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Neutral
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Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn
Queen Mentions: Cyrus (dir) Zinniah, Esen, Sarolta, Timah, Akith’ki, Kethryll'ia (ind) Pale liliac pools would sharply aim their sights upon a tall approaching male frame. Her pupils would constrict and only dilate in the slightest as their tender vocals reached her sharp pointed auds. A singular hand would rest atop of her incredibly swollen belly while the other allowed her to perch herself upright. A feline smirk would spill across her mask as he began to question her about her evening adding in his own thoughts and additional questioning likely to warm her up to him. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Alvaerelle? I think the food is the highlight." “Exquisite, perhaps lavish evening if I do say so. I must agree with your opinion of the food. The tribe should be very proud of themselves, it is quite a lovely celebration. Zinniah, I hear, was very quick to prepare this evening's meal.” She’d add.
“What about yourself? You seem to be much more broodish than usual. Lurking amongst the shadows are we.” She’d retort in a near feline purr, smirking as smug as a cat.
"These apprentices should be resting in preparation, not flitting around and using all their energy.” His thoughts on what the young apprentices should be doing instead of enjoying this celebration caused a slight shift in her taunting, revealing slightly drooped ears in distaste. Her gaze would slip from his momentarily embracing all of the apprentices before them littered about.
“You forget yourself Cyrus.” She’d state a bit harshly, fangs flashing lightly as her brows furrowed.
“You were equally as young once. Let them have this night to enjoy themselves, it may be some of their last.” She’d add soon drawing her gaze back toward him. Upon his remark concerning her family life she shifted slightly perking her pointed ears and fixing her gaze on him once more, as a more protective instinct flooded over her.
“You have relatives in this year’s trials if I am not mistaken? Three girls?”
“That would be correct. Esen, Sarolta, and Timah.” She kept her response clipped and short, following his gaze momentarily over his own son who would be found interacting rather closely with the youngest heir. A smirk would return across her warm mask once more.
“You shouldn’t be too surprised.” She sneered slightly. “Everyone gets their tastes satisfied on a night such as this one.” She’d add, returning her gaze toward him once more.
The male was pleasing to look at were it not for his harsh personality causing many to avoid any form of eye contact. Golden eyes which burned like pure gold in the firelight complimented with obsidian hair as dark as the night sky, groomed short to avoid being a target. Hair or no hair served to individualize warriors from one another. Many to most sport shorter length hair with very few wearing the opposite. Vae had no preference for either; merely that a male was well groomed, pleasing to the eye, and willing to sacrifice themself for the betterment of the tribe. Her mate had been that and much more, loyal to her and their unborn children until his death. The thought caused her ears to droop slightly once more, several kicks and twirls later and her pointed ears remained sharpened. The triplets' movements were likely to be picked up especially with the tribes childrens handprints littered all over the underside of her pregnant belly. She would shift once more, offering the male a seat beside her so as not to strain her neck much more.
"Why not have a seat and spare my neck from straining. Rest assured, should you have any concern for me or my sons wellbeing, that my feral nature is enough to scare off any potential suitor even attempting to fill the vacant void my dearest Samblar once held." She'd gesture, crinkling her nose in the slightest, at the thought. |
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Darkseeker
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Cyrus Terosh | Warrior | Mentions: Alvaerelle (Dir.) Akith'ki, Sarolta, Kethryll'ia, Syllivanna, Ivan (Indir.) Cyrus’s eyebrows inched down towards his eyes as Alvaerelle mused about his son and his romantic endeavours. The idea that Akith’ki would whisk away anyone tonight made a half choked laugh come from Cyrus’s throat. He can’t recall a single time he had seen his son interested in a partner, apart from that Syllivanna girl, they spent some time together. Then again, he never saw them conversing, only sitting in close proximity. “He won’t do anything, he’s not a socialite.” He held little faith in his son’s courtship abilities, perhaps when he came back from the trials they could behind seeking out an appropriate mate for him. If only the Chief had blessed the tribe with a daughter before dragging Cyrus’s mate to death with him. The thought made the older warrior’s jaw clench briefly before the voice of Alvaerelle drew him back out of his mind. His eyes glanced over her form, admiring the prettily decorated woman before him, as she edged to the side to allow him to sit beside her. “Thank you.” He started, leaning back into the seat beside her. “Sarolta will certainly be in her element during these trials, I cannot say I have seen much of the other two.” He confessed, he wasn’t exactly quiet about his praise towards the young woman, he wanted a tribe full of people like her. Ensuring he sat close enough to her on the small bench so that others still wouldn’t try their luck, despite the female’s words. Cyrus could name one male that was very interested in Alvaerelle and would be idiotic enough to approach them. The mention of the woman’s deceased mate made Cyrus tense his shoulders, feeling the own sting of the lost connection in his chest. