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 Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 8:18 pm
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You make your way to the coordinates in the middle of a pocket of trees as instructed by the simple, yet frank letter delivered to your hive accompanying the Queen's. There’s not much to see here – a stump, a twisted log, and three rocks sheared by some sort of natural force. The fauna is relatively quiet, nary a sound except the wind whistling through the treetops. After a while you begin to wonder if you’ve come to the wrong place.
But not long after that, a lone troll shifts out of the trees and wordlessly begins moving into the woods, gesturing in your direction. You follow. Soon, you’re blindfolded and lead (not aggressively, but cautiously) through the trees.
Suddenly, the figures firmly leading you halt. This must be it. Your vision slowly returns as you blink rapidly in the moonlight. You find yourself in an unfamiliar, almost skeletal forest, but you have no idea where exactly; you lost count of the twists and turns long ago. Whispers through out the sparsely forested base were indicative that this was indeed the place to be. The coast offered little protection from prying eyes, and so the rebellion had opted to set up its encampment far up the shore, in the wooded outskirts of Old Hemisect City. It was insider knowledge to those very much involved that certain abandoned hives contained rebel meeting spots and smaller bases, and even to those on the outside the rumors of rebel activity couldn’t be completely quelled by the military. Something was happening in Old Hemisect, and it was about time to find out what the construction really meant for them.
The encampment was impressive. Sun-proof dwellings were erected in an outward pattern from the epicenter of the clearing where many trolls had already gathered, eager to hear what the rebels had in store for this most concerning development from the queen. It wouldn’t be too long until a speech was given, so you might as well get settled in and mingle with some of the other disoriented trolls here.
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 9:56 pm
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A black cloaked figure skipped across the uneven branches, guided by the dim light of the dual moons overhead. Snaps and cracks of twigs below shook the slumbering beasts, who peered out with sleep caked eyes. This little being wasn't the only one heading deeper into the night, and so they paid little interest to it. Even if, unlike the others, this one's movements were frantic. Like a flame had been set in its shoes.
No flame. Instead, blinking out the dim light and plunging the runners pathway into pitch darkness, was an owl who sailed over the trees. Its hoots were insistent and angry. It sounded bereaved. Whatever this little figure had done was unforgivable.
A low hanging branch snared the flapping black cloak and swung the tiny troll around. Crying out in surprise, Milieu was unmasked as her back sandwiched to the tree's bark. Coughing, the troll struggled with the hood. Overhead the hooting grew fainter. Owl mom had lost her, for now. There was still no time. Picking herself up, Milieu tossed branches and leaves from her tresses and kept moving.
Ahead light and the low murmur of voices told the troll she was in the right spot. Eagerly she sped up, and in the process lost her footing. Milieu plunged through the underbrush ungracefully. Spindly arms pinwheeled as she tried, in vain, to catch herself. Instead, the little troll curled up like a grub and rolled helplessly into the clearing. She laid like that, wound up tight, arms locked over her head, and panting for some time before, carefully, she began to unroll.
Cuts and pecks littered the little troll, as well as scrapes and cuts from what must have been many falls. She looked dazed and a little more than out of sorts. Most notably she was without a Lusus. A child that young and no protector? Mili was good as dead.
Which, she reasoned, was the case anyway. A mute little troll joining the rebels. She had signed her death warrant. As the tears of relief trailed down her cheeks, the little troll decided that it was the better choice.
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Eco-friendly Shapeshifter
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 11:35 pm
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She shouldn't be here right now. She really shouldn't be here right now. Odette was in no position to be risking her life like this. But how could she not show up, when they were requesting her presence specifically, asking for her help? Surely the rebels were expecting her after her last performance and well, the discovery of her latent powers. Odette was saddened by the thought. If killing that troll was performing well... well she hoped she'd disappoint them this time.
That wasn't the only reason Odette was here. She was scared. She thought, if the royalists were successful in destroying the redblood presence in Old Hemisect, who's to say they wouldn't move on to New Hemisect? It would serve her better to put up a fight now with an army than to wait and hope.
