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 Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 4:34 pm
A friendly face. An RP featuring Neonmace's Blaithe and kotaline's Hopkin. The place is Anica and the time is evening. The weather is cold for early summer, and light snow is still on the ground. Outside there's a freezing hail, and all wise wanderers are waiting out the weather.
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 7:02 pm
The sound of hail and scritching on parchment were the only noises in the small space Hopkin had set up for himself in the Mage headquarters at Anica. Normally he didn't necessarily have to have silence to copy things accurately, but he was easily distracted by the unknown, and he had never been required to copy something quite as large as the manuscript they had prepared for the Grand Magus in such a short frame of time before. Wickwright, however, was keen to get going, as they still had their own affairs to attend to and now that his own part of this scientist business was done, he was eager to get a move on. Thus, Hopkin had requested to be as alone as possible, but even then he still heard passing voices, and occasionally, someone came to watch him work. Wickwright had commented that the mages probably didn't fully trust them, but that was okay, since he had then told Hopkin not to fully trust the mages. After the story about Obscuvians infiltrating the Fellowship, Hopkin didn't need telling twice. As Wickwright had said, a new Grand Magus didn't necessarily mean a completely new start, and Hopkin felt a little knot of worry in his stomach every time a mage glanced at him.
However, they were not entirely bad, these mages. Sir Sloane was most colourful, and his hair especially made Hopkin glad inside, though his asymmetrical face was terribly alarming, and he was in no way delicate. Still, Hopkin hoped ardently that he would have hair half as fine as the Grand Magus's sword did when he grew. It was unlike any he had ever seen, even better than Dorian Arelgren's, and as Hopkin copied Wickwright's meticulous illustrations, he hoped that Wickwright would illuminate a picture of Sir Sloane once they left. He wanted tremendously to use the bright red ink to make a copy.
Looking up from the copy he was making now, he applied drying powder on his finished page. It was exactly the same as the original, which was as it should be. Though Hopkin could not invent, he could copy faithfully, and he felt a tiny swell of pride. Wickwright would be pleased.
He glanced outside. No one had stopped by in a long while, and though he did not trust the mages, it was frustrating to be in a new place and be unable to explore it. Hopkin, despite his commendable task, was getting restless.
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Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 9:56 am
While her stay in Anica was definitely what she needed, Blaithe found herself leaving the company of Sloane's 'children' more and more as days passed. The time away from her Grimm proved healthy, but in her mind the man was more than grateful to get rid of such a pest. Even just thinking about him would make her chest tight so she did her best to try and be happy for Sloane. Still, it was difficult at times -- to be happy when you're not. Giving off a soft sigh, Blaithe clung to Hero's soft fur as he padded along through the long halls in the base they were residing in. It was very similar to Northern base, but there was a difference in atmosphere and also slightly in size. Traveling the halls didn't seem to take as long, nor did they seem as large, but at the same time she had a new companion with her to make walking simple. Hero didn't mind, he seemed happy to help.
There was a lonely feeling in this place; just as cold as the home she had originally made herself but... far more lonely. Sure, Blaithe had friends with those that stayed with Sloane, and of course Sloane, himself; well, maybe it was just her. She missed her bell friends and she missed when Jin-Ho still loved her.
How were the bells doing, anyway...?
Hero stopped, his ears twitching and his tail swaying. Blaithe couldn't hear what it was that stopped him, but she stayed silent as well, pressing herself against the cat's warm fur. The cat lowered himself, slowly pawing his way forward. Whatever it was he was hearing could now be smelled, causing Blaithe to raise her head in curiosity. Something new, and something almost inviting. Fresh parchment and ink, mixed ever so carefully with the strong taint of death.
While at once, she would have been ecstatic to meet a new friend, this new feeling was far less pleasant. Blaithe could feel a heavy pit form in her stomach. Hero continued onward, still stalking in his careful way, while the Excito's worry grew. She was in no position for friends, and in all honesty she wasn't in the mood. She was still overcome with the anxiety of being away from her Grimm and the feelings of abandonment, and while friends were a generally wanted thing she was scared of being unwelcomed into another's life.
Yet still, Hero slid forth, hunting out the welcoming scent of death.
