character's journal link:x BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Dark brown hair, medium brown skin, blue eyes, skinny, 5'10", flail, helmet with an orange tree carved into it, toucan leggings, shoulder armor covered with small red gems, bright red mantle with yellow detailing, orange gauntlets, orange tabard tied around his waist, no shirt or shoes. Can't read. Rank of character Knight-Apprentice Sacred Points obtained: 0/100
There was so much going on that being summoned was bizarre to Drona. It wasn't that she was ungrateful, but she was concerned for the chaos going on around her and what it would meant for her to be called.
She followed anyways, taking the never-ending stairs down. Each step was like another doubt in her mind. She shouldn't be doing this. She should be worrying about all the fighting going on above. She should be protecting the castle, this could come later. She wasn't ready.
She hit the bottom of the stares and was made breathless by the large chamber. The high ceiling seemed to stretch above her, making her feel ever smaller. In the very center sat a pool that barely rippled, otherworldly with it's still, clear water. As she neared the edge she peered in to find it filled with weapons of different shapes and uses. She was drawn to reach in, to take one of the gleaming swords.
The woods were usually dark, but not threateningly so. Their small cabin was cheery even as dilapidated as it was. They covered the broken windows with colorful blankets and hid the cracks in the exterior behind tall and hearty crops, just enough to feed the two of them.
They were band-aids over an extreme problem. Every winter there was a new crack in the walls, every spring a new leak in the roof. The longer they went on the less they had, and the poverty was crippling. Drona looked to her Jaja and felt her heart sink with sadness at the stress induced wrinkles that lined their beautiful face. They couldn't continue to live like this.
The memory slipped through her fingers as the water did, intangible for now. But one fact remained solid in her mind. She was doing this for Jaja.
Posted: Tue May 12, 2015 3:55 pm
LINK TO PROOF:gaia_crown SACRED WEAPON TYPE: Staff [offensive]
Despite the chaos going on all around her, one of the knights managed to pull her away, telling her that she was being summoned for something. As for what that something was, she didn't know and she didn't feel comfortable leaving her fellow knights when they needed everyone they could to figure out the current predicament they were in. Maybe it was something very important for her and her alone? Instead of declining, Amy followed the knight through many halls, loosing track of the way to get back. Hopefully, the knight would be able to take her back.
They came to a set of stairs leading down into some sort of...Room. It wasn't a dungeon, that much she was sure of. Her feet felt heavy with each step she took, the anticipation of it all beginning to rattle her nerves a bit. The knight opened the door to reveal the most beautiful room she had ever seen. It wasnt the cavern-like walls that drew her attention however, it was the pool of crystal clear water filled with hundreds of weapons.
As she took a step towards the water, Amy looked back only to see nothing but the cavern walls, no other knight in here but her it seemed. Perhaps this was something she had to do herself...
She shrugged, her full attention on the staff that was drawing her in further into the water. She slowly reached forward, gasping.
The smell of metal, the clink clank of hammer meeting the metal, the sweltering heat that managed to flow throughout their home. This is what she would wake up in the morning for. As much as she had to act like a proper lady sometimes, Amy wished she could smelt during the day like her father, but sadly, waiting till the night was her best bet.
She held her most prized creation in her hands, her first weapon she every created. She thought it was a scythe, but it looked more like a farming tool, no matter how much she adorned it with chains and jewels. Despite her failure, this didn't stop her from creating weapons, or watching her father instead of studying or practicing ways to defend herself with her brothers.
Her father was a creator, and she wanted to be just that. A creator of beautiful things.
As quickly as the memory appeared, it was forgotten. The only thing that remained, was the fact that at one time, she wanted to be a creator...
He was called. It had been a surprise really, the promotion that is. Cress did not feel that he had done any really "knight"-ly duties that would cause the higher ups to see him fit to become a full knight. Sure, he had done his part going on those silly quests, risking himself to dysentery to get some weird knickknacks. However, the way he thought of it, any dumbass on the streets could go on those quests. After all, what they boiled down to was taking that one path out of Camelot, going through the twisted woods, climbing up the dwarven mountains (while not trying to gag from the human remains all around), and then go up onto the highest hill and retrieve the knickknack "artifact." What made it so bothersome was that there was always the lovely wild animals attacking, horses being rebellious and running away, booby traps sending giant axes flying...and dysentery, always dysentery. But it didn't really require any brains. As long as someone was hardy and willing to try it multiple times, it was possible. It was a sad prospect that this probably meant that the requirement for being a knight did not include brains.
