| |
Neutral
|
don't post unless your name is in the title! <3 |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
res plot plans / overview info |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Name Misha Varlamov Age Mid- to late-twenties Gender Male Nationality / Kingdom While each of the twelve kingdoms pride themselves on strictly keeping to their own kind, Misha is the result of an extremely rare, controversial, and highly-publicized wartime fling between the heir to the shadow kingdom and one of the daughters of the queen of the ice kingdom. He is the only individual who could rightfully claim two kingdoms, making him an extremely dangerous individual and a target for many to attempt to destroy. Appearance Misha is tall and thin with a quiet strength about him. An aura of malevolence seems to linger around him like a cloud, despite the fact that he rarely--if ever--demonstrates any sort of aggression or violence in a loud or attention-grabbing manner. He has short hair that is not excessively curly, but is tousled in a way that allows for a few ringlets of curls that angle his delicate features. He has porcelain skin and light-colored, stormy eyes that always seem to demonstrate some level of pain or anger. Although he is considered to be fairly "pretty," he almost appears sickly and there is a rugged quality about him that proves there is more than meets the eye. - Although he does not take any particular pride in his sense of fashion, Misha is an innately fashionable man. He wears clothing that garners him an increased sense of authority and maturity beyond what the way he carries himself already demands. He often wears dark colors and warm clothing, and he is always wearing gloves due to the extent of what his magic can do if he does not conceal his hands. Personality In most situations, Misha primarily keeps to himself. Due to the trauma of accidentally killing many people due to the unpredictable nature of his magic, Misha has the core belief that he destroys anything he touches, and thus, anything he cares about. Despite the fact that he strictly chooses not to involve himself with others except on account of alliances, and, in this case, the manipulation of eleven other individuals in order to learn the truth about what happened with his sister, Misha struggles with the weight of the emotions he does have, and getting rid of them in a way that feels less torturous to him. Caring is his utmost burden, and has caused him pain his entire life. - Despite his difficulties with controlling his emotions and his strong desire (and failure) to live a life of utter detatchment, this individual is very determined and will do whatever it takes to achieve what he believes is right or just. There is no length to which he is not willing to go, especially in the name of whatever rationalized loyalty he displays to those he cares for. He is very intelligent, cunning, and booksmart, which makes up for the lack of physical prowess he displays, despite the fact that his survival skills have left him alive for the last few years. He is aware of how much of an anomaly he is, and carries himself with a certain level of mystery and detatchment to fit what others say about him. Magic Abilities Misha has inherited the magic from both sides of his family, which is a bit of a detriment to him considering that his body is only meant to hold about half of the magic it stores, keeping him rather ailing and sickly despite the great power he possesses. Everything he touches or that touches him with his bare skin turns to ice, or disintegrates into shadow or ash. He also possesses night vision, and has the ability to conceal himself in shadows that already exist. He can also create shadows, but more as a trick of the light, not to hide himself or others in. In addition, he is able to siphon power out of those that he kills, but it only lasts for a short period and makes him even sicker than he already is, since his body contains three times the amount of power it should. Beyond these things, he experiments with other types of magic of the shadow realm such as mind control, manipulation, and other things of this nature, though he's seen the damage this does to others, and he fights the attraction he has toward this type of magic. Background Misha mysteriously disappeared from the academy during his own trials several years ago and has not been seen since, until now. He was presumed dead and the opinion of most of the individuals across all the kingdoms was that everyone was better for it. This year, his favorite sister, Ivenne, was supposed to attend the trials after finishing her years of education here, but she was mysteriously murdered on grounds just prior to the start of the trials. Following the news of his sister's death, Misha re-emerged from wherever he had been hiding out, and declared formally that he would take her place rather