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 Posted: Fri Jan 04, 2013 12:28 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 04, 2013 11:40 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2013 9:16 am
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King Monroe Markoth
Black Fox of Nabradia
Monroe walked into the throne room, a great hall that could seat nine judges, nine juries, and all the people of the outlying regions if need be. Of course, there were no occasions requiring nine judges, because Monroe believed that the hand of justice should be the king's burden alone. He would sooner determine a murderer's guilt or truth himself and carry out the execution by his own sword than leave the man's fate to be decided by clucking hens and layabouts who use their power to obtain riches and extort others in their political warfare. He found no need for nine juries, as he would bear the burden of truth alone. People were fickle, easy to bribe and fool if the price was worth a lie in court. Monroe would prefer to hear the witness himself, look into their eyes and determine whether it was guilt or simply fear. He was very good at discerning truth from falsehood. He found no need to seat the villagers of an outlying region upon the floors because he knew that even the outlying villages were protected from harm. The vast defenses of Markoth were enough to carry out his orders as he pleased with little worry for defense. The defense was well covered.
Today there was no trial, no execution, no commoners scrambling with their cousins about a stolen purse or blessing children. Today would be a day of moderate relaxation. He sought to enjoy the day with the royal family and perhaps entertain some noble guests, it had been quite some time since he had the chance to do either. That is why, with a kinder disposition, rather than the stern disposition of a troubled or burdened king, he accepted his knight in the great hall. He lifted his fingers from underneath his chin and ran them up his cheek, keeping his hand firmly underneath his chin to support his head as he leaned forward on his black and red throne. He looked into the eyes of his knight, The Diamonds of Truth, his family would often call them. There was no need to sort out any truth, but he would still give each and every person central in his great throne room the respect of looking them in the eyes. The highest of royalty, close friends, enemies, and even the common people were equals on the floor of truth.
The knight had done his duty faithfully, as he had for several years under his command. He had worn the black and silver colors of Markoth for about three years and had not once questioned the commands he had given, the trust and honor bound between knight and his king. Markoth tapped his finger against his cheek thoughtfully, he could ask the knight for the eastern horizon, and all of his soldiers would fall in line. He could ask for the liberation of the nations in the other continents, and his people would rush out and do it for him. He had none of these desires, and his reply to his knight simply was, "Sir Krauss, you have patrolled one more hour than was required of you. You had come in early yesterday to cover the sleep of your fellow knight. Leave the patrolling duties to him today, for your next command will be light and simple to carry out. I command you to invite the noble house of Sannoir to the halls of Shadowthorn, it has long been since I have spoken to them and I would enjoy their company. You will find them in the city of Sylsithe in the Vale of Nabradia. Escort them here and you may have the rest of this day to yourself. You may take your leave." The king leaned back and put both of his arms upon the rests and noticed his eldest son walking the corridors. The sisters of Sannoir would be Syx's exact age, he realized and smiled. He remembered the parents of the girls as close friends, it was a terrible year when he had seen them both pass. But in their wake they left the sisters, able girls who were able to run their district on their own accord, in power. |
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Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2013 3:37 pm
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╔══════════════════════════╗
Stella & Addison "The Bloody Twins"
╚══════════════════════════╝
Stella and Addison walks down the hall of the castle.....they passed the other maids through out the hallway, They looked at each other they're trying to find the throne room. They just got jobs to be the new Royal Maids...but, they are no everyday Maids, they're known as The Bloody Twins by the murders they did in the smaller villages but they don't really share that part.
"Stella......you're getting us lost..." Addison says with a huff.
"Well.....it's not like you can get us there faster Addison......." Stella says back
"Well Stella....lead the way...........get us lost more than you already did......" Addison says as she pushes Stella in front of her then crosses her arms
After a several minutes, they finally found their way to the Throne Room. Stella and Addison slowly walked towards the king and prince. "Good evening your majesty" They both said at the same time the both nudged each other. Then they slightly curtsy as they noticed a knight in the same room
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Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2013 4:48 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2013 5:13 pm
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╔══════════════════════════╗
Stella & Addison "The Bloody Twins"
╚══════════════════════════╝
Stella and Addison stood there quietly waiting for the king's first orders for them. They both noticed the knight's gesture. Stella didn't really paid attention and crossed her arms over her chest, Addison did a small curtsy.
