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 Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 10:26 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• Layla waited. She shifted her weight on her right foot, then balanced herself out again a few seconds later. She often felt the need to move when she stood still, but that wasn't always the case. Sometimes she became so compelled that moving seemed a useless gesture, like a few moments ago. It was hard to make her feel uncomfortable, but right now she was more composed and had a somewhat stoic disposition, which wasn't uncommon for her. People often found that with her, her personality was hard to lock down and describe, which was a good thing. To others, not so much. Although, what he said next sent a jolt through her spine. That made her uncomfortable, it would be strange painting in front of another person, especially the prince of Markoth no less, his father a man she serves. A good man, no less. She hadn't become all that acquainted with his two siblings either, but she knew the female was the age of her sister and was quite the deviant. The younger one she'd never spoken to. Realizing she didn't actually care about such trivial things, she cleared her mind and followed the male up the hallway. It was strange, but she felt like she was being pulled along like on a leash. He was probably use to it, since after all he was more or less being forced to spent time with her. Not like it mattered to her, she was up for anything. Improving relationships usually resulted in good things. Good things were things she certainly wasn't use to.
But lucky for her, her mind had a new puzzle to decipher. Although she didn't know him all that well, he had a strange demeanor today. He was acting oddly, emotions shifting, seeming progressively uncomfortable. She could see however he was making an effort. It brought her back to the situation with the thug, a story she knew a little but she didn't bother with the gory details. Everyone had made an exceptionally large deal about it, something she couldn't wrap her pretty little head around. What was the big deal? So he stabbed a guy. Repeatedly. A shiver snaked up her neck, causing her to flinch slightly and shake her head when she began reflecting on her own reasons for similar acts. Her mind became flooded with memories, which made it painfully difficult to think about anything else because of her illness. They just played over, and over, and over and over again her head until she wanted to kill herself. His back was to her so he wouldn't notice, thankfully. At least he had a reason. She was at the opposite end of the stick, for what she used to do for a living was nothing compared to that. She was fairly certain the only person who knew of her past endeavors was the king, but he knew it was something she tried not to dwell on so she hoped it remained a relative secret. Secret putting it lightly. She was in the background and never the spotlight, she needed to keep it that way. Many people wanted her dead, but she needed to protect her sister. She'd do anything for her, obviously. Killing was a sport, for fun. For money. How sinister and twisted does that make her along side someone who killed for revenge? She tried to convince herself it was to provide for her sister, but she knew that wasn't the case. It was something more than that. She didn't see the logic, but thinking about it made her irritated. Her past had shaped her into the dark, wicked creature she was today. It was true still waters ran deep, but for her, the still water was as black as death and ran deeper than that into the abyss.
Her mouth twisted into a slight frown, she followed him into the room, watching the servants dart around with equipment, but had her eyes on Syx. When we get more acquainted. Would they get more acquainted? A part of her loved to chase down and kill any relationship she had with people out of sheer "destructive" tenancies, while the other part longed for human contact and a meaningful bond... But was it possible? She doubted it would get that far, her shell was simply too hard to crack. She nodded regardless, and sat down opposite him, staring blankly at the canvass in front her. She had to admit it was weird. A knight, and a prince, painting. Together. As much as she enjoyed straying from the rules, she couldn't shake an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Outside she heard a crash; canvases, jars of paint and other miscellaneous art supplies fell with a crash to the ground. She couldn't see, but she recognized the sound of artistic equipment falling to the ground all too well, it was something she heard almost everyday. "Painting isn't about skill, it's about passion."' She said simply, because it was the truth. There was no thought needed for that. She did enjoy his company, just not in such a controlled work environment. For him, he'd be more comfortable. For her it was different. She lifted a brush and began to play with it, trying to think of something she could paint. He had asked her about her childhood, and she hesitated in her answer. Forgetting the order to spend time with him, she decided to actually enjoy his company and put aside all forms of social restrictions. Just two people, becoming better friends. After coming to that decision, the tightness in her chest and stomach became evanescent. She smiled softly, the paint brush in her right hand dipping into first a black color, then a white. "My childhood was fine. Nothing special about it, really," she spoke absently, her blue eyes glazed over with concentration. She was a good liar. She often lost herself in a painting, nothing else mattered then. All traces of discomfort vanished. With languid motions, she painted over the board. Black with slashes of white, then moved to the darkest blue and mixed it with black.
