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Lightbringer
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Astre | Moon Dragon | Bonded to Camila | M: Camila, Manon, Cathix It was daytime. Astre was upset, and getting more impatient by the minute. Camila was still asleep - they were never, never going to get out the door and into the skies and train to make sure they didn't die. Not if she was asleep. The blazing sun already set him on edge, even through the windows - if there was anything Astre didn't appreciate in the least, it was discomfort. It made his very bones panicky, and his whole self on edge. And, certainly, there was nothing comfortable about blistering rays skimming the dark scales of his back and wings, that he could already feel, even if he was inside. He wanted to run, to flee, to do something to free himself of the mounting anxiety, but training took a priority - it had to. Because avoiding that was a much, much worse option. There was about a million different ways Camila and he could meet their demise - oh, by the stars above, what if they humiliating themselves in the process? No. No, no, no, that thought was too horrifying to bear. Astre was just about at the point of tearing his own scales out as he halted his pacing but Camila's door, in hope she would awaken, and swiftly hurried from the castle. Fine. Fine. Running on spite for his rider (uncalled for, really), and a slight sort of terror of being underprepared, the small dragon hurried out the door. Well, the sun was just about as horrible as he predicted, and worse. He couldn't do this, which was an apalling thought, because there wasn't any other option. Misery, that's what this was. Astre had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and his negativity didn't seem to be on its way out anytime soon. He spotted Ikona's rider - whatsherface - Manon? Right, that was it. Likely the best competition out there, if it wasn't already obvious by her alarmingly skilled blows. She weilded a sword as though she had done it her whole life - had she? Camila hadn't, he didn't... think? That put both of them at a disadvantage. Oh, kill me now, you stupid annoyingly sunny sun rays. He ought to get something out of this, rather than panicing. Forcing an easy expression of mildness onto his features, he called out: "Ikona! Cathix!" Who else existed? Oh, right. "Eosear. Wanna spar a little? C'mon, ya' aren't lazy, are you?" He crowed, trying to goade the others into a match. If they ever said no, he always that the option of calling them lazy - this couldn't go wrong, right? Right. Yes. Also. In case he hadn't brought it to attention enough: the sun should go explode into a not-sun and stop making be so miserable.
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Darkseeker
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Orrian Cypress Tordi | M | Elf | M: Howl, Sol, Sana "Hotshot," Orrian echoed, with a ghost of a smile "say that again?" His playful tone was quickly turned by the cool words of the icy creature that made their way through their mind. Indignation flared, and he turned toward the dragon with a thinly-veiled look of shock. Absolutely not. I was referring to the training with Sol. As often as he was cross with the creature, the cool evenness of his presence was soothing. Well, in the way that a block of ice tucked under one's bedcovers with them would be. The discomfort when Sanasiliare mentioned Sol's father was apparent. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Orrian spoke in an offhanded tone, trying to lighten the mood. "If we're talking fathers, mine's a boring old geezer. Probably holed up somewhere in a library entirely unaware of the whole..." slender hands waved dismissively in front of Howl's snout. "situation." It was probably a futile attempt, but it was an attempt nonetheless. "Fair?" He murmured, lip quirking as Sol squared up her shoulders to his lanky frame. She was just close enough to reach out and lay a hand on his chest. "since when have I ever been-" "Levan-" The elven curse had not quite escaped his mouth before it was full of pond water. His legs had been thrown out from under him. As small as Sol was, she had little problem with momentum. In the panic of the moment, hands wrapped around something like that of the hem of a soft woolen tunic. Then he let gravity do the rest. Hopefully it wouldn't be something he'd regret later. Like a fawn or baby horse during its first steps, he floundered awkwardly through the water. On solid ground, the elf felt safe. He knew it wouldn't go anywhere. In the water, the change of currents was invisible but deadly. It wasn't often an elf died of anything but natural causes back in the Va'ade, but a narrow yet deep creek had claimed a notable amount of lives back home. It appeared to be a common brook one could step through, but was far, far deeper than it appeared. Elves that stepped into it were never seen again. Like the games. He may never get out of it, at least not as Orrian. Whatever he was supposed to have been was long gone now. By Levandäl's touch. Or at least that's what he told himself. Orrian let out a deep breath as he found his footing on the muddied lake floor to push his head above the surface . Water-darkened hair a loose mop on his head, he instinctively looked around for Sol. Where had she gone? Maybe she had been lucky enough to evade his attempt at pulling her under with him. In a moment of irrational thought, he briefly wondered if he had fallen on top of her. Looking across the water's surface, his eyes found Howl. As little as either of them would admit it, the creature was the one who his mind went to first. Then his gaze slid to the looming elf who stood by the waterside, but just for a moment. With greenish-gray mud caked in his clothing and hair, he smiled like a fool as his gaze trailed across the pond's perimeter, seeking out Sol. He hadn't smiled like that in a long time.