In the forest, her surroundings felt very familiar. Not familiar in the sense that she had been there before, but that she knew this rebel routine well. The rebels emerged from behind the trees and she stiffened. No turning back now... She was blindfolded and lead without putting up a fight (the same could not be said for her lusus, who honked and hissed at the suspicious figures).
When Odette made it to the clearing, she found herself impressed with the state of the camp. They knew what they were getting into here, not that Odette doubted them. Looking through the crowd of trolls, she failed to recognize any familiar faces. She wondered if anyone would recognize her, especially in her younger state. Maybe it would be best if they didn't, but Odette secretly hoped that she was remembered by someone.
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Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2014 4:57 pm
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2014 9:23 pm
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As he navigated through the trees, Kursha almost thought could feel the Colonel's hard eyes boring into him. When he looked up though, her gaze was far in the distance. She was not speaking to him. He returned his attention to the forest path, a nervous fluttering rising in his bile sack. She had not reprimanded him even once. He anxiously wondered how long this silent treatment would last. It had been over a day already.
After parting ways with Alifax at the Root, Kursha decided to spend a few more nights in Old Hemisect, exploring the dilapidated city. He had no real reason for being there; he was simply not ready to retreat back to the lonely mountains. The Colonel had not been entirely happy with his decision, but so long as he kept out of trouble she made no comment.
As the young greenblood wove his way through the jumbled streets, a gust of wind tossed a tattered flyer down the street, where it caught on Kursha's ankle. He stooped down to pick it up and the breeze caused it to flutter in his hand. He gripped the other side so that he could properly read it. Bold letters addressed him.
“THEY LIE. DON’T BE AN ACCOMPLICE TO REPREHENSIBLE CRIMES AGAINST OUR PEOPLE.”
Kursha lifted an eyebrow. Who was... 'they'? Below the message a pair of coordinates and a time had been listed. That was certainly mysterious. He glanced up at the street. There was no one really nearby, but farther on ahead he could see a few trolls gathered around a bulletin. Stuffing the paper into a pocket, Kursha made his way towards the crowd.
There was another flyer posted on the board, though of a completely different nature. It was an official message from the military, outlining the latest reconstruction plan for the city. Trolls from all over were encouraged to volunteer and serve their empress. Kursha grimaced. Moving away from the crowd, he leaned up against the side of a nearby building and pulled the flyer out of his back pocket. His expression was thoughtful. He heard the woosh of wings as the Colonel swooped down beside him. Her head snaked around over his shoulder to read the writing and she let out a hiss.
The note needed to be reported immediately.
“Yeah, probably,” he said.
His lusus stiffened. Probably? No. Kursha did not understand. He absolutely had to hand that over to the authorities. The rebels were lawbreakers and criminals. They needed to be brought to justice. Swiftly.
“I wasn’t disagreeing,” he muttered sulkily.
The Colonel seemed to think otherwise. Why then, would he hesitate? Report the flyer so that the rebels may be caught. Prove his loyalty to the empire and attain glory.
“Glory in being a snitch?”
She hissed impatiently. This was an opportunity to make himself known, to open the gates to a military career. If he excelled in the reconstruction project, stood out above his peers…
“The reconstruction project?” Kursha snapped. “That’s drone work. Give me a break.” He had no interest in that. He was not some pathetic lowblood who would be intimidated into subservience.
The feathers along the Colonel’s throat began to rise. Her feathered tail lashed. She was failing to contain her anger. This was everything Kursha had been working towards, she insisted. If he did not actively pursue his future, it was going to slip away. He was to deliver that note right now, without further objections, or so help her.
It was the wrong thing to say. Kursha’s temper flared. His pump biscuit beat hot and fast within his chest. “My future?” he repeated. “How about the future that you’ve planned out for me. Everything I’ve done has been want you wanted. If you would look past your own ******** obscenity had barely left his mouth when a talon lashed towards him, claws raking. Kursha just barely managed to step away in time. His eyes went wide. The paper was crushed in his fist. The Colonel turned to face him. Her feathers had smoothed.
Give me the flyer.
Kursha hesitated. “No,” he said. The word terrified him.
There was a pause. When she spoke her voice was deadly calm. Give it to me.
“No,” he said again with more conviction. His pump biscuit beat faster.
Give it to me!