All of this Cress thought as he followed the knight that had gave him the summons. He was being lead down, through different corridors and then down more stairs. The castle was huge, and he hoped that someone would be there after the promotion to show him how to get back to where he was or else he would probably have to spend forever wandering around the cellars. The air started to feel increasingly dank as they descended more stairs. What kind of promotion ceremony would require us to come all the way here? Of course it was probably something pompous and grand. Ceremonial. He had a distaste for all of this. If it was up to him, he would rather have had someone give him a high-five and then baaaam, congrats, full knight bro.
It seemed that they had finally reached their destination or else it would have to be some very large detour. They were in a huge cavernous chamber and in the very middle, there was a clear, glowing pool of water. Cress felt something call to him. He took a step back and looked around. The knight that had lead him down was nowhere to be found. <******** b*****d. He glanced back at the pool. It was calling to him. He did not like things that weren't supposed to be sentient (if that was what it was) calling to him. He looked around again for the knight to demand an explanation. No luck. He sighed and walked to the pool. This must be the promotion ceremony.
Beneath the surface, there were hundreds of weapons. In the back of his mind, Cress wondered how troublesome it must have been for blacksmiths to make so many and then go down so many stairs, carrying them to drop them into this pool so that out of some ceremonial tradition, bratty knight apprentices could feel the mystery and glory of picking their weapon out of the pool. But no, these weapons felt different. He wanted to facepalm. It seemed that sword was calling for him. He paused and then reached his hand into the water towards it. This couldn't be dangerous, right?
There was something cheery about books, even the depressing ones. Growing up, Cress owned two. He received a third one the year he came of age from his father.
The first book was a children's tale, of dragons and knights. The usual. It had pictures. There were also some scrawls of writing on the sides of the pages, questions and more detail added by a child's imagination. The last page was a self-drawn map of the knight's quest and a very detailed list of what the knight had done wrong and what he should have done instead as well as accompanying probabilities of success and a calculated success rate of the knight's original adventure, supporting the theme of every fairy tale: the hero always defied the odds. Even as a child, Cress had been a bit of a cynic.
The second book had more tales of adventure. The Knight, the Miller, the Friar, the Squire, the Prioress, the Wife of Bath. There were more handwritten notes on the sides of these pages. His parents had not been pleased when they had seen him "tarnishing" the nice new book.
The last was one of logic. His father had to trade in a week worth of his wages to get it as a present for his son. Cress had nearly cried when he received it. The margins were covered in scribbles detailing the different aspects of the problem of universals and his own arguments concerning them.
They were all ashes now. Gone, gone along with his family.
The memory faded, leaving Cress with a vague sense of loss. He felt very alone.
Verusha perked up as he heard his named called, having been fiddling around with his flail. Holstering it, he followed to where he'd been indicated to go, a brow crooked as he started down the endless stairs, deep, deep, deep into an area he'd never been allowed to go to... he'd not seen many go down here before, either. It was totally new, and ominous, giving off a vibe of danger of some kind. Exciting.
Once he reached the bottom to the dedicated area, the vibrant, etheral body of water instantly entrances him. It was beautiful... and a strange sight to behold in here, of all places. It seemed so out of place, too lovely to be kept away, held hostage, in the dreary, dark chamber. Stepping up before it, he stared into its shimmering, and see through surface, eyes widening at the plethora of weapons stored within.
"Whoa..." he murmured in awe, taken by their gorgeous display. It was almost overwhelming... but there was one that pulled at his eyes more than the others. One that... twinkled, and winked at him relentlessly. Calling him... A sword, and not just any. One that was different from the various others but... even more so. Reaching into the cool liquid, Verusha goes for it, needing to touch it. And as the first finger pads make contact, something swiftly rushes into his being, hitting him like a wall. A memory.
It was sudden. A quick flash. People who seemed to look familiar somehow, making a nostalgia twinge in his gut. Faces that are unrecognizable but yet... not strangers... Lips parted to give a faint gasp, he felt as though he'd gained something, making him shiver, and voice want to lift. But nothing comes out... and it was soon all slipping away just as fast as it'd come. Blinking a few times to clear his mind, the sword pulled from the pool, he stared down at it with a faint hint of weariness.