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs, tilting his head to look towards her before he spoke again. The fire cast a bright outline to the side of his angular face, the rest cast in shadow of the overhang they sat beneath. “Ferality is a desired trait in my books.” Cyrus allowed a small smirk to pull onto his lips, eyes again flickering over her lovely form. “I can think of one other that would try their luck with you, despite this undesirable ferality.” The sarcasm dripped from his voice like honey, keeping his voice low, there was no need to speak loudly. Not when the pair were tucked away from the swirling dancers and intense music. Cyrus made a point to look across the clearing towards the patch of flattened dirt that Ivan was occupying. “I don’t think he could make it any more obvious.” His voice teasing. “I’ve seen him try to charm you, it’s a little..” Cyrus paused to think of the right term. “A little sad. Yes, I suppose, sad. To see his attempts at flattery. Then again, I cannot blame him when this,” He raised one hand from his thighs to gesture lavishly to Alvaerelle. “This..is the receiver of attention.” He kept his smile small, his fangs barely poking their way into the expression. |
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Neutral
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Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn
Queen Mentions: Cyrus (dir) Elders, Akith'ki, Esen, Timah, Sarolta, Ivan (ind)
“One does not need to be a socialite to peak someone's fancy dear,” she’d begin, “even those who are blind and deaf manage to find mates of their own.” She’d finish gingerly, scanning her pools over toward the Elders indirectly mentioned. An unintentional yet respectful mention to the pair. "Besides, I believe many would say the apple does not fall too far from the tree." She'd gest sneering slightly comparing him to his son when it comes to approachability.
“You seem to be a man of little faith, even of your own kin. It brings me to wonder why you spit and doubt your own bloodline so much. There are things that are well outside of our control that have to be accepted sometimes to break us out of whatever hole we manage to dig ourselves in.” She’d further add. Her play on words likely gave away much of her wisdom and likely imprinted itself upon Esen given their highly intellectual conversations; it had initially impressed Alvaerelle when the toddler asked such worldly questions.
She’d snort distastefully toward his remark concerning Esen and Timah, pinning her sharp ears back in disapproval, only giving a curt grunt in regards to the welfare of her fiery Sarolta.
“Sarolta was bred, born, and raised to be fiery much like I was. She came into this world screaming thus I wouldn’t expect any less of her now.” She’d state sharply, her words crisp and clipped. "You do tend to give away your age with such an outdated preference for those who outwardly wear their dominance. A much younger me would have agreed but, there is a strength to be seen in the others even if their nature leans to be more tame. I am certain you would likely know a plethora of sayings concerning the judgment of ones looks compared to their actual abilities." She'd snort, noting the age gap between them, age not really a thing other than a number in Vae's mind.
“As for Esen, I was the one to raise her following the loss of her parents, therefore you are questioning my ability to rear a child.” Her gaze would burn upon the male shifting toward something a bit more placid, “Sometimes, Cyrus, it is best to bite your tongue.” She’d grin, hoping her distaste had caused the male to shift in discomfort, her ears returning to their usual perch.
“Even the sharpest of knives and daggers are never wielded openly.” She’d continue, allowing him to take what he would from her statement.
Her face returned toward a more neutral pose as she studied the male more closely. Comfortably sat beside her, rather closer than she had recollected offering, however did not make to move quite yet. She had taken in his scent which had become intertwined with the smoke of the pits, still burning fiercely between them. She would raise a single brow toward his gests surrounding her ferality and she’d chuff allowing a smirk to spill across her lips toward his sarcastic remark.
“Ferality is actually a trait I believe many males desire, however, not many can tame it, much less handle it at its core.” She’d counter, “There is always a balance to things Cyrus. Much like Sarolta, Esen, and Timah; where there is a wild flame you need water and earth to keep it at bay.” She’d add.
Her brow would raise once more at the mention of Ivan having an interest in her. She had followed the older male’s gaze toward Ivan standing conversing with a small group before returning to see him gesture towards her, the inkling of a small smile attempting to spill across his mask. She wasn’t sure whether to be confused, a bit surprised, or outwardly shocked. She would rein in any sort of emotion attempting to reveal itself and elected to wear her smirk once more, keeping her single brow raised.
“I did not take you as someone who spreads rumors, Cyrus.” She’d tease, offering an earnest grin, “Ivan and I have been close friends from childhood. We were introduced by my Samblar. The two were practically inseparable, opposites of one another, the day to his night.” She’d retort, unbelieving of what her ears just heard although a small part of her heart raced for a moment.
