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Lightbringer
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Aromaya | 35 | Dragon Shifter | Royal Guard | M: Gathered . Aromaya stood in the great room, her sharp gaze observing the gathered as they slowly trickled through the door, letters in hand. Today would be an imortant day, where those who stood before the king would make their choice to be part of a mission that could bring light back to this darkened realm, or very likely end in death and ruin. She could see how the weight of this decicion effected those who had been called. Fear, uncertainty, and excitement could be found in the group. The somber tone in the room was stifling, and could be felt by all. . She kept her gaze moving, she had to be on her gaurd today. This gathering was one that, had the situation not been so dire, would have been unprecedented. She studied the faces of strangers and neighbors, watching their body language, the way they moved. Most were nervous, and many had a right to be. Outlaws, theives, and murderers taking part in the call have found themselves in dangerous territory, and the royals and mostly law abiding folk weren't keen on their being there either. . The sound of the rear door opening and closing caught her attention, and she watched as Valentine hurried into place, trying to fix his slightly unkempt appearance. She could see the interaction between father and son, the unspoken words were loud enough to be heard by those who watched. She tried to ofer a smile and nod of greeting to the young prince, but it was likely he didn't notice. The anxiety that was buzzing around the prince was the same anxiety that she saw in those called and gathered before him. It was the same anxiety she herself felt. Everyone in this room had a choice to make, and she was no exception. The king had made it clear this choice extended to any who would accept, regardless of position or duty. Though she was calm and collected on the outside, inside she couldn't help but feel a stroke of excitement. How she longed for another adventure, even if it meant her own demise. She couldn't stand idly aside and watch others lay down their lives for a land and a people she loves. . A hush in the room drew her thoughts. The king had stood, his wings lightly unfurled behind him in a stance of authority, and his familiar, rumbling voice grasped the attention of all in the room. She listened, frowning at the behavior of father towards son. She may have not been in the castle but a mere two years, but it was impossible to not know about the history of the royal line. She knew his son was about to walk towards his demise for his father. Hopefully one day the king would truly see his son, before it was too late. . The circle was made, the floor was open, the pact would soon be in place. She watched as the Prince stood boldly in the circle, as others slowly made their own decisions and either stepped forward, or away. Her mind was made up. There was no turning away, no sitting idle on the sidelines. Bodly she made her own march to the circle that would decide their fates, and took her stand at Valentine's flank. "I was a traveller long before I became a soldier. My years in the wilderness should be an aid for the journey ahead." Her words were directed to the king, but she gave the prince a nod of respect and acknowladged Ivan, a fellow guard of many years, as he too stood with the prince. There was no turning back, only moving forwards, off into a danger unknown. . Aromaya's hand went to her sword as their attention was stolen by the disruptive outlaw who demanded the attention of the king. Her eyes narrowed and her stance became stiff, ready for conflict should it arise as she again questioned the wisdom of freely offering outlaws immunity. |
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Ophelia | 21 | F | Winged --- It was a while the room started filling up with people. A few brave faces and some scared. Ophelia wondered who would decide to join the mission. She had asked her maid to do her hair in an elegant bun. She wore a simple but pretty blue dress, the colour of the night sky. . Ophelia looked around the room, golden gaze flicking from face to face, both new and familiar. The crowd of people were a mix of criminals, commoners and higher ups. The room was quiet apart from a few hushed whispers from people in the back. Her cousin, Valentine, hurried into the room as quietly as he could. It seemed that he had only just woken up. Despite being his son, he was greeted rather coldly by the king. Ophelia knew that their relationship had been rather strained for some time. She used to hope that they would eventually fix whatever was bothering their relationship but it was almost like the king had never seemed to truly acknowledge his son. They all understood what the king was asking. It would