The sounds of scratching on parchment was now obvious even to Blaithe as they slinked up closer to the door, the two creeping in through the shadows. The smell of ink and paper was now too great as the tiny Plague stared at the busily working Phasmas on the table. Another one of her, just like Clurie. Attracted to his smell, she was too enthralled to realize she stuck out in the shadows like a sore thumb.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 3:36 am
Reluctantly, Hopkin began to pull out a new sheet of parchment, sticking his ink stained fingers in his mouth first so he would not inadvertently mark the clean page. There was a brighter glow from his mouth for several moments, and then he withdrew his hands clean, smacking his bronzey lips with a soft clicking sound. Ink was tasty to clean up, and he thought it was perhaps quite the best flavour he had ever sampled. This worried him, since ink was patently not a comestible commodity, and thus should not taste better than real food. He supposed it was a flaw in his nature, and thus, though the ink was palatable, it gave him no small amount of distress. As a book, he thought, he would not have enjoyed ink so much. As a Plague, he was corrupted and thus took pleasure in nonsensical things whether he willed it or not.
He did not mention liking ink to anybody. It was something he found great shame in.
The next page was in front of him now though, and to redeem himself, he dipped his quill again and set himself to hard labour. Soon, the skeleton of the next part of Wickwright's narrative appeared, and Hopkin's mouth drew itself into a thin white line as he concentrated on it. However, he had to pause to clean his hands again, and this time he tried very hard not to think of the taste as he stuck them in his mouth, looking at every other thing in the room and forcing his mind to wander.
It was in this manner that he first discovered he was being watched, almost biting down on his own hands in surprise at the sight of a cat phasmas and something else, he did not know what, but something very charmingly bright. Attention caught, he found himself more distracted than he ought to be, but with such a pretty thing in front of him, he could not simply return to his work. He lowered himself from his working space to approach the two carefully, far more occupied with the colourful and pretty one than the cat. It was a black cat, not eye appealing or particularly well designed. He did not like cats anyway, and could take or leave such a dull phasmas.
"Hello," he stated to the very pretty thing, "What are you? For what purpose do you watch me?" A terrible thought occured to him. Wickwright had said not to trust the mages. "Are you an Obscuvian traitor? I doubt that you could be, for I imagine that all Obscuvians are perversions of the truth, and thus hideous, but if you are, I must inform you that I am not allowed to associate with Obscuvians at all, and would thus appreciate for you to leave."
That should settle the matter. He had to obey Wickwright and distrust the mages, but this colourful thing was hardly likely to be bad when it was so aesthetically pleasing, and if it confirmed that it meant him no harm, surely that would satisfy even his Grimm.
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Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 11:18 am
Hero took a small step back upon the Phasmas’ approach, though not out of fear. As he stepped back, it had put Blaithe just the slightest bit away from the inquisitive one as if to protect her. Neither he nor Blaithe felt that the Excito was malicious, but the cat had been trained to be distrustful and protective over his new owner by the Grimm himself.
The brush, on the other hand, found herself a temporary loss for words as she was encircled by the scent of tainted pages that emitted from the larger Phasmas’ form. A frown tugged gently at her bright, pink mouth at the accusation, the mere idea of being part of the Cult an insult in of itself. They were the whole reason any of the horrible things between her and her Grimm had even happened, and without much effort the seed of dislike had been sown for the group. More than that, however, being called an Obscuvian by such an inviting individual stung.
”I… I am Blaithe. I don’t associate with the Obscuvians,” she stated, attempting to sit up straight as she held tightly to Hero’s fur for support. His effortless compliments would have put a blush to the girl’s cheek, had she actually had blood flowing throughout her system, but instead it gave her a comfortable, content feeling.
She would have dismounted her feline steed had it not been for the fact her wooden leg had yet to be replaced, leaving her with a large gap between her knee and the floor below. Hero served as her legs at the absence of the bells, which would usually carry her at a much more comfortable height. Blaithe couldn’t complain, given that the cat was sent out of what she liked to assume was love from her Grimm. Instead of hopping off, however, she lowered herself against Hero’s pelt as she extended a hand toward her new companion; something she had learned from the humans she met.
Clearing her throat, Blaithe sat back upright on her furry throne. ”I watch because you’re interesting,” she said as her nonexistent eyes rested on his form. ”Are you paper? You smell like an old book, it smells good!” For the first time in a while, she found herself lost in excitement as she spoke. It had been a very, very long time since she had seen another Excito (other than Sir Sloane’s stunted, of course), and it was certainly welcomed company. ”And if you’re not allowed to associate with the Obscuvians, then that means you’re a good guy, right?” she asked, pointing to the blackened claw marks that had been given to her by the rose.
At this point, Hero had knelt down far enough to let Blaithe off, lying on his side once she hopped off to give her a proper back rest. He was still wary of the book, but in truth he didn’t seem to be up to any trouble, allowing the cat to rest. The brush took a seat on one of his paws so she could be closer to eye level with her new friend, given her small stature. ”Where does that mean you’re from?”
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