Lurks rubbed at her eyes with burlap cloth, half dressed a knight and half dressed a pauper, descending into the darkness where weapons lay. Was it her turn? Was she worthy?
It didn't matter. The world thought her ready and so she must be: that was the way this worked, for her and for all others. She had wanted so badly for it to end, and now that things looked grim, perhaps that would be the case. Then what was the point of taking up arms?
The silence did not answer her, and nary a breeze rippled the cool waters of the pool, weapons lurking at the bottom like mudfish did in the river.
Lurks clambored in, fingers wrapping around a stave, and--
"I'm sorry," you breathe, with a hiccupy sob, tugging on your brother's bloated fingers. You haven't eaten or slept or even moved since his passing, since his eyes closed for once and for all. The room stank, rife with sickness before and now ripe with decay.
Your brother is dead and you are alive, scarred and ruined and half-mad. You know you are, in some distant corner of your mind. You know.
But it's so hard, to keep hold of it. You pull a little too hard and there is a squish and a horrible scent fills the air-- brother is just a dead thing and dead things are fragile if not preserved. You retch where you lay, stumbling out of the room on arms and legs, afraid to confirm your fears--
What choice do you have? To live or to die. Your parents are dead too, and so are the horses, and so is the baker, and so is the midwife and so on and on and on and on and on and you are alone, you are twelve years old and alone in this world, with nothing to your name and barely even your life.
You were once someone, and now, as you clothe yourself in found clothes and bandage your wounds, are nothing but that which Lurks Beneath.
And the staff was hers. All hers, power shining out from within it, bestowing her with power and, for the first time--
The smallest inkling of hope.
Posted: Tue May 12, 2015 11:56 pm
LINK TO PROOF:boop SACRED WEAPON TYPE: sword (hey, sure.. let's try something different!)
Maple somehow managed to pull herself from the horrors that had befallen on the treasure room, and managed to slink away as Lancelot took them elsewhere. It seemed she was needed somewhere after all, a guard had taken her and helped guide the frightened girl down a series of tunnels and flights of stairs (at one point, she wondered if it was a good idea since she was so scared. What was this guy doing?)
Though, what she found at the end was not what she had expected. It was thankfully someplace rather beautiful, deep underground sure but it had its tranquil qualities all the same. Even with the weapons that littered the water formation. Finding her breath, Maple clutched at her mantle and stepped towards it. This was, perhaps, what had been calling to her in actuality. The guard just the proxy. She felt she needed to be here, needed to get to the water's edge and reach in...
"Your uncle told me you've been making excellent progress with your training." There was actually a hint of pride in her mother's voice as she moved about the kitchen, collecting various herbs and bottles and placing them on the table where Maple sat. The girl didn't say a word, her eyes trained on the table itself as if counting the grains.
"It's not what we wished for you," her mother went on, her fingers working diligently with separating what she had collected before they went to pull apart at the stems and leaves, "but I am pleased to hear you finally finding something you seem to be good at."
Maple raised her head finally, her lips askew. There was something in her mother's tone and that look on her face, there was going to be more to that statement.
Sure enough, "but I don't want you giving up on these skills," a parchment slid towards the younger of the two with a few herbs on it. Along with a mortar and pestle. "Going around fighting willy nilly doesn't put food on the table like apothecary does."
There it was.
Maple recoiled back, blinking wildly at the brief memory that passed before her eyes. It wasn't anything extravagant, so simplistic, just a slice of life. But it had been her life, an exchange between her mother. A bit of praise? It felt kind of... nice, she smiled softly. A nice memory even as small as it was. Perhaps something she could think of when she felt herself low.
Still dazed from the happenings in the treasure room and beyond, Caoin walked slowly down a series of corridors and tunnels, not really sure where she was going. She just moved in a blind stumble of steps and lurches. He was gone... no, they were gone. Three of the Great Knights all gone at once. It left her feeling sick inside. She couldn't fall into despair, to do so would be fatal, even she knew that.
Before her a set of stairs led down into darkness, and she mechanically started down them, her mind still awash with shock. How many had died? No, she had to push the thoughts away. Many had fell, yes, but she could still help many more. If she quit now and succumbed to her fear and upset, she would be worse than useless to others and herself.
Stepping from shadows she found herself jolted back to reality. How had she gotten to this room? No, not just a room but.. it felt like so much more. Before her was an array of weapons, under water, but still close to hand, yet... no even so it was as if one of them echoed in her soul, calling just to her. She knelt before the watery array and reached one pale hand in....
