As soon as Rue's scream fades Seishu draws up the negative energies around him and puts up a barrier. An instant later the other guardian's positive energy crashes against the dark shroud surrounding him and he lets out a sigh of relief. 'Soooo glad I made it in time. That would have hurt worse than losing both eyes to a flamethrower' Chuckling at the vision of Iro having just that happen to him his smile widens at the door bangs open and a familiar form stalks in, flames jumping from his lower half. The frantic scramble about the bed to hide what was about to happen is almost as a musing as the looks on the medics' faces. 'Ah, this is priceless. Almost worth the assassination attempt' A wicked happy feeling burns deep down inside as the idiots get stripped bare not only of their titles, but of their pride and honor. 'Oh, this is tasty' He sits quietly, watching the Dream World Melo Drama unfolding in front of him.
He lets the barrier around him drop as soon as he feels the pressure from Enasi lighten up considerably. The few minutes of silence gives Seishu time to examine the odd sensation he's been having around the other guardian as of late. 'It's almost like I can feel what he's feeling, but not exactly. Like. . .His feelings are influencing mine. I mean, normally, in a situation like this, I'm fairly sure I would feel like gloating, but I don't. . . .' His left eyebrow raises when Enasi bows, and a part of him feels like throwing something at the man to make him stop. However he simply remains silent and let's Enasi deal with things in his own time, for now. He gives a nod before the Dream Guardian turns and walks away. 'Such an odd sensation. I think I need more pain meds now, the rush is wearing off'
As Crios goes about cleaning things up a bit Rue flutters down and lands on the bed right next to Seishu. Ignoring the guardian's flinching and his own queasy feeling the little fairy boy clings to Seishu's wounded shoulder. Both arms wrapped around Seishu's he cries quietly for a while. Letting him be for now Seishu turns his attention to Doc's words. He chuckles lightly in response to the negative energy question. “Yeah, it helped, in fact, it's still helping, and so are you Doc.”
Crios looks at him confused for a moment then looks down at his own lashing tail and the fire flaring about his lower half. He sighs and takes a few deep breaths to relax. Seishu rolls his eyes and Crios gives him a smirk. Coming to the side of the bed where Rue sits, still clinging on to the guardian, Crios carefully pries the boy off so he can examine him. “Why would they do that? I always thought they were nice, I mean, they were always so gentle when treating me when I ran into things from flying too fast in the palace, and Iro even would give me candy if I sat still. This just isn't right, we're suppose to be the good ones, right? Those guys were just being stupid, do they even know what would happen if they killed Mister Seishu? Maybe we just haven't told them enough about the situation, maybe Lord Enasi just needs to tell everyone what's going on, Mayb-” A warm hand on his back makes the little minion pause and he takes several deep breaths.
Dropping his hand down Seishu looks to Crios who gives him a faint smile as he finishes examining Rue. “Good.” he murmurs, his whole body tensing as the energies around them almost seem to be fighting one another. “Looks like Enasi's finally showing some good old fashioned leadership out there. Man those guys are upset. I wish I could see their simpering faces.” His voice grows low as he speaks, sounding rather dark. “Of course if they were mine the punishments would be much more. . . .Entertaining.” Out of the corner of his eye he spots Rue looking at him with a brave face. He's obviously trying not to back away from Seishu in his dark mood. He lets out a growling sigh and motions to Crios, who had been just waiting until the guardian was ready for treatment to move in. “Hey, Doc, dope me before I'm tempted to get up and flay those traitorous beasts alive, huh?”
Without hesitation Crios fills a syringe with some of the pain killer, a concentrated version of what was used before he'd been carrying around for the final check-up he'd planned that night. Rue scoots a bit to the side, chewing his lip as he watches his newest friend receive his much needed injection. The solution works quickly and soon he can feel all of his tense muscles relaxing and a less frightening tugging at his lips. “There you are Night. Now we just need some new blankets I think.” Crios says, smirking at the look the nickname puts on Seishu's face Before he can respond though the door to the room opens once again and Enasi comes in. His pointed ears twitch, his heart going out to his beloved guardian but instead of addressing the downhearted man's visage he answers his silent question. “They're fine. I'm not sure how, but neither of them seem to have any new injuries. Night over there needed some pain meds, and needs some new covers, but other then that, they are fine.”
