fairynuff | TEST DRIVE #6

I ► Feast: ( This spread is far greater than Haraldson could ever boast in his hall. She is the daughter of farmers, and until lately, a farmer herself. What does this translate into: Lagertha, taking first only a minute amount of food onto her plate...

And then adding to it, taking chicken legs, some beef, and all manner of other meat onto her plate. There aren't many greens to be seen among the small pile of various cuts on her plate. It is a carnivore's dream. The entire affair is punctuated, almost as an after-thought with a large slice of some sort of bread.

She has taken two goblets for herself: one of wine and another of ale. This is a lady with a tremendous appetite! And why not? When one works hard, they should get to play hard every now and again. )

II ► Brethil: ( Just in her line of sight is the boar she has been tracking for the past day and a half. These are inadvisable, generally speaking, to hunt on one's own. The risk of being gored and killed out-right is high. Still, she has her spear, her sword, and a good view of her prey.

Here in the wilderness, she feels more at home, though not necessarily at ease. It is as though she is being watched while she is watching the boar. Her hands grasp the hilt of her spear more tightly, until she can feel each grain of wood dig into the skin of her palm and prepares to strike—

Only for the sound of a snapping twig on the other side of the meadow to spook her quarry, which scrambles off with a squeal. The fact that it has fled, rather than charged, leaves her incredibly unsettled. And instead of recklessly running off in pursuit, she drops herself into a defensive stance, pulling her shield over from where it has been tied at her back. Just in case a battle has dropped itself in her lap. )

III ► Locket: This will fetch a very fine price, indeed.

( Hello and welcome to the sight of a very striking and close-up view of a Viking's left eye. Currently, Lagertha holds her locket suspended before her gaze, while she inspects the quality of the metalwork. This of course means that it dangles, causing the view to spin about, panning across the bridge of her nose and to her other eye.

Not the most flattering view in the world. But she doesn't look like she could give two shits about that. )

The Feast

[She moves through the throng, her head held high. Every inch of her is Queenly, beautiful and perfect. Yet underneath that facade is uncertainty - perhaps even fear. This land is unknown to her and she is without her Unsullied. Even so, she is the Mother of Dragons and she refuses to be cowed by a simple change of scenery.

Clearing her throat, she raises her voice, amethyst eyes flashing in defiance.]

What is the meaning of this? I demand answers and I will have them.

[Her glare dares anyone to naysay her - or, worse yet, for anyone to ignore her.]

I am Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen and you have taken me against my will. This will not stand.

Locket

[Despite her sour mood, she decides that the wine is good. She partakes of it before plucking a grape off of its stem. Only after she has enjoyed the fruit does she open her Locket and touch it lightly with a slender finger.]

A useful charm, hm? Can you hear me? [Her lips curve gracefully, the light in her eyes dimmed by the wine.] Tell me of the Unseelie. Why have I been drawn from my men to pay homage to...imps?

[Just then an imp appears on camera, peering over her shoulder. Daenerys laughs, the sound light and sweet.]

What shall I call you? [She coaxes him into her lap, gently examining his features.] Something befitting a child, perhaps. Byka you shall be, imp.

Edited 2015-01-12 03:32 (UTC)

[It wasn't just the fact that he had been pulled to this unevolved world against his will that had Tassadar on edge. It was the absolute silence from all those minds connected to the Khala, his people, that disturbed him most of all. That noise had been a blanket to him even in the furthest reaches of the Koprulu sector of space. It had brought him comfort even as he had been stranded on that damned planet of Char. Now there was nothing. It was as though he had been stripped of something vital that Tassadar hadn't even realised he had taken for granted before now that all he had in his mind was silence.

There was the foul stench of food on the air. That strong scent crawled over his skin tempting him to eat but he would not, he could not even if he felt the desire. His face was set with eyes like all humanoid creatures seemed to have, they glowed eerily to illuminate the rest of his facial features, or lack of them. Protoss, like himself, had no nose structure. Why did they need it when their very skin absorbed and processed even the most minute scent on the air from miles away. His face was also devoid of a mouth as his tall, near ten-foot, form walked through the crowds.