She’d become rather uncomfortable on the bench, soon opting to slide off and sit on the ground instead, crossing her legs inward so that her bare feet touched one another. Her left ankle had revealed yet another piece of jewelry, an anklet of seashells broken up and laced around. She would lean her spine against the bench seemingly massaging her tender back muscles, shifting her gaze once more toward Ivan with a small glance of wonder behind her eyes, earnestly awaiting to hear Cyrus’ response. |
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Lightbringer
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Merrick Finely || Male || 17 || M: Baiyen, Aelion, Timah, Sarolta (Ind) Late was the hour the celebration took place, the air as palpable as the assorted meals across the various tables. The wafting scent of quenching drinks and appetizing meals caught the attention of many on-lookers, drawing them to sneak a glance. It was difficult not to constantly take deep breaths just to get a whiff of that heavenly scent. The beating of drums reverberated through the air with its thundering timbre, its pounding rumbled through the ground and up the legs of those nearby. Participants of the celebration were scattered about the camp’s center, holding a wide range of expressions and emotions. Some simply enjoyed the atmosphere. Others took to corners, nervous about the whole thing. For Merrick Finely, he took to the former. It was an exciting night for him, the dawn of a new chapter in his life. A chance at something big. The celebration of the trials was what they were all here for, an event meant to honor those about to participate in them – the brown haired lad being amongst those chosen. The trials were something he had long awaited ever since he was young despite how harrowing they were made about to be. They were tradition for those of his “family,” something meant to be taken seriously in an attempt to “bring back the magic” or something along those lines. Though, he cared naught for the tradition itself nor its supposed meaning. To him, this was merely a way of proving himself to be a capable warrior. Perhaps even a chance at carving his name into the (metaphorical) history books if the tales were proven to be true. He doubted they would be. Taking in a deeper breath, the apprentice focuses back on the festival before him. He was presently leaning against a nearby tree, a few feet away from one of the many tables present. One leg crossed over the other – left over right – as his arms were loosely crossed over his chest. In his right hand was the last portion of an “entrée” he had snagged earlier. A tasty treat, but one he could not place the name of. His foot absentmindedly tapped along to the beat of the drum, marking out each and every quarter note within each bar. His face held a smirk, radiating confidence as his orange orbs scanned over the crowd in mock curiosity. Baiyen, a friend of his and his only present company, resided nearby – at least within earshot. A more one-sided conversation was going on between them, as far as Merrick could tell though he didn’t care. Mutterings of the trials and possible outcomes were the main focus of his speech, bringing up various ways he could complete them before anyone else as well as what they could entail. He did his best to incorporate his companion into any plans he thought of, though poorly so. Most of them focused on him beating the other apprentices rather than working as a team – Baiyen coming into second place, of course. “Though, I suppose, it’d be best if we plan on the fly. Better to see what you have to face before thinking ahead, aye?” The competitive apprentice lightly nudges the sandy-brown haired boy beside him in a playful manner as he speaks before returning to his previous positioning. “Still, these trials could not come soon enough. I cannot wait to get them underway.” His eyes glance towards the older teen beside him, attempting to gauge his expression. “So, how do you feel about all this, Baiyen? Ready to take on the dangers ahead?” The pale skinned boy allows some silence to pass between the two teens as he awaits for his answer, his eyes shifting back to the gathering once again. His right hand moved to toss the last sliver of his snack into his mouth at this time, chewing it slowly to savor each and every last drop of flavor. He’d have to get some more of those before the night was out. Though not obviously listening to the older boy, his words did not go ignored when he chose to answer. However, it was around this time that his attention did become slightly split. Amidst the dancers prancing about the clearing was yet another friend of Merrick’s. Aelion Nyrandor. A shocking sight it was for him, seeing the stoic fellow partaking in the activity of dancing. What confused him even further was the partner he had in the activity. It was someone he was not terribly acquainted with, though he may have heard her name in passing before. Sarolta perhaps? He wasn’t terribly sure. After a short while the two separate, with the scarred teen promptly walking away from their fellow apprentice. Perhaps he could take this chance to say hello. Tapping Baiyen twice on the shoulder, the young teen gestures towards his other friend before simply grabbing his arm and dragging him along. He ensured that his grip was light enough to escape from while still hardy and firm to ensure they wouldn’t get separated in the crowd. . By the time the two teens reached Aelion, another apprentice had already caught up to him. Timah, a girl Merrick knew in passing but one he would consider a distant friend. Not quite acquaintances but not as close as he was with the other two. It seemed as though Aelion had asked the blonde a question right as he approached, though he didn’t manage to catch the words he uttered. Dropping Baiyen’s arm, he closes the gap between the two groups – a wide and cocky smile on his face. “Aelion,” Merrick roughly slings his arm across the taller teen’s shoulders, “Night treating you well?” His eyes then flicker towards the other teen present, “And you, Timah? Enjoying the festivities at all?” |