be extremely dangerous but it would be worth it to risk everything for an end to the curse. Though, Ophelia thought, the more likely outcome would be death. She had never been much of an optimist. The circle was open to any volunteers. It was like the crowd were all holding their breath in anticipation. They probably were. So far there was Valentine, Ivan, a royal guard Ophelia had known for a while, Zira, one of her close associates and a few other unfamiliar figures. Humming quietly to herself, Ophelia considered it. Her eyes flicked to Valentine. True, he had Ivan and yet... Ophelia had always been a little protective of her cousin, though she wouldn't dare to admit it. Suddenly a servant stumbled near the edge of the crowd. Glasses smashed, wine spilled. It was a mess. Unfortunately for the servant she fell into the circle. Technically she had volunteered. Fate was a tricky thing. Just then, a fiery woman sang out Aloysius' name, clutching a letter in one hand. Immunity - that would be risky. Was it really a good idea to give all these outlaws immunity? Who knew what else they would ask for? They could only hope that wouldn't spiral into something terrible. She shifted into a dragon, a tricier then, and Ophelia paused, eyes narrowing with caution. One hand instinctively went back to her folded wings. Dragons usually meant fire, and everything about this woman seemed uncontrollable and fiery. A danger to her wings. Her...partner was cowering behind her in a sad, frail shape on the floor. Ophelia almost pittied him. Almost. His only condition was to be left alone. Was he not there to volunteer? Honestly, Ophelia wouldn't be surprised if the fire lady had just dragged him along as a pet. With a decision in mind, she cleared her throat and raised her hand midway. "I would like to volunteer," she said simply. No more explanation needed in her opinion. Stepping forward, she gave a half nod to the others in the circle then turned to face the crowd. |
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Lightbringer
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Evangeline Margaux-Héloïs Richelieu The Queen | Ocean Dweller | Mentions : The Gathered Crowd The Queen wasn't one to usually be late, however, she wanted to prepare herself for what she was doing . It had been too long since she had been to her home, and the letters from her family were growing shorter and shorter, until there were no more. And it concearned her, and she had made the decision to volunteer herself for this mission. It had been a while since she had sailed the seas, but if the scattered maps and trinkets of past adventures were anything, her love and longing for it was evident. She didn't like being caged like some pretty bird for display, and now she had the chance to spread her wings - she released a soft sigh as she stood up from her chair and looked in the mirror. She didn't look like a Queen at the moment - she wore a frilly white silk shirt, and over it was a leather vest with gold accents . Then a pair of loose fitting black cotton trousers with golden buttons, and a pair of shined heeled boots . Her hair was pulled back in one braid with a simple ribbon tied at the end in a bow. She then grabbed a jacket, and procceded to exit her room - her stride was confident and purposeful, and she held her head high. She entered the room where the meeting was happening, only to find chaos before her. And she simply took it in stride with a raised brow in question. She dared anyone to make a fuss about her being late, she was their goddamned Queen and they were on her time, and if anyone thought anything less was foolish. She knew some of the prissy nobles would be making a scene about this, and she respressed a snicker at the thought. She then heard the voice of a woman who was so casually addressing , her husband. And she felt something ugly rear it's head as she made her way up her husband, and stood beside him. She glared at the brazen woman, who appeared to have a sniveling lump of a man hidden behind her, and it seemed he was here against his will. She could understand mischief and causing chaos, yet, this was a bit nerve irking. She let out a low growl at the dragon, her normal teeth sharpening to allow her fangs to slightly show. Her violet eyes glowing eerily , and her pupils shifting into something more draconic, " You will address your Monarch with respect, Latayel Ithel, " she said speaking to the woman with authority, " yes, you have the chance for immunity for offering your services on these travels , however, it can and will be revoked if you don't prove yourself useful or if you break your word . And once you're in, you can't back out. Now, will you kindly, refrain from making a scene so we don't prolong this meeting." She finsihed with a huff of annoyance shown for the woman. She turned to faced Aloysius and she said, " Your