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Darkseeker
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Sanasiliare Areauveçh Latitharen | F | Elf Judge | Orrian, Sol, Howl Sana was used to Orrian ignoring her. Loved it, really. In her mind, it gave the impression that he cared about her enough to think to ignore her. She mock sneered at him, making an... interesting facial expression. Serves waterboy right. Really, she didn't care for his ignorance. In an attempt to tamp down rage, she reacted in her usual comic way. She couldn't help, however, the silvery-copper ends her hair began to shift into. Go ahead and hit me, oblivious.
Distracted with her unspoken conversation at Orrian, she hardly noticed when Sol spoke to her. When she did, the response wrapped her inner self much as an anaconda would- constrictingly. It took a moment for everything to sink in, keeping her briefly... puzzled. Kurion. Elf. Years ago. Unwilling. Finally pulling the facts together, she gave a short look of scrutiny at the woman before shrugging.
She does look like him, somewhat. Completely dark eyes, straight hair, and built narrowly. Key things she'd known about Kurionzhe. Definitely related. That also meant... she had a sister. Not that Sana was all that surprised- the amount of siblings she had weren't something she wanted to look into. They were somewhere in the dozens. Maybe hundreds. Inwardly, she shuddered. She didn't want to think about her playboy father.
"Oh, well I would do you that favor." She blinked casually. "Except for one thing- he's been dead for quite a long while, now." Flicking her gaze from Orrian to Sol, she yawned. "If it calms your anger, I've killed him. Quite a willful man. Father was certainly an... interesting person. Be glad you've never met." Shrugging again, she thought about Sol's power. "He had an amplified version of what I do. Essentially, transmutation. Except he had no ability to heal. Try something like that?" Briefly, she turned her gaze onto Howl. He might as well have been scrutinizing her from the sidelines. Ha. Maybe he'd be better suited as my dragon. Howl? Her dragon? What a thought. It might have worked, had she happened to bond at the ceremony. She would've tried her hand at it too, if it'd gone a full day without any bonds. But- just like that- everyone had all gotten their eggs, all at once. It was a shame, too. She'd really suspected a connection between her and that ice egg. Icy cold, as they say.
She couldn't help but burst into crude laughter at Orrian landing in the water. "Having fun there, cat?" Cats didn't swim. They were better off at being agile, staying on the ground as many were uncomfortable with the constrictions of swimming. It just... didn't work for them. Orrian either. And there he was, gasping for air like a fish would on land. Floundering around like some sort of dunce. Learn to swim sometime. And then he got out of the water. He looked all perfect, standing there and grinning like a fool. If she wasn't intelligent, she might have been drooling over even his mediocre appearance just then. Sol had been pushed into the water as well, and Sana just... couldn't stop the grin across her face. Laughing at others' expense was just something she found enticing. Which gave her an idea- to avoid any unnecessary drama, and to get her own share on the fun, why not do something of her own. She muttered under her breath. "How am I going to..." Ah! Picking up a small stone, she slowly shifted it in her hands until it became a dense metal. She looked from the stone to Orrian. Here goes. A grin still plastered on her face, she tackled the newly-out-of water elf right back where he'd been pushed. Regardless of where he landed, she hit the water with a loud splash then threw the heavy stone to Orrian. "Catch!" She laughed, not even caring what was going on around her. From her recent discovery, she felt... free. Not that it lasted. It took her a moment, but she could sense doubt poisoning her throat and mind. What Marionnach knew. How much was actually... true? She didn't want to wonder. What he told her in the past, she always believed him. His mother was the person who made him full of such integrity- a vigilante. Someone misguided by the intoxicating charm of her deceased father. Disappointing. She was glad he was dead. Only for the most part- there was still something else they needed to take care of.
Hveit. "By the way." out of the blue, Sana spoke. "There may or may not be a furious and purely sociopathic lizard after me. I'm sure he'd also love to 'speak' to you, Sol. Hveit Dhaemonni was the bond of Kurionzhe, and he wasn't overly ecstatic when I killed his bonded- considering they were bonded for Kur's entire life, he'd look forward to murdering me in cold blood." Yet again, her mind wandered to the first time she killed a dragon.