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Darkseeker
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Cyrus Terosh | Warrior | Mentions: Alvaerelle (Dir.) Sarolta, Esen, Timah, Ivan, Akith'ki
Inhaling deeply, Cyrus leaned back to his full height, keeping one hand slung over his leg and he curled his head round to gaze upon Alvaerelle once more. A small chuff leaving his lips at her proposed concept that Akith’ki was socially inept due to his father’s own lack of social skills. His fingers drummed gently on his thigh, at least Cyrus was able to talk to women. He had seen how Akith’ki edged his way around Sarolta, like she was the sun and he was a planet destined to orbit. His head cocked to the side. “He will conquer the trials, I have no doubt about that. It is his progression after his return that I am concerned about.” Cyrus let his eyes return to where his son stood, rigid beside the heir. He heard her distasteful huff, deciding not to grace it with further comment as Alvaerelle began to speak again. At the mention of his age, the man gave a half grimace, eyes turning to face the female again as she continued. He should have known better than to deem her other kin as unworthy of compliment, he had seen how protective she was of her small relatives. Especially at the mention of Esen, he had stumbled there, quite dramatically. “Well, I am sure that they will all manage to prove themselves one way or another during their trials. That is what they were designed to do after all.” Cyrus answered diplomatically, trailing his attention to the grin that adorned the woman’s lips as he spoke before he shifted his head back slightly as she seemed to be analysing him. He could see the critical look in her piercing eyes as the light reflected off of them, an artistic portrait, encapsulating her ferocious personality immaculately. At the mention of rumours, a dry laugh was drawn from his throat, paired with the hint of amusement in his eyes. “I am aware of Samblar and Ivan’s closeness, however I do not think that would prevent Ivan from future endeavours.” He cleared his throat quietly. “With respect to you both,” Cyrus was halted in his sentence by Alvaerelle’s movement, edging her way down onto the floor. His eyes guided along her shoulders as she shifted her weight against the wooden plank of the bench, eyes trained towards Ivan. Perhaps it was a mistake to mention the heir. Either way, he was assured that Ivan would make a mistake somehow with his attempts to gleam her attention. Certainly now that Akith’ki was venturing off, he had no one to train until dusk, he could focus his attention elsewhere. “You would do well in the position of power Ivan would bring to the table.” Cyrus continued, tilting his head towards her form as he spoke, lowering his voice ever so slightly. “It is members of the tribe such as yourself that are perfect for positions of guidance and leadership.” His voice slightly sour, his thoughts on the current lieutenant almost running the tribe along with the Chieftess were not hidden, most people knew of his opinions on the matter. Catori was an inexperienced warrior, being junior to most of the warriors under her command, to top it off, she was soft. Pampering. A hint of disgust tainted Cyrus’s face before he could continue, thankful that Avaerelle could not see it. Cyrus lifted the hand from his thigh and moved it towards Avaerelle’s shoulder, tapping near the edge of her collarbone. “Do you need some help with this? Surely a splintered wooden bench isn’t going to do the job.” He offered, his torso leaned over his legs so he could see her face a little better. Awaiting her response, he stole a glance towards Ivan before his attention shot back to the female before him. |
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Neutral
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Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn
Queen Mentions: Cyrus (dir) Akith'ki, Ivan, Catori, Astraea (ind)
Alvaerelle had returned her attention back towards Cyrus and the conversation at hand. Ears flickering here and there to prove she had been listening attentively.
“He will conquer the trials, I have no doubt about that. It is his progression after his return that I am concerned about.”
“What exactly would concern you about his progression? Your fatherly instincts are failing to abandon you, even now it would seem. Upon his return he will be an adult male, not that he is not already, but he will return likely very different from how he is now. There will likely be little left for you to do other than continue sparring with him.” She would state, neutrally, pointing out only the truth about how most return after the trials.
“I am aware of Samblar and Ivan’s closeness, however I do not think that would prevent Ivan from future endeavors. You would do well in the position of power Ivan would bring to the table. It is members of the tribe such as yourself that are perfect for positions of guidance and leadership.”