"Good evening sir knight.." Addison says with a light giggle.
"Addison.........keep your self together....we're here to get our orders, not fraternizing with others.." Stella says as she elbows Addison.
"Ow........well you could do it without elbowing me...." Addison says as she elbows Stella.
After arguing, they stood straight as they continue to wait for their first orders to do for the king and his royal family.
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Posted: Sun Jan 06, 2013 12:26 am
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King Monroe Markoth
Black Fox of Nabradia
Monroe watched as the young maid twins from Vessalius approached him with light amusement. It was very clear to him which of the twins was in command of the other, though he did not question his service to the throne. There were several orders that they had carried out for him in the past that had proven their value to him. They were good maids and better assassins, though neither of them were knight material. Their childlike, flirtatious behaviors made sure of it, and he liked no secrecy in his court. The secretive nature between the two would not allow them to take knights as brothers, as it was part of the knight's code to hold no secrets, and frankly he did not trust that of them. However, they seemed to enjoy their job as maids to the House of Markoth, among all the other things. Upon the knight's exit from the castle, he drew the girls nearer with a gesture of his hand, ready to hear the news from their latest endeavor with the Bandit King of Archadia.
Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
The Violet Fox walked down the hallway of his family home into the courtyard where several of his personal knights were sparring. Among these knights, there was one that he often called upon as an adviser, Sir Fremont of Cyrsithe, the city that his own family had once come from. Without a word of approval, Sir Fremont, the only knight of his family, had lowered the visor on his helm and had trotted off on his horse, grabbing his customary blue and silver lance and crossing the courtyard, opposite of Syx Markoth. Syx was fully dressed in his slim, shiny black armor. He would not, by principle, wear the silver of his family until he had unhorsed all of his own knights. It was a Markoth belief that if you could not trust, defeat, or unhorse the knights in your service, then you were not worthy to lead them into any form of combat. It was no matter of pride, but rather a matter of respect between a knight and the prince he served. Sir Fremont and Syx, the Violet Fox, had always had deep respect for one another, but Syx Markoth would not allow Sir Fremont to serve him until he learned all he could from him and could best him at the thing he did best. The Joust.
Syx climbed upon the back of his black horse and refused his helmet as he had a thousand times before. He would rather jeopardize his safety for a better view of his enemy. It was in the last moments before impact that he could really pinpoint what movement to make, and the only way to do that was to have full sight of his enemy. Instead, he had a raised neck guard on the right that went up the side of his cheek up to his high Markoth cheekbones and stopped an inch below his pupil. That would be enough to deflect a mistaken lift of the lance. He steadied his horse, a nimble, beautiful thing that was about as agile as her owner. The horse reared and Monroe grabbed his black and purple lance from his servant, Jauffrey. He led the horse forward, lance poised in his arm directly towards the heart of his friendly adversary.
Like a bolt from the gods, the two horses charged across the field towards each other on opposite sides of the median. The pounding of the hoofbeats like thunder as knight and prince closed the distance between each other. With a sudden crack, the lightning struck and both men shattered their lances on the armor of their opponent. The air between them as they passed was swimming with wooden splinters that glanced off their armor and settled on the median and the dirt path. Syx caught his balance quickly and looked behind him at his opponent, who was hanging on by the grip of his left arm to the saddle of his horse. It had been close, but in the end it mattered little, they would have both scored a point and Syx had not unhorsed his mentor. It did not dim his spirits though, he grabbed a lance from his other servant and prepared for another go...
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Posted: Sun Jan 06, 2013 11:22 am
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xxxxxxxxxx✘✔✘x Fate changes faster than the x ∂ є ค т нx ofx ℓ ι ɢ н т...
