HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

i trusted you!!!!!

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

I keep telling myself I'm gonna make a shorter post and then I keep not

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR

The contrast of black gown and red eyes upon alabaster skin and snow-colored hair popped into the young swordsman's peripheral vision, to say nothing of her immense, ever-present blade. He looked up from his plate, and rather than casting his gaze beyond a pale child as he was accustomed to, she had evidently decided to take the form of a woman. One he still towered over at present, yes, but not so obviously locked into an eternal youth.

"More befuddled than annoyed, for the most part." Gerard replied, raising his glass in greeting and thanks to Paladin Tyaethe Radistirin. She'd shown up just as he'd helped himself to a slice of ham, the salty and savory flavor complimented by the sweetness of a honey and brown sugar crust. Between mouthfuls he had downed a little more of his spiced wine, but for all her short (if now definitively adult) stature, it seemed the First and Youngest had already matched his intake. "I guess I don't quite yet look the part of an Iron Rose in armor."

...Could a vampire get drunk? There was, in truth, scarcely little he understood about them beyond the basics of their legend— the antipathy they faced from holy Reon, their need to consume blood through the fangs to survive, plus her plainly evident strength. Beyond that, little else. Something about garlic or running water...

Still— vampire or not, a comrade was a comrade. Though Segremors considered himself a fairly staunch Reonite, having burned more than a few white lilies since even boyhood, he held no doubts as to the Paladin's allegiances to their order, or their protectorate. With easily eight or even nine times as much distinguished service as an Iron Rose as he had years upon the Earth, it would be presumptuous in the utmost to even consider.

"Though, I now that I think about it, there may have been a man in blue and gold that was trying to curse me from afar over that way." he continued, unceremoniously jerking a thumb in the general direction he had seen the rather rotund nobleman (assuming his guess was correct), nearer to the cake. "Some talk about 'riffraff', 'mercenaries', that sort of thing—"

"Aaaaah, Sir Knight! See? Didn't I tell you they would be here?!"

Hm?

"Ah, how exciting! Yoohoo, Sir Knight!"

Uh oh.

He had been surrounded. If this were a battlefield, he'd have been dead on the spot unless it was again Dame Radistirin that he had been conversing with— In what felt like a flash, three young women of obvious status far above his own had crowded around him, pleading for tales of adventure and gallantry from, of all knights present, him. A commoner and a greenhorn, who had not even spent a year inside the hallowed halls of Candaeln. It was all too recently that he hadn't even shown his face on the field of battle, instead witnessing hell beneath brown hood and leather mask.

He was afraid of this. Afraid of exactly this happening, as it were. He had never been much of an orator to begin with in his mind, and he scarcely knew what stories to share. His eyebrows shot up and he, so taken aback by the sudden barrage of titters and requests, found himself recoiling a bit, as though his body believed he could lean out of their way and let the words pass by.

"Uh..."

Gerard's eyes, amber and bright with a panic that had never shown itself on the battlefield in the last half-decade, flicked over to meet those of Tyaethe. She had experience in spades, both with knightly quests and with noble girls. Hers were the tales they wanted. Not his. They wished to hear tell of adventure and heroism.

Not a faceless mercenary trudging through the mud and smoke. I suppose that narrows things down a quite a bit, doesn't it? Luckily, only last night we rode home from one of the missions that remains.

As pedestrian as we all thought it to be. Funny.

Clearing his throat, the young knight returned his gaze to the trio, passing it amongst each one as he stalled, manufacturing a moment to recollect himself. His hands, still holding food and drink, relieved themselves of the latter by way of him downing the rest and setting the empty glass back upon the table. He held liquor well by necessity, all it amounted to was just a little greasing of the wheels up top.

He met them this time with a genial, friendly smile.

Just don't overdo it, Sagramore, and we'll be fine.

"Well, you must forgive how green a Rose I am, firstly. I don't have much time within the Order to speak of..."

The two that were really driving this had an eagerness and exuberance that he didn't want to let down. The third's exasperation, despite being much closer to something he felt he could handle, seemed almost lost against their dazzling whimsy. He'd been in a similar position many times in his band of mercenaries; the quieter one who nevertheless tagged along with their less reserved peers.

"However, we did just yesterday return from slaying the Bandit King and his crew of brigands, under the leadership of our new Captain. Paladin Tyaethe and I actually both got the chance to cross swords with that bastard."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

@VitaVitaAR

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

perfect

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Yeah , sorry if I jumped the gun on anyone. In the middle of a six day block of work so I wanted to get it out ahead of this.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

happy thanksgiving to all my american friends. i hope you ate well and enjoyed quality time with those you loved

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

Jonas Highwind

@Krayzikk@Plank Sinatra@Write@Caasicam

"Good, you're not a coward." he flippantly intoned from the stove, "Otherwise I'd have to toss you in the fridge, Danaye. Akhmat zila."

Mechanically turning over the bacon and setting the water into another swirl, Jonas couldn't deny his appreciation of the sentiment his sister had laid out, inside jokes about the cowardice of weight-cutting aside— for all they were trumped up to be, the faculty were in the end little more than an obstacle. A bump in the road that they could collectively climb over, maybe not so easily as those gathered here would think, but surmountable all the same.

And yet.

"Yeah, fuck 'em. I reached the same conclusion when you got here."

One by one, another set of eggs were cracked into the simmering vortex. He looked up from the pot for a moment, steely eyes seemingly set on boring holes through the kitchen's walls and out towards something a horizon away. Rebekah was sharp enough to understand their position as he did, naturally, but what he and she were thinking seemed to be a different story. It was inevitable, even disregarding that they simply processed information differently (as any two people would). Their stakes, their personal investments, their aspirations— all were definitely distinct.