“I suppose we will have to wait and see if your assumption is correct,” she’d begin, her warm vocals deepening a bit as she’d study the fire before them intently, “For someone who has expressed a mild interest in myself, you do sound as though you are attempting to sell me off to someone of higher status, as if it were something I would crave,” Her tone had shifted only the slightest at the mention of power her gaze returning to meet his in slight perplexity a brow raising while the other lowered, a slight grin poised on her soft lips, “I will appreciate your thoughts on finding me a suitable candidate for a position of power, nonetheless, power is not something I would find keenly within my particular interest. I have no qualms should that opportunity ever arise however, I am content where I am.” She’d finish, returning her usual collected mask.
Most of the warriors who’d known Cyrus knew of his opinions concerning the current state of the tribe. Currently run by females, women much younger in comparison to himself, and on top of it women who do not often show their more aggressive side until truly provoked. Alvaerelle held no particular thoughts finding both women capable of maintaining the wellbeing of the tribe, finding their ability to rein in their dominance and aggression traits more desirable in a leadership position than that of her own more feral tendencies. At the grace of his touch her skin prinkled, a sensation slithering its way along her spine causing her to straighten slightly and still. Her gaze remained placid, perhaps even slightly tranquil, her pupils dilating a bit larger than usual as she peered into the male’s golden gaze, their faces mere inches from one another as he leaned over to meet her. Most outside of her familial heritage knew better than to touch her, being particularly known to bite, however as of late she had allowed many of the Children, Queens, Shamans, and Elders to grace a feel of her writhing triplets. “Do you need some help with this? Surely a splintered wooden bench isn’t going to do the job.” She would clear her throat slightly, displaying a sheepish grin, and peering down for a moment. Hoping he wouldn’t read into whatever emotion had coursed through her just now, not even entirely sure herself what emotion wafted itself over her in that moment. “Ah, erm, it was just an itch, really.” She would state, reaching a hand and rubbing the back of her neck and right shoulder. “Truly, my trouble spot as of late has been my lower back. These three,” she would gesture peering down to her protuberant abdomen, poking her stomach only to be graced with three swift and sturdy kicks in return, “squirm worse than the grubs that writhe beneath rocks.” Upon her statement she could feel a triplet make its way beneath her ribcage causing her to wince slightly in discomfort, returning her soft lilac gaze to meet him once more. |
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Darkseeker
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Cyrus Terosh | Warrior | Mentions: Alvaerelle (Dir.) Akith'ki, Astraea, Ivan, Elariel, and Clisteoeska
He supposed that Alvaerelle was right, Akith’ki would return a man, however that didn’t mean his son was free from his father’s plans. Determined to raise the Terosh name to a place of power and leadership within the tribe, he would prefer himself to be the receiver of these wishes, but he could settle for his son. Cyrus’s eyes remained on her form as he listened to her, humoured by her proposal of selling her off to another man. Whilst he thought Ivan was incapable of the task, he would be a fool to assume that Alvaerelle would not return the favour of his compliments. Her refusal to lift herself into power through Ivan’s status. An interesting take, he would not be one to even have a fleeting thought about not taking that opportunity if he were in her shoes. Then again, he looked briefly towards the Chieftess, there was an opening right at the helm of the tribe. Ripe for the taking, just for him. The ability to return his tribe to their full potential was an intoxicating thought, it almost had him swooning. Cyrus was drawn back to Alvaerelle, watching her face flicker between emotions for the smallest of seconds. This close, it wasn’t easy for her to hide. What surprised him more, was the stumbling of her words during her response. His eyes widened a fraction as a short half-coughed laugh was draw from his lips, leaning back away from her. Deciding he had encroached on her personal space for long enough. “I think that is the first time I have witnessed you struggle with your words, Alvaerelle.” He drew her name out on his tongue, hand returned to his thigh, the other placed on the bend by his side. His eyes glinted with amusement at the brief moment of disorganisation she had gifted him with. “Are they not due any day now?” The man’s eyes were guided to her stomach as her hand prodded at the taut skin, his head cocked at the returned annoyance displayed by her children. “They seem to have inherited their mother’s quick temper.” Cyrus drawled out his taunt, leaning his head all the way back to stretch his tight shoulders, his jaw sharp in the low light. He watched the light of the fire dance on the rocks behind his head, eyes following the sparks of movement. When he brought his head back down, he caught another glimpse towards Ivan. To Cyrus’s bewilderment, they had yet to be approached by the heir. He did not particularly want his company either. An idea trickled into his head. Cyrus returned his bright eyes towards the pale ones that were already looking up at him. Perhaps it was a ridiculous idea, but he had seen her before his approach beside the fire. It may work and it would keep Ivan at bay for even longer. He would get an earful from Elariel later about his improperness and likely strange looks from the other