He needed to return to Aiur, he needed to find his way back so that he could save all life as they knew it. Shard or no shard, that was all that mattered to the mighty High Templar.]

ooc: Tassadar is completely telepathic and holds extremely strong telekentic abilities. He can only communicate telepathically, which means in order to talk to your character, he will have to do so in their head. He has no other verbal methods of communication, sorry!

1. feast.

[ while (unfortunately) politics have decidedly not fallen to the wayside recently, the banquets have been few. Erwin hadn't much minded, preferring the simplicity of his own quarters to rich Sina luxury. but he's shocked, all the same, by the array of the spread around him. it's varied to an extreme he's never seen before, an opulence impossible even in the capital.

that shouldn't surprise him - he's told himself as much. he is, after all, no longer in Sina, or Rosa, or lost Maria. the prospect that this could be some forgotten, secret place far beyond the walls still lingers in his mind, despite what he's been told. he cannot help but wonder, and wonder he does, spending less time eating and drinking (though he keeps a glass in hand, for appearance's sake) and more time roving around the hall, studying every sight. contingency plans come and go in his mind, because he has work to do, a task to finish, but still, all the same, he cannot shake his own curiosity. ]

Excuse me -

[ it would be remiss, however, not to learn of those here with him. you might find him leaning in to confide to you, tone politely distant but intent all the same. ]

What do you think of all this?

2. drabwurld.

[ he doesn't linger in the castle long, at any rate. there's a whole country out there, and if he really is stuck here for the moment then he should learn about the place. he should see it, unbound by walls or titans or duty as he's been.

as it is, it's strange, sitting on the ground, not having to wait for the distant thunder of footsteps. the idea of relaxing remains beyond him, however, and as he sits there, consulting maps and sketching down notes and lines of his own, he's all tense lines and watchfulness.

it is, once again, his need to know that prompts him to speak up. if someone passes, he'll call out to them to ask - ]

Do you know anything about this area?

Caer Glaem:

[you know who's warily eyeing this whole place? Samantha is. it's some fairy tale gilded palace, not a place that should actually exist anywhere outside of a picture. and this isn't her dream, where it was reasonable enough to follow little pixies that wanted to show her the way, this is real life. she'd even discreetly pinched herself and the pain was enough to convince her that this whole crazy scenario was definitely in the waking world. shards, Allaidh Darach, mentions of a war...

okay. she can work with that, since these fairies don't seem to listen to her protesting that she's no soldier. the next thing to do, since it doesn't seem too dangerous at the moment, is to take a look around if this is to be her "new home". it's pretty, she thinks, if a little--or a lot--bit too much.

eventually she ends up in a courtyard somewhere, taking a break after getting turned around and somewhat lost in the huge structure, and she sits on one of the stone benches to rest her feet. as she does, she looks down at the material -- well maintained, but not brand new.]

Must've taken decades to build this place...

[it's said to herself, as she thinks about all the physical parts of the castle. the magic, that would have to be something she came to terms with later.]

locket, voice:

What's the best way to make sure fairies stay out of your room? They've been rearranging my things, and I'm sure locking the door doesn't matter to them.

or wildcard.

Edited 2015-01-13 07:30 (UTC)

★ WILDCARD -- Outside of CAER GLAEM.

[ It's like walking into a dream, Sakura declares to herself, as she stares in awe at the fairytale in the distance. Even the ones on television pale in comparison to this towering, spired castle-in-the-clouds. Never could Sakura have imagined a place so wondrous. Smiling, faintly wistful, she thinks of how Tomoyo should be here to witness this. Oh how she'd love it! ]

There must be a king and queen inside. A princess too! [ Sakura clasps her hands to her chin, as a blush warms her cheeks.] A whole royal court with ladies dressed in beautiful gowns.

[ Sakura reaches a hand out, as if she were touching the castle. An optical illusion. But if she really were to touch it... it seems like she'd be brushing her fingers across a canvas. The way the sun paints the clouds. Or how the light illuminates the stones, as if the castle itself were glowing. It doesn't look real. It looks like magic.