All Kursha could do was shake his head. The Colonel screamed and dove for the paper. Her wings beat furiously, buffeting the young troll. Kursha spun away from her attack, pressing the crumpled object to his chest. The hooked beak snaked towards him and he stumbled in his attempt to avoid it. Landing on the ground, he broke into a roll. When there was a safe berth between him and his lusus, he got to his feet, rather ungracefully. The Colonel watched him intently, chest heaving. Behind him, Kursha could feel the eyes of several other trolls who had been drawn to the scuffle.
He took a deep breath to collect himself. There was no turning back. Brazenly he met his lusus’ gaze. “I’ll decide my future for myself,” he said, tone firm. He craned his neck imperiously and managed a sneer. “You can help me or not. I don’t care.”
The silence that fell dropped like a guillotine. Kursha waited, palms and neck sweaty. He was convinced that the Colonel was going to tear him to pieces, punish him so thoroughly that there would be nothing left. He was ready for it though. He would meet her challenge, unflinching. He waited.
Slowly the Colonel turned away from the young troll. Her plumage was down and her tail was still. Without a word she flapped her wings and began to ascend above Old Hemisect’s crumbling buildings. Kursha watched until she was nothing more than a receding dot against the moon, his pump biscuit fiery and his bile sack cold. He could not have brought her back even if he called out.
The Colonel had returned later. She did not say where she had been nor did she tell Kursha why she had come back. In fact, she did not speak to him at all. Though he was relieved that she had not abandoned him entirely, her silence left him uneasy. Still, there was nothing that could be done. He believed he was in the right and besides, his pride would never allow it. Their relationship had permanently been altered for better or worse.
Kursha returned his gaze to the forest path. Just up ahead he could see it: the designated clearing for the meeting. It was completely empty, yet he was certain his coordinates were right. After taking a careful look through the trees, Kursha went to go stand beside the stump, arms crossed. There was a rustle of wings and he took some comfort in knowing that his lusus was nearby. Whatever their relationship was now, he was sure that the Colonel had his back. They waited.
Several minutes ticked passed. The wind seemed to sigh as it passed through the trees. A few scattered leaves went tumbling over the grass. A single bird made faltering song in the distance. Then, a strip of cloth slid down over Kursha’s eyes and he knew he had lost all control.
OoC: I'll do an interaction post after this. And no more resurrecting mammoths from the ice age, I promise. |
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 1:28 pm
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xxxThe only sound that could be made out above the hushed chatter of the juvenile rebels was the crash of the foamy ocean waves on the jagged shoreline to the east. It seemed as if even the very forest they stood in was holding its breath in anticipation of what was coming, too paranoid to let out a rustle of leaves and risk signalling the rebel's location. The air was thick with tension and ocean salt; there was an underlying sense of urgency that was almost impossible to shrug off. The trolls that had led the newcomers to the camp were lingering around the edge of the clearing, presumably keeping a patient eye on the outsiders. It wasn't terribly long before the steady trickle of the blindfolded recruits slowed and filled the centre of the rebel's camp, softly buzzing among themselves with curiosity.
xxxThe drawn curtain of the most central and largest temporary hive rustled briefly with movement before flipping open to reveal another hooded figure, face hidden in shadow. This distinctly embellished rebel wore a teal sash with a fur cloth folded neatly around her robust body, marking her as unique among the dozens of others adorning the grey hooded robes of rebellion. Those who had been in their presence during the whole Mother Grub catastrophe would have recognized her when she strode towards the group as the apparent leader of the rebel organization.
xxx“Welcome,” her voice boomed through the skeletal forest, cutting through whatever hum was still coming from the crowd. “I take it you all realize why you've been gathered here tonight. I will not lecture you with another speech on equality, and how asinine the caste system is since this common belief led us to one another.” Byakko Mawiya, although few here knew her by name, took a moment to pause and look at the group of trolls gathered under the pale moonlight to listen to what she had to say. Her eyes trailed across the group of youths- wrigglers, no less- studying each of their attentive faces closely. There were some familiar attendees, some new, and some so very, very young. Byakko's eyes narrowed on a pair of children no older than a few sweeps; she couldn't recall ever seeing such young recruits before. If the royal military was starting to enlist those of all ages, it only made sense.