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx••.¸¸.•ஐxxx You supply the envy... and I'll supply the sριтєஐ•.¸¸.•´´¯`xxxℓ ค ч ℓ ค x ∂ є ℓ ค ¢ я σ ι x
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xx✘✔✘º• The young female warrior walked with poise towards the grand iron doors that protected the realm of the throne room ahead. Her body was adorned by the crimson armor she wore so well, one that was custom made for her to fit the curves of her body. Her mask hugged her neck, the ruffled red fabric soft against her porcelain throat. As she walked, she counted her steps quietly. Despite herself, it was a particularly bad habit to have. She needed to stay sharp, not focus on her footsteps. If she knew one thing it was that bad habits were hard to let go of, especially when controlled by a certain part of your brain. For her, first comes the obsession, then the compulsion. The young woman had left her younger sister Angelica to her own devices, but reluctantly so. Although not much younger than herself, her demeanor made her seem much younger than she actually was. She was too carefree, too eager. Even now Layla worried about her, for she was all she had after all. If anything were to happen... She shook her head. The obsession was kicking in. She was there on official Knight Duty, she was perhaps the youngest one that served in the castle. She loved what she did, it was exciting. Interesting. Dangerous. She had a tendency to attract trouble like an old antique would dust, but that just kept things exciting and fresh in her opinion. What's life without a little danger?
Upon meeting with the large iron door set in stone, she cleared her throat and pushed open the door with a creak and closed it silently behind her in a swift movement. She approached the King, and she inclined her head slightly followed by a graceful and gentle bend of the body that would take the form of a bow. "My Liege." She spoke softly, then glanced up at the other females in the room, but in all honesty didn't care that much. People either hated her or were intimidated by her, she didn't care which. People didn't care enough to try break through her barriers, but that was fine with her. Her ice blue eyes portrayed equanimity, calculation, with a hint of enigmatic mischief that served well in preserving her emotions. People knew what she was capable of. She did one thing particularly well. She seen to it that she never asked questions. Others never asked questions either, which was essentially the Moto of her family. She felt no pride of it, but she needed to do whatever she had to to protect her sister. Of course, straying from the things that would strip her of all self worth altogether. She looked up calmly, eyes on the King. "Anything you need of me, your Highness? I've been so terribly bored lately." She spoke with a small, cheeky and almost inconspicuous grin. She had quite a tongue, anyone who knew her knew that by now. "Ah, my sister told me to give you her regards. She wished to come visit today but she could not." She spoke with a simple earnest expression, and stood patiently waiting for an answer or command that he may give the dark haired female. She certainly had the passion for this, and although not as friendly with the family as she'd like to be she'd still protect them no matter what they came up against. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Sun Jan 06, 2013 12:31 pm
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King Monroe Markoth
Black Fox of Nabradia
Monroe had chuckled at the story that the maid girls told in his ear when he saw the great doors of the throne room open. The throne room was located at the head of the castle, front and center to the entire structure, so that the first thing that was looked upon in the castle, when entering from outside, was the throne room. Though many of his old advisers had told him this was a threat to his security, he cared little. The people of his kingdom had great respect for him and knew how he felt about footpads and assassins, and the ones that would dare try and assassinate would first feel the sting of a blade from the guard so long as he sat on his throne. The few that could get past this would feel the thrust and twist of Thorn, the long black blade that hung by his side.
In from the door walked the youngest of the knights of Markoth, and though she was not the first female to ever serve in combat for Monroe, it was generally irregular for a woman to wear the armor of a Markoth knight. Her armor had been custom made, a gift from a local blacksmith in the town, to fit her slender but curvy frame. It was a deep crimson color, by the girl's request, which he would not deny because he did not question her fealty. She had proven her loyalty to her sister, and that loyalty she shared for her kingdom. Monroe was generally a good judge of character.
He thought about her request for a command and her cheeky tongue. The tongue was one of the quirks he admired about her the most. She was unafraid of her reputation, although she was quick to guard the kingdom's reputation. That was true loyalty. He thought back on how he had little to do today and decided to give her a simple command, "Lady Layla Delacroix, it is a pleasure as always, tell your sister that I look forward upon meeting her again. She is such a kind girl." He gripped his sword beside him, one of his small impulses that he always had, much like one scratches one's head for confusion. "I command you to seek out my son in the courtyard, I believe him to be jousting. It has been awhile since he has had company outside of his circle of knights. Your presence would do him well."
