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Meanwhile, in Triskellian...

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  • #46
    The nurse occasionally walks over, checking Omen's head, then painfully pinching her wrists before walking back to the desk to record some manner of information about how big her head it and how much pain can be inflicted on someone with a fever.

    Omen knew that wasn't true. She knew the doctors and nurses were trying to help her. Its just hard to see the forest through the trees, especially when you only have the one good eye.

    So she stayed plastered to the cot, every bandage finding a new way to itch every hour or so. The arm, Omen now referred to it as its own entity, had swollen up in the night, and against it had been probed and poked and pricked and she'd been made to drink the worst tea known to the world.

    "Bored" Omen complained to Nurse Melissa. Who just signed at her making her lay -back- down. She felt like a child. Home sick from the tutors and lot allowed to do a thing but stare at the ceiling and make faces.

    Omen peeks at Melissa again smiling faintly. Melissa's face contorts somewhat as she sighs, a long suffering sigh, before throwing her hands up in defeat."Fine, Dice, no cheating this time."


    • #47
      Win Win

      It had been too long since Niven had seen his betrothed Rosaline. Once again fate struck and their wedding was postponed further into the future. Niven was starting to feel that his marriage to Rosie was just not meant to be as things would constantly happen, causing their marriage to always be postponed.

      This time, it was a family emergency that did it. Due to her sister's child being ill, Rosaline had gone there to help. Niven had spent some moons travelling in and out of town just to see her. Unfortunately his job as a blacksmith eventually shackled him down and he couldn't make another trip to see her.

      It had now been three moons since his last trip and he longed to see her again.

      Once the day of her return finally came he couldn't help hugging her tightly and laughing with her, their joy shared with passionate kisses, excited blabbering, dinner and a trip upstairs to their room. Their first night together however was not shared with intimacy but with talking about everything that came to mind, including their impending wedding.

      Rosie proposed "Lets set a date and stick with it. Get married priest or no priest, guests or no guests"

      Rosie's words lifted his spirits about the impending doom which was the wedding and made him feel that perhaps, just perhaps, it will eventually happen. Unfortunately it was a discussion that was short lived, it didn't get very far as sleep finally caught up with them and they both fell into their habitual ways, Rosie sleepily blabbering while Niven, "Mmhmming" as if he was listening.

      Their second night together was spent with their celebrating her reaching her grand master title as a gardener with dinner and drinks in the park. He constantly kissed her forehead and played with her hair as she laid in his arms. His thoughts this time were not on the doomed wedding. In fact he wasn't really wanting to think about it as he knew it would dampen his mood and he did not want that on the day that was all about Rosie and her title.

      Her kisses on his cheek made him giggle uncontrollably and then blush and apologise as he realised what he was doing. He gazed at her and smiled as he observed her eating her honey bug and drinking her mead. They shared worthless "Soooo's" and "I dont know's" like they always did before one of them would start a conversation.

      This time, it was Niven's turn, "What are you thinking?"

      Rosaline raised her gaze to her beloved and answered "Thinking about the wedding..and my hair."

      Niven ignored the topic of the doomed wedding and decided to go with the hair instead.

      He chuckled as her hair comment was quite typical of her and asked 'Want to change the way your hair is styled?"

      Rosie shook her head "No, just wanting to put a flower in my hair"

      Niven laughed and looked around for a flower. He found a perfect poppy growing by him and picked it. He slid it into her hair as she smiled and thanked him by kissing him on his chin. They stared into each others eyes before their lips locked into a long passionate kiss

      Rosaline retracted her lips so they were barely touching his "Niven?"

      He opened his eyes and focused on Rose, his thoughts helplessly drifting to dirty deeds.

      Rosaline murmured to his lips "Can we go to our room? Im feeling a little tired"

      He smiled and nodded as eagerness started to set in, usually when she said that it meant intimacy before they fell asleep.


      He paused halfway through sliding from her and gazed at her curiously

      "Can you carry me? it seems my body has fallen asleep before I have"

      Niven grinned at her playfully announced "Then I shall carry my queen to the room"

      She giggled at him as he slid from her, gathered her into his arms and stood up.

      She wrapped her arms around his neck lightly "Weeee"

      He laughed at her before making his way back to their room.

      Back in their room he lowered her onto their big bed and went to slide beside her but she had quickly shifted to the middle of the bed and spread out her arms and legs in a starfish pose, taking up the bed. Rosaline grinned at Niven


      Niven blinked, "Umm, where am I supposed to lay down?"

      Before she answered Niven decided to play coy and see what she would do. He scuffed his feet and innocently mumbled "Oh well, I guess im sleeping on the floor"

      That worked, her arms flopped by her sides instantly and she quickly said "No! Lay down"

      Niven grinned and obediently slide beside her. They gazed at each other momentarily before once again locking lips into an long passionate kiss. Niven could feel his heart pumping, his blood boiling, he was ready for anything until...

      "Umm Niven...?"

      His almost instant reaction was a firm "What?" but he caught himself just before it came out and toned his voice down to make it sound calm.


      Rosaline gazed at him cautiously as if knowing that his mood would turn "I want to tired..could we intimate tomorrow?"

      Now usually Niven would feel anger, he hated when she would do that to him but at the same time he didn't want to force her into anything. Usually his reaction was a mixed emotion of rage and disappointment and his mind yelling "Well why the hell are you encouraging me??" but this time he was feeling calm and did not care.

      Instead he smiled and nodded "Sure, tomorrow"

      Rosaline gazed into his eyes "Promise?"

      Niven grinned "Promise"

      And with that, they both laid back and declared their loved for each other before closing their eyes. Niven smiled as he closed his eyes, there are other ways to quell a fire, she didnt have to know about them and all he had to do was be quiet.