than putting up one of his younger siblings or kingdom officials for this task. It is rather surprising news to everyone that he is alive, and they are rather terrified by the prospect that he survive these trials a second time. Skills / Strengths › patient › determined › intelligent › perceptive › wise › careful › rational › responsible › just › loyal › self-disciplined › is the strongest wielder of magic across the twelve kingdoms › survival skills › military and battlefield intelligence › booksmart and politically attuned Flaws / Weaknesses › self-preserving › indifferent › unable to ask for help › distrustful › resentful › close-minded › judgmental › risk-avoidant › lacks physical strength › sickly › his magic comes at a significant emotional and physical price › patterns of emotional instability ( always feeling too much or too little) Motives Misha's primary motive is to discover who killed his sister and avenge her death. His secondary motives are the pursuit of knowledge, honor, redemption, justice, and self-interest. Other |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
┏━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┓ Andromeda Orchid ┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛ 23 | Female ♀ ♠ Nationality & Kingdom ♠ Andromeda comes from a purposely small royal lineage. Each pair of rulers only supplying themselves with a single heir to ensure that all the power possible is transferred to a singular being, this way when they rise to power they will be as strong as possible. Ensuring that their kingdom outlives all others. The name of her kingdom is Marmoor. Situated far to the east, Marmoor is a land of rolling hills and fog. Once you step into its borders, the overwhelming feeling of someone watching you will begin to drive you crazy. That is, unless, you find locals to teach you the ways of their land. Marmoor is known for the psychic abilties of its inhabitants, particularly the noble and royal lineages. Perceived as an ethereal and rather unnerving group of people. ♠ Appearance ♠ Andromeda is not an initially captivating woman, standard in most aspects that others may be blessed in. With skin that remains supple despite her training, maintaining a smooth fawn colour, Rome’s form has faint dapples of freckles across her shoulders and the bridge of her nose. Beneath this skin is a narrow skeleton sporting vague muscle supports, nothing to boast about. As an overall shape, Andromeda is rectangular with a small favour towards her hips where a little more fat can be located. Her proportions are relatively equal in regards to the length of her legs and torso, having her stand at a steady 5’6”. Her hands are small with slender fingers, nails always trimmed short and well manicured. In regards to her facial features, they are set in a subtly square face with a strong jaw. Her next noticeable feature would be her nose, standing proudly at the centre with a slightly upturned tip. On either side of her nose sit two narrow eyes with pale light blue irises nestled within them. The colour of ice and glaciers, they’re rather striking against her otherwise darker appearance. Above them are shaped and thick eyebrows, kept in neat condition thanks to regular maintenance. Her hair is normally kept up out of the way in a simple ponytail or bun, but if it is let down it reaches to the small of her back. However, as its pattern is a mixture of 2c and 3a, if it were straightened a few inches are gained to its length, courtesy of shrinkage. The front pieces are kept shorter to frame her face when she pulls the rest of the mass up. It is the colour of dark deep coffee, the smallest hints of lighter browns towards the ends of her hair. The air around her carries the natural scent of white florals and citrus. Her voice is a soft and gentle type, pronouncing each letter to its fullest. ♠ Personality ♠ Andromeda is a lively woman, pent up with energy she doesn't know what to do with it all. Be it dancing, singing, racing, as long as it raises her adrenaline and brings that head rush she so craves, she will throw herself into it head first. The enthusiasm she possesses often means the competitive streak announces itself at any given moment. The thrill it delivers to her could match nothing else. While she is naturally a magnetic personality, the corruption that her gifts bring upon her are extremely draining. Some days, she is a husk of her true self, lurking around and barely speaking. The toll that diving into other’s minds takes on her own blurs the line between her own intentions and thoughts with those of the mind’s she had infiltrated. The more she does it, the more she loses herself. ♠ Abilities ♠ Andromeda is a soul carver. Blessed by her ancestors with the tremendous power of mind control and manipulation. She can slide into the mind’s of others and plant thoughts, memories. Steal them away, make people forget.