If only she could just get a little closer... ]

FLY!

[ With a blast of wind and a twirl, Sakura summons her staff and throws out a clow card. Large wings appear on her back in a burst of feathers and light.

She looks up at the giant of a pine shading her. Catch her before she flies to the very top of the tree, or join her up in the air, should your character have the means to fly. ]

[feast]

[Finch looks at the food before him. He looks at the world around him. He has his arms drawn close to his body, and he is very still, as if interacting with this world will make him a part of it and he is determined to do no such thing.

But insistently, repeatedly, he looks at his cell phone. He keeps frowning at its blank, dead screen, as if he is expecting something to appear. And it just isn't.]

Oh dear . . .

[station]

[At the Station, Finch is temporarily re-immersed in his element. At a table, he has a laptop open and is also working on his cell phone. He has carefully positioned himself so that no one can look over his shoulder, and the way he is performing his searches ensures that no one can trace the history.

What is he researching? Why, weapons manufacturing, of course! The notes he takes, regrettably on paper, are extensive. They are also written in code, so even if a character gets a peak, they won't be able to understand what they mean.]

[daonna]

[But now he is out of his element again. Walking with that distinct limp of his, stiff leg, stiff spine, he traverses the streets of Daonna to scope out the proper real estate for his planned ventures. Finch has a way of disappearing into a crowd, impressive even for a New Yorker, and he has a habit of falling out of one's view.

Unfortunately for Finch, he has gotten a little bit lost in his attempt to remain unnoticeable, and now he is in what one would call the wrong part of town. The way people are eyeing him, Finch is becoming very conscious of the kind of reaction that the natives have to shardbearers. And how not good it is that he is one of them.

Please prevent the murder of a small bird.]

the feast

[So was this what happened when you died? You get drafted into some kind of magical fairy war? Well a lot of major religions had it way wrong in that case. Tadashi still isn't quite sure of what's going on, even if he asked the faeries to slow down their chatter a few times, laughing with a blush as they gushed over how handsome he was. The spread was something to rival Aunt Cass at her most enthusiastic, and he realized he hadn't eaten anything since a few hours before they headed to SFIT.

Let's get those hungry brains back to the cafe! Dinner is on me!

He smiled a little wistfully at the thought before stopping someone passing nearby.]

Hey, who do I have to nag to get a donut around here? [Tadashi brings his iPhone out of his pocket, flipping it once in the air before showing it to them.] And charge this? Battery's dead.

network

[Well the last thing he knew, he was running into the school. It kind of blacks out from there, but he remembers Hiro's voice calling out to him, hearing it from inside the burning building, fire roaring around him and in his ears. Waking up in a strange room seemed like a dream almost, and the faeries giggling at him don't help. They really don't.

Still, he pokes the locket a little, before dragging his hands down his face.]

Uh, hi? I guess this is a test to see how this thing works... [Tapping it with a bit of a frown.] So it's kinda like old school tech or something, huh? Way old school I mean.

My name's Tadashi Hamada, and I sure as hell know this isn't San Fransokyo anymore, Toto. [He chuckles a little at his own joke.] If this is a joke, Fred, it's a bad one.

[Hey, as far as he knew the faeries could very well be little flying robots.]

So I got the gist of things. Some kind of magical war that's been going on for a while, technology doesn't work outside of this Station place, etc. If there's any way I can help, I'd be glad to, but I need to check that my little brother isn't here first. His name's Hiro.

Edited 2015-01-16 23:19 (UTC)

{ LOCKET }

I have to admit, when I was told by a few fairies that they were in desperate need of my aid, I was not given to think it was because of their terrible surplus of food. If it was men willing to see their bellies burst that were in such dire need, I could have made many fine recommendations that would have suited them well. I'm afraid my appetite is not quite so large as this feast.