Rue perks up, fluttering up to hover over the bed. He opens his mouth to launch into the tale of just what happened and how they had gotten out without a scratch, but his voice stalls in his throat as he spots Seishu's raised hand. Looking down at the reclined guardian he cocks his head in question. Crios too gives the man a questioning look, but Seishu returned neither of their gazes. Instead his eyes remain locked on Enasi. After a moment he makes shooing motions at the two dream minions, and Crios tries to object. However Rue can sense that it's important so he darts down and politly drags the doctor out of the room and closes the door carefully behind them. “What is that all about?” Crios inquires.
Rues shakes his head. “I don't know, but I've come to trust that, even if he's one of the bad guys, he'll never do anything that isn't necessary. If he wants us out, then we need to be out for now.”
Crios raises an eyebrow at the boy's explanation but trusts the little minion and settles for leaning against the wall beside the door until he's called for. Rue on the other hand begins pacing in the air back and forth in front of the door, his little wings flashing each turn.
~~~~*~~~~
Carefully Seishu sits up a little more, keeping his eyes on his fellow guardian. He sits quietly for a little while before motioning to the chair Enasi seems to favor. As he waits for the other to sit he talks to himself, but loud enough for Enasi to hear. “Well, I really dodged the bullet there. Good thing at least one of the little dream minions around here does what he's told without asking questions. He really has some lungs on him. He could probably help out in battle with a scream like that.” His gaze drops to his hands as he speaks. Lacing his fingers together he taps his thumbs together as he continues thinking aloud. “That was quite a party too. Good thing they aren't very good at the assassination gig or I might be dead now. I'd hate to see what would happen to the balance with Gin over there running things. He's got the strangest ideas of just what our two realms represent. Seems to think that nightmares are evil and meant to hurt people. I almost pity him for that.”
Falling silent his gaze returns to the room's other occupant. He blinks slowly once then lets out a sigh. “He doesn't seem to understand that nightmares are what let humans deal with the pain and negative feelings they encounter in their lives. They are what allow people to get over things more easily. It's what we who thrive on fear, and hate, and loathing are here for. We are here to feed on them so that they no longer plague the hearts and minds they are born in.” A sarcastic but somehow open smile finds it's way to his lips as he looks over into Enasi's eyes. “It's what I live for, Enasi.” A part of him really hopes Enasi takes the hint, and that same part of him, very deep down, actually hopes he can help.
PopeAlessandros Member
- Last Seen: 3 mos ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 2643 (0.58 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- PopeAlessandros 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
tenebrae16,
Pascal
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
I put my character sheet in my first post because I forgot that we still had those to do :P You can go ahead and put yours in your first post too, I would appreciate it greatly. But no pictures, please. Only if you have to. I'm morally opposed to using other people's works of art for such purposes without permission especially since they were not drawn for the character itself. If you don't have your own character profile outline, you can use mine, but if you do use your own, please make sure it has at last most of the info sections I have on mine. It makes the RP 10x easier for me if I have a proper reference :P
Name: Dorian Alex Helvek
Race: Vampire
Age: 549(Looks mid twenties)
Height: 6'5”
Weight: 142lbs
Hair: Strawberry Blond, mid back length, bangs only slightly shorter and parted down the middle, the rest of the hair kept back in a tactful black hair ribbon.
Eyes: Icy Blue
Skin: Ghostly White
Build: Lithe, faint muscle tone, but with almost no clear muscle definition
Clothes: Long sleeve red button up shirt with classic frills at the wrists over a plain white under shirt. Black cravat with a silver chain across it. Knee length gentleman’s coat that flares out slightly from where the last button is around the waist. Matching fine black pants and polished shoes with calf high black socks.
Accessories: Ear cuff on shell of right ear with deep blue stone inlay into the silver. Silver pocket watch. An assortment of small blades hidden in various pockets and sheathes. Wears a rapier on left hip, the strap for the sheath crossing the chest beneath the black coat.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): It fairly skilled with throwing knives, and is an expert swordsman with the rapier. He has classic vampiric charm and has a fair level of control over the unsuspecting. Naturally stronger than humans and can move very quickly over short distances. Horsemanship is at professional level and has naturally heightened senses.