The problem arises when she removes herself from their head’s after an assault, the memories linger in her own head. With each powerful memory she steals away, she retains it in her own head. As they begin to stack up, Andromeda is never quite sure which are her own memories and which are hitchhikers in her consciousness. ♠ Background ♠ Despite graduating the academy years prior, she is still the sole heir to Marmoor. Meaning that she must attend all tournaments until she is crowned ruler after her parents. Whilst in the past, other Orchid’s have decided to send champions to represent the kingdom, Andromeda thinks this only makes them appear weak and scared. She has attended the past two tournaments, the first she won, the second it was scraped away from her by a little Ice kingdom brat. Now she must return again and with her failure to fuel her, Andromeda is out for blood. ♠ Skills & Strengths ♠ ✔ Mind games ✔ Stealth ✔ Silver-tongued ✔ Intelligent ♠ Flaws & Weaknesses ♠ ✘ Physical strength ✘Stubborn ✘ Vindictive ✘ Closed off ✘ Fear of freezing - courtesy of the ice brat freezing her alive in her last bout. ♠ Motivations ♠ Andromeda must uphold her kingdom's image, proving over and over that she can not only win but dominate the competition. She will continue to thrust herself into the academy year after year until she is crowned ruler of Marmoor. Then she will supply her own heir to the academy and ensure that they are trained to win. Though, Andromeda is aware of her parents desperate need for the winnings. Where their kingdom resides, there are endless monsterous creatures that roam the lands. With their lack of physical power, eliminating them is currently impossible, mind games do not work on monsters. Instead, they use the winnings to keep their kingdom safe and the coffers are almost empty. ♠ Other ♠ In her second tournament, Andromeda lost to the ice heir Artem. However, even if she did not win the pool of resources, she left Artem with a parting gift. As the last event in the tournament came to an end, Andromeda slipped into his mind and showed no mercy in her cruelty. Throwing out the most mind sprialing memories she could pull up, changing his own memories to be twisted and dark depictions of reality. She has heard that in the past year, he had died. Be it from her manipulation or from his own mistakes, Andromeda is hyper aware of the target on her back from the Ice Kingdom. Clearly, when Artem returned home his head was not right. There was only one person who could have accomplished that in the academy. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Leon Finoviard ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ 20 | Male ♂ ✦ Nationality & Kingdom ✦ Leon hails from the feral lands of the south. In the heart of the heat, there is a lush hideaway where his kingdom offers shelter to all travellers. Nibrook is a land of tropical humidity and powerful animals. They are known for their impulsivity and feral nature, particularly the royal lines. Though the term royal means a completely different thing to Nibrook than it does to other nations. In Nibrook, if one desires to rule, all they must do it challenge the current leader and win. Often leading to barbaric duals that only end when one of the participants is laying dead in the dirt. Their people are from all parts of the globe. Though the true natives of the deserts and its tropics are the beasts, these are people who possess animalistic natures and often physical characteristics. An old breed of human that had thought to have been erradicated, but their nation remains strong and dominate the south. ✦ Appearance ✦ Leon stands at a sturdy height of 5’11, but his form is sleek with well built muscles. Broad shoulders house taut muscles that run down his arms and chest, forming well defined regions. This severity of physique continues down his entire body, a cushioning of fat bringing a foreboding size to his figure. Over these muscles may a golden bronze skin that shimmers with youth and vitality, no freckles tarnish his skin. Only a variety of scars, scattered across his entire body, they are all small and faint. He has never been beaten to the point of defeat and therefore sports no brutal injuries that would cause a large scar. Leon’s face is sharp, pointer than it is square with a narrow and straight nose that divides his face in the midline. Set on either side are a pair of huge amber-yellow eyes with feline like pupils, lines with dark lashes. Tribal marks under his eyes are tattooed with red ink, a slick line under each eye that almost resembles eyeliner, flicks out towards the outer corners. On his head is a mane of unruly brown-red hair, hacked into a haphazard wolf cut. The ends reach his nape, with two strands that are longer than the rest being braided with twine and beads that hang over his shoulders. In his mouth are protruding canines, both on the upper and lower arcade. With the lower set being ever so slightly longer. In addition to these points, his nails are sharper, better for grasping and attack in his opinion. The most outwardly animalistic piece of Leon’s appearance is a tail tail pokes out from his spine, reaching his calves. The long sleek fur that covers the canid tail matches the colour of his hair, flowing behind him as he moves. He carries a scent of earth, rainfall and amber. With a voice that is loud and sharp, never overly low, but with a coarseness that some may envy. ✦ Personality ✦ This man is often brash and quick to action, racing around his life like a wind up toy. He can quickly find himself spiralling out of control to the point of no return, at which point someone needs to find him and reel him back in. Though he is kind and offers many compliments, he is very quick to become attached. Once he has decided that someone is his person, he will trail after them like a puppy, though this puppy has the tendency to bite anyone that tries to approach them. This behaviour often forces people away from Leon, much to his horror. But some people like