warriors, gatherers, and queens. Yet he found himself surprised that he was up for the proposal he had come up with. While he may seem to be barking up any tree he could find, Alvaerelle was interesting. Unlike Clisteoeska, who had been a fleeting experience from which he regretted little apart from the wasted time. Alvaerelle had a spark within her words towards him. That and she did not outright ignore him when he spoke. “Perhaps a dance will help loosen up those muscles.” Cyrus pried the words from his throat, carefully pronouncing each letter. As he spoke, the man rose to his feet. Half to make a gentlemanly offer of his hand, the other half to ensure he was far enough away to make a run for it if she decided to bite his head off. Cyrus bent at the waist, facing her, his form shadowed by the bright light behind him. He extended a hand towards her, awaiting her decision, whether that be to bite his hand or to take it. |
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Lightbringer
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Clisteœska Dryadalis Avallac’h Warrior | Female | Mentions : Apprentices (ind.) It was a time for celebration and the young woman knew it ; that's why she was enjoying herself tonight. She wasn't known to dress up for special occasions, but in this case today was a very special day. The apprentices got to prove themselves and show themselves worthy and loyal to the clan, and she was rooting for them. She was sipping on a couple of ale, the sweet honied liquid flowing through her veins as she watched the crowd around them - and that's when she caught sight of Cornaith . It wasn't exactly a secret the male had women falling for him left and right, and that he had a revolving door - it seems that he chose to piss her off today. She could hear the drunk ramblings of the woman in his lap, and she found herself standing up - with a slight annoyance bubbling through her veins. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, but she was especially pissy today, a slight huff coming from her mouth, as she thrummed her fingers against the table absentmindedly. She knew it wasn't the place nor time to let these thoughts mess with her, but she couldn't help herself. He knew what he was doing and being an annoyance. That's when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, and she turned to glare at the person, but it was a rather meek looking guy - possibly one of the Gatherers, and he looked nervous. She raised her brow to him as he stammered to get his words out. But she could make out some of them, but his intentions were clear when he took a breath and outstretched his hand to ask the question again. " May I have this dance ? " the young man spoke a bit more confident, yet - a slight nervous expression was on his face as he tried to smile. Maybe it was out of jealousy, or spite, but she decided to dance with the man. Their fingers intertwined as he rested his hands on her waist . She hummed slightly, a sweet smile painted on her face as she danced with the male ; the two moved fluidly , their dances matching the beat of the drums. She'd have to compliment Elariel on his skills later , if she didn't get clawed out by his mate for doing so, she was a bit clingier these days. The skirt that she wore twirled as she spun with her dance partner ; they took their hands and held them high, circling each other energetically and then he took her hand and lifted it up and spun her around , she spun and twirled, it was a bit dizzying - maybe she had drunk a bit too much ale. But that didn't stop her, and she continued - and nearly misstepped, but her partner managed to grab her waist - and it looked like they were going for a finishing dip. She could see the teasing look on his face - and she gave an annoyed huff, and her face was flushed . Whether it was from the dancing or ale ; she didn't know, and the gatherer slowly brought her up, and their bodies were pressed together. The light flickering between them, and their lips nearly brushing against each other. She could sense the man wanted to make a move - yet, she wasn't up for that. Tonight at least, not to mention her appetite was being spoiled . She gave a small groan as she held her head ; yeah, she'd had too much to drink. She didn't need to make these type of decisions right about now. And besides, she had her eyes on someone else - even if she didn't admit it. " I think I need to sit down, " she said rather breathlessly, " mngh, yeah I overdid it with the ale." She grumbled to herself as she made her way away from the Gatherer, who looked a bit dismayed by the words coming from her but she didn't care at the moment. She needed some water. She soon found water and she sighed gratefully as she drunk it. The cool refreshing liquid quenching her thirst. She could feel it cooling her off. She looked around at the apprentices ; and a smile crossed her lips, they were embarking upon a special journey - hopefully this new generation had more hope than they did. She was hopeful that these young ones would usher in a new wave of hope for the clans. She was feeling a bit sentimental and gave a small smile, hopefully the apprentices knew how much the clan was looking to them for the future. |
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Lightbringer
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Althaea Tinúviel Medved'ová