So much noise! Ugh.. why did the men fighting outside need to make such a racket? Caoineadh got up and rushed to the window to see what was causing the noise outside, only to see some of the older boys pushing around a small child. The little one was covered in dirt and even from this distance she could see it was crying in fear.
Well that was going to stop! Rushing out of her chambers cursing her skirts silently she rushed toward the door to outside. Scooping up a bow and arrows she pushed the door open and knocked an arrow. Heh, only one way to get though to those meat heads when they were torturing someone...
Thunk... Her arrow hit its mark well, slicing through the air before the largest boy causing him to loose grip of the child, who ran to her and hugged her legs. Heh... it was amusing to see the boys who were so sure they were the toughest around looking at her like that, but it felt better to know that she was doing the right thing. Helping this poor child... no one needed to be picked on, no one should be hurt... She just wanted to make sure no one suffered.
Ruffling the child's hair with one hand she stared down the bullies until they left. She would do it every time. It wasn't ladies work, it was humans work. Protecting was what everyone should do.
Her vision was blurred. Tears... why was she crying? That was what she always did, yet... No, no it was important to keep in mind that she had purpose. She needed purpose and .. and she would keep it in her heart. Wiping the tears away she smiled slightly, for the first time since the horrors in the treasure room. Even with them dead, she would still move on, keeping what she learned from Gawain in her heart, not just from him, but from everyone.
Thank you...
OOC
My character's name: Caoineadh Character's journal link:Journal]http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?page=1&t=24689197#372113957]Journal BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER
Down the stairs, down past the cellar, and Noah still felt strange, unworthy, unready. He hadn't distinguished himself, or at least he didn't think he had, but still he'd been called to become a knight. This was what he wanted. Wasn't it?
The pool drew him, like a silent summons, a calling, and Noah moved toward it, half amazed and half wary. The mirror had called to him, too. But the pool wasn't showing him strange and awful visions; below its shining surface lay weapons. He knelt, realizing vaguely as he did so that he was alone, and reached into the water, compelled.
This was the way it always was. He cleaned and bandaged Corbin's scratches, scolded him for being too dramatic about it, extracted promises to be more careful which would be broken in days because neither of them really meant it. Healing was his job, and he liked it, and he practiced and experimented on his friend. This set of scratches was just as inconsequential as the last, the result perhaps of a fall into a thornbush, but still Noah treated the minor injuries seriously. One day, perhaps, he would be attending to worse wounds.
As he finished the wrappings, a small packet was pressed into his hand. He unwound the bit of fabric and found within it a pendant, a carved wooden thing with the figure of a crow. He looked up, beaming, and slipped the thong over his head, tucked the pendant under his tunic, a token, a secret.
The water was cool and gentle on his hand. His vision blurred a little, and his eyes were wet. He was grateful that nobody was watching; this test he would complete alone. But he held the fragment of memory close in his mind, a token, a secret.
LINK TO PROOF:[Journal] SACRED WEAPON TYPE: staff (offensive)
Aiden followed the other knight leading him down, far below the castle, into a cavern like chamber. He looked around at the large area then focused on the pool in the middle. He stared at it for a few heart beats before he realized he felt a pull to go towards it. The young man breathed in deeply then started to slowly walk towards it. He could barely turn his eyes away from the pool as he walked so he only half paid attention when he realized that the knight who had lead him was no longer with him now.
It didn't bother him as he kept on walking to the pool of water. When he reached the pools edge he looked in the water to see what must have been hundreds of weapons under the glassy surface. It was almost mesmerizing in a way and it took him a few moments to realize that one of the weapons called to him. It seemed to pull at him with a sweetness that promised power, protection, and so much more. He knelt by the water side and reached out towards the weapon that seemed to sparkle under the water as if saying 'here I am, pick me'.
And then as his hand touches the cool water a memory over takes him.
Laughter bubbled up with in him as Matt continued the tickle assault. "NOooooOOOOoooo! Stop! Uncle!" Aiden cried as he tried to squirm away from the older teen. Said teen had a grin on his face as he finally stopped. "And that is how to subdue a wild Aiden." He said triumphantly to the side where Jesse was giggling. Once Aiden caught his breath he grinned then pounced on the older blond. "I'll show you how to subdue someone!" he said then started his own tickle assault.