xxx“Right now, to our south, the loyalists are being addressed by representatives of Regina Marian. Instead, you chose to attend this meeting- for that I commend you. Now straight to it: during our last summer Bloodfest, the Queen announced the restoration of Old Hemisect City.” The word 'queen' was dripping with sarcasm, and as if to add insult to injury the gold medalists that event were the purplebloods. “As you hopefully all remember, Old Hemisect was essentially totalled not too long ago when the backlash of the royal lusus' psychic shockwave hit the coastlines of Alternia.” There was a slight break in her speech, as if she had just caught herself from saying something she shouldn't have. Akko continued,“It was a highblood society, not completely unlike Four Fronds. Lowbloods were not welcomed. Lowbloods were not ever treated with the tiny shred of decency they could have hoped for in say, Chittentown or even New Hemisect. Lowbloods were oppressed, slaughtered meaninglessly, enslaved, forced to fight one another to the death for the highblood entertainment. But that all changed in an instant when the shockwave's recoil hit. In a few seconds, everything turned to rubble and very few lived to make it out alive.” Byakko took another pause for breath, piercing eyes still meeting the gaze of each attendee, committing every grey face to memory. “We've been monitoring this area very closely ever since that fateful day. While what few of the highbloods were left fled, most lowbloods instead took refuge in the crumbling remains of high society. While the privileged ran, the warmbloods survived and instead chose to attempt to make the hives liveable again. While Old Hemisect is still undeniably in disarray, many have rose from the rubble and made it bearable, made it home. Arguably, some lowbloods find it more safe and comfortable here than anywhere else.” The rebel folded her arms neatly together, tucking them in front of her chest. “Despite the city's condition, it's still home to many lowbloods. What do you suppose happens to all these trolls when Marian begins her plans to reconstruct Old Hemisect City?” But it wasn't really a question, not one to answer aloud anyway. “If they begin construction, the smart ones would get out early with little more than the clothes on their back. The unlucky ones would be ousted, and the unfortunate ones... well...” The rebel shrugged loosely. Everyone knew what she meant. “For many, death would come when the sun rises. Hivelessness is almost always a death sentence for us.”
xxx“As I have said in the past, your life is yours and yours alone. And now that our race is on the brink of extinction, that means more than it ever has before. This is an opportunity, a chance to correct the wrongdoings of our ancestors and break the cycle, rise from the ashes. If you truly desire change, you must act. Hoping for equality and justice isn't enough. Marian's forces are dwindled significantly, the Queen's army lacks the adult upperhand they've always had. This is as even as the playing field is ever going to get, and those with initiative must act and take advantage of it or lose out forever on this opportunity. So, I propose to you- we fight!” The rebel punched the air enthusiastically, echoed by a muttered 'hoo-rah' from the hooded figures posted around the recruits. “We push the military's forces out of the city. They abandoned it while others stayed and rebuilt in their own way. They'd have no problem culling the entire populace in order to rebuild their fancy shops if they have to- but we won't let that happen. We will protect the lowbloods and take Old Hemisect City back!”
xxxAs the echoes of Byakko's passionate speech faded into the treetops, her arms fell loosely to her sides after gesturing at the camp surrounding them. “We are accepting any and all new members who have been entrusted with one of our letters, as there is much to do in preparation for our strike. As for returning recruits, for your indispensable assistance during our Mother Grub missions you will be rewarded. We welcome you all to join us- the Phoenix Initiative.”
xxx"Now, questions?"
Trolls/OHC residents who haven't posted yet are welcome to keep arriving until August 17th. Camps for both royals and rebels have been set up! |
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 4:48 pm
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 7:20 pm
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The choice between the notes had come naturally to a certain blueblood, and the information on the messages had stirred feelings of both nostalgia and dread. Weeks spent in the desert, friends made and lost, so many other memories dredged up from the back of his mind as he reminisced during his journey. It hadn't taken horribly long to reach Old Hemisect, and instead of heading into the densely packed city, he veered off course to follow the directions on the tattered note that was still crammed into his pocket. He had never ventured so far out from the city itself, and quietly admired the forested surroundings, until a hooded figure made itself apparent.