Female | Queen | Mentions : Cyrus, Elariel , Alvarelle The young woman was quite moody this evening ; she didn't feel like socializing at the moment. While she was excited for the prospect of apprentices bringing honor to the tribe - she didn't feel like being around the heat and hormonal teenagers, tipsy clan mates. She was currently seated, a Gatherer had brought her a plate of food and some pressed juice - she ate her food and watched the clan from the sidelines ; the apprentices seemed to be enjoying themselves, warriors were enjoying themselves , and the higher ups were talking. Althaea put her hand on her belly ; she was nearly due for her children, they were expected within two months, maybe one month with how fussy they've in her stomach . Maybe just having them would cause her husband to stop hovering ; and she huffed at the thought of it, a small smile coming from her face as she thought of her husband . She could make out him drumming, and she gave a wider smile , " That's your daddy making that ruckus " she cooed to her stomach as she rubbed it. And she chuckled as she felt a small press against it. Her husband then proceeded to finish his drumming, and then go to make conversation with their leader and the lieutenant . She decided to get up and bother her love. It was a struggle to get up, and she let out a huff of effort as she got up. Man this was a pain in the ass, they better know they're lucky because they're her children and they are going to be beautiful. Walking over to her husband, she silently took in the conversation ; resting her chin on his shoulders, and wrapping her arms around his arm. While she wasn't insecure of her looks, it is just that, because she was expecting - some ladies might take it upon themselves to encroach on his personal space not having honorable intentions. She had witnessed it a while earlier ; her dear husband probably wasn't even paying attention to it, but he they had stopped to borrow some clay to make vases . And her husband was so focused on her, and her health, he didn't notice the woman they went to see sulking at losing his attention. It was quite known she was a jealous creature when it came to her husband, she would quite literally bite someone's hands off about him. Sure, it may be a bit dramatic to be so possessive, and maybe she shouldn't worry but she believed the hormones and just events were the source of the "dramatic wailing" she had been experiencing. After all she was fussy, but this was unusually fussy - even by her standards. She gave a polite smile to the efore leaning over to whisper in her husband's ear, " I'm going to speak to Alvaerelle, please be good . " and she cupped his cheek, and gave him a quick peck on his lips before departing from the small group. As she walked over to Alvaerelle, she notice she was in the company of Cyrus, and her eyes narrowed a bit - not out of malice or anger, but a cautious wariness. Her husband and him used to be quite close , but as of late their relationship had become strained - stemming from the untimely death of the Shaman , who was his mate . Not to mention she didn't really care for his he treated his son and if she could , the female would snatch him from his father's clutches. Speaking of the boy, she looked around for him - to see him speaking with the young heir, and it seemed like they were having a pleasant conversation. That boy needed social interaction with kids his age, and not the hovering of his father. And she looked to see Aelion having a small scene with Sarlota, and gave a soft hum of amusement at the sight ; turning her focus back to her task, she gave a genuine smile towards Alvaerelle - the female being a queen herself, and also bearing children for the clan. She didn't care that Cyrus was asking her to dance at the moment . " Good evening, Cyrus. " she spoke politely, a smile on her face as she tucked a strand of loose behind her ear , and she then turned to Alvaerelle saying, " Hello Alvaerelle, I was coming to ask you, how are you and the little ones feeling today? " |
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Baiyen Iliven ||Apprentice || M || 19 || Mentions: Cornaith (ind), Merrick, Aelion, Timah (dir) It hadn't taken Baiyen long to begin to enjoy the celebrations, despite his previous feelings over the last few days. Here in the darkening dusklight, surrounded by many people he dearly cared about, envigouring and upbeat sounds of music, and the sweet and savoury foods of whatever had been cooked specially for the evening... the young man easily pretend to himself that he wasn't at all worried about the next day. Even though it was so far from the truth. Though that facade he had been maintaining for a good while - a cool, calm and well collected confidence - was starting to falter a little, it was just barely showing. The older apprentice's attention was focused on the wavering flames of the pyres, his clear blue eyes reflecting their orange tone like a sunset sky. He wore a somewhat vacant expression; distracted and deep in thought, only occasionally adjusting that to nod or to offer a reply to the brown haired apprentice nearby. Even when he was busy thinking, he'd always spare Merrick (or any other of his friends) his company, which naturally came with some conversation. He hadn't entirely tuned Merrick's chattering out, but truthfully Baiyen wasn't paying his fullest attention. He'd only eaten a few snack type things before he'd given up on trying to settle his stomach with food, instead taking to twirling the hunting knife his half-brother had gifted him, in his hands. Admiring the smooth curve of the hilt did well for a further distraction for his nerves, but rather than dispell any kind of negative feeling like he'd hoped, it had left him with another unidentifiable feeling. Guilt? Discomfort? Baiyen had long been used to his complicated family. Even when he was not aware of his relation to his half-brother Cornaith, he had found his parents rather enigmatic in their own ways. His father of course was more of a mystery due to Bai simply not knowing much about him - though they had been close prior to his death, a child's relationship with their father does not really leave them knowing much about them as a person. Let alone when you discover they were withholding certain information such as you having an entire half-sibling. And