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Post by MidnightRunner on Jan 8, 2019 1:12:33 GMT -8
Rellen’s dawdling wasn’t truly a slowwander, rather a quick survey of each unique building as he roamed. First, the Blacksmith, the Guild Hall…
“At least I didn’t need to bring the dagger.” Rellen murmured under his breath as he passed the Hall, looking behind him to see the Smithy slowly fall away. As he began changing course toward the Abbey, a few of the other faces piqued Rellen’s attention from his hidden friend, carefully looking toward a few of them as he started towards the Abbey, a left arm nestled just above his belt.
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Post by EtherealNoire on Jan 12, 2019 17:26:48 GMT -8
Adeney couldn't know why the woman was helping him at all, if she nor anyone was meant to interfere with so called fate. He wasn't about to turn her away with his skepticism though. What's done was done. Silvant was dead, and now alive, by his hands.
"You have to understand. What I did- She was never supposed to have died." Now he did meet her gaze again, locking with the jade glint that peeked from behind Talea's russet hair. He had to convince her, or whatever otherworldly guide that led her to him, that Silvant was meant to be alive. Adeney felt he was correcting some error on fate's own hands. It was unfair that his world was being overturned because he wanted to save Audrey from some fatal incident.
"She was suffering. I was supposed to be with her, to keep her safe." In a stirring of wind his essence blew against her cheek, brushing tresses past widened eyes. He dripped with grief, with guilt unbound and she drifted closer to his gaze, hunting for the root of his sorrows. So it was he painted his sins upon his hands, innocent blood he claimed. Talea knew not what chains bound him to this woman's past, yet anguish rolled from him as the fog blanketed trembling emerald fronds. Fragile, bowing to the world's every breath. He sought the wisdom of his own kind... Though it collected on her tongue in vowels and volume too thick to swallow, she drew upon the words heard cast by light-dweller's voices. "Safety shall be found once more for her. Need not you tremble in such sorrows." Gentle as the breeze her fingers graced his visage, like a dove soothing the cries of chicks, and her smile too found rest when her gaze alighted on his own. "Though the path she chooses is her own, spirit nor mortal dare dismiss the warmth you harbor for her in your soul." |
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Post by brazilianguy on Jan 20, 2019 1:47:20 GMT -8
/ Sascha Holzmann and Milo / It was late afternoon, and Sascha was sitting next to her faithful canine behind the Ancestor's Statue, standing in the middle of the main square. From there she could see the entrance of almost all the streets that led there and who entered and exited the main buildings. It might look like she was just there, cutting an apple into little pieces, eating and relaxing, but in fact it had been a few hours since she was there watching the movement. To investigate the location, raise possible suspects, and know who to talk to and ask the right questions, it was necessary to observe them first. Just one wrong question, to the wrong person, and it could ruin the investigation. In this case she had to be patient. And that was not a problem for the german. Milo was lying down, apparently unpretentious, with his tongue leaping out of his mouth.
The flow of people began to increase, perhaps with the late afternoon approaching, more people being drawn to the tavern. It was then that a passerby caught Sascha's attention among all the others. "It's you ... it can only be you.", she thought, standing up and with a snap of her fingers, followed by a tap on her left thigh, recruited Milo to accompany her from that side. The woman walked resolutely toward the person, making a straight line a little ahead of the way the person seemed to be heading, intercepting. When the person could least expect it, Sascha popped up, 5 meters ahead.
"I'm pretty sure that your name is Florence Novel and we need to talk."
Sascha was not exactly big, but she had a power stance, a penetrating stare, and the doberman who accompanied her created a barrier that, passively, discouraged the interlocutor from simply passing by without an answer.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I actually want your help. I have a letter of recommendation from a german doctor and the endorsement of someone close to you. Her name is Tilly."
The investigator didn't looked like a very likeable person at first and not necessarily this characteristic was a preference but a condition. There was truth in her words, though.
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Post by black379 on Jan 23, 2019 16:55:05 GMT -8
Whether or not Talea fully grasped Adeney's struggle was not so important as her aid. Her response soothed his nervous fidgeting and he was no longer on the verge of an outburst. Instead he only looked exhausted, frustrated, and pensive. He clenched his jaw as Talea gingerly touched his face. Adeney broke his gaze from her veiled eyes to set on her other features.
"Do you know what I... feel for her? You can sense it?"
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2019 3:33:46 GMT -8
From behind her lenses, Florence seemed as perturbed by this approaching German as she would be by a passing bird or the like.
She stopped stiffly, as though her joints were but rusting machines in desperate need of oil. Cocking her head, in an evermore corvine motion with her mask strapped to her face.
Behind the mask she glanced a tad anxiously behind Sascha, more out of a want to stay busy and less to escape the woman and her dogs.
"What is your business with Tilly?" Her tone was flat and monotone, and bore a hint of an Italian accent for those with the inclination to detect it.
"...and your business with me?"