What a curious thought- from a young age, raised by a man bonded to a dragon. Expected to kill dragons. And here she was, today, hoping for her own bonding. Not likely. It was one thing to dream, but another to wonder about her maniacal father. He just made her extensively irate. Even just thinking about it, she could feel the hair along whole head shifting into a burning bronze. Keep in check. She didn't want to go electrocuting her sister and infatuation, now.
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Lightbringer
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Sol Saanvi Dayal | F | Bonded: Salacia| M: Salacia, Sana, Howl, Orrian An alarmingly cold and scaled limb swept her feet from beneath her, and a familiar hand gabbed onto her tunic, and taking her in with him. She managed to babble something unintelligible - A laugh, perhaps, but Sol really couldn't decide if the amusement outweighed that she was rather utterly horrified. Ah, there it was - an irrational dislike of anything she had to swim in, hence the onslought of mild terror. A surprise plunge into a pond was only a bit mortifying, really. Whatever thoughts had flashed through her head seemed to vanish as she splashed in, twisting to avoid toppling into Orrian. Her voice was swallowed by the water, and she floundered ungracefully, odd for the usually nimble human. Or elf. The sensation of everything pressing in - Sol didn't really lose her head, but her head seemed to have lost her, leaping and tumbling through too many thoughts, too many everything. Too much water - the algae really was an aquired taste. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. What did Sana just say? He's - her father - or my father? has been dead...killed.. him...? Oh, I'm sorry. Did I miss something. No? Of course - right, then. It all makes sense, now, life mysterious solved and crisis averted. How pleasant. Sana... knew my father. Okay. Right - so, what? - What? Everything was muddled, nothing made sense - the water was cool - no, cold - on her skin. Gods. It was a pond, for the Dilling's sake. A godsdamned pond. She hovered at the bottom, doing her best to steady herself before surfacing. To process that murky mouthful of pond she had rather unfortunately swallowed, she told herself. She had been under two - three - she needed to wait for seven more beats. Mal'oan. Six letters, seven marks - seven seconds she needed to stay below, letting her chest constrict. Fingers on one wrist, clawing at the other, tearing at scarred skin - six. Five thoughts of drowning. Gods, she hated that number. It felt so, so wrong. Everything felt a little wrong, a little strange, now. Four. It was a horrible, irritating - what, habit? She had with numbers - what felt right, what didn't . She couldn't place it, why it held enough of a grip on Sol to keep her under. It wasn't even a fear rooting her - not anxiety. Just an overwhelming sort of... something. An older panic - something, because her hands burned - something, because it scared her that she wasn't fighting the seconds ticking down. Move. Just move, Sol. Hello, would you like to drown today? Self-preservation, might you deign to make an appearance, oh Holier-than-thou, Unhelpful One? Sol got a hold of herself, mentally made a note of cursing the number seven ten times, then seven, then ten - except that would have been three, three was a poor number, three marks, three beats of a freefall, which didn't sit well, and - Stop. Stop. Sol sprung towards the surface, doing the best she could do to conceal a gasp of breath - she hadn't been drowning, after all. It was a few seconds. Not even ten, which rather irked her. It only took a moment to school her features into an easy, aloof sort of amusement - and she even found herself returning Orrian's smile - it was sort of disarmingly lovely. Dear saints and gods and demons, she may be losing her mind, because, oh, was a particular demon dragon mentioned? By a father-killing elf, no less? Mhm. Not so far fetched, is it, Salacia? She turned to Sana, edging closer to the shore at a leisurly pace, to prove to herself that she was not running and was not afraid of getting a little wet. "Hey, so, might you deign to explain? Because I think I missed something there," she said with a snort. Her gaze flicked back to Orrian. "Also, excuse me, sir, but I did not appreciate the coordinated attack with your ice monster. Can we make him sit in the pond?" She mused, flashing a challenging glare in Howl's direction, blanking her mind from anything, everything else. Edited at April 23, 2021 12:39 PM by Boundless
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Darkseeker
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i think about this roleplay a lot Orrian Cypress Tordi | M | Elf | M: Howl, Sol, Sana "Cat yourself," he shot back with a mocking murmur.
The ghost of a grin that had haunted his face disappeared in an instant when Sanasaliare spoke. Of course he had known who she was. It was his job, after all. Not to mention the infamy the name of her father held. The infamy her name held. Yet, he was long dead and the subject was rather taboo in the Va'ade. Only now had what the elven woman said began to take hold in his brain, as if the cold of the water had sparked something.
"Sol is what."