then there was the matter of what his father had done to Cornaith, which left an uncomfortable pit in Baiyen's stomach. He didn't wish to dwell on that if he could avoid it. His difficulties in understanding his mother would be entirely the opposite. Baiyen could believe he knew near enough everything about her. How she, like many others, changed for the worse after the trials, her formerly sensitive and delicate self shattered by what the Tribe seemed to celebrate so joyously on nights like these. Though he had not known that Mertensia, sometimes he could convince himself that he had seen her as she gently adjusts his fighting stance, or when she had helped him clean his torn knees after a particularly rough training session. And yet, despite her so intelligent and task driven mindset of these days, Baiyen couldn't detect logic in some of the choices she seemed to make. Take the recent season for instance where, despite all her sincere words about "staying close to those you must protect," she had once again left the village alone. Baiyen had no doubt, as usual, she would return again without issue - this was no new event for her, as since Baiyen's father had died she had taken to leaving for stretches of time. It didn't comfort him in any way that she had left now though, where all he really wanted to do would be to confide in the soothing words of someone who understood the true risk of these Trials. His mother, Baiyen was sure, would somehow be able to supress his nerves with yet more tales of danger from her years as a warrior. Even if that made little sense to anyone else, it would just work - but not with anyone but his mother. Her stories of her past bravery could inspire him like nothing else. He appreciated Naith most at times like these, when his mother was away. The knife had been a greatly appreciated gift, and Baiyen had given his half-brother an enormous smile of gratitude - probably the biggest grin he had been able to muster in the few weeks leading up to the Trials. There was still much to be done in strengthening their brotherhood but to Baiyen, it was he who was still letting Cornaith down. While the man had been quick to try and establish a relationship as soon as Baiyen had confronted him, Baiyen himself had found himself almost recoiling in response. Taking in the information that his father had cruelly threatened and demanded Naith stay out of Baiyen's life had left him feeling a bit hollow, his perception of his father irreversibly damaged though rightly so. He hadn't been able to wrap his mind around the whole thing, nor manage to figure out where his mother stood in all this business. But yet, despite Baiyen's initial nervousness and his ever linging loyalty to his parents, Naith had quickly become someone he felt he could trust. The sandy haired apprentice suddenly became reaware of his surroundings at the feeling of a nudge. He managed to properly catch the end of Merrick's words at the sound of his name: "...Baiyen? Ready to take on the dangers ahead?" The owner of the voice was now watching him with a questioning look, and Baiyen could only hope he hadn't dropped his usual relaxed grin: when he did his expression could morph into a slight frown. He didn't want to seem unhappy lest his friend guess he wasn't feeling ready for the dangers ahead at all. His face had better not betray him. Baiyen chose his reply carefully, though he spoke it without a decernable moment of hesitation. "Oh yeah, got nothing at all to worry about." His reply came thick with sarcasm and laced with a teasing tone. It was common knowledge the trails were no easy task, so a little bit of worrying over them wouldn't be out of the ordinary. Baiyen-level worrying however would be a definite weakness; if everyone knew how frankly terrified he was, he could become a liability and - Baiyen dreaded the thought - they might just find a way to leave him behind. Merrick and the others didn't need to know how much anxiety he had built around the trials, and Bai would do everything in his power to prevent them from ever knowing. Merrick seemed to have moved on from his reply fast however - much to Baiyen's relief. He caught someone in the crowd and before Baiyen could utter another word (or figure out who it was) he was being lead through the people chattering and dancing around the centre of the gathering. This wasn't something Baiyen was bothered with, as he was happy enough to follow the flow of conversation as long as his friends were about to lead it. Or in this case the flow of movement. Merrick made his way directly over to Aelion and Timah, their fellow apprentices. The latter Baiyen did not know as well as Aelion, but he could recall her nickname 'Mouse' and her reputation for being soft spoken and sweet matured. Seeing Merrick's own wide grinning expression, Baiyen did his best to again muster up a greeting smile of his own, mostly succeeding. Although it appeared more like an amused grin at Merrick's nature for jumping right into conversations, not a charming one as he'd like to present. Though social in bigger groups, Baiyen liked to more seamlessly weave his way into conversation so instead of saying anything he simply joined the forming circle arrangement, nodding in the direction of Aelion and then Timah. Admittedly he was hoping to find assessing his fellow apprentices feelings over their upcoming trials would work in reducing his nerves once again. If someone let slip they too did not hold a lot of confidence in it all, then at least Baiyen could rest a little easier knowing he would not be alone. It felt a little bit selfish to find solstice in someone else's fear, but with mere hours left before the trials began, Baiyen would be taking whatever he could get. |
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Winter 
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