I would like to know if there is any of my family about. You would know them if you saw them. My brother would be like me, only taller and far less clever, my sister would be the pretty one sneering at you, my father wouldn't have time to bother himself with any of you, and my dear nephew would be trying to murder you without any doubt. They are all so very dear to my heart and I could scarce imagine being parted with them for long.

I would ask for the state of my lady wife, but I've heard her name on many tongues already and that's been far more than enough for me already.

{ THE FEAST }

A small man can be found at the feast, lounging in a comfortable seat with a goblet of wine in his hands. He's surrounded by the revelries and the madness, but he's taking no part. Without swords or gold, he's only a man who can scarcely fight for himself and has no weapon other than his wit. He's survived on less before, but he's no happier to be in that position when he's worked so hard to solidify his presence in King's Landing as both Hand and as Master of Coin. In this world where the word Lannister means nothing, he will have to forge a reputation all his own. It's a daunting prospect, which is why he'd much rather be drunk for it.

(3). ACTION

[ The briny taste of seawater is not far from her even within the confines of this strange station. Mako is lost, having only just discovered that she's a bearer of a shard of a sacred gemstone that lived within her, and had been growing there since before she'd been born. Imps and fairies, the little creatures that chimed in and spoke of another war, and how she's been summoned to the hall of a king and queen she barely knows; and no less loyalty towards.

(The enemy has not wronged her; does she still pick up her sword? Does she go to war?

— Why?)

On the heels of a pyrrhic victory Mako feels little else but a curious sort of numbness; but she makes note of all the questions she wants to ask. Imps and fairies, up until an hour ago she never knew of their existence.

Now, however, she's acutely aware of the fact that she's lost something important, something precious to her — and the loss rings hollow, a blunted sort of pain she equates with grief.

Mako celebrates and grieves with equal measure, lately.

She is guest and not captive (an assumption that can be corrected later), and it doesn't take long before she's investigating her surroundings, wary, curious, and disoriented because a heartbeat ago she had been with Raleigh in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but the white noise of waves, Tendo's voice in her ear, and the sound of Raleigh's breathing that she marks with care, the warmth of his fingers when they are slotted with hers, filling the spaces between them.

He's alive, but now he's lost. The acute, excruciating awareness of Raleigh's absence is carved into her mind; a unique constancy felt in the turn of a thought, accompanied by the gnawing ache of distance.

— Where?

She's still locked in her drivesuit, and while the material is not uncomfortable, it would suit her better to be out of it. (Unfortunately, jaeger pilot technicians are in very, very short supply right now.)

Mako steps out into the corridor, carefully shutting the door to her strange new room behind her before she accidentally bumps into someone. ]

Excuse me.

LOCKET

[ The image of a young woman comes onscreen, hair-tips a bright, unmistakable blue.

Mako's bearing is stiff — implication: military. The black drivesuit she wears is emblazoned with an unfamiliar sigil on either side It takes a moment for her to adjust the screen. There are many questions on her mind, each one more difficult than the last. There is a subtle edge of frustration that simmers just under her skin, masked by an inscrutable neutrality that had taken years to nurture.

Even then, it's paper thin; and in the next few seconds, the smallest furrow of her brows, the faint purse of her lips betrays a mix of deeper emotions: confusion, curiosity, frustration. ]

It seems I have stepped into a land meant for fairytales. [ She half-expects to see ~~kaiju~~ dragons on the horizon. At least that would be a more familiar (if unwelcome) sight. ] Or perhaps this is where they come to die. [ Poetic? Not really. ] This war between the Seelie and the Unseelie, how long has it raged on?

[ More importantly: ] And why?

[ She's fiddling with the locket again after a few moments, and a series of soft beeps is heard — it's clear she expects this to be a separate channel; her mistake. ]

LOCCENT, this is Ranger Mako Mori, 20419V reporting. Do you read me? LOCCENT, do you copy?

Edited 2015-01-17 17:18 (UTC)

1> Feast

Hanse isn't the smallest of men, he's tall and fit if only thanks to constant gun drills run by him and his staff for the sake of fun. Having red hair really only makes that stand out a bit more, being in his dress uniform only made it worse, or better if only for anyone to recognize him easier from home (or quite possibly worse depending on the person who saw him). But he's surprisingly calm and collected as he walks through the halls, at least for a man taken from his wedding to seal an alliance with the other largest Great House, there was little that could shake the Fox, at least little enough that he would allow to show was bothering him at least.