the doting attention of this slightly unstable man, having various amorous experiences both in Nibrook and at the academy. He is a dependable man, the first to put his own life on the line for those he deems worthy of such an act. Leon’s loyalty is unwavering once it has been places upon a person. ✦ Abilities ✦ Leon is a simple man. His abilities are purely due to his beast heritage, he is holds unholy strength and speed. That is all he holds in his hand, but he must be smart about how he uses these gifts. If he just goes in punching blind, then he will likely be struck down by some magical force in seconds. ✦ Background ✦ His mother challenged the old leader of Nibrook and won, crowning herself the leader of their people. Thus, she has defended her crown from many challengers all whilst raising Leon and his younger siblings. Leon has two younger brothers and one younger sister, he would give his life to ensure their safety. He feels a heavy weight of responsibility to supply them with the best role model possible, striving to be the strongest and fiercest member of Nibrook's ranks. That image is begining to take form as he enters the tournament. ✦ Skills & Strengths ✦ ✔ Physical strength. ✔ Bravery (or stupidity) ✔ Speed + Agile ✔ Doting & Loyal (borderline obsessive) ✦ Flaws & Weaknesses ✦ ✘ Impulsive ✘ A little manic ✘ Overwhelming energy ✘ Lack of filter ✦ Motivations ✦ There has not been a tournament since he graduated, now at 20 he wants to prove himself to his people. To ensure that he is not challenged upon his arrival home, to keep his family in charge, he must prove that he is the strongest. Therefore, he is willing to bring a savagery to the tournament others may find barbaric. ✦ Other ✦ |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Serena Stagheart | Female | 18 Misebury - A proud kingdom made up of brave and noble people. Descendents of the beasts from Nibrook, they are no longer a slave to their instincts. Instead, they utilise the high stamina and strength to weild great weapons capable of mass destruction. Known as the Sun Kingdom. Lucian Whitten | Male | 20 Slyhelm - A kingdom made of assassins, double agents, and spies. The noble and royal lines are a mixture of animal shifters and full blood shapeshifters that can take on the face of another human. The highborns are usually contracted out by other nations, meaning they have a lot of frenemies. Known as the Mist Kingdom. Mira Tallaram | Female | 21 Alderburn - A nature heavy kingdom that are truly in tune with the spirits of the land, including the animals. A people of kind and forgiving nature, they are often too trusting and end up being injured. Known as the Forest Kingdom. Magnus Doorne | Male | 19 Mausegate - A brutish kingdom made up of domineering and powerful individuals. Known as the Fire Kingdom, its noble and royal lines are gifted with the ability of pyrokinetics. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Kingdom Overview Marmoor / Arcane Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Known for their psychic and telepathic abilities. Ethereal, enigmatic. Contender : ̗̀➛ Andromeda Orchid Nibrook / Desert Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Known for their brutality, ferality and impulsiveness. All true Nibrook inhabitants have some kind of animalistic feature. Wild, unruly. Contender : ̗̀➛ Leon Finoviard Ice Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Contender : ̗̀➛ Ales Shadow Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Contender : ̗̀➛ Misha Varlamov Misebury / Sun Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Noble, brave and proud nation. Descendents of the beast men of the Desert Kingdom, very far removed. Known for their strength, stamina and affinity for magical weaponry. Contender : ̗̀➛ Serna Stagheart Slyhelm / Mist Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Known for their spies, double agents and assassins. Frequently hired by other nations for attacks on their enemies, meaning one day they might be your friend, the next your killer. Rougish, tough, adaptive. Contender : ̗̀➛ Lucian Whitten Alderburn / Forest Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Known for their kindness and naive nature, they are so in tune with the surrounding forest that it is almost unnerving. Their largest issue with the constant battles is the harm it brings to their nature. Soft, angelic, forgiving. Contender : ̗̀➛ Mira Tallaram Mausegate / Fire Kingdom : ̗̀➛ Bright and strong willed people known for their pyromania. Fearless towards anything related to heat and fire, they can be a terrifying presence. Contender : ̗̀➛ Magnus Doorne |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Off the coast of the mainland, sits an island. Large enough to warrant its own name, Nanram Isles, surrounded by smaller protrusions of land. Encompassing the entire landmass are a cacophony of spells and incantations to protect what lies within. The Academy, as it is simply known, is home to the next generation of the entire continent’s people. Nobility and royal families send their children here to coax out secrets about other kingdoms, form alliances and destroy potential threats. Described as a peaceful sanctuary free from the burdens of the war stricken world they all live in, but all parent’s know what they are signing their children up for. Especially the royals. A massacre. Be it of lives, honour, image, it can all be destroyed in the tournament. The day of graduation has come to fruition, all relevant students are gathered in the courtyard. Settled in the centre of the main island, limestone ruins of sky high pillars and archways, covered in encroaching plants, trailing up their bodies. A mosaic of natural earthy stone lines the floor, depicting a rising sun and a crescent moon, currently hidden away by the numerous figures occupying the space. Younger students look on from the higher buildings, from the windows in their dorms, speculating which royal will be the first to fall and who will rise above the rest.