Zeffer smiled wryly as he followed along, accepting the blindfold, when it came, without protest. He had left Four Fronds without a word to anyone besides his lusus, who would be following him out eventually. He'd taken nothing more than a small pack with the essentials, and his batons were clipped to his belt loops. He was ready for whatever was needed of him, ready to wreak some havoc. It was different this time, in a way; he hadn't contacted anyone about this, feeling the urgent pull and responding to it in his own way. When the hooded leaders finally came to a halt, and removed his blindfold, he squinted against the light, and nodded to them before stepping away to join the congregation.
Would there be anyone he knew? He milled about, keeping mostly to himself after pulling his hood up. There certainly were a lot more pipsqueaks around than he'd ever remembered, a detail that made his smile fade slightly as he thought back on past events. It was a skeezy tactic, to recruit little ones, who would probably only get under foot instead of being helpful at all. He shifted through the crowds slowly, getting a look at the newest batch of rebels, and keeping an eye out for familiar horns or colors. He was shoved away a few times, and shoved back in turn, but deemed not to start any trouble, not yet. The real fun wouldn't start until some time after he arrived, when a certain someone emerged from her hiding place.
Zeffer looked on with the biggest s**t-eating grin on his face as Akko made her entrance, and started to address the crowd. He stuck his pinkies into his mouth to whistle loudly and inappropriately after her initial greeting, before settling to listen to her. How long had it been since he had last seen his teal blooded friend? It felt like one long, boring eternity had gone by since he'd seen her...since he'd done much of anything. Four Fronds had experienced a long, hot summer, bereft of any rain. The Wacky probably had something to do with that, he supposed, just another reason for him to keep tabs on the activities of the rebels. Listening to her speech, he gained a quiet sneer, a growing feeling of resentment swelling in his chest. He didn't even live in OHC, but it was still a fight he was willing to take up.
"YEEEAAAH. ALRIGHT LEGS." With the speech concluded, he clapped loudly and enthusiastically, and called out to Akko with the usual nickname as he approached her, shoving roughly through the crowd. "I got a question alright, how ya been!?" He smiled like a ******** shark as he tried to get her attention, merely hoping that she would remember.
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 8:00 pm
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It was a normal day. Honestly, Vremea didn't think much of it-- she has been on the way back to her hive when suddenly... she bumped into someone quite abruptly. "Oh, I'm sorr--" She had started saying, but the rustling of paper and the piercing gaze from the person whom handed her the paper made Vremea's dull eyes widen slightly in realization. She had seen these eyes before.
Those were the eyes of war and hate.
With a slight nod to her head, the female took the paper and stuffed it in her bag, pump biscuit suddenly starting to beat violently in her chest, praying no one saw that. If someone did... she would never, ever be able to live it down. She'd be searched for. Culled. She would disappear from this world without even getting a chance to leave a mark. Not that she was complaining. It would be better to be invisible... She was a yellowblood, after all. The more attention she gained, the more enemies she gained... She had arrived home and read the note, heart still thumping in her chest. She read it and reread it, but one part stood out to her-- "If you choose to return, you will be rewarded for your assistance in the previous successful Mother Grub mission." Reward? For... Death? They were joking, right? That wasn't a success. That was a failure. They should have been able to do better... try harder. Keep everyone alive... Vremea's shoulders sagged-- that was the worst expedition she had ever lived through.
However, the fact still stood that she had been personally asked for. She couldn't refuse... That would be being disloyal to the group that she had constantly been with no matter the fight. She was quite sure Odette would be joining the same side... And that was what brought her there, instead of on the Queen's side. She arrived at the spot, weapon strapped to her hip, the artifact she had received from the WACKY chase adjusted onto the bow around her neck. She was greeted by the same people whom covered their eyes and led them to the new place-- just like last time. When they arrived to the area... she felt almost like she did the last time, practically shaking in her shoes. She had recognized a few faces there, including Odette and... yes, that was Milieu, she was sure of it! And... Lune? But he was wearing different colors...? There were a few others she saw-- two young greenbloods whom seemed a little out of place there-- but before she could make her way toward any one of them, the leader began her speech... and a loud whistle was heard. She wrinkled her nose but didn't even decide to look-- this was a serious matter.