Highness, I am volunteering my expertise for this expedition, I am the only Ocean Dweller within our lands, and it would be advantageous for me to be on this voyage, before I was Queen - I was trained as a Sailing Master and would keep record of all trade and conditions of ships within my homeland. That was my responsibility as a Princess Of Atlantis - and the waters to my homeland are rough and foreign to these brave volunteers. And it would great for diplomatic relations as well. Would this endeavor of mine, so please the King ? " she said clearly and bodly to the King. She didn't know she was holding her breath, she prayed to the Gods that her husband would allow her to go of his own will. If not, she would have to be a bit rebellious and make it know , she would be going whether he liked it or not. She just wanted to give him the respect a wife should give her husband, but she was not some weak-willed woman he could command, and she would defy him if and when needed. And she just hoped that she didn't need to make a fool of him publicly. |
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Darkseeker
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THE GOODBYE - Aloysius - The King /// M: Gathered, The Queen - - Aloysius’ cold gaze watched as volunteer after volunteer joined the circle. He wondered how many would come back alive. He wondered how many would even come back to be buried. Part of him felt guilty for asking random volunteers to join on this mission. Yet he couldn’t, in good conscious, order for someone to go to the ends of Exoria to do this. First, his gaze flickered between Zira and Nina whom both volunteered. He gave a nod of approval at the two young women’s bravery. Next, Ivan, his trusted guard. This one hurt a little. But, he trusted Ivan and knew of the man’s capabilities. He hoped he made it out alive. Although, the King couldn’t say the same for Latayel. Oh, when her voice rang out, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. That voice was unmistakable. A twinge of regret formed in him when offering outlaws this granted immunity. But… maybe Latayel would meet an unfortunate end. He could only hope. His eyes flickered down to Daniel, his brow raised. The King couldn’t quite recognize the young man. Though, surely if he had tangled himself with Latayel, he couldn’t be any better than her. What if he was the same scum as her? Yet when he spoke, asking for immunity… he couldn’t deny him as much as he wanted. “Let it be. Survive this trial, and you will be left alone,” The King motioned to the circle,” Too late to back out now.” As more and more filed in, Aloysius found himself a bit more hopeful. Hopeful that there was still good in the land. Besides Latayel and Daniel, that is. He ignored his son though. Part of him wondered if Ivan and Aromaya were volunteering for his sake, but Aloysius thought otherwise. He believed in them. All… or most… standing in the circle. No matter what would become of them, he prayed this issue would be resolved once and for all. Aloysius didn’t think much of responding to Latayel’s claims until he heard the doors swing open with a loud bang. A small smirk painted his lips for the first time. Even more when she corrected the outlaw swiftly. Yet that smirk faded with her next statement. That next statement. He should’ve seen it coming. Knowing his wife, he saw this from a mile away. But hearing it… it destroyed him. Her asking to go on this journey. Aloysius opened his mouth to deny her. But… why? Why let his son go and not his wife? His wife who was far more capable, stronger, and mature? If anything, Evangeline Margaux-Héloïs Richelieu would get these fine adventurers back alive. And… he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer. So… he swallowed, exhaled, then turned to her with somber eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. It was that he didn’t trust the situation. Yet Exoria needed her. It needed all of them. And all the help it could get. “Be safe, I beg,” He whispered softly to her,” And i do not like to beg.” He could only share a small smile. He squeezed her hand fiercely, then sighed, returning to his throne. With a snap of his fingers, the gold ring disappeared, and a mark appeared on each of the volunteers, and the Queens palm. It was in the shape of a dragon, glowing in a brilliant golden hue. And with it, bound them all to a spell. Should they ever try to separate from the mission, the spell would bring them back together. Either they complete the mission, or wander for all eternity. “Valentine… make yourself useful and take these fine people to the armory. Once you are all suited, you will leave. Immediately. May the ancients and world killers alike have mercy on your souls.” His voice caused the room to shake in an ominous warning. |
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Darkseeker