"It's just the principle, I guess. You'd think that here, of all places, my chasing Herakles would be fostered and encouraged, but it looks like I was mistaken."

He removed the bacon, now sufficiently crisp, and toasted the remaining muffins.

If there was one commonality, it was that they were both here simply because they had to be, and simply because everyone around them that they cared for was as well. He didn't know what Bekah's goals were. What she dreamed of. Flippant as she was, they certainly had nothing to do with OA. She shared none of his expectations, however flimsy they had become in the five years he'd held onto them. He didn't know if even she had laid any dream out yet, but what he did know were his own.

"I'm just having to face that reality now. It's been in front of me for a long time, just tucked away enough to ignore, but after today it's slapped me in the face and spat upon my boot."

Lofty ideals, shining images upon the hills of Elysium that were immortalized in human memory through their deeds, through their valor. He wanted to count himself amongst their number. He had been blessed with great power, and had thought that it would be cultivated better nowhere else than here before he threw himself into the world to use it, wholeheartedly, for good.

Their rebuke was by all rights a tacit rejection of the notion.

As if he were childish for thinking of it at all.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised at having to carve my own path, seeing as I always kind of figured I would. It's my own naivete that's in eating at my head the most. In that regard, I guess their punishment may have worked a little on me after all— Just not quite how they planned it."

Another platter slid onto the table, having been assembled as he multitasked.

He folded brawny arms, and leaned against the counter as his assembled guests either ate or set themselves to work on his best friend's luggage.

"Now I just won't expect my skepticism to ever be shaken. Or a thank you. So with all that said,"

He managed to smirk again.

"I don't really care what kinda mess you make of his stuff, but make sure you leave mine alone. Might get kicked out sooner than we think. I'd hate repacking."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Really don't know why I feel like I have such trouble balancing my character consistency with not being rote. Need to work on nailing down what I've already established so I can avoid this "am I just retreading?" sensation. Hate all this second-guessing

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR

Evening again.

As luck would have it, apparently Sir Jerel had a far better grasp for their young Captain's mind than Gerard did: he had ridden out once again into the tawny orange and gold of dusk at the behest of Fanilly Danballion, just as the falconer had predicted. Maybe he shouldn't have doubted his position after all. Maybe it was just a mere coincidence. In any case, at least this time was towards a simple social outing, rather than combat...

So you'd think it would feel.

While the ball offered much lower stakes than even a straightforward mission like that of two evenings prior, and the reassurances of his fellow knights that the many intricacies of polite society were not so expected of him in this setting as he had believed, he still couldn't quite shake an unease within himself. The Spikes of Aimlenn, despite being full of attendees that were doubtlessly eager to see the Iron Roses, were an isolating place. So much finery, livery, and nobility. So little here that he knew beyond his own comrades. Half of the people here would have employed him seven months ago, and now he was milling about as honored a guest as they. If he was thankful for the familiarity of riding to battle, then this stuffy atmosphere only served to further highlight the sentiment by contrast.

A stranger in a strange land.

As if it were not embossed enough by his attire. That hadn't changed much, either.

Sagramore Gellért, at heart, had never really expected himself to so quickly be attending a party so prestigious as one hosted by the Princess. Even after being accepted into the ranks of the Iron Roses, the young man's mind was awash with reasons as to why he wouldn't be selected to make such an appearance: he was a newcomer, he was a humble villager by blood, he had been a rowdy mercenary by trade— the list was exhaustive. He most definitely was of the impression he would have much more time to prepare himself truly formal garments.

A hand, adorned in plates of painstakingly polished steel, adjusted the rust-colored cape that hung over his left pauldron, tied in a manner almost akin to a fancier and less warming scarf. No wind to catch it and make a mess of things, but surely getting it just a bit more out of the way would be fine. Just enough to ensure no entanglement upon anything, come what may.

It was a blessing that the Princess had evidently wished to see some of the knights' arms and armor on display tonight. How gracious of her to offer such a perfect sidestep of needing to buy some gaudy tunic out in the city earlier that day, all epaulets and frills and price and garish dye. He'd need to get it done one of these days, but for now he could make do after cleaning up what armor he had to the utmost. All it really took was a little more attention put into the usual daily maintenance of this warfighter's ensemble, and he was... at least presentable.

I think. Certainly it's what I know, but I think I've made it look nice enough. Though, steel and leather at a Royal Ball is probably always going to be an oddity.

He smirked dryly, sipping from a glass he had picked up at some point. A crisp sweetness to the liquid came with a hint of spice beneath that carried warmth down the back of his throat. Best be careful of that.

"At least the Captain's harness is suitably ornate... Not to mention complete."

As for Gerard himself, he had been well fed, well bathed, and well rested in the day they'd had to prepare. A little less fatigue beneath the eyes and a little less chaos in his short black hair made for, in his mind, the best he looked all week. There was little that could be done regarding scars, but they were thankfully small and faint upon his skin, and mostly covered by either gauntlet, gorget, cape, or cuirass.

Ah, well. Here we are.

He had done what he could to prepare. What happened now was all up to Reon's guidance and his own instinct. He had faith in one, but hoped neither were so capricious as to lead him into playing the fool. He wouldn't dare do the court jester's work for free, after all. Better to simply be as he was, not swerve into another's path.

All the thinking was making him peckish. With any luck, one of his fellows would be scouring the platters of food too— certainly some camaraderie would help the night go by much more smoothly. If he was to be in such a crowd, the least he could do for himself was to not feel so alone.

Plus, some of that pie looked tasty as hell.