So it's with a pleasant smile that he carefully avoids looking at the food, his appetite lost for the moment at least. But with so many people around, it's hardly unsurprising when the spurs he's wearing, Federated Suns tradition if one was a MechWarrior, get stuck on something, causing him to step back while trying to not elbow anyone near him in the face. He may be in a mood over everything, but that didn't preclude manners.

Excuse me, I'm sorry.

3> Action

It's not wanderlust that's drawn him out into the world, he's not a young man and he's not prone to such things. Oh no, it's a need to get away from the trappings of court even here for a moment. But here it's far easier to change his clothes, pack a few things, find a fishing rod and the nearest body of water away from it all and sit down to fish (and oh had it been years since he'd done such a thing). This also had the side benefit of letting him talk to a few others here and there, see how the people were, but that wasn't the focus for him at the moment.

He wasn't unarmed, and he wasn't totally unawares of anyone approaching him as he sat and waited for a bite though. The slightest crunch of a branch, or any other sound that would alert him to someone approaching had his hand on his knife in a moment.

"I'm afraid I didn't bring a second fishing rod, so unless you brought your own, I hope you don't mind just talking."

3> Locket

[Long ago, he'd given up trying to figure out how things worked himself and just sent them to the NAIS to investigate and to try and gain back the knowledge lost to the Inner Sphere. How he wished he could do that with the locket he had in his hand.

Though talking to something like this, with video and all, is hardly new to him and it's the public face of Prince Davion talking, not the tired MechWarrior.]

I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not that there's a distinct lack of the weapons of war I'm used to here. I hardly think this world would be so [He wants to say peaceful, but he doubts people would get it. Or quaint.] mystical with BattleMechs about.

To how many of you is a war like this [Basically unending so far from what he's learned, no holds barred etc. The Succession Wars of home were similar and it was a poor citizen of the Inner Sphere that wasn't ready for the next war between Houses. All to try and unite them all under one banner of course.] a new experience?

Feast

[ Many years had passed since Sylvanas had partaken in sustenance; food and drink were for the living and that she was certainly not. The feast, despite being luxurious and grandiose, did nothing for her and she waves off any who approached her with an offering.

Still, the banquet offered the opportunity to gather intelligence: the more one imbibed, the looser their lips. She walks the floor of the feast, not staying in one location all too long. Even with the free flowing spirits, she was still a rather odd sight.

Station

[ Artifacts and engineering were traditionally the trade of goblins, yet she had yet to see one since she had arrived. A curiosity, given the many gadgets before her. ]

You there, what is the purpose of this artifact?

{{ ooc: Feel free to pick the item Sylvanas is holding; she knows not of modern technology. }}.

Wildcard

Whatever you would like.

01. Feast

[A hearty chug and he's emptied whatever it was in the cup...goblet thing set before him. The good news is that it is alcoholic the bad news is that he's not drunk enough for this. Loss still makes his heart ache in his chest and his attitude more mercurial. On to top it all off, still a rich teenage brat to boot. It's in his clothes, his jawline, his posture. A grand feast like this is not his typical scene. There's not a red solo cup to be found.

What party is this? Who's party is it?

...How high is he?]

Whoever is in charge is at least generous. What's the occasion?

[So many plates. So much to take in. Roman and his spooky green Godfrey eyes sweep around the table. He has a tendency to stare.]

02. The Station.

Medium, hazelnut latte, quad shot, no foam, extra whipped cream at 180 degrees.

[Except it's fairy coffee. What he's given is a black cup of coffee. It's better that way. Much better that way. Roman doesn't notice immediately. He's too busy being angry because he's out of his element. And when he does.]

...Are you fucking serious?

[Yes, he's holding up the line.]