Half a moment after he had given the command, he thought about his son. Syx would often tell him that he enjoyed the Lady Layla's company before, the very few times they shared it, but the king often thought nothing of it. Monroe traced his fingers on the grooves of the throne engravings as he thought. The Lady Layla was a fine knight in his command, but perhaps she would perform better under her son. It would not be the loss of a knight, for she still would answer his commands, but it would be nice for Syx to have a girl in his company. Perhaps that would change the boy's icy disposition. Syx was kind towards those he was familiar with, but the constant presence of other men had roughened his exterior too much. While Layla was not overly feminine in all her traits, she was still a girl nonetheless, and would be a good companion for his company. He would give her this new assignment after she had completed her light mission.
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Posted: Sun Jan 06, 2013 1:39 pm
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xxxxxxxxxx✘✔✘x Fate changes faster than the x ∂ є ค т нx ofx ℓ ι ɢ н т...
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx••.¸¸.•ஐxxx You supply the envy... and I'll supply the sριтєஐ•.¸¸.•´´¯`xxxℓ ค ч ℓ ค x ∂ є ℓ ค ¢ я σ ι x
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xx✘✔✘º• She smiled softly after he spoke, and bowed once more to him. "Consider it done, my Liege. I enjoy a challenge." A smirk formed on her lips. Although she was a little disappointed she didn't get the task to do something wild and adventurous, she was still interested with the nature of the task, it could be... Well, interesting. She was fairly acquainted with Syx, but not alot. They were more at the stage where they knew each-other but would not stop in the middle of the corridor for friendly conversation, besides who had the time? She didn't let people get close to her for a reason, besides her sister. He had the same demeanor as her. She could tell, but he was still quite different- icy, and cold. People like him were easily feared, but she knew all the tricks. She wouldn't be fooled or intimidated so easily, which was the interesting part of the challenge. Of course, she didn't know him all that well. Even so she was excellent at reading people, so she trusted her ability fairly well. She did understand that even the cruelest of people are capable of kindness, sometimes it's all a facade. Still, she would see. She found traits and quirks of the mind rather fascinating. She nodded to the two twins, turned on her heel, and began to walk out of the chamber. As she walked out of the room she closed the door behind her. She began to make her way to the courtyard where the King said Prince Syx jousting.
Ahhh, jousting. She wasn't that fond of the sport since she wasn't that fond of horses, she preferred a manual approach with her sai blades rather than a clash head-on with someone and hope you come out the victor. She preferred using skill, precision and deadliness. Apparently, it was something the royals liked to do. Almost out of instinct, she took her sai blades from their holsters under her skirted armor and began to twist and spin then rather quickly in her hands, skillfully and carefully, but inconspicuously. More of a habit than something she knew consciously she was doing. She simply didn't think. She'd had years of experiences with those, they were her babies. It was often evident to people when she uses them in action, she knew herself she was highly skilled. She flipped the one in her right hand a few times, then put them back into their holsters. She reached the courtyard, and immediately the prince and a knight came into view in the delicate and peaceful arena of the courtyard. She smirked, and walked slowly down the small steps as not to draw too much attention to herself as to no distract them, but nodded to the servants. She leaned casually against a column, ankles crossed. She took out one of her blades and began to run her finger along the tip, twisting it and just in general playing with it, feeling along the intricately designed blade and the soft, woven black material in the hilt. Very high quality, hand crafted. She watched with curiosity, interested to see who would win the joust but she could see it would be over fairly soon. Once it would be over, she would speak. "Keeping sharp are we, my prince?" She spoke casually with a simple grin, eyelids down as she kept her eyes on the sai. She was referring to the fact he seemed to enjoy jousting as often as possible and honing his skills, but she supposed that was a common thing within royals families. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Sun Jan 06, 2013 11:47 pm
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Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
Syx handed his scratched lance over to his servant from atop his horse. The servant ran the lance back to the rack and dashed out of the courtyard to go home. Syx did not like to keep his servants busy when he had no need of them, so he oft let them leave long before their expected time was done. It was little wonder they served him with such haste, respect, and glee. As the servant scampered away, most likely to the tavern first, Syx turned toward his trusted knight, Sir Fremont, who was trotting to the other corner. He had failed to unhorse him repeatedly, but every round was a hit, which was better than how he used to perform with his mentor. He brushed off his shiny black armor, deleting all trace of dirt on his shoulders and breastplate, but the dust that lingered on his left leg betrayed him. No matter, he thought, he would just have one of the servants polish it tomorrow, the armor was due for work anyway and it would give them something more productive to do than clean the courtyard. They usually enjoyed the polishing jobs anyway, for he allowed them to use the indoors for it. No sense in causing unnecessary tiring, he figured, though he knew that most kings and princes virtually ignored their servants. He made a point to acknowledge each of them like they were friends, better to have friends for servants than enemies.