The clearing was bustling with people, milling around one another as they waited for the headmaster to commence the gathering. Leon found himself in the centre of the crowd, his tail tucked close to his leg to avoid it being trodden on. He had been stuffed into the restrictive uniform, the collar tugged at his neck and made it difficult to breathe. Only one more day of conformity before he would be able to commence the tournament. He had already been informed by his mother that he was to be participating this year, and this year was special. What made it special, she neglected to tell him. The sun glared off of the alabaster limestone ruins of the gathering space, runes carved into the tall pillars encircling them all. It was difficult to look ahead to the raised platform where the few teachers lingered, waiting for their superior to speak. He had always enjoyed the bright open space of the courtyard, though when there were this many people it made it hard to enjoy. That year he had barely focused on his theoretical studies, why should he? He had no magical capacity, simply himself. Why learn the theory of how to cast a spell he would never be able to wield? Stupid and his family were in agreement. Instead, he committed himself to practising for the tournament, as that was all that really mattered in the end. They needed the supplies that would make up the winnings, but so did every other kingdom. He had already thwarted the eldest heir from Misebury; he was now dead and buried as a result. Serves him right for taking the cowards route, sneaking outside his room to aim his bow inside. Luckily, Leon was prowling outside that evening and had caught the older heir by surprise. However, as he looked around the crowd to find her, that meant that Serena was now on his tail. A terribly honourable person, Leon scoffed at the notion, what honourable man would try to kill his rival in their sleep. Just as he caught sight of the blonde haired woman in the distance, the headmaster spoke. “Silence.” His voice boomed out across the courtyard, the man was a strong magic user, clearly using some kind of spell to project his voice. After a minute of final shuffling and mumbling, he continued. “You all know why we are gathered here today.” A few murmurs of excitement. “After years of dedication to your schooling, today you all graduate and depart from this island as fully formed and distinguished individuals. Ready to bring back your knowledge to your kingdoms and bring forth a new wave of innovation and greatness.” Leon was growing impatient, he did not care about these other people, they were lesser than them. They would go home, work on a farm, die on a battlefield or some other un-heroic manner. He would rule the kingdoms. They were ants for him to squash. “But for some,” The man’s face split into a wide feline grin before continuing. “For some of you, this is the beginning of your route to glory.” He raised his suited hands high up to the sky as he spoke. “The heirs of the kingdoms shall commence their training and tournament as of tomorrow. As soon as the moon rises to its highest point, we shall begin the spectacle!” The sick joy in his voice was poignant, if the grin wasn’t enough of a give away. Every teacher had bets laid on the tournament, who would kill who, who would give up, who would simply run. Anything and everything was up for grabs. However, Leon had counted the heirs that loomed around the halls and there were not twelve. Nowhere near twelve. Unusual, the rulers of the kingdoms seemed to be popping out children every two seconds. There was one person he knew would be returning. She had not been crowned that year and it was widely known the leaders of Marmoor did not produce more than one heir. She would keep returning until she became the ruler of Marmoor and even then she must attend until her own child is of age. “I am sure some of you have noticed. We do not have a representative from each kingdom here with us today.” The headmaster stepped to the side and gestured to the veils of heavy curtains behind him, turning his own head to gaze upon them with a giddiness that made him look unhinged. “Filling out our ranks, heirs have been summoned here to participate alongside this year's graduates.” With a flare, he flicked his wrist and the curtains whipped back to reveal a small collection of people waiting behind them. Leon’s eyes widened, raising to his toes to try and get a better look, but he was too far away to make out faces just yet. The crowd began to murmur with excitement, trying to see who had shown up this year. His tail was as stiff as a board until he gazed upon a woman clad in wispy ribbons of laced fabric, the tiny gems glittering in the harsh sunlight. Andromeda. His tail swished from side to side at the sight of her. He had admired her the past two years in the tournaments, watching avidly as she dominated the first year. Then the crushing defeat that made his blood boil at the mere thought of the Ice Kingdom. She was everything he was not, poised, graceful and intelligent. Good gods, was she intelligent, that’s how she won in her first tournament. There was a tall looming figure beside her, casting a dark shadow over her shining form. Leon’s head tilted as he tried to place who the man was, he hadn’t seen him before and he certainly looked older than the other heirs.