Aiden blinked as the memory faded away, leaving him feeling off balance. Lonely even. He gave a sad smile with out even knowing why he did so then grasped the weapon under the water. As soon as he has it in hand the feelings fade away and he pulled the weapon out of the water to really look at it. It looked perfect to him, even with the silver chain wrapped around it holding back it's power. His smile turned into a grin as he turned and started to walk out of the chamber. Now, now he was a real Knight.
OOC
My character's name: Aiden Harrison Character's journal link:[X] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER {Aiden} Aiden has green hair, red eyes, and nine times out of ten has a smile/smirk on his face.
He tends to be on the cheerful side, leading him to getting on others nerves easily in this time of tension and battles. Normally when this happens it makes him even cheerfuller since to him it's a great way to have a distraction by poking peoples buttons. Rank of character Knight Apprentice Sacred Points obtained: 0/100
Rhiannon wasn't quite sure why she was here. Still reeling from the death of Percival, she wandered the castle grounds, wanting to get away from the darkness and destruction, wondering what she would do next. And yet somehow it was as if someone had answered her, intuition urging her to keep walking down, down, down, right to the sacred chamber and the weapons that waited within. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the luminous pool, an almost soothing sight despite the items that lay beneath the water's surface; its sheer presence making Ri hesitate, as if she had stumbled upon something no one was meant to find. In fact, it didn't look like anyone was allowed in here, and she made a move to leave this place before it became tainted by the darkness.
She couldn't explain how or why, but as soon as she was leaving, she could feel a gentle tugging at her soul. The pool called out to her, subconsciously leading the girl right to its edge, urging her to reach in. The pool-- no, a weapon --took hold of her mind, guiding her to dip her hand into the pristine water and lift it from its resting place. And just as soon as she touched the weapon's handle, a memory came back to her:
She placed her book down and sighed, looking longingly at the clear sky outside.
"What is it, Rose?" Her father asked, hammering a piece of metal into shape.
"Nothing...," her younger self sighed again. "It's just that... I wish I could go on an adventure."
"Life is an adventure." The blacksmith dipped the metal rod into a nearby water bath, taking off his gloves.
"That's not what I meant, Papa." Her fingers traced the golden decoration on the book with longing.
"Why would you want adventure," the blacksmith walked over to her, "when you have such a good life here?" He gestured to his workshop and the home they owned behind it.
"But nothing ever happens here." The girl set her book down, right next to her mother's apothecary supplies. Or what was left of them anyway.
"Well, if it's adventure you want...," the grizzled man curled his fingers into 'claws' and ran right at her, chasing her younger self all around their garden until they fell in a fit of laughter.
It was a happy memory, but Rhiannon couldn't shake her guilt, checking to see that she was still alone. It was bittersweet to think that this was what she wanted, a grander life far away from their little village. It was a wish come true... And now she would fight to get small village back.
She lifted the weapon, her weapon, and willingly went back to the battlefield, her hope and determination restored.
OOC
My character's name: Rhiannon Character's journal link:Here~ BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: "Ri" is a pale, slender, young girl with long layered pink hair tied with a ribbon. Her eyes are as pink as her hair, and are usually set in a blank expression when not in battle-mode. (See avatar and Legacy Alt art.) Rank of character: Knight-Apprentice Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
Makayla was a little surprised when the Knight summoned her, having just come back from a quest and wanting nothing more then to heal. She didn't question him, she just followed him deeper below the castle, until she found herself standing just outside the sacred chambers. She knew this meant something important, so she turn finally to question the Knight only to find herself alone. This cause a small frown to form over the young woman's lips before she sighs. She couldn't turn back now, not when she felt the need to actually see what was inside.
She felt the tug, and with each step she took, it pulled her closer to the pool. Her gaze looking it over only to widen as she sound endless weapons beneath the surface of the water. She look over each one, until her gaze focused on one in particular. She didn't understand it, but this one just felt right for her.
Kneeling down, she reach into the water as her fingers slip around the longbow. "Papa...please show me again how you did that?" a young girl with long black hair pouts at her father. He couldn't help but laugh as his only child tries to grab a hold of his bow.
"Husband, do not show our daughter how to use that bow. She is a lady, and thus should grow up knowing how to act like one." she wipes her hands off before she moves over to Makayla and scoops her up.
Makayla pouts at her mother, then looks back at her father.
"My wife...our daughter and truly become a young lady as well a fierce with a bow. I will teach her, only because I love to see that smile of hers.." his hand reach out to brush over Makayla's cheek.