General Personality: Very dedicated to anything he sets his mind too, but never does anything more than is absolutely necessary. He's not lazy, he just doesn't see the point in doing more than his share. He's rather kind to animals, but is rather indifferent about humans. He has no temper to speak of, but then again no one has ever tried testing it in over three hundred years. He is content with his life, but doesn't look down his nose at those who seek more out of life. He a bit of an enigma to those around him, showing no real passions outside of his sword play and horse riding. He never really seems to express what he's thinking, often times needing to be asked what's on his mind to get him to talk at all. Despite that, he's very creative and if goaded into it, can tell fantastic stories made up on the spot.
Background: No one knows much about him save for the past two hundred years, he doesn't talk about his younger years. He himself does his best not to think about such times and has worked for his coven for the past couple hundred years to help them expand and flourish. He took up the sword many years before joining the coven, and there seems to be something special about the one he carries at all times. He started breeding and riding horses a little over a hundred years ago, passing his brood one to “The next generation” each time he had to “Die” and has watched the line grow and mature into a very fine breeding stock. When he came across the ocean to New England with the settlers he took with him the best of the best and makes a decent living off of them on the human front as the country's best horse breeder. He also supplies all the horses for his coven, and can be seen chastising any one of them who returns without the horse he sent them out with. He owns a chateau one town over from the central hub of the coven where he has his own ranch for breeding and raising his prize horses, but commutes at least three times a week to the hub to pick up assignments.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sea crashes against the base of the cliff overlooking the town of Horton. A rumble in the distance signals an approaching storm, faint flashes of light far off in the dark night sky like flickering fireflies. The air is filled with the salty fresh breeze coming off of the vast waters far bellow, and the dark horse standing poised at the edge lets out a harsh snort at the new smell. It shifts carefully from side to side as it's rider seems lost in thought, gazing out towards the head of the storm. The steadily growing breeze whips at his hair and clothes, but somehow he looks no worse for wear. His ride from the coven's home town had taken over a week, and as he traveled he picked up more and more news and rumors about his current assignment. Each new fact or hypothesis stirred an itching in the back of his mind, and he is now rather anxious to get started.
Taking a deep breath he lets out a long sigh and turns his horse from the cliffs towards a rough dirt road. The road, leading down from the bluffs towards the town, splits just before the village proper with one leg leading into town, and the other leading towards a rather dense forest. The settlers had already begun clearing away the large trees so that they could build houses, or make more farm land. He's not quite sure, but it doesn't matter to him much. Dorian has never much cared to wonder over what human's are planning for their relatively short futures. Other of his kind admire humans in a way. Somehow their desperate scrambling to accomplish something, to be remembered by something grand or heroic they accomplished. 'It has been so long since I was one of them, they have lost all wonder in my eyes' Shaking his head he gives the reins a faint tug and his horse turns at the fork towards the wood.
However oddly enough, Dorian was chosen for this mission due to how well he can blend with humans. Because of his century long business of horse breeding and training he's had to deal closely with the mortals on a regular basis. Whether it be expanding on his stock, or selling a particularly promising yearling to a gifted rider, he's managed to keep the world believing in his humanity. The forest is darker than the road before it, causing his horse to get a little antsy. It nickers softly, slowing to a walking pace. Stopping a couple dozen yards into the darkness the vampire looks about for signs of his quarry. 'Not that I'm expecting to find it right off the bat, but the last attack did happen rather close to the forest's edge. . .' His thoughts trail off as he spots movement out of the corner of his eye.
Rather than responding hastily he makes to dismount but freezes as he hears a pistol's hammer being pulled back. 'Impatient folk, not that I blame them' He finishes dismounting slowly and turns towards where the sound had come from. Rather quietly, given the sounds of the approaching storm masking most small noises, a group of men exit the dense foliage beside the road, a couple of them lighting torches to illuminate the area. One of them has a gun leveled at him, both the others just stand around, shuffling nervously. The one with the pistol steps forward, lowing the gun slightly so he can look into Dorian's eyes. “How goes there squire? Fancy a late ride?” His voice is firm, but not threatening.