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THE ARMORY - Valentine - /// M: Gathered (ind.), Ivan (D.) - - - Valentine felt the mark seer into his flesh, yet he barely reacted. It was done. His fate was sealed. And, he wasn’t sure if he was coming back from this. But whatever came next, it was to be. And… he looked around himself. He was surrounded by people he’d seen his whole life… and outlaws. Is that… how Aloysius saw him? Nothing greater than a thief? Such as Latayel no less. His eyes glanced at the woman. Where Aloysius gazed at her with distaste… maybe, there was something more to her than meets the eye. Valentine swore to see the best in everyone. That meant lowlifes too, he supposed. Besides, he was about to live with these people. Fight alongside them. Maybe even die with them. They’d be the last faces he ever saw. He cleared his throat, nodding to the Queen and giving a short bow, before turning to the others in the circle. “Thank you all, for volunteering. Your sacrifices will not be in va-” He began. “Armorery, Valentine. NOW!” Aloysius snapped. Valentine winced at the notion, let out a breath, then dipped his head before leading the way. He guessed there would be no time for a motivating speech. Or, he expected the Queen to do the honors. He guessed she would be better suited for such a feat. Still, he wanted to thank them all. Zira, Nina, Ivan, Aromaya, Evangeline, Ophelia, Sari, …. And Latayel and Daniel. Though the young, shy man confused Valentine a little. He seemed to be an outlaw. At least, he was with Latayel. Or she’d dragged him here… which seemed more likely now. Nonetheless, whether he was here on his will or against it…. There was no turning back. Eventually, he led the group to a large room, half the size of the throne room. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of items. Mostly weapons, like swords, axes, throwing stars, bows… but also food, medical supplies, compasses, maps, water, artifacts and spelled objects. It wasn’t anything too flashy… other than the large pile of gold coins. “Grab anything you need, but we will constantly be moving so try not to back too heavy. Gold will come in handy for traders outside of the Kingdom for any goods we may need along the way. We have thirty minutes to talk, gear up, and then head out,” Valentine addressed the room. His voice wasn’t nearly as powerful or authoritative as his fathers. It didn’t command attention. It was more gentle. Holding care and patience. Valentine then let out a breath and smiled, jumping over to Ivan. He hadn’t really spoken to the man in awhile. They used to be super close… well, at least Valentine was close to Ivan. He was a little more present than Aloysius was. In all honesty, Valentine looked up to him. As a friend, a leader. He wished there was a thing or two he could learn from him. “So… you joined. How uh… how do you think our odds are?” Valentine’s eyes sparkled with a hint of excitement now that he wasn’t under the watchful eyes of his father. His hair was still a little ruffled from waking up, yet Valentine was aware. Maybe a little too aware. His eyes flickered to the others before Ivan could even reply. He planned on meeting each and every one of these adventurers. Afterall, he was putting his life in their hands, and they were doing the same. |
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Darkseeker
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Ivan || Guard || M: Valentine, Others Ivan had endured the branding with clenched fists hidden behind his back, his posture unmoved but his jaw tight as stone. The prince hadn’t flinched. Not really. That… impressed him, in a grim sort of way. There was nothing noble about pain, but there was something noble about taking it in stride. When Valentine began to speak, Ivan’s brow lifted just slightly—enough to betray surprise. As expected, the boy didn’t get more than a breath in before Aloysius barked his command. Ivan didn’t move, though his body wanted to, as the king snapped at his son. They were both good souls that Ivan cared for dearly, heavens forbid the king ever hear the guard admit it, but the yell seemed excessive. Instead of voicing his opinion, he followed along silently, his boots heavy on the marble. The moment the doors to the armory closed behind them, a certain tension eased in his shoulders. Slight. Invisible, to anyone who hadn’t watched him for decades. But it was there. He stepped into the space and surveyed the supplies. He’d been here earlier that morning to make sure the room was stocked and well-guarded. His eyes skipped past the weapons -- he already carried his own, forged in silence and used in darker corners than most of these recruits could imagine -- and instead lingered briefly on the maps. On the medical kits. On the compass that sat just off-center on the table. Good. Someone had remembered