He coolly slid off the side of his horse and left her for the stableboy, and moments later he had made his way out of the courtyard in a calm but unaware matter. He was lost in his thoughts again, like he usually was when he was not jousting. Jousting gave him something other to think about than the troubles he usually carried on his conscience. The intricacy and fine detail in the sport left no room for second thoughts, the speed of the horse, the nimbleness of the horse, the space between opponents, the pinpoint location of the tip of the lance, and the final movement of deception (which was key to Syx's successes). The commoners and other nobles saw two men trying to spear each other, and most knights that played in the joust often just wanted to win for their name and glory. For Syx it was a coping method, a brief respite from the haunting memories of the girl he used to know.
She was fifteen at the time, and he was sixteen. The two of them were well acquainted with each other, having spent hours under the sun together. She was a warm, spirited girl that had a way to breach the citadel of anyone's heart, no matter how thick the walls. She had managed to break through Syx's defenses and capture his attention. King Monroe and his court would often jest that the two would be married in a years time, but the joke was part truth and the court knew it. The two were close and it was hard to deny that they shared light romantic feelings. It was a cold night in October, Syx and Sara (the girl) were returning home to Castle Markoth after visiting a cafe in the center of the city. The two shared no conversation that night over a silly feud that had happened at the cafe over a misplaced ring that had once belonged to her grandfather that she commonly wore on her middle finger. The silence was the reason Syx did not look behind him until it was too late. A known criminal to the state had the girl at knife point, demanding a ransom be paid by her respective family and the House of Markoth of 50 gold pieces. Syx had, at that moment, no money on his person to dissuade the criminal, and wished that he did no harm to the Lady Sara.
He had dashed home and notified the families, who had ordered a number of town guards to take care of the issue, allowing Syx to accompany them and see this conflict put to an end and the criminal to justice. Syx had pleaded with the families to just bring the ransom, and after much discussion, they agreed that the security of the girl was better than the system of justice at that particular moment. A town guard had brought 50 gold pieces to the designated drop point, unaware of the sinister moment awaiting him. As the guard had offered the ransom money to the criminal in return from the girl, the criminal caught the tossed bag, and in noticing the guard had been sent alone, he killed both Sara and the guard.
Syx had, after hearing the news, sunk into a terrible fit of depression and rode out on his black horse that night with no weapon but a lance. Citizens report seeing the young Prince of Markoth dash on horseback towards the criminal, who had been enjoying his spoils at a local tavern. The end of the lance had impaled the criminal through the heart, and as the corpse slid off the end of his choice weapon, Syx had dismounted and stabbed the body 17 times with a rapier. They told tale of how the boy had swore and cried and screamed, and whenever anyone had gotten close to comfort the boy or restrain him, he had threatened them with the sharp end of his blade.
Several days later, when he had awoken from his shock, Syx had found the lost ring on the mantle piece in his room...
Syx walked towards the female knight in the courtyard, who was leaning against a column of marble and shot her a smile. She was one of his father's knights, but she was among his favorites. They did not know each other well, and he had seen her multiple times in training with her sai blades or pacing the corridors. He often wanted to speak with her, but there was always a job for her to be done and he would be in a hurry to attend his lessons. It was a shame, they had gotten along well in the past when they did have small time to talk. Meters before he approached her, he had taken off his black gauntlets to find the right one get caught on his hand, after a little more fiddling he had taken it off to reveal a gold ring. Just like that, he was back to thinking.