•º✘✔✘
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 11:26 am
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King Monroe Markoth
Black Fox of Nabradia
King Monroe rose from his black and red throne of thorns and stretched his arms out. The throne was uncomfortable at best, let alone to sit in it for several hours. It was now dusk and the sky, he could see through the windows above, was a bright crimson color. The color of blood. His superstition was light, but something bode ill about a red sky. Even if nothing bad was happening in his kingdom, there was plenty of terrible things happening in other kingdoms. He decided to retire to his chamber a little earlier than usual. Hopefully the ladies of Sannoir would be coming tomorrow, he would then see about introducing his son to them. It was about time he had gotten over the damned girl and it was time for him to take in someone new. The kingdom did not sleep for the family of Markoth, and Syx was no exception. Eventually he would need to take the throne and a bride at his side.
On his path to his chamber, he heard the sounds of anger and excitement around the corner. The hissing voice came as no surprise to him, it was more than likely that Liliana had aroused the wrath of the Prince of Spiders. His son, Oliver, he knew to be wicked and deceitful, but nothing he had done as a king or father warranted his behavior. It was likely one of the old Nabradian servants that twisted and warped his mind. If it hadn't been for the pleading of Narcisa, his wife, Oliver would have been given a private cell where he could sort out his anger in the kingdom jail for several of the inhuman things he had done. He remembered how Oliver had been given the name Cat-Killer by some of the commoners, and he had witnessed the event once himself, but strangely, after he had killed some of the cats in the kingdom, the other cats would simply follow him, and when he gave them an order, they would fall in line and do so. He nearly feared his son, for what was a father to do against his wife's word. He would dare not usurp her authority, much like how she had respected his. It was a mutual relationship of respect and love, he knew, but the woman was too compassionate. He would send his damned son to Hell early if he could, and that did not come easy for him to say.
He passed the room of murals, briefly turning his head as he walked, and after catching the unusual glimpse, he had turned back and stood inside the frame of the door. His son was sitting in front of a canvas, and across him was the female knight he had directed to accompany him. He did not know his son for an artist, as Syx spent very little time outside of the courtyard, where he had expected he would be. Instead, here was the young prince, enjoying the company of the Lady Layla. His mind was made. He stepped further into the room, paying no attention to the artwork in respect of his son and stood alongside the two, who were so deep in concentration they seemed not to notice, though when he approached, both kept one eye locked on him. He beckoned the young female knight in his direction, "Lady Layla, if you would come with me." After the two were in his private chamber, he looked at the girl for a few seconds, studying her face before speaking. "You have a new assignment, one that requires more trust than I have given many knights." He gestured her to sit before him on the opposite couch and poured himself and her a small glass of old wine. "I place you in the charge of Syx MarKoth, my son, until I give you separate orders. I would like you to keep him company wherever he goes. It won't be long until I will have need of him to lead a charge on a group of cutthroat bandits that have spent too much time festering in the outlying regions of Markoth. He is strong, and a fiercer fighter than any knight that I have seen, so I trust that he will do well to lead a small party to ambush these bandits, though I do not wish for him to lead this charge without a knight that I can trust. He is the only son worthy to lead this kingdom, for my other son is nothing more than a reclusive spider, and I need to know he will be safe. I would sooner put a peasant child on the throne before my other son." He drank a sip of the wine and looked back at up at her. "It has been a long time since he had willingly accepted a girl's company since the death of his last flame. For no other reason, I have given you this trust, and I wish to see Syx put his life back together. Would you accept the honor of guarding my son, like you would your sister, until death?"
He knew it was a lot to ask of her, and he could simply make it a command, but he was a fair and just king that despised thoughtless command. If he did not have the full undying support of his comrades, who would he dare trust? |
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 12:44 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• Layla allowed herself to succumb to her wild imagination and delve into a world on her canvas, vivid and dark. She had painted a moon-lit lake, mainly she enjoyed the night and the serenity and equanimity that came with the lakes. It empowered her, and it just make her feel more comfortable, and well, happy. The waters were a deep, dark black, with light blue ripples that reflected off the moon's gleaming silver rays. Everything was washed down in the palest blue, the trees surrounding a dark mossy green that seemed to stretch on endlessly into another world beyond the painting, the darkness beckoning you closer. So focused on what she was doing, blending colors and maneuvering the brush as if it were a wand, she hadn't noticed King Monroe lingering in the doorway. She flushed, feeling guilty for allowing herself to get so engrossed in what she was doing but quickly got over it, it was business time. As much as she respected the Royal family, she still didn't care what anyone thought of her. When he addressed her, she put down the brush, nodded briefly to Syx, then followed the King out of the door and down the hallway.