Vremea listened well, staring straight at the woman(?) speaking, the familiar slender legs stretching down, the same teal colored sash around her waist. She was still very curious as to who this was exactly-- who was the mastermind behind all of their operations...? The one planning everything...? Or is she just a symbol? Vremea sighed, trying to pick up details from her posture and attitude, but it was awfully hard. After she finished, the librarian rubbed her neck. She really wanted to ask if it was possible their operation would end up better than last time's did, but that would be rude-- and damaging. So she kept quiet unlike the other person whom seemed adamant on making a ruckus-- and looked around for her two young friends, having lost them in the crowd of people.
Vremea easily found Milieu. She had been crying and shaking, and was covered in little pricks of teal blood sliding down her body. Oh no... quickly she ran up to her, crouching down and pulling her into a warm hug. "Are you alright, Milieu? What brings you here...?" She asked, worry apparent on her face as she looked at her and searched around for her young redblooded pal while comforting the teal blood. She could find Odette in a little bit... she remembered the overwhelming feeling of regret she felt in her after she did it, but soon grew accustomed to it. This was Milieu's first time participating in such a large and important event... She could use the comfort.
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 8:47 pm
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Mili wiped off the grime from her limbs and began to patch up the worst of the cuts. Both of her arms were dyed a soft teal from the trickles of blood. They were almost like tattoos. Sighing, the little troll spent most of the speech making herself presentable. When the floor was opened to questions, Mili felt the urge to ask as many as she could right then and right there. What exactly could a mute troll be good at doing for the cause? Was there something specific that Mili could excel at?
Even being in the midst of rebels, who would be killed on spot if approached by the populace, Mili balked. Showing that slender, teal sashed female that she was unable to speak was going to seal her death. They might be rebels, but Mili wasn't sure just how rebellious the group was... Was she safer here? Or not?
Standing, the little troll wondered what to do. Did she look among the faces for anyone familiar? Anyone who might offer her a smile? Or... Before any other anxious decisions came to mind, Vremea appeared. Vremea! Mili perked immediately, flashing a bright grin as they hugged. Vremmy... Her savior.
Pulling away, Mili felt a fresh wave of dread and sadness surge to the surface. What was she doing here? Popping the cap of her pen, she wrote in a little notebook she had taken with her | I couldn't abandon my friends, Vremea! I couldn't abandon you or the others... |
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Eco-friendly Shapeshifter
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 9:48 pm
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Wasn't this a familiar sight, a surprisingly well put-together assembly, the low murmur of questions on the tips of many tongues as bodies gathered together in service of a similar cause. Then again, Aprife supposed, in service of one thing or another, their equality or their personal benefit or anything under the moons. Either way, it didn't much matter. They were all here for a reason, and that justification, whatever it was, was significant enough to lead them all in betraying a call from the Queen herself.
There was a time, it felt so much like only a night or two ago, that the yellowblood would have endured an uncertainty in his gut over all of this. It would have been an urge he could hardly control that drew him here despite all of his nerves flaring to the contrary. Now, that was hardly the case; the blindfold was easy, almost like a game, and he took it in stride the same way the royal letter had been tossed in the rubbish bin as soon as he'd noticed its tattered twin.
Aprife's curiosity was difficult to quell, and impossible to dismiss, but the truth among truths was a simple one: he had made his choice long ago.
As he walked among his kin, he held a confidence in his step from trips through the harshness of the desert and the perilous rubble of a city half devastated. Through pain and frustration and a sprinkle of happiness he had damn near found himself, and the prickle of anticipation in his chest now told him he was going in the right direction. That direction, currently, being straight through the crowd. It certainly wouldn't be wrong to say he'd lost an edge of patience throughout everything, as well. Perhaps he just expected a touch more than he used to, that much was evident in the way he sometimes shoved a little roughly to get where he wanted to go.
Only the hooded figure's words stopped him in his trek, stopped him so he could listen, with his face raised towards the understanding he had chosen to believe as true. He could feel with those words a spark of energy roll along the crowd. Legs was nothing if not good at rallying the troops.