His thoughts were quickly put aside when she had greeted him with her usual, friendly cheeky remarks. He realized he probably looked miserable at best and brought his eyes up to look at her face. She wasn't looking anyway, no matter then. "I guess you could say that, though the only thing that has really improved is the artwork on my breastplate." He made a small indication to his breastplate, which was covered in several scratches of little depth. He pulled her hand up, as was courtesy, and kissed the top of her fingers. "Lady Layla." |
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2013 12:14 pm
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xxxxxxxxxx✘✔✘x Fate changes faster than the x ∂ є ค т нx ofx ℓ ι ɢ н т...
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx••.¸¸.•ஐxxx You supply the envy... and I'll supply the sριтєஐ•.¸¸.•´´¯`xxxℓ ค ч ℓ ค x ∂ є ℓ ค ¢ я σ ι x
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xx✘✔✘º• The young woman kept her gaze fixed, her rich eyelashes brushing softly against her upper cheek. Her eyes flickered upwards to meet with the prince's as he approached, an expression of serenity painted upon her pale skin but no real emotion was discernible. Despite being quite young, she was very wise beyond her years, probably why she was anointed so young to serve as a Knight. However grueling experience and hardship did that to a person, the harrowing trials of relying on one's survival instincts to live through a perpetually difficult living situation. She considered herself not a victim, but a survivor of her own means. She glanced back down again at the steel blade in her hand, despite it's tough exterior it was quite light, soft to hold at the hilt. With one swift and simple gesture, as sharp as a clash of silver, the blade was slinked back into her holster. Once he was in front of her, despite her lax and casual demeanor, looked back once more to the prince- as if not looking would be considered rude. Her head was tilted ever so slightly, dark strands of soft, silken hair caressing the side of her face. At his smart comment, she smirked, she admired he at least had a sense of humor, whether he was serious or not. Oh yes, she quite enjoyed hiim.
"I like it, it's innovative to say the least." She replied, but her grin was evanescent as he took her gloved in his and kissed it. Her back straight and chin up, she bowed her head slightly as a sign of acknowledgement and a formal greeting. Even someone as combative as Layla understood social customs and etiquette all too well, for it was common courtesy, really. She was polite. Most of the time, anyway. A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Sir Syx." With the subtle movement of her fore-finger, she brushed away a stray dark tendril that had fallen over her right eye. "Your father thought it wise that I spend some time with you, that I keep you company. I'm not sure why exactly, but I hope to be of use of you, at least." She said, although she was serious, there was always something that betrayed her in her eyes, something mischievous and dark that just begged for trouble. She stared into his own violet eyes, and could tell he was weary. Troubled, perhaps? She could tell too by the way he was standing. Although curious, she decided to leave it for now and simply attend to the duty at hand. It would be beneficial, establishing a sort of camaraderie with the young prince. Of course, if he managed to stick her long enough without being completely turned away by her shelved wickedness that could be easily elicited when the right buttons were pressed. However, she decided to behave. Something she didn't do very well. Now that, would be interesting. They did have alot in common, that much was clear. Perhaps having a companion as complicated as herself would do him the world of good. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2013 1:13 pm
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Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
Syx rubbed a speck of mud that had lingered on his forearm that he must have missed with his left forefinger and brushed the caked dirt off his finger with his other hand. He made sure his hands were clean before he tousled his hair back to its usual free-fall state. It was remarkable to him, and other knights who knew him, that he did not sweat. Ever. He relished the fact that he could touch his hair and it would not be greasy like some of the other servants and knights after doing any kind of menial work or sport. He found it rather disgusting. Syx spotted a long, stray hair that had blown into Layla's face from its kept position. He reached out, despite the courtesies he had been taught in his childhood, and brushed it back out of her bright blue eyes, forgetting for a moment the world and everything in it. STOP! Her face morphed before his eyes and he saw Sara, with the same bright blue eyes. Layla's hair changed to a silvery gold. In truth, not much of a morph happened. They both had soft but angular features, long and not round. They both had a similar, slender body structure (though Layla's was more mature), but here Sara was older, like he was now. Three years into the future and here she was. No she isn't! He pulled back his hand sharply, realizing he had stared off into her eyes, he looked away. The peculiar moment had passed and he had put back on a forced smile. "There is little for me to do today, so if you would like, we could simply spend time together until my father has need of us."