Andromeda’s eyes squinted ever so slightly as the curtains were pulled back, in the darkened area she had not been able to pick out who was who. Instead, she remained silent where she was, waiting for the blistering light to pierce through the curtains. As it did, she took a few pointed steps forwards with the others, graceful in her movement and terribly light-footed. The quiet click of her white-gold heels against the stone is the only sound for the briefest moment. Wrapped around her form was a mixture of silken fabrics and light lace pearlescent in its colour. Not something she would have selected for herself, but it was what her father had wanted. A representation of Marmoor, not of herself. It was a swirling delicate dress that had been tailored to her figure specifically, glittering in the sunlight like an unearthly siren. The tails of the fabric shifted gently in the breeze as Andromeda met the eyes of the graduates, all staring up at the gathered heirs. They looked small and meek in comparison to the heavy presence that now dominated the stage. “These competitors have already taken on the tournament before, but as they are the only options of representatives for their respective kingdoms, they must join us again.” The headmaster finally turned and looked over at the handful of people on the stage. “Andro-” The beginnings of her name were cut off abruptly by a sharp gasp, it drew her attention immediately and she saw the widened expression from the old man. Shock and panic blazed across his expression as he looked at her, no, past her. Andromeda followed his line of sight past herself, to the person standing on the other side of her. It was a man. A very sallow looking man, despite his height he lacked mass to his form. Carefully, the young woman turned to get a better look at him as the murmurings became louder around them, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny, nose scrunched up as she drew her eyes up to his face. For a moment, she had no idea why this man had elicited such a reaction from the headmaster, he looked normal for an heir. Then again, he looked older than her and she was relatively old when it came to the tournaments. Her pale eyes rounded in recognition as she took the smallest step backwards, her hands drawing up to her midsection, knuckles cracking slightly as the muscles tensed in them. The chains and bracelets around her wrists clinked as they slid down her forearm, her lips parted in a small noise something akin to a gasp. Others around her were staring too, each experiencing their own surprise or confusion, but she felt like ice had been injected into her veins. He was in the tournaments just before her first, a few years earlier. She had watched them, watched him as he competed but then he had slipped away, never to be located again. Presumed dead or runaway, likely the former. Yet, here he was, looking a little worse for wear, but he was living and breathing right before her. As her eyes met his, a strangled sound escaped her throat as she was drawn into his mind against her own will. The feeling of tearing through someone’s head was never a pleasant experience, especially when unprepared. Flashes of scenes passed her vision before she was sent sprawling into one of them, given a second to adjust to her new location before the person’s eyes she was seeing through snapped around. It was dark, but the images were so clear, it was refreshing not to have the vertigo sensation from blurry memories. However, Andromeda quickly wished that it wasn’t so clear. There was another person, a man, before them. Their eyes were widened in the purest form of terror she had ever bore witness to, tears were streaming down his face as he trembled. “I don’t know who did it!” He begged. “I don’t know who killed her!” His voice was wobbling and coarse from screaming. Now her attention was brought to the bloodied areas of skin, it covered almost every square inch of his body as he sat crumpled in the corner of the alleyway. “I swear, I don’t know -” They surged forwards and did something, she couldn’t see what from the angle the person was holding their head. But it cut off the tortured man’s cry with a yelp and gurgling sound. As they drew back, Andromeda saw the aftermath and it made her want to retch, to heave her churning guts up onto the floor. Just as rapidly as she had been brought in, she was thrown back out. Staggering, a hand pressed against her temple as she swayed away from the man. Losing her footing, Andromeda tumbled to the stone platform, landing on her hip. She did not register the dull pain from the impact, instead she simply pushed herself up onto her forearms and peered up at the man. “Misha.” The name was breathed out between her lips, soft and ghostly. As though she did not quite believe the name she was speaking. At her quiet realisation, others had clearly recognised him as well and the quiet courtyard had begun to grow in volume around them. As the noise only grew, Andromeda tuned it out, her blue eyes solely trained on the stormy ones looking down at her. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