He brought her to his private chambers, and sat down opposite him as he had gestured. She leaned back against the chair and crossed her legs, even as he poured her a glass of wine she simply nodded and raised the glass as a thank you. She took a small sip as he began to speak. She couldn't help but think how sweet it tasted, old. Vintage. She cleared her throat and set the glass down, looking at him intently with her light blue eyes and listening carefully, nodding as he spoke. She already knew he was a fierce warrior, that she could tell by the power than emanated through his eyes, and his skills when it came to jousting so it was no surprise. She was slightly surprised when he asked her to take over as his guardian, she had been a personal knight of the King for two years. Despite how comfortable she was, it was a job and she was to accept any order no matter what. She couldn't help but feel excitement, if she took the offer there was a strong possibility she could get more fieldwork which is what she'd been craving. She continued to listen, about his former flame, his unwilling desire to be around females, and she nodded. She understood, she did. It only meant perhaps the two could get along better, become closer and better allies and in the end - partners in battle. That was what her combative, belligerent nature demanded and screamed for. A chance to truly let loose and fight. She was feeling a mixture of emotions, honor that he trusted her, excitement, curiosity and anxiety. Even so she ignored all them, and took a gulp of her wine. "Yes, of course my liege. You can trust me to take this task, I would be honored to assist you in anyway possible." At this point she stood up and bowed to the King, a genuine bow. It showed that she not only appreciated the offer, but she was excited for the opportunities it may bring. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 3:15 pm
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Princess Liliana Markoth
Daughter of Nabradia
Liliana laughed as her craven brother chased her down the hallway. The thrill of running was always a favorite of hers, the sharp intake of air for breath, the speed and motion blur, and the ground covered in mere seconds. The only person who may be able to beat her at running was her older brother, but Oliver was lame. None of her friends would dare tell her he was lame, but she knew that was just to protect their noble hides from insulting royalty. She understood and said nothing when her friends tried to argue that he was normal. Why else did Oliver always steal silver spoons from the kitchen, silver medallions from people poorer than him, and golden candle holders? He stashed them in his room, she knew, perhaps to satisfy some need for comfort from shiny objects. It was quite queer, she believed, but nobody said a thing about it, lest of all her mother. That was why she found great amusement in telling him so today. She hadn't needed to take a thing. She smiled and darted down a smaller, darker corridor, swinging up and above to press herself between walls high above her brother's notice.
As he ran past where she now hung, cussing and demanding repentance, she crawled slowly in the opposite direction, sliding slowly down the stone walls, using a torch sconce as a grip on her way down. Fortunately the torches weren't lit in this corridor. She heard a bloodcurdling scream and she dashed in the opposite direction from her brother. That oughta teach him not to insult Syx...
Prince Oliver Markoth
The Spider Prince
He muttered some curses to himself, the youngest of the tree of Markoth. He wished to be like the Dragonmind, a true hero of Nabradia, not like his stupid family, much less like his stupid brother. Why does Syx have to be the next king? He wondered such things in his anger as he chased his b*tch sister down the hall. How dare she call him lame! Let her burn in the fires of the Nabradian Dragon! He roared like a dragon as he chased her around the corner into the dark corridor. Dark. Darker than dark. He reached out in front of him as he tripped and his hand touched something hard on the ground that felt like the icy fang of a Markoth wraith. Cuss F*ck! It swearm to kill me, the impudence! He let out a shrill scream in the darkness, hearing the echo reverberate in the hallway and back into his ear. The sound made him want to scream, but he was smarter than that, smarter than his brother, his sister, his mother and his father. He was as smart as Cyr the Dragonmind. Cyr the Dragonmind wouldn't scream if it hurt his ears, no he would stop and he would think and he would breathe a chain of fire and he would make his way out. He crawled for the light, staying low to the ground so the wraiths wouldn't see him. When he finally reached the light, he had forgotten about his sister and sought the company of Jovial, the Cook. Yes, Jovial knew he was the Dragonmind.
Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
Syx walked into the room as he was summoned by his father. A large servant had humbly told him that his king father wished for his presence in his chamber. He moved swiftly through the corridor, gesturing for the same servant to put his painting in his room. As he approached his chamber, he saw his father sitting across from Layla. He stood alongside Layla and placed an unintended hand on the couch right next to her shoulder, brushing her shoulder accidentally with his finger. He was very conscious of touching other people, as he oft saw it rude, and immediately he placed his hand back down against his hip. He listened as his father described Layla's change of service and nodded. His father put Layla through all the various motions to exchange service, and when they were done, Syx ushered her back into the hallway, offering her the room next to his. His father had reserved that room for a personal servant of Syx, but Syx constantly refused a personal servant. Now at least the room had a use instead of being just a wasted empty room with an unclaimed queen-sized bed and hearth. Why not Layla? If she was going to be his personal guard, she might as well have the best conditions he had to offer. He didn't want a personal guard, but if his father decreed it, there was no room for argument. After all, it was the Lady Layla, not the fool Sir Boyard his father had wanted a year ago. He turned back to her before he turned into his room, "A good night to you, Lady Layla." He smiled gently, eyes on hers and bowed his head. He closed the door in front of him and took a golden ring off his finger, setting it on the mantle piece, the same place he had found it years ago, as he had every night. A good night to you too, Sara. |
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Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 4:57 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• Layla sat on the plush, velvet sofa, nodding along as the King gave her his instructions. Basic stuff, really. She was now Syx's personal guard, so she needed to be by his side pretty much 24/7. Since it was the job she didn't mind, but it would definitely take them both a while to adjust to it. Her head turned as the door opened, and in came Syx. She turned away again, focused on the King, if she noticed he lightly grazed her shoulder then she hadn't reacted to his touch. She took another quick sip of wine - she'd probably need it to sleep that night. So engrossed in what he was saying, she had forgotten Syx was even in the room. But Alas, the King had finished explaining everything. She cleared her throat and stood up, and bowed politely to the King. No words spoken, no words necessary. She moved to follow Syx as he ushered her out the door, and he led her to the room beside his. She stopped dead in her tracks. They want me to stay, here? In the castle? It made sense. He needed 24/7 protection, right? "Good night, Sir Syx," She waited until he was in his room, the gentle click of the door reassuring her to ponder the situation. She couldn't leave her sister alone, not in this Kingdom. She was only sixteen and couldn't defend herself. Plus, they were still after her... She shook her head and pushed open the door with a creak and looked inside.
The room was of a substantial size, nice, dark and her taste. The bed was fairly large, and she took an immediate liking to the room. It was nice, but... She shook her head, left the room and closed it behind her. It was dark out, not too dark. As she hurried down the hall, silently, she spotted the King leaving his chambers. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, slowed down her pace and simply nodded to him solemnly. He'd know where she was going, he knew what she had to do. She took off again until she got to the ground floor of the castle, and escaped out the back through a different door from the main, surrounded immediately by darkness and a soft, gentle breeze. She broke into a run as she sprinted away from the castle. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 6:39 pm
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Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
Syx lied alone in his bed, staring aside him to the still burning hearth to his left. The coals were low, the embers red and hot, and small tongues of flame lapped up at the remaining piece of log that stuck up from the ashes. Ashes. He stared deep into them, trying to find some odd celestial meaning to anything he could find in his life, a higher purpose that Sara had died, or a better reason that he was first in line to the throne. It wasn't a thought that compelled him to desire like other men. He knew he would enjoy the power, but he would be a servant to the people, and that was all he had ever done in life, serve. He took no issue with this, for he had no desire to be pampered, but he didn't want to serve. Of course, if he had it his way, he would likely live his life with Sara somewhere in the Vale of Nabradia, aside from all the politics and hardships of the higher class. But the truth of life flickered back at him with a small burst of combustion in the hearth. Sara was dead and he was a prince. There was no escaping either fate.
Fate would have him serve a great many ungrateful people, people who may respect his father and fear the passed Dragonmind, but a fickle and cruel people nonetheless. He knew he was the subject of fantasy in the eyes of many young common and noble women and boys, a hero astride a great black stallion equipped with nothing but a lance charging into combat. The other half of the populace saw him as a lunatic, as icy with a disposition as cold as the Misty Fields of Arkhyne. There were many rumors suggesting the likes that he was a eunuch or homosexual for having turned down the many pretty noble girls of Markoth, still unattached as a nineteen year old. He simply didn't care for any of them. He still had his attractions for a few of them, but he had no desire to wed and bed them as they had hoped. Besides, Sara had always stood in the way. It was strange how Sara had found acceptance in Layla, took her form even. He was used to her other strange antics, such as pacing around a girl she did not approve of or shaking her head behind the prospective girlfriend. All the little gentle ladies Sara would disapprove of, but a knight that would soon become his protector, she seemed to find some form of agreement. When Sara had come out in her face, the eyes were almost entrancing. He shook the thought out of his head. Layla may be a lady, a beautiful one at that, but she was also a knight, and there was no room for consort there. His heart sank a little at the notion. A girl that Sara had finally approved of, and business entanglements would see them apart.