the real weapons in a journey like this weren’t always sharp. He hadn’t picked up a single thing before he heard soft steps approach, and the familiar voice that had, for a time, once called him Eye-in in childish mispronunciation. "So… you joined. How uh… how do you think our odds are?” Ivan turned his head, then his full frame, studying the prince before him. The sparkle in Valentine’s eyes was not unfamiliar, but it was less frequent these days. It reminded him, sharply, of a smaller boy who used to follow him around the barracks asking questions about sword techniques and duels, his hair just as messy then, but his enthusiasm even messier. He let a pause hang. “…Slim,” Ivan said at last, voice low and steady. “You’re walking into chaos with a pack of strangers. Some of whom I trust about as far as I could throw your father. And I’ve been generous in training, but not even I can teach loyalty in a week.” Then, the faintest glimmer of something passed through his gaze. Not amusement, exactly. Something like it, if it had been worn down by time and tempered with care. “But I’ve seen you fall off a horse, just about break your arm, and still insist on finishing drills with your off-hand. I’ve seen you pull your weight in the kitchens when every other noble child was too proud to peel potatoes. And I just watched you, not even five minutes ago, face your future without flinching.” Ivan’s gaze flicked briefly to the others -- Latayel twirling something shiny between her fingers, Daniel standing like he hoped no one noticed he was breathing, Sari pacing like a predator -- and then back to the prince. “Our odds are slim,” he repeated. "But where there's a will, there's a way, and you've never lacked will, my Prince. That's for sure." A faint grunt of approval followed as Ivan turned away, scanning the supplies with a practiced eye. |
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Darkseeker
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Latayel || Outlaw || M: Daniel, Others Latayel had arrived at the armory with a flourish and absolutely no regard for the Queen’s tight-lipped scolding. The monarch's cold reprimands had washed over her like bathwater: mildly annoying, lukewarm, and thoroughly ignorable. She’d smiled through the entire thing, fangs gleaming, eyes bored. The moment they were dismissed, she patted Daniel on the head as if he were a stray mutt she’d lost interest in. “Go frolic or whatever it is nervous little foxes do,” she purred, already wandering off, leaving him to his own devices. Inside the armory, she swept in like she owned the place, taloned fingers clicking lazily against stone as she strolled between tables of gleaming metal and stacks of bundled supplies. The scent of oil and steel filled her nose, and she hummed low in her throat—something between a lullaby and a warning growl. A compass caught her eye, and she plucked it off the table without hesitation. Not because she needed it. Just because she wanted it. Her fingers turned it once, twice, then slid it into the belt sash that cinched her hips. She didn’t even look at Ivan or Valentine. She could feel the former’s glare like a dagger grazing her scales, and the latter’s too-eager curiosity made her want to yawn. The woman was content to swipe what Ivan had been eyeing, just a subtle show of snark. She’d had her moment. For now, she was more interested in shinier things. Her gaze slithered over the room before landing on two figures that stood out like freshly unwrapped candies -- Princess Zira and her noble companion, Nina. Oo, and not far off was the Princess Ophelia. Shiny! Latayel’s lips parted in a slow, delighted smile. She reached for a dagger—not a long one, but short, curved, and wickedly balanced. It had a flame-etched hilt and a glint that whispered blood would look good on me. She turned it over in her hand thoughtfully, then traced the point down the side of her own neck, lightly enough not to nick, just to feel the chill of metal. She didn’t hide the way she stared. Then her fingers brushed a satchel—thick leather, practical, durable. Perfect. She slung it up, then paused, noticing the small ocean-blue emblem stitched near the clasp. Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Patriotic embroidery.” She snapped the patch off like it offended her—then again, maybe it did—and held it up between two fingers, sniffing with open contempt. Oh, how nice it would feel to pop the queen's head off the same way as payback for fun cut short. Ah, well. With a roll of her shoulders, Latayel dropped the emblem to the floor and crushed it beneath her boot, then spun her new dagger one last time. Her eyes flicked back to Ophelia, Zira, and Nina with a smirk, then she turned to continue browsing, the weight of chaos trailing her like perfume. |
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Darkseeker