misha | shadow representative | m: ales, andromeda, others Across the weary silhouette of the ancient island, the former student expected to see staff members and academicians milling about. Yet, the only thing he could observe that was moving was the tangible mist that hung in the air, coming and going in a way that was suspicious enough to have lent itself toward the magic of the kingdom which shared its name with the natural phenomenon. Casting that thought aside, the dark-haired male shrugged off the discomfort of the seawater that commingled with his sweat from the journey to this island, now leaving him damp and cold and with little warmth to cling to within the confines of the ragged jacket that adorned his slim figure. He wasn’t sure how someone with Icinthryan blood could stand to be so cold all of the time, but perhaps it was his birthright simply to tolerate the cold, or be tolerated by it. Shadows danced across the hallways as Misha strided closer and closer to where the festivities were occurring. He’d purposefully gone down an intricately and unnecessarily complex route which costed him ten minutes or more, though it saved him from having to pass the room that had just recently belonged to his sister. Although his father and grandmother had been summoned to collect her things, he was almost entirely certain that they’d never come. They never did. Besides that, he didn’t particularly care to be the first one there. In fact, the less amount of time he could lend to the attention and infinite questions of a group he didn’t respect enough to call his peers or colleagues, the better. He simply wanted to come, fulfill his own mission, and do the same thing he’d done when it was him that had been called upon for this duty in the distant past: leave. It was no shock that the man’s ghastly appearance elicited a reaction from the crowd, and as he entered the familiar courtyard he kept his eyes glued to the ground. He was far less interested in involving himself with the individuals around him than they were with him. Of course, it had always been this way. Since he was born, Misha’s name had meant controversy. His mother had been killed for it by her own kind, and his father had utilized him as a chesspiece for the entirety of his life, nothing more. He was not unfamiliar with the feeling of being stared at, nor the experience of having others cower in fear at his presence. This was the life that had been created for him, and it was the only one he had known. “Brother,” Misha’s icy gaze lifted for the first time at these words to see the blond’s cheshire cat grin grew to become more smug with each footstep the dark-haired man took toward him. Dismissively, he replied, “I won’t hesitate to kill you if I get the chance,” and brushed past him, coming to a halt in front of the individual who was leading the introduction ceremony. “I’ve come to represent the Shadow Realm,” he replied rather matter-of-factly, disregarding the plethora of gazes that were burning into him in that moment. After dodging what felt like a thousand questions with shifty and elusive deflections of his own, Misha found himself standing as far from Ales as he could, directly beside the representative from Marmoor. Although she appeared meek and inconsequential, she was wearing the color and crest of her kingdom, and he knew better than to dismiss an individual from Marmoor as anything less than a threat. Although he was the only one with any defense against her magic due to the parallels her kingdom shared with his own, it was not enough to make him feel comfortable or safe beside her without taking some sort of protective action of his own. He drew up one of the darker memories he could think of in his mind and forced himself to continue to think of it as he lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. While he could not directly remember the occurrence nor the memory after she had taken it from him, there was a certain jolting feeling that occurred when she used her magic on him. In his opinion, the mark of an amateur. As he studied her fearful and confused gaze, he wondered what exactly the memory had been that he’d placed in his mind for her to take. It must have been horrible, but then again, he was a horrible man. “Misha,” she whispered, her eyes doe-like and full of fear. She was terrified of him. Who wasn’t? “You can keep that one,” he replied, referencing the memory he’d offered her. He made no effort to help her up, and with his entrance being the final one of the group, he dismissed himself just prior to the event’s termination, disappearing into the shadows and removing himself from the crowd before anything particularly hostile or irritating occurred. The memory thief was, at this point, the most harmless of the group of individuals that had stood before him in the ceremony. Yet, things had only just begun. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