Speaking of that unforgettable nickname, a familiar voice cut sharply through the seriousness in one fell swoop. "Zeffer," he muttered under his breath, a smile creeping across his features. Despite it all, Aprife hadn't lost even a touch of his humor, in fact it had matured with age he would say. He couldn't wait to see what sort of reaction that outburst would garner. Though he was still too far off to know where exactly his blueblooded friend was, he was positive they would be reunited in time. There was still much to do.
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 11:32 pm
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Watching the younger girl pop the pen cap and scribble in her notebook, Vremea rubbed her neck softly, waiting until she showed her the page-- Abandon...? What did she mean by that? As in... joining the loyalists? She pursed her lips, sliding her hands to the stone in her pocket and rubbing it softly, trying to calm the panic the little girl had given her-- it was true, it was like she was abandoning her ideals oh god... She closed her eyes, her hand touching her shoulder and rubbing it soothingly-- "Milieu, I am proud of you. But you are just a child... and this is such a dangerous..." She closed her eyes, feeling sad. She was just a kid... What if some other troll died?
What if SHE died?
Because of them? Vremea had a couple of close calls last time, Odette saving her and Athene from that last one, but who knew what could happen this time?? She wasn't willing to let Milieu go through that... At least Odette wasn't actually a kid... Milieu didn't know how it felt to have someone else's blood on your hands. That is, she hadn't killed anyone face to face, but enough time on this side and... It was possible... "I admire your loyalty. But are you sure you should be here? I am sorry. I just do not want you to receive any injuries..." She inquired, only caring for the safety of her friend-- "I will try my best to keep you safe, but..." It was so depressing...
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Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 2:06 am
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Listening the rebel leader's speech was difficult. For once in his young life, Kursha had to actually listen to the trash that the lowbloods liked to spout... except in this case it was coming from a tealblood. Her words were strangely stirring though they went against everything he had ever been taught. It would have been very easy to stand there and silently deny everything she said. Yet Kursha found himself considering, forcing himself to think outside his limits. Could he get behind a cause dedicated to elevating lowbloods?
His expression turned sour. No. Pathetic losers who could not achieve anything for themselves deserved to stay at the bottom. Nourishing the weak only encouraged ineptitude and apathy. He could never support something that restricted his own potential in favour of others. But behind the tealblood's words though, Kursha thought heard another message: deconstruct the confines of society and set one's own limits. Now that was something he could get behind. He resented the highblood reign just as much as anyone else and had spent every moment of subservience, whether he was under the Colonel's talon or bowing his head to a passing sea dweller, hating his lot. Authority needed to be uprooted, discarded, and stomped on.
So when the crowd raised their voices in cheer, Kursha, who had initially baulked, raised his with them. He was all for raising a little hell.
With the speech finished—derailed anyway, as it were by a blueblood who greeted the rebel leader like an old friend—Kursha took stock of his compatriots. Of course there were several lowbloods; right off he spied a serious-faced yellowblood, and further away a young redblood. However he was surprised to find a considerable amount of midbloods, even a couple on the higher end of the spectrum. With the afore-mentioned yellowblood there was a tealblooded girl, furiously writing in a notebook for some reason; a little ways in front of him was a disgruntled looking blueblood, who seemed familiar but why Kursha could not recall; over in the distance there was...
Kursha stopped. His eyes had passed over a greenblood who definitely looked familiar. For a moment he studied her face. Then a grin spread across his face. He never forgot a slight. And he never forgot the ones who had slighted him.
Weaving his way through the crowd, Kursha made a bee-line for Rasali. Several older trolls were not too happy with the child pushing past them, but Kursha was gone before anyone could make a complaint. As he drew close, he slowed his pace so that he would not draw too much attention. At last, he slunk up from behind.
“How long until the fighting starts, do you think?” he asked conversationally. All thoughts regarding the rebel agenda had slipped down to the bottom of his priorities. At the moment, he could not have cared less whether the royalists or the rebels came out on top. All that mattered was getting even. The question was, would the greenblood recognise him? It had been a while but that was no guarantee. He would have to change tactics if so.
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Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 7:16 pm
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