03. Wildcard/Locket

Does anything weird happen when the moon is full here?

the feast

( Magic had never been something that Howard Stark had considered possible. The thought of it hadn't even been one that crossed his mind, thus far most things that had once been considered "magic" had proven to just be natural occurring phenomenon that couldn't be explained at the time. But science had done just that, found logical explanation for everything that happened, and all that still lacked an explanation, he figured it was only a matter of time until it was explained, whether by him or another brilliant mind. (Though of course, he would prefer it to be him.)

Then WWII had happened, and the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was something more in the world became a little more plausible, though he still weighed heavily on the side of doubt. Of course he'd read Schmidt's files, all of those that had been recovered at least. His theories on how magic could be the oldest science that ever was. The cube they had recovered from the bottom of the ocean was certainly something to behold, and while it seemed magical at the moment, surely one day technology would come along that would explain exactly what it was, and how it had come into being. Explosions were just a natural part of experimentation, and at least no one had died from them yet. He conducted the majority of them himself anyway.

And then he had been dragged here. To a new war, dammit, and here he had just been getting used to having a normal life again. He hadn't been told much, just that there was a war between two royal courts, that of the Seelie's and the Unseelie's, and he was on the side of the Unseelie's. Beyond that he wasn't told much, simply that there was a large feast that he was welcome to enjoy, a celebration for something or other, what exactly Howard hadn't been paying attention to, as at the time he was still a little dazed over everything that was happening. But then he had been lead to a great hall filled with food and drink, and he had decided that in situations as such, it was best to just go with the flow.

He was keeping to the outskirts of the party, though, where he would usually have been the centre. For the time being he wanted to observe to gain his bearings, but if someone came to speak to him, it wouldn't be unwelcome.)

locket

(The faeries that Howard had been coaxed into following were ones he was sure were a figment of his imagination. Something that his mind had created from the absinthe he had drank, and he was coming to understand just why was illegal, because if it could make something seem to realistic, it probably wasn't good for you. It was funny how willing he had followed. His mind may have been whispering to him to get it together, but it was like a whisper in the grass compared to the compliments they were giving him. He was special, after all. He was important. He'd helped saved the world, and sometimes he still needed to hear that. Already there were occasionally articles on how maybe it had been too much. The atomic bombs, they'd killed so many innocent lives, but would they have even managed to win the war without them? When doubt began to creep into his mind, he always went through the HYDRA files. All that had been sacrificed in pursuit of those made everything else worth it, because the truth was, if they hadn't, Howard believed fully that they wouldn't have won.

Now it was worse than most times. Some of his darkest inventions, his bad babies, had been stolen, and he was currently being considered a fugitive from justice. Idiocy, pure and simple, he thought. The fact that anyone would even consider it believable for a second that he would go out on the sly to sell some of his weapons on the black market was insulting, pure and simple. His company was thriving, and while he made no hide of his lush lifestyle and love of money and all it brought with it, he had plenty. He didn't need to make more by unsavoury means. But people thought little of his person, it seemed.

A man with a slight frown on his face appears on the screen of the locket, though when he realises it's on the frown flips to a dazzling smile.

Game face on. )

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that rumours of my brilliance would travel across the lands far and wide, even to another realm.

(He shows a bit of extra teeth at that, a short laugh following the words. He has to present himself well, after all.)

So what's the current status of it, anyway? The faeries were vague at best, though very complimentary, and I didn't even have to buy them a drink first. (They do jokes here, right? PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER)

Though I doubt it's necessary, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Howard Stark, and I'm going to help win this thing.

feast.

[Sophie had never seen a gathering as rich and exorbitant as this before. Even living in Howl's castle where he dressed himself in finery too flamboyant for words, the meals were often simple but hearty. Though, perhaps that was more to suit her own tastes. The only celebrations that sprang to mind as she circled the bountiful spread before her was the few weddings she had attended in her lifetime, but even that did not compare. She would have liked to remain in awe of it all, but it was difficult to when everything was suspect in her mind. She had been kidnapped of course. Was this a way to win her over so that she might forgive her captors. There was magic at work, even if she couldn't feel it, it would have been obvious. But it was magic unlike anything she had ever experienced and that was more suspicious than anything.