Syx turned away from the flames, rolling his head slowly over until he saw a large pair of bright, crystal-white eyes before him. He smiled and touched her porcelain features, running his fingers down her temple to her jaw. On rare nights, Sara would visit him in her ethereal form. Maybe it was because he was an Esper, or maybe it was because he was a Markoth, though he never dared to ask his father anything that might suggest insanity on his part. There were many people who claimed that the Markoth family were wraiths from the Misty Fields of Arkhyne, and that would help explain some many strange things that happen, but he wouldn't ask that of his father either. He lied there, admiring the little features in Sara's face. She moved her face closer and brought her tiny red lips to his ear whispering something in a strange language, but he could hear it. Her words were airy as her breath, and the feel of her was colder than ice or any of the places in Symeria Syx had visited in his childhood, but he did not shiver, in fact he found it comforting. He understood everything and nodded, smiling. Things were going to be okay. Syx pulled her in and kissed her soft, freezing lips. Her taste was sweeter in death than the little pecks they had shared in life. Without a sound more than a soft inhale, she was gone. He was not sad upon her leaving him, if what she had said was true, he turned around in his bed and the hearth was no longer burning, little specks of frost had come off of it and the tendrils of a ghostly presence slowly wavered op the chimney and out of sight. He rolled around once more and looked through where her face once was, seeing his most recent portrait. Curious. |
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 9:58 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• Layla, being the odd specimen she was challenged herself and entered the castle through her window, opening and closing it with a silent click and she leaped over the boundary and into the embrace of her new room. She didn't have a chance to look around, so she decided to do that now. As she closed the window it slammed louder than she was expecting it to, but she hoped the sound of her leaping into the room was muted by the soft muffle of the carpet. If Syx was still awake, he probably would have been able to hear it. She moved around as silently as possible, and sat against the edge of the bed. The fire was lit, bright effervescent flickers of amber and orange roaring in the furnace, bringing a dull light to the room painted dark red. It was very romantic, gothic. The soft flicker of the embers burning was very comforting to her, as it gently licked the wood with passion. Fire seduced, then ravaged it slowly. She couldn't help but stare, the fire illuminating the icy, porcelain regions of her face. She let out a small sigh, and began to unchange. Taking off her boots, she threw them to the side and removed her weapons. She hung them on a hook against the wall, then began to remove her breast-plate and the mask she hardly wore. She left them along with her boots. She also took off the armor around her skirt, leaving her with the knee-high black socks, a black tank top and a pair of black shorts that went quite a bit above her mid thigh. Although it was like under armor-wear, it also served the purpose of nightwear, and should the situation arise all she had to do was throw on her armor and be ready to go. Easy, and practical. Although she hardly ever slept, it would feel weird sleeping in chunky armor all the time. Plus, it was fairly hot in the room. She let her hair down from the dark red ribbon, that was secured in a low pony-tail. Her hair went to her mid back, wild and untamed. She got her swords and began to clean them quietly with an old tattered cloth she kept in her holster, oblivious to anything around her and she kept her mind, for once, busy. She would at least rest her body for a while. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 11:20 am
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 §••.¸¸.•The White Gypsy Anais LunaLady MoonAs the inhabitants of the castle slept and went on about of their business, a woman with long dark hair slowly approached the castle with very little discretion. As she approached the gates, she was immediately stopped by two guards, who seized her by the arms. The woman was a gypsy and was demanding they let her see the king immediately. "Let me go you idiots! I need to see the king! It is of utter importance!" She growled and struggled, kneeing one of them in the groin and head butting the other guard. As soon as she managed to get free, she ran to the large doors and began banging on it. Within a matter of minutes, more guards came and tackled her to the ground. Not caring she was a woman. Because she was a commoner, a gypsy especially, they didn't care much whether or not if she got hurt and would treat her as badly as possible. After being able to get her under control, hands tied behind her back. They opened the doors and entered the castle to escort her to the dungeon for "trespassing." She growled and tried pulled at her chains. Bellowing at the top of her lungs in order to get the attention of the king or anyone with high authority. If yelling to wake them up is what was going to take to get her mother out of prison then that is what she was going to do. She wasn't going to be silenced. "I need to speak with a royal! My mother does not belong in prison!" Her bellows echoed throughout the halls of the castle. The guards ignored her bellows as one hit her in an attempt to quiet her and pulled her in the direction of the dungeon. Hoping to discretely imprison her without the royals knowing.  ❝We are all wanderers on this earth.