'The watch I suppose' “Forgive me gentleman, but I am here on business. I thought I would see the storm from a more interesting vantage point before my meeting tomorrow than through the window of an inn.” His voice is low and smooth and the gathered men seem to relax. The armed man drops his weapon slowly to his side before holstering it. A slightly glazed look seems to cross a few of the mens' faces, but most are far too frightened by recent events to let the vampire's charm take full effect.
The front man pulls his hat off, running his hand through his rust colored hair. “Sorry about the weapon squire, but strange things have been going on lately about these woulds. Perhaps you shouldn't stick around here for long.” The men all murmur in agreement, a few expressing how they too would rather be elsewhere.
Dorian waves a hand dismissively. “I have heard about such troubles. I feel I can deal with any trouble that I meet out here. Not even the mighty bear is that intimidating after being poked in the eye, no?” He pulls back his jacket slightly so the men get a good look at the polished handle of the rapier at his hip. His cool eyes almost flash as he drops his cloak and motions one of the men forward. The slightly dazed young man strides forward and Dorian hands his the reins to his horse. “I have a reservation at the Jameston Inn. I would appreciate it if you could take my horse to the stable there.” Reaching to his hip he pulls the strings of his coin purse so he can slip his fingers inside. Pulling out two large gold coins he shows them to the man before pressing them into his free palm. “One of those is for you, and I would like you to give the other to the stable boy to ensure Horace here is treated properly.” Reaching up he pat's the black stallion's neck softly.
Around them the winds pick up, thrashing the upper branches of the trees and causing the torches to crackle harshly. The man gives him a nod and goes to take a step back, but Dorian's hand on his arm makes his pause. “Horace is trained to me, like a war horse, so I would advise against trying to ride him, or steal him for that matter.” A few of the men chuckle as the one holding the reins swallows hard.
“Would never dream of doing something as down right dirty as that Sir. No, not ever.” He stumbles out, his voice catching slightly.
The men laugh out right this time and one of them calls out, “You picked the most honest one among us squire, don't choo be worryin' about that 'orse.” They laugh a little more as the young man blushes openly.
The laughter stops abruptly as the first real peel of thunder cracks. The red headed man looks to his fellows and then back to Dorian. “Well squire, stay out here if you like. I can't be risking sick with my boys though. You'll be out here alone to enjoy the storm however you like. Be seein' you.” Dorian gives the man a nod and with a little salute the group heads off towards the opening in the trees towards town.
Letting out another long sigh the vampire turns towards the dark of the wood one more and begins walking forward slowly. 'Well, this gives me more time to search. Humans are good for some things' The wind lashes at his back but as he moves deeper and deeper into the forest's black depths the trees afford him some shielding from it's harsh bite. His senses are primed, seeking out anything that's abnormal or out of place in this un-refined wilderness.
Race: Vampire
Age: 549(Looks mid twenties)
Height: 6'5”
Weight: 142lbs
Hair: Strawberry Blond, mid back length, bangs only slightly shorter and parted down the middle, the rest of the hair kept back in a tactful black hair ribbon.
Eyes: Icy Blue
Skin: Ghostly White
Build: Lithe, faint muscle tone, but with almost no clear muscle definition
Clothes: Long sleeve red button up shirt with classic frills at the wrists over a plain white under shirt. Black cravat with a silver chain across it. Knee length gentleman’s coat that flares out slightly from where the last button is around the waist. Matching fine black pants and polished shoes with calf high black socks.
Accessories: Ear cuff on shell of right ear with deep blue stone inlay into the silver. Silver pocket watch. An assortment of small blades hidden in various pockets and sheathes. Wears a rapier on left hip, the strap for the sheath crossing the chest beneath the black coat.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): It fairly skilled with throwing knives, and is an expert swordsman with the rapier. He has classic vampiric charm and has a fair level of control over the unsuspecting. Naturally stronger than humans and can move very quickly over short distances. Horsemanship is at professional level and has naturally heightened senses.
General Personality: Very dedicated to anything he sets his mind too, but never does anything more than is absolutely necessary. He's not lazy, he just doesn't see the point in doing more than his share. He's rather kind to animals, but is rather indifferent about humans. He has no temper to speak of, but then again no one has ever tried testing it in over three hundred years. He is content with his life, but doesn't look down his nose at those who seek more out of life. He a bit of an enigma to those around him, showing no real passions outside of his sword play and horse riding. He never really seems to express what he's thinking, often times needing to be asked what's on his mind to get him to talk at all. Despite that, he's very creative and if goaded into it, can tell fantastic stories made up on the spot.