She lifted a juicy peach from the table and examined the fruit closely, as if it were a criminal she was looking to exact justice upon. Her lips curled downward into a frown. She didn't like this one bit.]

locket.

[There was a close up of a clear green eye with feathered lashes as the video began. Then a soft murmur as Sophie held the locket further away to give a better look at her whole face. She tapped at the locket.]

This is a curious thing. [She raised an eyebrow and smirked. She could just imagine Howl and Michael trying to tinker with it to see just what sort of magic made it tick.] Useful though, I suppose. I've been led to believe that I am not the only person taken away from their home to be here. If there was trouble here then there's certainly better ways to go about getting help.

But that aside, it would be best if we were to get to know each other. Working together we might sort things out. My name is Sophie Hatter. Despite the strange circumstances, I am glad to meet those who are here with me.

Feast

[According to her captors, this is not Ferelden, not even anywhere in Thedas. Nor, so they say, is it the Fade. She's never seen a fairy before, and she wonders if, perhaps, they might be some form of Fade demon after all.

She's wary of the food at first, but so many people are eating it, and none of them are keeling over from poison or looking at all possessed. Her Grey Warden appetite kicks in. Though small, her plate ends up piled high, and it doesn't seem as though she's ever really been taught something like table manners.

But when she's satisfied with a meal? She's off wandering away from the revelry and song. What is there to see? How sneaky can she be, sticking to the shadows, silent as a wraith? And just how many locked doors can she spring open?]

Cothromach

[Far be it for her to stay away from the lure of the Stone, even if it isn't her own. Do these dwarves even possess a Stone-sense? Too many of her kind had accused her of such, though it never fazed her too much. Orzammar had been home all her life, but what kind of home is one where you're despised by all but your own casteless kind? Returning had been almost worse. Did these dwarves have castes? Would they recognize the brand upon her cheek and spit on her?

That elves find refuge here is a wonder to her. They must feel so cramped. Perhaps she could find a Shaper--or at least some kind of orator to give her a history lesson and indulge her curiosity. And if she could leave with a few finely crafted weapons and bits of armor? All the better.]

Locket

[At first the magic makes her wary. She has no problem with magic, but something to enchant a locket to reach her voice far and wide to anyone she pleases? To everyone? That seems too good to be true. But there have been other voices to filter through. Might as well give it a shot. She sounds experienced and confident, even if she might not feel it.]

I am a Grey Warden, come from the end of a terrible Blight on many lands. If there is anything I can do to help the people of this world, I urge you to speak up. It's what I'm made for.

...Although I guess most of you might not know what it means to be a Grey Warden. First and foremost? I protect people. With my words, my blade, and my life.

If there are other Grey Wardens here, I would be relieved to hear them speak up.

Feast

[At any other time, Yoruichi might have been overjoyed to be surrounded by so much food. But despite the best efforts of the many, many entertainers in the hall, she’s not distracted, and has found a spot from which to observe the crowd.]

[While her body language is relaxed, the glass of wine in her hand is barely touched, and her golden eyes are watchful. Despite the revelry, this isn’t a situation where she’s going to let down her guard.]

[Yoruichi’s not drawing attention to herself, but she’s not exactly hiding either, so anyone who comes across her may well draw her into conversation. She’s got to learn more about this place at some point, right?]

Locket

[Yoruichi’s expression is...neutral, for the most part. With the lack of much else to do after her abduction, she’d eaten her fill at the feast, despite how little of the food and drink she’d recognized. That and having singed the asses of some of the imps that dragged her here has allowed her to work off some of her anger at the situation.]

[Only some. Just enough so she’s able to hide the rest behind a raised eyebrow and a relaxed, matter of fact tone of voice.]

I can’t say no one’s ever called me precious and important before, but they didn’t toss me in a sack to do it. Is that what passes for recruitment around here, or am I even more special than usual?