Our hearts are full of wonder, and our souls are deep with dreams. ❞
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 12:29 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• As soon as she heard the bellowing, she shot up like a bullet. Whatever it was, given the time of night, she decided to take care of it, silently, professionally. She didn't want the royals to be disturbed, so she would take care of it as quickly as possible. Slipping on her boots and gloves, she quickly pulled her holster over her head and down her waist, and without time to spare darted out of her room and raced down the hallway towards the direction of the dungeon. She didn't have time to think, she just moved. In a few moments she had reached the cold regions of the dungeon, and the shouting and roaring became more animated as she drew closer, a female voice reverberating throughout the hollow halls. She came into view, and once the guards seen her coming stepped back ever so slightly. She gritted her teeth. She needed to shut her up, she wouldn't stop shouting! She grabbed the girl by the chains and jerked her forward forcefully, not to try to harm her but to help shake her out of it. "Calm down!" She snapped, commotion was one thing but blatant noise was another, a struggle she could handle but noise gave her a headache. The guards stepped forwards cautiously, but she ushered them away with a fierce and swift movement. "What are you doing here!" Her voice was calmer, but definitely threatning. She would try to calm her as much as possible, but she wasn't sure how she would react to her actions, or why she was even there. It needed to be dealt with, right away. She hadn't heard what she was shouting about, and the guards didn't even think to try calm her down. She dealt with stuff like this all the time, so hopefully it wouldn't become a problem. However, she had a feeling this was not going to be easy. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 1:14 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• It was obvious Layla wasn't in the mood for any kind of game. She had patience, it wore thin. That's it. She lost her temper. Without even thinking about it, she would grab the girl by the back of the neck, spin her around in a split second, and drive her so aggressively towards the ground she would be forced to her knees. The girl was restrained, not much she could do about it. If she could however, it would be miraculous and all the more interesting. She would continue to hold her in her falcon grip by the scruff of her neck on the ground, mouth lowered to her ear, breathing heavily. "Don't play with me you unsavory little brat, or you'll see how nasty this girl can get," She hissed venomously into her ear, she had no time for insolence or for her attitude. She pissed her off, which was never good. Her mind was hot fury. Two guards rushed forward, but Layla ignored them. A guard was speaking to her, telling her to let her go, but she didn't hear them, her mind was blank. Eventually, she would let go of her reluctantly, eyes narrowed with sheer anger. She probably would have tried to help the girl, but the problem with Layla was one strike, and you're out. "I don't care how goddamn important your freaking problem is, better you wait than rot for your rash actions, " she spat, but a guard tried to calm her down. She jerked away from his impatient touch, and began to pace. It was clear there were other things on her mind, that alone would not have caused her to act so rashly or tempestuously. She would wait for Syx, whom she was certain would have heard all the commotion. Since, after all, she had heard it. She did however understand there obviously was a reason she trespassed into the castle, but that wasn't why she got annoyed. Infact, she wasn't even sure why she got so angry. So instead, she took it out on a woman who seemed to have a genuine reason, she seemed too intelligent to attempt some sort of heist or assassination. She released a deep sigh, and leaned against the wall waiting impatiently, foot tapping erratically. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 2:20 pm
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Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
Out of the darkness from the upper section of the grand staircase that wrapped around from above the large throne of thorns, a pale figure, clad in all black, stepped down step after step after step. The scraping sound of the shiny blade in his right arm against the stone of the staircase was shrill, ushering everyone, including the insane woman to silence. When all sounds had cascaded away out the large corridors to the left and right, there was nothing but the blaring silence of anticipation. Step. Step. Step. Syx emerged, eyes burning with a look that could be considered by some to be hateful or spiteful, but those that knew him or any member of the Markoth family could recognize that look as something completely different. Protection. He was a fierce protector, and alert at the least. Everyone knew it was a matter of time before either he or his sister would awake and face the challenger. Step. Step. He reached the bottom, and it was apparent that it had taken him very little time to dress in the full suit of armor (without the helm, as custom) and pace silently down the stairs. There was very little sound to his steps, a trait that he had mastered early on with Sir Kai.
He raised the sword to the intruder, a gypsy woman from the commons most likely, given her flamboyant apparel. He lowered it again and sighed, sheathing the blade and walking silently towards the young woman. She had to be no more than two or three years older than he was and far more fiery. He talked to her in an inexplicably calm but direct manner with a voice that bit like steel ringing with an eerie sense of comfort. "You have caused enough immaterial nonsense for the night. Imprisonment in my kingdom is just that and nothing more. Your mother will get a fair trial like any other citizen, and it was foolish for you to storm upon royal ground at night expecting an audience. Our doors are open at the break of dawn."