It wasn't a question, really. Instead, he spoke the meaningless words as if he were reminding himself of what had happened. Immediately, far too many thoughts for one mind to organize whirred through his brain. Of course, a daughter of Kurion would bond. The council wouldn't like that. Sanasaliare was a special case. As eclectic and unlike an elf she was, the element of respect for which his people treated her had to come from somewhere.
When he set his jaw, the mask that had begun to slip from his face was returned to its place once more. His composure returned, and like Orrian, was soaking wet.
"Kurion's dragon is dead. He has been for a long time." Orrian had paid little attention to the name Sol had given. It wasn't exactly an uncommon elven name. Well, until the Kurion. The name that had been used for generations of his people was tainted in the span of an instant. Yet, Sanasaliare was right. It was entirely possible that Sol was one of his children. Out of her threats and snark, this was the only time any word that came out of her mouth truly scared him.
Lips a tight line, he spoke flatly "I hope you realize the consequences of this. The Council." Allowing a halfling to bond had been a stretch on the part of the Fae, he knew. The council that moderated the Games was made up of all three races, and neither elf nor fae would allow the games to go on with Sol in them. The humans had faced little of the havoc wrecked by Kurion. Instinctually, he turned to Howl. He grasped at the weak tendrils of connection that lie in the back recesses of his mind. Do me a favor and don't freeze me solid, eh? At least not until I'm dried. He surely looked the part of a fool, attempting to hide behind the stiff mask of the no-nonsense judge that had sheltered him for so long half-covered in the thick pondside mud.
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Lightbringer
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i refuse to lose this thread v sorry ignore this
Sol Saanvi Dayal | F | Bonded: Salacia| M: Salacia, Sana, Howl, Orrian
Sol wasn't entirely sure what was going on. At all.
Father, Sana had said. Father. Our Father.
So, this was news.
Neither Orrian or Sana seemed to like the man. Apparently, he was some kind of terror. To be fair, she'd expected as much. Sol's father, in her mind, had always been a terrible person - a kind of monster to justify his nonexistence in her life. It had never bothered her.
But this...
If there was to be consequences for that actions of her father, she'd pray to the Gods that it would be expulsion from the Games. They couldn't kill her, not with a dragon. Maybe they should, but she was fairly sure Sala wouldn't much appreciate that, and she wasn't entirely sure how any assasin was planning to bypass a giant scaly beast. It was almost a comfort. Almost.
But Sol knew, observing the lines of Orrian's face, that removal from the Games likely wasn't the only option, or a viable one. Suddenly, she was very important to the world, as any dragon rider was. That was unfortunate.
Despite herself, a little thread of fear wove through her ribs, darting into her heart.
The prospect of a dead man's dragon wasn't nearly as alarming as her uncertain future. She had always tried not to think about it very hard, and this training period had granted some kind of stability in her life. She had only just come to terms with the dragon by her side - they couldn't take her.
They couldn't.
"What does that mean, then?" Sol questioned, wringing out her braid as her gaze flicked from Orrian to Sana. "If he's that much of a problem, I won't be able to continue... this?"
That panic bubbled up again, and the lines of stress played across her face for a moment before she regained control of herself. She couldn't look a fool. Absently, she rubbed her hand across the back of her neck, fighting a frown - fighting any expression.
Oh. And she was cold. As if she needed any more problems than that at hand.
Oh, woe is me. Ha-ha. You're fine, Sol, by the Gods, would you stop with the melodrama, she muttered to herself.
Being cold did feel like a reasonable problem, if not the only problem she could bear to face than the prospect of an uncertain future that may or may not end very poorly for her. Being a halfling had been the first straw, and her newfound parentage had to be the second. Then, if Sana could be a judge... but this was different. This was a court seat, this was the chance at ruling an entire unified nation of three races.
Again, that irrational panic bubbled up once more.
If she didn't have this, all of this, a power she didn't want, she was nothing. But it was a safety net. It seemed the elves hated Kurion more than halflings, and Sol imagined a cross of the too wouldn't go over particularly well.
This could not have gone worse for them.
The organizers of the Games had ended up with her of all people, which seemed a little funny when it all came down to it. Her. Well, that had been there problem, and frankly she had found herself profoundly unconcered, barring the fact that now she faced consequences. Consequences, whatever that meant.
She folded her arms across her chest, tunic clinging to her body as a chill suddenly swept over her.
"Well," she said after a moment. "They can't take away the dragon. And I can't have a seat at the council, I imagine."
There was a little flare of desperation in her eyes: So where does that leave me? Edited at July 5, 2023 07:44 PM by sock monkey
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