      • #48
        Adon filed his last report, tucked his folders neatly away. He walked around a while, the heavy snow decorati8ng his hood, nodding to passing constables and scurrying servants. Finally he stood at the tunnel, he could hear the birds beyond screeching out their clarion call. Rather typically, he made his way through the tunnel, dipping his fingers into his vest, retrieving a vial from the pocket within. He stopped just short of the mouth of the tunnel, uncapping the vial. A sip, he could already feel it, better that he should be found here if things don't work out. He then threaded himself into one corner of the sad little bone-yard, flashing the birds above a dangerous glance as he settled down in the overgrown foliage, leaning his back against one of the markers. His senses sharpen, pupils focusing on the sky above, each black speck marked, each flake of snow like cinders on his face. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to take effect, but still nothing...the brew not strong enough to dim his mind, his breath steady. Back to the library later, back to research, sort more missives, drink more coffee, and wait for the meeting. Opening his eyes, his gaze settled on his surroundings, mist shifting here and there, the city breathing...he would have to walk a while to feel any relief.


        • #49
          Something's Wrong With Virendra

          A restless night after a restless day. Typical! The wolf had a difficult time sleeping in the infirmary for a few reasons. The first, being the moans from the injured people around him. Pansies. Every single one. Another issue that nagged at him was that busy-body of a Nurse that kept trying to scrub the blood off his face. He would swat her away and bury his face in the pillow until she gave up. He didn't know why, but he felt the unwavering need to preserve his crimson visage. Finally, that twisting feeling in his stomach. He was convinced that it was a result of catching the flu, and that surely this is how he would die. His only wish was to have one last delicious skink. He hated Kaine for convincing him to come here.

          Tossing and turning, he groans as his stomach feels like its tearing him apart from the inside. A fleeting thought passed through his mind. Pity. He pitied the poor rabbit, Valdus, who slept in the bed next to him. That last bout of diarrhea the wolf fought was particularly putrid in every sense of the word. What in Calebria could have caused a bowel movement so awful?

          Virendra, eventually, managed to lull himself to sleep during a less-stressful period of the night. During this time, he experienced a pleasant dream. He dreamed of Hanneman's head on a pike, gratuitous amounts of sex, and most importantly, all the skinks a person could eat!


          • #50
            Kaitlyn sits at home, watching out over the lake. She plucks halfheartedly at her harp, trying to entertain her children the best she knows how. It's always so difficult when Rocher is away, they try to understand her but they're too young to sign. She thought it would be easier than this, her mind often drifts back to Triskellian and how much she misses being part of the city, even if it was daunting at first.
            Mrs Kaitlyn Beaumont, Guildmistress of the Hall of Muses


            • #51
              He roams the mostly empty streets of the city, restless as he so often is. His mind wanders and brings memories of his years in the city. Some good times and bad times. Times when the city was easier to live in. He passes through the gates into Docktown, no really paying attention to where his feet carry him. He smells the foul stink of body odor and fetid breath before he even sees the fellow.
              A threatening voice almost demanding coin. The huge black wolf turns his crimson eyes to the mugger with a simple response of "Not today."
              An angry tone "You'll regret that"
              A quiet reply "Not Today."
              The Mugger moves in, the wolf moves, swiftly for someone his size. Never drawing a weapon, he sidesteps the swing of the mugger, then ducks under another swing before blocking a third attempt. The elbow of the wolf snaps inward, cracking the jaw of the mugger with a thump. As his head snaps back, the wolf spins quickly, his left leg lashing outward, the booted foot crashing into the ribs of the mugger. The impact of this kick smashes him against the wall of a nearby building, blood smearing across the stone as he sinks to the ground. The huge wolf's shadow landing on the slumped form as he whisltes to a constable that is coming along. The constable gathers the pitiful mugger up and hauls him to the city jail.
              The wolf continues moving to the docks, then turns, heading toward the ferry and the cherry tree. He passes a couple who are walking along the docks. He just nods.
              The couple turns to catch a glimpse of him but he is gone from sight.
              Sir Trevyn Adalhard
              Knight of the Doloreaux
              Rittmeister of the Doloreaux Embassy Guard
              Recruiter of the Doloreaux Embassy


              • #52
                Trembling with whimpered pain and fright, found herself bolting upright from the soft, soothing soil of her bed. Dripping from every pore with sweat of fear as she consults her own self on her night terrors. It was not the first. It would not be the last. But her dwelling lasted only seconds before she shifted her bare feet out of the bed, and pushed herself to her toes.

                With only a brief thought she drapes herself a cotton apron, the only article of clothing to shield her bare body from what was about to come. Her paws get to work, quickly and habitually opening the paints and applying them to the palette in order and mixing them to get the full range of color. Staring at the canvas that was her work her fingers dip down swabbing her brush through the paint and back onto the sheet before her. It was slow going but it was going. The image on the canvas slowly revealing itself night after night of painting. To most it would seem impressive, to her, not so much. Every night she slipped into terror, it was this image she saw. Staring back at her from within. She was not inventing something. She was merely transposing what she seen onto the medium of this canvas. Every night it burned into her eyes. It was not hard to see it on canvas as it should be.

                Her brush strokes pause as the image in her eyes begins to fade away. Most at this point would continue, trusting to their memory. But she knew better. Such things were folly for this kind of work. Glancing across at the other two canvas to the side of this one, each draped and covered. Each unfinished.

                With a sigh, Eyriel looks out the window into the commons. This was going to be a long night.


                • #53
                  Originally posted by ery-ico View Post
                  A final note: Please remember that even though you may have read something in this thread, it doesn't mean your character knows about it. Be mindful!
                  Shouldn't this thread be in an OOC section of the forums, then?