1. feeaaaasstttt
( This is fascinating from an archaeological perspective, nostalgic from memories of the Endurance crew, and horrifying on multiple levels - turning up in unknown places surrounded by strangers has not, of late, gone so very well for her. Or for them, really.

Lara is leaning with her back against the wall, holding a flagon of something but not drinking it. She's watching, mostly, trying to gauge what people are doing. Sometimes it's easiest to be invisible in a crowd. Sometimes it's easiest to be uncomfortable among them, too. One of her hands rubs against the frayed leg of her cargo pants, pushing over her thigh and towards her knee, grinding her knuckles into the rough material. Her gaze drops to drink. Enough others have drunk from the same jug, yet when you are among the Unseelie that isn't necessarily encouraging.

Grimacing, and ignoring the hunger gnawing at her gut, Lara keeps up her vigil. It's more about common sense than discipline, although she could imagine Roth telling her to stop being so bleedin' stubborn and eat the damn stuff. For now-- she'll just wait a little longer. Just to be certain. As a general rule, second chances don't exist and a strangers hospitality is a dangerous thing. )

2. Unseelie haaaaalls
( What's that, you say? Wandering a strange keep in the dark? Why, she doesn't mind if she does, thank you. Excuse her, she has THINGS to discover. Maybe some history to contemplate.

Getting out of here is top priority number one, but exploring.

That and she needs to find her room, because as much as is galls her to admit it, this might just be the safest place to sleep. At the very least, the prospect of sleeping in a bed (and maybe eating some of the food she has stowed away, no one has keeled over or passed out yet) is very, very appealing.

She hears something, or maybe feels another presence is more accurate, and leans against the wall. Her unconscious, her hand has slipped to the pry axe at her belt, the other still grasping her food.

Barely audible: ) Come on.

( Whether she's talking to herself or someone else she doesn't know. )

3. Wildcard - Noa Woods and the Loch
( This is better. It's easier to breathe out here, away from the court and the chaos. She knows that is part of her know, stitched in and irrevocable, but it's a relief to find peace nonetheless. Part of her wonders how much peace there would truly be if the side of chaos overruled order, but order only invites further chaos anyway. One cannot really exist without the other to work against it... more than slightly chilling, considering the never-ending war.

Lara is making more arrows, inspecting the shafts from her perch on a rock overlooking the Loch, though she looks up at any sudden sounds. She is well positioned - close enough to the trees to melt away into them, if she suspects a threat. For now, however, she is allowing herself at least the pretence of relaxing. )

01. Feast

[Grommash had no idea where the hell he was. The last thing he remembered was being in a life or death battle with a Pit Lord and then... imps overwhelmed him, and dragged him in a sack to this land. Imps should not be able to overwhelm him and the fact that they had was more than enough to injure the champion's pride.

There was so many humans at this "feast" and he wondered why he hadn't been attacked. Was this their doing? Were they trying to mock him? This made little sense, and was unnecessarily petty, even for humans, but through his blood raged eyes it made perfect sense. He had almost started just cleaving every human he seen in two, before remembering Thrall and just how badly his rage and lust for power had gotten. Instead of going a more violent route, he instead opens his mouth, jaw unhinging almost impossibly wide, and lets out a loud screech worthy of the name "Hellscream". It is extraordinarily loud. Almost ear-drum bustingly so for anyone in close enough range. Enjoy your meal :|]

02. Station

[Grom is trying his best to relax in his new environment, but ugh. Everything is so small, so humanized. He's sitting down on the patio with a drink in his hand. It's in a small glass cup! One that looks way too undersized for an Orc of his build. And after taking a second look at the cup, he realizes it would barely even qualify as a sip. With a growl, he crushes the glass cup in his hand, letting the shards and all of the cups contents fall to the ground.

He's angry at everything! Why did he have to get stuck in a place like this. Clearly it was not made for an Orc.]

Useless...

Lagertha ► Vikings ► Seelie

Daenerys Targaryen | A Song of Ice and Fire | Unseelie

Tassadar -> Starcraft -> Unseelie

erwin smith ➤ attack on titan ➤ unseelie