A giggle comes from the child...
Makayla felt her head spin as her eyes scan the area. She was confused, yet happy about what she seen. She wasn't all that sure what it was, but she felt calm as she stood. With the bow in her hand, she glance around to see she was alone. This was perfect for her, even as she glance over the chain wrapped around it.
Turning away, she felt herself smile.
She was a knight...
OOC
My character's name: Makayla Winston Character's journal link:X BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER With long flowing black hair down to her waist, it is often up in two braids that is wrapped then fastened on either side of her head. Her bangs are left alone to fall around her face. With pale skin, her green eyes seem almost darker because of how tan skin she is. Rank of character full knight Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
Posted: Wed May 13, 2015 11:23 pm
LINK TO PROOF: [x] SACRED WEAPON TYPE: Staff (offensive) *spoilered because wall of text*
Haze, the black knight-apprentice, had finally been called fourth. He had done his best to train in the ways of the knight, constantly refining his skills and dedicating his life to the king. In all honesty he never would have thought he would be summoned. In amidst of all the chaos there was only a sliver of hope for someone to have the opportunity in knight-ship. The white haired man had to admit, it wasn't all easy getting to this point.
Walking down the corridor, each foot making sure to hit the step, he began to think back on what he had gone through. Everything was completely clear after he had dedicated himself to become a knight, but before that it was all a blur. His memory clouded, often sending a sharp pain through his mind when he tried to think back. Haze had given up on trying to thick back on these memories, they must have not been necessary to his succession. Letting out a breath he realized they had reached the ending chamber.
In a moment of hesitation he stepped forward into the room with a single almost crystal like pool in front of him. Walking up to the water’s edge his silver gaze would look down temporarily. Seeing his reflection and then focusing on the array of weapons that had been scattered throughout the translucent body of water. Something was calling to him. Urging him to want to reach down and touch the surface. Haze would resist the desire for but a moment as he snapped his head up to look behind him, simply seeing if it was alright for him to begin. But his curious gaze was only met with nothingness.
He was alone.
His urge began to grow deeper, as the water’s reflection resounded and called him to look back. Kneeling down he took in a sharp yet subtle breath before reaching out. The man’s hand meeting with the surface before sinking in, seeking out the weapon that had called to it. But before he realized it his mind began to flutter and wander. Recalling something he had once lost.
◆◆◆
The sun fluttered through the air like the butterflies that had taken refuge on the nearby flowers. A soft breeze weaving its way into the moor. Haze blinked his eyes open, meeting with the harsh sunlight only slightly muddled by the tree’s shadow he found himself under. Pressing his lips together the young boy would sit up. Looking around to realize his sister, Angel, wasn't with him anymore. He didn't think he had fallen asleep for that long. Angel was older than him by a few years, yet the looked practically identical to each other. It was the rare occasion where twins were able to be born years apart.
Feeling uncomfortable the boy would attempt to stand up, his legs slightly wobbling from having been inactive for so long. Where did his sister go? He wondered this as his heart began to race. Haze’s mouth gaped open and started to move as if he was attempting to say something, but no words came out and he would instead look like he was a fish flapping its mouth to breath. With a huff young Haze pouted, pressing his lips together as his hands gripped onto his loosely fitted shirt. He was always so embarrassed when he looked like that. Taking in a breath he tried one more time, “A-nge” his voice reverberated weakly within his throat. It surely wasn't loud enough for anyone around him to hear.
The boy started to feel desperate. When Haze was born into the world he had a debilitating fever, one that almost took his life. He had to be under constant supervision to try and be saved. And though he pulled through, some of his normal bodily functions weren't able to fully be formed. Including his vocal cords. This had proved to be a huge obstacle for the boy as he grew up, as he so desperately wanted to speak at times but his voice just wouldn't let him. Though he learned to cope with his flaw it was still hard, especially in his desperate times.
His feet began to stumble over the grass as he walked around the tree he had previously been sitting up against. Using his eyes to observe his surroundings he would catch onto the little notions that his sister had been there not to long ago. Walking forward he began to travel down the gravel path that they took to go between the field and his house. His hands tightly grasping together in nervousness and fear. Why would his sister abandon him like that? He had always been so close to her, and even more so because he couldn't speak, he sought comfort in her. She was his voice. Again the white-haired lad would open his mouth to try to speak again “An- an- angel” Haze rasped. This time his voice becoming more clear than the last, but still fell short. His feet began to pick up in speed, now running against the path until he would be able to see his house. Maybe someone had taken his sister? So many fears and bad thoughts began to fill the boy’s mind. He didn't want to believe Angel was gone, she was at the house, she was at the house. He kept repeating that to himself in his mind as he reached the quaint little shelter.