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Daniel / Outlaw / M: Latayel, Sari, Others Daniel had screamed when the brand seared into his palm. Not loudly, thank the ancients, but he had screamed. And torn at his palm like he could rip the brand right off, along with his skin. Flinching away from anybody looking at him- especially the royals and nobles, he can practically feel them glaring at him- he examines his palm as he pads with the group to the armory. It's... not bad. He's definitely bled worse, and he can still curl all his fingers all the way, so he'll be fine. What really worries Daniel is that the marking is still clear on the ruined flesh, shining golden even through the blood. How is that even possible? He's jolted back to the present moment by Latayel patting him on the head, growling at her with fangs bared and scurrying away to an empty corner of the room. None of these objects interest him. He's always been able to survive on his own- and fight on his own- without excessive weaponry and supplies. And he's going to run anyway. Why bother? Though... he doesn't know what kind of magic is at work here. He may not be able to leave- ancients forbid. Still, it may be better to be prepared. Or just take things to make it a little easier for him when he leaves. Casting another nervous glance around the room- sure, they'd been told to take things, but what if somebody thinks he's stealing? What if somebody uses one of those nasty weapons on him?- Daniel creeps towards a rack of smaller blades, carefully lifting a set of small daggers and slipping them into the cloth wrapped around his waist. They may be handy in a pinch. While he's at it, he shoves as many gold coins as he can fit into an empty pouch on his belt, looking guility over his shoulder with every movement. The medical supplies also catch his eye- he could always use more of those, especially for his palm right now. As he's making his way over there, he's so intently focused on both keeping his distance from Ivan, Valentine, and any other high-ranking officials- and Latayel's not-so-veiled threat, which makes him shudder violently at the thought of that wrath being turned in his direction- that he stumbles right into Sari. Yelping, he jumps back immediately, ears pinned and tail tucked. Geez! That's the second time the poor woman's been run into today! "I- I- I'm sorry," he stammers, hunching his shoulders and holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "I- I'm so sorry, I- I didn't s- see you, I'm sorry!" |
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Lightbringer
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Zira|22|F [+] Nina|20|F [M: Ivan, Sari, Ophelia, Valentine, The King & Queen (dir), The group (ind) ~ The rather obnoxious entrance of two outlaws had Zira gritting her teeth and sidestepping closer to those she knew, glancing at the guard opposite the prince. She would bet that woman's presence was enough to have him on edge. However, it was the sudden clatter of dishes that had her flinching. Turning, she spotted one of the staff who'd been pushed into the circle, her heart clenched, the poor girl. Zira tapped her friend on the shoulder and walked over to the woman. "Are you alright?" Her voice was gentle, just loud enough for the girl to hear, as she waved off the tray and offered a hand. While Nina stepped over, casting a glare at the few who lingered a little too close not to have been involved, watching satisfied when they shrank away. Before glancing at the tray, and once the girl had moved enough from the glass, kicked it away. Nina growled at the hesitant staff nearby, motioning for them to clean the mess. Watching with steely eyes as they did their job. Zira shook her head at her friend's actions, giving a gentle smile to the girl, Sari, if she remembered correctly. Helping the girl to her feet, before she brought her attention back to the rulers, noting the queen had arrived and had verbally reprimanded the female outlaw before saying she'd be joining them. That wasn't something Zira expected, and based on the raised eyebrow from Nina, neither had she. The King's address had been expected, and when the circle had turned into brands on each volunteer's hands, Zira had hissed. Clutching her hand as Nina beside her made a face. Although even Zira had flinched when the King snapped at Valentine, who'd tried to offer kind words to the group. She felt bad for him, although she couldn't empathize, Zira never got to meet her own father. It still didn't look good for a father to yell at his son in such a way. . Zira gave a nod to Sari and her friend before silently falling in step just behind the prince and Ivan, she could feel Nina's presence behind her, the woman almost like her shadow. The armory wasn't a place she was familiar with, knowing where it was yet never really having stepped foot within. Her gaze