The scornful gaze that bore down at her made her muscles tense up, catching her breath in her lungs and stopping it momentarily as he loomed over her. Clearly the rest of the academy had not expected this man to show up, he was dead. He was supposed to be dead. Upon the perceived death of Misha Varlamov, her parents were greatly relieved, the lurking danger of a dual wielding heir had been removed from the picture. Reducing Marmoor’s danger levels greatly, despite their similarities to the Shadow Realm, the people of her kingdom did not view them in good light. Marmoor was a land of light and angelic telepathy, using it to guide others, to cure their nasty memories. The shadows were a land of manipulation and torture. Well, that is how they are described from onlookers. In truth, Andromeda had no idea what Misha’s home was like. At the most, she knew that her own was not as pure and innocent as they made themselves out to be. As his voice was shot down towards her, Andromeda took in a sharp breath with her pale eyes still widened. For a minute, the woman simply watched him leave, abandoning the chaos he had just instilled. All around her the chatter that had risen was overwhelming, to the point of earache. Teachers were hurriedly moving around trying to contact higher nobility and royals, surely some kingdoms would pull out their heirs and replace them with a champion in their stead. Misha was a death curse. As the initial shock began to ebb away, Andromeda could feel the gentle graze on her elbows from the rough stone pavers. Giving herself a second longer to collect herself and to push that horrific memory to the back of her mind, refusing to let it run on replay behind her eyes, she tugged herself to her feet. Carefully not to stagger forwards in the heels donning her feet, she turned to look at the other heirs on the platform. Some appeared distressed, others brimming with a sick excitement. Towards the end of their group, a woman with fair ginger hair stood alone, simply looking up to the sky. Her head was adorned with a crown of leaves and tiny white flowers, her body draped in modest earthy tones. She seemed to be blissfully unaware of the current situation. Beside her, a blonde haired man seethed. Why was he here? If he was presumed dead, why not just abandon these realms altogether, travel to a new place and forget all about it? As the strange feelings of surprise faded from her brain, Andromeda looked back to the darkened area Misha had vanished into. Eyes narrowing as she stared into it, then with little hesitation she began to stride her way after him. The ribbons of fabric billowing behind her as she went, the click clack of her heels drowned out by the panicked talk of those behind her. Only when she rounded a corner, did she see him walking away from the ceremony. In the distance she could hear the headmaster booming his voice with magic once more. “Calm yourselves! Calm yourselves.” The chatter died down a little. “We shall investigate this sudden arrival and proceed with caution. For now, enjoy your graduation and prepare for the festivities tonight!” Even though the man had added the usual energetic flair to his words, beneath there was a linger sense of dread. “You are supposed to be dead.” Andromeda paused in her walking and called out, her voice level, stating facts rather than asking questions. She could only see his back, blending into the shadows that surrounded him. In spite of his height, he was terribly slim, like a wraith draped in heavy robes that made him lean sideways under the weight. In fact, now she could get a better look after the shock, he did not look that foreboding. Only his history and name drew forth that primal fear, his actual portrayal was not this dominating mass of a man. No, he looked…fragile. At least in her opinion. If he were to turn around, Andromeda prepared herself. She would not be taken off guard again. The last dive into his memories had been a mistake, drawn into the space out of surprise rather than choice. Her eyes were cold again, sharp in the dim light, shoulders squared and forcing her stance of royalness. “Why are you here?” There had to be an underlying reason for his return, gods knew if she was him she would have fled the continent. The last place she would want to be is back here with the scandals, corruption and dark memories.
Leon’s ears rang with the volume of the people around him, it was disorienting. He had heard what had been said prior to the uproar, a Shadow Realm representative. Then Andromeda had fallen to the ground, now she was scampering off of the platform. He knew that particular royal group was widely regarded as one of the more cruel and powerful, but they had a representative every year, why did this man draw forth such a harsh response? The man had little time to process any of what had just happened before the headmaster’s voice reverberated around the courtyard once again, declaring they needed to proceed as planned despite the interruption. Obviously, Leon rolled his eyes, they couldn’t cancel the tournament. It took well over ten minutes before the gathered group in the courtyard began to disperse, finding their family or friends to talk about what had happened. That or some didn’t care and ran off to start getting ready for that evening. For most it would be the last night at the academy for them, the following morning they would depart to their homelands. Leon was certain they would all be watching them though, those that remained. |
|
|
Spring 
Night Weather: 
Clear Moon: 