He led the girl up to his room, leading her ahead and gesturing to her that it would only be a moment, he closed the door behind him, leaving her in the hall. He sighed and unstrapped his pauldron and neck guard, tossing them off to the side with his gauntlets, letting them fall with a clatter to the carpeted stone floor. What the f*ck was that? Whatever small attraction there was to the young knight woman had caused something entirely unexpected. Sara had been...dead for three years now, and while the nightmares had stopped within the current year, he had seen her in the light of day. The brooding thoughts would be around for a long time he realized, but his memories and flashes had been over. Why with this girl did it happen again. Layla, he hardly knew...
He walked back out the door in a new black set of clothes. He offered his hand to her like a handle for her to put her hand on top of and looked down into her eyes as if he were searching for something and through a broken voice he said to her, much quieter than was manly or he would have liked, "What would you like to do, Lady Layla?" It was an unusual question for a superior to ask of his subjects, but here he felt no superiority nor inferiority. |
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2013 1:57 pm
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xxxxxxxxxx✘✔✘x Fate changes faster than the x ∂ є ค т нx ofx ℓ ι ɢ н т...
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx••.¸¸.•ஐxxx You supply the envy... and I'll supply the sριтєஐ•.¸¸.•´´¯`xxxℓ ค ч ℓ ค x ∂ є ℓ ค ¢ я σ ι x
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xx✘✔✘º• She watched him curiously as he dusted himself off, ridding himself of all dirt and specks of dust that adorned the dark metal. Only natural she supposed, people liked to keep their armor as clean as possible, depending on how finicky they were of course. She was one of them, for obvious mental reasons she liked to keep her armor in pristine condition. Not many people knew of her OCD, except the King and perhaps a few Nobles. It wasn't that big of a deal to her. She waited quietly, one hand clasped over the other loosely in front of her. Despite the subtlety and seemingly natural movement of his actions, she was completely taken back as he moved out to touch her and brush hair from her face. If it was anyone else she probably would have stabbed them in the arm, but it was so strange, so sudden. She wasn't expecting it at all, she was too shocked to even react. She just stared at him and blinked, eyebrows knitted into a gentle and confused frown. After a moment of penetrating silence, she cleared her throat, and tucked hair behind her ear - a nervous habit of hers. She couldn't help it, it made her uncomfortable. She could tell he hadn't meant to, but he was looking at her strangely. Her suspicion was confirmed when he had brought his hand back with a sharp jolt, suggesting he hadn't even realized he done it in the first place. She watched him, genuinely intrigued now, wondering what went on in his head.
He was acting strangely. Her eyebrow rose slightly as he changed the subject, but never the less decided to move on from the strange occurrence and simply nodded at the male and awaited for any kind of order or request. As he began to leave the courtyard, she followed him. Judging by the route they were taking he was going to his room, presumably he was going to change. Opon reaching the large, stony corridor, she leaned against the wall opposite his room and leaned her head back, and a small sigh escaped her lips. She heard the clatter of his armor as it was cast aside on the stony floor, but paid no attention to it. She waited, patiently tapping her foot against the floor in a slow rhythm. Once he emerged, donned in black as usual, she moved herself from the wall and took a step forwards, but once again was shocked and caught off guard by his sudden gentle disposition. As he held out his hand, she glanced back up to his eyes, and hesitantly placed her hand atop of his, patted it, and removed it again. This time she was smiling. "I paint. I write music, play music. Nothing special." She said with a simple shrug, and feeling vulnerable she hugged her arms out of instinct, as if she could shield herself. "Why do you wish to know?" She asked, light blue eyes gazing up at him in curiosity and astonishment. He was a fascinating creature, she'd definitely need to figure him out. If not, it'd drive her insane. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2013 12:21 am
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Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
Syx lowered his hand after she had taken it and took notice of her unintended smile. It was nice to have someone here that didn't necessarily just want to knock each other around. He watched as she had sunk back to her closed nature, but he didn't mind, he had opened her up a little bit past her knightly disposition, even if it was only for a moment. He counted that as some small form of acceptance and comfort, something he had not known much of outside of his family. He was used to the usual turn and gawk at the boy who killed Bryson Dour (the criminal), the tragic prince, the icy boy who suffered a terrible form of insanity, the boy who stabbed a dead man 17 times in the chest...the list went on. Here, this girl showed nothing of the sort, perhaps it was because she could see past it or was interested enough to try, or maybe she was just another daft noble who wanted to say she had met the tragic Prince of Markoth and he was truly as f*cked up as everyone said he was. He wouldn't blame her if that was her perspective.