He walked over to the guards holding her and stared them both in the eyes, watching them intently. The one was new, hired fresh not a week ago, the other a salty adult of 36. The salty older one's eyes gleamed with a desire for action, for glory and warfare. In a matter of seconds, Syx had landed three critical jabs that sent the guard sprawling to the floor, and with the same, calm resolute voice, he walked upon the guard, who was keeled over in pain. "You hit a woman." He bent down and spoke in his ear as if he might bite it, "the duty of a royal guard is to protect his family AND his subjects, this is not the king's peace." He shot a look to the other guard, who stood feet away now from the girl in a shuddering fit of fear and anticipation. "Do you like kitchen work?" He had no intention at beating the green boy for following the advice of a fool. He heard the chuckling of a few senior guards, and pivoted around to the gypsy woman, who seemed just as fierce and restless in chains as a bear on a leash. "Calm yourself, woman. Your mother is getting her hearing tomorrow for her crimes. Chances are, given my experience in the courts, she will be let go by pardon of the king. Your actions tonight have earned you some time in the castle dungeons." The guards answered his order, and more gently than before they lifted her up. He walked towards Layla, noting a fresh scratch on her wrists, likely from her efforts to restrain the gypsy woman. He placed a hand under her wrist and observed it, it was deeper than it would appear from the outside. "I don't take you for a person who requires much catering, Lady Layla, so I won't have the castle medic see you, but if you come to my room, I may have some things that can fix that up. You can do it yourself." |
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 5:04 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• Layla stood silently, engulfed in the gloomy dark shadows that the wall she was standing next to gave her, totally disconnected to everything that was happening around her. She was tired. Beyond tired. She was physically exhausted, and it was very easy to irritate her in this state. Even her sister had compared her to gasoline and dynamite. Fortunately for Layla, she never finished the metaphor, she didn't need to. Her eyes were narrowed from sheer exhaustion, as she watched silently Syx appear from the shadows and immediately the air shifted much darker and colder than before. She didn't intimidate easily, so this was no exception. She had much more audacity and gall to withstand such things, where as the other guards, evidently, were not. It was pitiful, as she watched them cower with fear. She scoffed, and brushed back wild loose tendrils from falling into her blue eyes. She watched with faint amusement as he reprimanded the female, and gained an odd sense of satisfaction. However, it faded again just as quickly. She felt sick. Mentally sick. She didn't understand what was happening, but her mind was whirring like a mechanical, steampunk machine one hundred years old. It was spluttering, creaking, grinding. She closed her eyes and shook her head, blinked several times, but it wasn't helping. She was, in fact, so engrossed by her own insignificant and frivolous thoughts she hadn't actually realized what was done was done, and that Syx was over to her and gently lifted under her hand. She blinked, instincts at full alert, wondering why her wrist was such a big deal. She glanced down, and saw a few thin scratch marks on both her wrists. She stared at him, eyes widening, she didn't even remember feeling any pain when she got them. However, they were deeper than they looked, because when she prodded gently on her right wrist a small trickle of dark red blood leaked from the small open wound, but it was just a light drizzle. It stopped after a moment, but even still she wiped it gently against her black tank top. She must have grabbed the female harder than she thought she did. She rolled her head, watching Syx as he spoke with a calm expression on her face, but it would be evident she was tired. She don't know why it only hit her now. But she was also angry. Angry for no reason. She couldn't help but sigh. "Fine." She knew it wasn't exactly polite to be so rude in front of a royal, nor had she meant to snap, but she couldn't help it. She just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask?