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Post by MidnightRunner on Feb 3, 2019 5:51:26 GMT -8
And so he arrived at the steps to the Abbey, a mystifying presence swept over him, like an entrancing image he once saw before, or perhaps simply realizing it was something of higher moral than what was around him. In either case he looked up at its features, gazing over its features for a long while, before suddenly snapping back into reality, turning on his heel towards his original goal, the tavern.
Once more Rellen was in silent stride, eyes lowered to the ground without reaction, passing the Sanitarium without a second thought. Arriving at the tavern’s door, he pulled on the knob, and went in...
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Post by Kidney on Feb 6, 2019 22:45:13 GMT -8
Tod welcomed the cold air as he rushed by his face. Tickling his nose and ears, before softly biting them, Tod felt things. The air rushing past him happened to the be the first, followed by perhaps his own imagined sensations of moonlight glancing off his face. It was difficult to surmise what was happening, and Tod hated it.
What did he feel? What was he feeling now?
Anxious, he felt.
He pinpointed anxiety, or nervousness, closing in. As if wind and earth and speck all worked together to press on the center of his back and across his chest to crush him. The pressure felt so great upon his shoulders and the tenseness that filled his bones that consistently threatened to break them from the inside. Too many large words penetrated Tod's mind. He wished he could have been dumb. Dumb people always seemed peaceful, blissful even. Tod always felt like he was losing time.
As he tromped down the stairs of the Abbey, and down alongside the graveyard, he enjoyed the movement of the world. Eyeing the occasional resident of the Hamlet, Tod waved smallishly. After they did not notice him, Tod tugged on his tunic and walked faster. He may actually have looked conspicuous now, Tod thought, so he stopped. He couldn't decide now, the world seemed to crush him under the weight of the decision. He wasn't ready to interact with men of the law!
Tod froze, standing in the square with nowhere to go.
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Post by Outisakanobody on Feb 10, 2019 17:28:48 GMT -8
"Tod?" It is asked as she saw the young priest wander in the streets, acting strangely. She had been feeding Russell, sitting on a curb and contemplating things. Now she stood and started to scurry toward her...friend.
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Post by Kidney on Feb 10, 2019 21:56:54 GMT -8
Tod froze. Again. Even more. Frozen. Yes. Extremely frozen.
Tod turned, a face of pure fear directed towards the voice of a woman he wished he had spent both less and more time alongside. He swallowed nothing and opened his mouth to speak. Though, no sound came forth. Instead, a small, minute squeak came from the boy's form.
This was then superseded by a flurry of words, "OhbythelightamIgladtoseeyou!"
Tod turned quickly, waving smallishly and speaking once more, "I am in the midst of my own thoughts, please, tell me about your day. Anything to get away from my own."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Feb 11, 2019 6:06:58 GMT -8
As Ignis made her small, hopping steps to stand next to Tod, she couldn't help but cock her head to one side at his greeting.
"You seem to be acting... Strange. Are you I'll?" she asks. She taps the long beak on her face in thought while looking Tod over closer, inspecting his complexion, his posture, looking for any obvious wounds, things like that.
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Post by Kidney on Feb 11, 2019 19:59:15 GMT -8
Tod was trapped. Early into the conversation, he was already trapped! Doctors and their questions! Curse her superior intellect.
"I certainly...feel ill, dear doctor." He said, with a heavy exhale. "I've been alone in my room for god knows how long, and I've read so much I could fill a soup with the number of letters I've taken in! It's preposterous that not a single person here has ever written anything about Saint Kessiah! As if he doesn't exist!" Tod said, red-faced. He truly didn't mean to offload his sorrows, and in the brief amount of time he took to think, he remembered the dungeon.
Tod looked to Ignis with a pained expression. "Oh my...I'm sorry to yell at you like this. I'm shaken, truly."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Feb 11, 2019 20:04:49 GMT -8
Ignis continued tapping her beak, her pet crow flying up to perch on her shoulder.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She says, blandly. Clinically. "Could you describe your symptoms for me?"
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Post by Kidney on Feb 11, 2019 20:08:05 GMT -8
Tod looked confused, but understanding. So dichotomous was the look upon his face that he turned away before coming back with speech in hand. "Ah, I..."
Tod shuffled in place, staring down at the woman before him, "Nervousness, Guilty Conscience, Sweatiness..." He stated, "I fear I do not know what are symptoms and what is normal at this point."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Feb 11, 2019 20:11:19 GMT -8
"Hmm. You said you went into a dungeon? Recently? Could you tell me about that?" Ignis asks, feeling like the damage here might be more mental than physical. But she wanted to find out anyway.
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Post by Kidney on Feb 11, 2019 20:22:06 GMT -8
Tod thought for a short time, breathing a bit shallow, and paling at the memories. He spoke vaguely, but enough to surmise some sort of shakenness to his mind. "We watched out Guide perish, and I was attacked by some...imitation of myself."
Tod thought back upon it, and a nearly vomit-inducing fluttering occupied his stomach at the thought of the abominable creature he fought. "It was...egregiously sexual."
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