In the end, to him, it mattered little what people thought. His knights knew him for who he was, his family knew him for what he was, and even if every relationship he had gotten into since Sara had ended with the prospective girl turning to rumors and assumptions, he felt like maybe there was one girl out there that could see things for what they were. He had hoped that, when it came to the girl before him now, whatever their prospective friendship would become, that he was not wrong in that flash of informal bareness that she had just expressed.
Syx gave her a brief, genuine smile and responded to her with a more sure voice than his weak question before, "Then that is exactly what we are going to do." If his father had ordered her to spend time with him, she might as well enjoy it. He had no idea why his father would waste a knight on...it hit him. Hard. Your father thinks you mad, he sent this girl to check on you. He sent this girl as a pity trip so that you can step out of your icy shell. You are a basket case, and even your father knows that. Syx grew infuriated at that moment, but his back was turned to the girl following him down the corridor. She wouldn't be able to see his anger, and he was glad of that. There was no sense in making her think that he was insane. She probably already had that feeling when you touched her...No. It doesn't matter, who cares what the reasons were for sending her here. No sense in being upset because he sent someone to accompany you, especially her. He knew you enjoyed her company.
With a new strength, he decided to simply enjoy her company. He turned into a room full of murals and gestured inside to her. He called for a servant and arranged for some blank canvases and some paints to be brought in. "I don't mind painting from time to time, though I am not the greatest. I feel that music is a little more personal, let us share that when we get more acquainted." The servants flooded into the room with the materials, setting them around Syx and Layla. He smiled gently at her and moved some chairs up to the blank canvases, only a few feet across from each other. Syx sat down in front of one of the canvases, inviting Layla to sit across from him and paint something of her own. He grabbed a brush and began painting a scene on the canvas not knowing what he was drawing, simply creating a backdrop for whatever he would eventually draw. It was a vivid scene of a pond in the Vale of Nabradia at night, but there was still something missing...
He realized that it probably wasn't often that she had taken orders to spend time for recreational purposes. Laughing to himself about the situation, he decided to try and develop whatever common ground he could with her. He began to ask her questions about her childhood, treading carefully not to pry too far into her personal history. While listening to her speak, Syx finally realized what he was painting and smiled a little to himself. It was probably his best work yet.
Princess Liliana Markoth
Daughter of Nabradia 
Liliana scampered the halls in a mischievous spur of the moment, looking for whatever trouble she could get herself into. She was thinking about maybe releasing one of the foxes in the kitchen, maybe snatching a wooden spoon from one of the cooks, or if she was feeling daring enough, perhaps stealing into Oliver's room to take one of his precious silver coins and hide it somewhere out of sight. That would put the hot-headed boy into a stupor. She dashed for Oliver's room, bumping into a servant along the way who was carrying a stack of art canvases. "SORRY!" She exclaimed behind her as the serving boy cussed silently to himself. She giggled and continued on her quest until she stopped dead in her tracks. She heard some voices, voices she was generally unfamiliar with. Liliana's eyes widened when she recognized one of them and she slowly crept up against a door that was left ajar, peering inside to satisfy her curiosity. The lower voice belonged to her older brother and he was...laughing? She saw her brother, clad in his usual black colors holding a paintbrush and looking around his canvas at the person across from him. That was unusual, he normally did not keep company, let alone spend time painting. She looked at the canvas and allowed a gentle smile to form around the corners of her mouth, turning away before anyone could take notice of her presence and continuing on her little adventure. Oliver will be so pissed off... She smirked and hastened into a mad dash for her little brother's room. |
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