She began to make her way up to Syx's room, following behind him at her own pace, observing her wrists. I must be losing it, she thought, if she didn't even feel the scratches happen or recall any pain felt. They burned slightly now, but she had worse. Even so, she appreciated the fact Syx said she wouldn't need medical attention and that she could do it herself. Her ego grinned happily inside like a maniac. Upon reaching his room, she immediately went inside once he was to open the door and strode on in, still curious about the whole ordeal. With an exasperated sigh, she flung her wrists down. "That was ridiculous, I mean the nerve of some people, right? I swear I felt like ripping her head off. I should have! I was in the mood. And those guards! What fools! It's ridiculous! I've been doing this two years and even I know better... God, I need to rip something," she said this all rather quickly, her tone more aggressive than usual. It was clear she wasn't her usual self, but even she barely had any influence over herself at this present moment. She groaned and stood near the fireplace, legs crossed. It was then she became very conscious of what she was wearing. Short shorts, knee high socks, one sock had fallen down however, and a tank top. Clearly not appropriate wear in the presence of a Prince. But somehow, she didn't care about any of that. Not in the slightest. Her wild, long dark hair was messy and tousled over her shoulder, down her back in erratic strands. She was watching Syx with large, almost solemn blue eyes, she didn't know if she was going to burst out into a rant, tears, or simply fall asleep. She felt so vulnerable right now that any felt good. •º✘✔✘
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 7:50 pm
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Prince Syx Markoth
Violet Fox of Nabradia
Syx led the girl up to his room, a little more angry than he probably should have been. The failure of his guard to correspond to the most sensible of orders, followed by the woman's senseless screaming. They thought they knew what was important to the kingdom and its people, but they had trouble seeing the larger picture. The gypsy woman did not understand the order of things, and her mother may very well be innocent, but to storm the castle and make demands...even a fool wouldn't think to do something so brash. His father made sure that the commoners had easy access to his counsel, but did they fall in line? Hardly. They each thought their problems as individuals was worth more than national welfare. The nobles weren't doing their jobs, and if they were, it got tonight's results. He led Layla up to his room, opening the door quietly, so as not to disturb her momentary silence. When the silence broke, she was almost screaming in frustration, likely fueled by her apparent tiredness. He sat there and listened, agreeing silently, but giving her room to vent without interruptions. He was a problem solver, but her problems here were easy enough to solve by just letting it all out. In all truth, he enjoyed it.
He was all too used to nobles reserving their feelings so as not to upset the mind of the prince, but Syx felt patronized at best by these assumptions that he could not take it. That is why he accepted her midnight rant, and even appreciated that she was willing to let down her walls of pride to him. When she was finished, she stared, wide-eyed and silent. Her face was long and drawn from sleepiness, her hair messier than the well kept groom of the wealthy, and her clothes were left about as messy as her hair. Truly he didn't mind, though he saw her momentary self-consciousness that washed away faster than the tides on a high moon. Like a flash, the moment was gone and she didn't let any of it bother her, and it was just her and those quiet but desperate blue eyes. Having not been in any situations like this, apart from his sister on rare occasion, he stood there unable to give her any words of satisfaction. Somehow he just knew her plight like it was her own, he knew the feeling of being surrounded by irrationality, the feeling of unappreciative language and actions. The truth of it was, Syx had no idea what to do, so he did only what was instinctive to him. There was hardly any propriety to it at all, especially given her new appointment and their lack of familiarity, but they were both so vulnerable to whatever emotions were on the plate that he just let them all fly. He took a cautious step before her, and when he decided that he simply didn't care anymore, he embraced her tightly. It was simple. It was sweet. There was nothing more in the room but simplicity. All the little complexities of the political world faded away, the gypsy girl, the guards, the expectations. Maybe they both needed the embrace, but he would push his luck this time in that brief moment of basic mutual understanding. |
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Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 3:38 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• Whether if it was from sheer exhaustion, lack of comfort or plain restlessness, she melted into his embrace automatically. Usually, she would withstand his touch at once, due to professionalism and personal boundary issues. It felt nice, it felt warm. It was so, so wrong. The momentary status of Prince and Noble was shattered, it was just one friend comforting another, and it was something she desperately needed. After a moment, she pulled away wearily, her movement languid and slow. "I'm sorry. I'm just so exhausted, and I can't stop worrying about my sister, and god everything just seems to piss me off right now." She muttered, no real emotion in her voice. It was like a cloud had moved over her mind, and she couldn't think straight at all, for once she wasn't aware. She felt like she was completely isolated in her own bubble. "I'm so sorry, your highness. This was much too casual of me and it won't happen again," she spoke with an authoritarian manner, determined not to herself seem vulnerable ever again. Which sucked, because she had been thoroughly exposed. She had been extremely unprofessional, and for that she'd most likely beat herself up about it. It was amateur, it was pathetic. She cleared her throat. "Do you need anything before I go?" Her tone and body language would suggest that whatever happened in the last few moments never did, her facade was firmly in place and her walls up, thick and icy. Impenetrable. She waited for an answer, if not she would simply leave, to try to rest and clear her head. But she knew almost certainly that would never happen. However, something in her didn't want to leave, something was drawing her to him, like a magnet. It was most certainly odd, but she could relate to him - more than he knew. For that, she felt more comfortable, it made his company benign and interesting. •º✘✔✘
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