Reaching up for the door he swung it open and pattered in, running from room to room without so much as a peep from his voice, only soft strained breaths. She wasn't there. His eyes began to well up in tears, cheeks growing hot as his heart was pounding fast. Running back to the front door he gazed outside. Trying to see if maybe she was out there. But his hopes were crushed again. He was alone. The young boy would crouch in the doorway, his knees pressing up against his chest as his head lowered. Soft sobbing sounds bubbled up in his throat as the tears were now uncontrollable. The liquid from his eyes dripping down his face and onto his hands that he had propped up against his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to convince himself this was all a dream.
This was all a dream.
As he opened his eyes again he noticed the sun was already at the horizon line, already fading out from the sky. He had lost track of time, sitting there in his sorrows and letting his mind wander in its fear. The tears Haze had been crying were dried and stained against his face. And as he gazed out into the field one last time he saw something. A young girl with pure white hair like Haze’s, was walking along the path that had lead from the forest. His silver eyes widened as he couldn't believe it, it was his sister. Without so much of another thought he darted from the doorway, beginning to run as fast as his little legs could take him. His breath heaving and hitching as he stumbled forward and scraped his knee against the ground. But even through the pain he got up quickly again. Reaching the girl within moments and throwing his arms around her.
“Haze, what's wrong?” Angel said softly. A little shocked by the sudden attention.
The boy didn't look up, only stuffing his face deeply against the girl. Clutching his hands tightly against her. Angel frowned, looking a bit sad to see her brother in such a state “Did you forget I was going into town?” she said softly, placing her hand against the top of his head “I told you just before you fell asleep under the tree that I would be back by sunset”.
That was right, Haze now remembered the words his sister had spoken to him before he had drifted off. By why had he forgotten? Shaking his head he lifted up his gaze to look at his sister’s smiling face. The girl would crouch down to be eye level with him, taking one of her hands to softly wipe it against his cheek “Don't cry Haze” she would say. The boy would shuffle and shift his feet, looking down at his fidgeting hands before opening his mouth. Again his efforts to speak were futile in that moment and he quickly snapped his mouth shut as to not embarrass himself in front of his sister. This would cause the girl to smile, patting his head once more. But he didn't want that, and so pouting he tried one more time “D-d..dont.. l-leave me” he would say. His eyes snapping up to look at her, all glassy and full with fear. Angel’s heart would almost drop from this sight, tightly hugging her arms around her younger brother she’d comfort him; his eyes closing in the process. “I promise I wont ever leave” she said, rocking him gently back and fourth.
And then as she pulled away Haze would feel something wrap around his neck loosely, his eyes slowly prying open to look down. Seeing a vibrant color of scarlet. It was a scarf. It was very warm and comforting as it wrapped around him. It smelled of her. His eyes trailed back up to look at his sister, a smile spread across his face “I knew you always got embarrassed when you tried to speak, so I got you this to help. Whenever you feel afraid or vulnerable all you have to do is pull this over your mouth” she said, and showed him by pulling it up over his mouth.
“And let it remind you that I’m always here with you” Angel would lastly say, placing her hand against his chest where his heart was beating softly.
And in that moment he knew he would never be alone.
◆◆◆
Haze would open his eyes, now back in the chamber the memory that had come to him still lingering in his mind. His silver eyes focused on his reflection, seeing the vibrant red still hung around his neck. Taking his free hand he would bring it up to the soft material, touching it in between his fingers for a moment before pulling it over his mouth like he had been shown all those years ago. How could he ever forget his sister. He knew that deep down he was doing this for her, even if he couldn't remember much of anything else, wherever she was... whatever had happened to her… she was always with him.
Reaching his hand deeper into the water his fingertips traced along the weapon that had called out to him. Pulling back his gaze would lay upon it.
Of all the people he thought would be called to be promoted, he was not one of them. Ridon was scared, Ridon hid himself away to keep himself alive. Even though he was alright with his death at the hands of the Horsemen, and he'd great death like an old friend when he got there, it didn't mean he didn't want to live. Yet because of this, he often did cowardly things, hiding behind the curtains and haybales and all manor of other things. He helped people, yes, and he tried t heal them as best he could, but he was not glory worthy. He was not built for battle or for saving cities or the world.