scanned the room before settling on a familiar chest, the silver and white unmistakable. It had belonged to her mother, the snowflake crest carved into the ivory inlay. Carefully, she took her claw and pressed it into the lock, and with a click it opened. Inside, it held a pale leather pouch with what looked like medicine, a set of throwing knives, and a matching bow and quiver. The wood is a dark grey, likely from the forests up north, with blue crystal accents and an ivory inlay. Zira vaguely remembered her mother talking about the weapon, she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. That is until a chill ran down her spine, lifting her gaze to find the source of her unease. Settling on the female outlaw, she gulped. The woman looked at her like food, and it was more than a little unnerving. Zira took a shaky breath and quickly grabbed the cloak from within the chest, throwing it over her shoulders before fastening the belt for the knives, followed by the bow and quiver. Her feet guided her to what she deemed the safest place in the group, beside the prince and Ivan. Coming to stand nervously beside them, she offered a timid smile to her nephew. . Nina hesitated at the armory door, her gaze assessing the room for anything she could make use of. Noting that she caught sight of her friend wandering off to something that caught her eye, at least she wouldn't need to worry about her. Turning her focus to finding something for herself, browsing what was available, she wasn't too keen on anything. That was until she noticed a pair of red daggers, whose curved shape reminded her of a dragon's tail. She traced her finger along the edge with a smile, yes, these would serve nicely. As she gathered the belt for her chosen weapon, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Nina frowned, what now? Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of the outlaw watching her and her friend close by. This unsettled her, the woman was likely to be a potential problem, something she wasn't super keen to deal with, frankly. So she simply glared at the woman, a silent dare to even think to attempt what Nina could see in her gaze. She shook her head, gathering a satchel that had some basic supplies, before walking over to stand by the armory door. Leaning against the wall as she waited, hoping that this wouldn't turn into more of a headache than it was worth. |
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Ophelia | 21 | F | Winged --- Ophelia barely reacted when the brand appeared on her hand. It stung but it wasn't too bad, in Ophelia's opinion. She'd felt worse. The weakling - Daniel? - had shrieked, however. Ophelia looked over her shoulder at him. In what world would he be useful? Maybe he had some hidden power or trick that would prove himself as a good part of the team. Nope, probably not. Her gaze flicked to the King and Valentine when she heard the King snap at his son. If only Valentine could stand up to him. . The armoury wasn't exactly unfamiliar to her. Most of her visits had been when she was a child and explored a lot of the places she wasn't supposed to be. The swords has looked much more impressive back when she could barely spell. There were still some amazing blades and weapons of all sorts but nothing seemed to really be of any interest to Ophelia. She gazed around the room with a bored expression. Pausing to check out a particularly shiny dagger, she could feel someone watching her. Ophelia sighed and set down the weapon. "Sparklers seems to have a staring problem," she muttered to herself. Sparklers had seemed like an appropriate name for the female outlaw. Yes, she'd made a dramatic entrance but she didn't seem to do much more. Ophelia turned her head to get a better view, glaring at her as she moved through the armoury with such self-importance. The female outlaw's eyes flitted from person to person. Ivan, Valentine, Zira and Nina. Scoffing, Ophelia turned back to her search. . Coins were a must but the weakling looked as if he was taking enough for a year. Ophelia smiled lightly at that. If nothing more then he could be the amusing one. Then her eyes settled on something more interesting. A small set of throwing knives. The blades were as dark as a raven's wing while the handles shone silver like moonlight. She picked one up, twisting it between her fingers. The handle was smooth and cold in her hand while the other half was razor sharp, lethal if thrown correctly. "How fun." . Quicky throwing them in a thick leather pouch, Ophelia shook her wings slightly. A couple of fading feathers drifted to the floor. She was itching to stretch her wings. There hadn't been enough time for a quick flight around the gardens as usual before being called by the King. |
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Winter Month: 2 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