He was just Ridon.
They led him down to the pool. Thousands of beautiful weapons he couldn't hardly hope to wield lay among the pool. Yet as beautiful as they were, none of the once close to shore caught his attention. His eyes were drawn to the back of the pool. Over there. What he wanted was over there. Ridon careful navigated around the side of the pool until he reached the far end. He could see it just under the water, a single ray of hope among all the darkness.
He reached into the pool, fingers disturbing the still surface of the pond.
"I... I can-can't wear th-this. Wh-what will Mo-mother think?" The reflection in the mirror was of a scrawny young girl, with short messy blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She was a small for her age, the simple blue dress hanging from her body in an awkward sort of way. Everything about her was awkward and ungangly and not 'girly' at all. Yet at the same time, he felt comfortable in his skin for once in her life.
"Riri, you look lovely. Besides you're finally being honest with yourself and who you are. She can't look down on you for that," said a lovely girl next to her, with mounds of brown curls and bright green eyes. The other girl tamed the mess of hair on the blonde's head with a few clips, and smoothed out the dress. Ridon knotted fingers into the skirt, trying to hide his eyes behind hhis hair.
"Th-that... Mo-mother has never appro-roved, Primrose." His voice was quiet and full of fear. Ridon was a boy in Mother's eyes, expected to take care of the stables and do boyhood things. While Ridon never minded working in the stables, or even pants, he was well.... her. That's all he was. Seeing himself in a dress and as a proper sort of young lady (as proper as one could get in the village) helped reaffirm that. But just because Primrose said it would be okay, Prim who was always full of light and hope and always saw the best in people, didn't mean it would be.
"Ridon, it will be fine. Let's go out and see---" The door slammed open behind them, and both kids spun around. Ridon's mother was only a few inches taller than he was, but her presence was leagues high. She stared at them for a moment, piercing blue eyes narrowing at Ridon's appearance. He did was he could to look confident in his dress and stand up to her for once.
But it wasn't enough. It never was.
"Ridon you will change out of that this instant! I will not have my son dressing as a girl, no matter how much of a good influence Miss Primrose is on you!" Her voice was loud, booming and Ridon shrank back, already busying himself with the ties and buttons. It was better this way. He'd have a future this way, she'd say. He could have a family, a job to put food on his table. Opportunities abounded for men in the village and the neighboring villages. Why would he want to hurt his chances of a good life, of a better life than this one?
"He's not a---!" Primrose started up, fire in those wonderful eyes of hers. She was spitfire and sunshine, and his only ray of light in this otherwise dreary life. He wasn't about to loose the one person that he adored so much.
"Primrose! It's fine. It's fi-fine. Mo-mother I wasn't go-going out in it. I promise." The boy of fourteen summers turned to face his mother, having pulled the dress up over his head and leaving him in his britches. His mother made a face, emotions flashes between things he could not understand, and nodded. She told them to be down for supper and then left the room.
It was better this way. It was fine. As long as Primrose was with him, he didn't need dresses or hair ribbons. He could handle life. It just wasn't... practical. He was a boy... and he would never be anything but a boy. He saw that now.
It was silly to think otherwise.
His eyes snapped open, fingers curling around as sheet of metal in the water. Yet in the reflection of the water, he saw not a boy, but a girl. A girl scared of what was going on in Camelot, a girl scared to stop living, and a girl so desperately clinging to hope that she couldn't focus. A girl who denied what felt true in her heart for the sake of keeping the peace. Then there was Primrose... how could he forget Primrose. She was his everything, his guiding light among the dark.
He'd forgotten so many things. So many things he should have held onto, should have kept in his mind. Ridon pulled the weapon from the water, disturbing the reflection.
Ridon could not do anything about who he was now - there was no time, not with all that was going on - but he could protect a future of hope.
For Primrose.
Maybe someday... he'd find a dress like that again, and slip into the skin that felt natural and real. There was still hope.
There would always be hope. As long as he fought for it.
OOC
My character's name: Ridon Character's journal link:[ x ] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Ridon is a small boy, with pale skin and fine blonde hair. Light blue eyes sit in a sort of hollow face, and his cloths seem too big for his body. Rank of character Knight Apprentice
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