Background: No one knows much about him save for the past two hundred years, he doesn't talk about his younger years. He himself does his best not to think about such times and has worked for his coven for the past couple hundred years to help them expand and flourish. He took up the sword many years before joining the coven, and there seems to be something special about the one he carries at all times. He started breeding and riding horses a little over a hundred years ago, passing his brood one to “The next generation” each time he had to “Die” and has watched the line grow and mature into a very fine breeding stock. When he came across the ocean to New England with the settlers he took with him the best of the best and makes a decent living off of them on the human front as the country's best horse breeder. He also supplies all the horses for his coven, and can be seen chastising any one of them who returns without the horse he sent them out with. He owns a chateau one town over from the central hub of the coven where he has his own ranch for breeding and raising his prize horses, but commutes at least three times a week to the hub to pick up assignments.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sea crashes against the base of the cliff overlooking the town of Horton. A rumble in the distance signals an approaching storm, faint flashes of light far off in the dark night sky like flickering fireflies. The air is filled with the salty fresh breeze coming off of the vast waters far bellow, and the dark horse standing poised at the edge lets out a harsh snort at the new smell. It shifts carefully from side to side as it's rider seems lost in thought, gazing out towards the head of the storm. The steadily growing breeze whips at his hair and clothes, but somehow he looks no worse for wear. His ride from the coven's home town had taken over a week, and as he traveled he picked up more and more news and rumors about his current assignment. Each new fact or hypothesis stirred an itching in the back of his mind, and he is now rather anxious to get started.
Taking a deep breath he lets out a long sigh and turns his horse from the cliffs towards a rough dirt road. The road, leading down from the bluffs towards the town, splits just before the village proper with one leg leading into town, and the other leading towards a rather dense forest. The settlers had already begun clearing away the large trees so that they could build houses, or make more farm land. He's not quite sure, but it doesn't matter to him much. Dorian has never much cared to wonder over what human's are planning for their relatively short futures. Other of his kind admire humans in a way. Somehow their desperate scrambling to accomplish something, to be remembered by something grand or heroic they accomplished. 'It has been so long since I was one of them, they have lost all wonder in my eyes' Shaking his head he gives the reins a faint tug and his horse turns at the fork towards the wood.
However oddly enough, Dorian was chosen for this mission due to how well he can blend with humans. Because of his century long business of horse breeding and training he's had to deal closely with the mortals on a regular basis. Whether it be expanding on his stock, or selling a particularly promising yearling to a gifted rider, he's managed to keep the world believing in his humanity. The forest is darker than the road before it, causing his horse to get a little antsy. It nickers softly, slowing to a walking pace. Stopping a couple dozen yards into the darkness the vampire looks about for signs of his quarry. 'Not that I'm expecting to find it right off the bat, but the last attack did happen rather close to the forest's edge. . .' His thoughts trail off as he spots movement out of the corner of his eye.
Rather than responding hastily he makes to dismount but freezes as he hears a pistol's hammer being pulled back. 'Impatient folk, not that I blame them' He finishes dismounting slowly and turns towards where the sound had come from. Rather quietly, given the sounds of the approaching storm masking most small noises, a group of men exit the dense foliage beside the road, a couple of them lighting torches to illuminate the area. One of them has a gun leveled at him, both the others just stand around, shuffling nervously. The one with the pistol steps forward, lowing the gun slightly so he can look into Dorian's eyes. “How goes there squire? Fancy a late ride?” His voice is firm, but not threatening.
'The watch I suppose' “Forgive me gentleman, but I am here on business. I thought I would see the storm from a more interesting vantage point before my meeting tomorrow than through the window of an inn.” His voice is low and smooth and the gathered men seem to relax. The armed man drops his weapon slowly to his side before holstering it. A slightly glazed look seems to cross a few of the mens' faces, but most are far too frightened by recent events to let the vampire's charm take full effect.
The front man pulls his hat off, running his hand through his rust colored hair. “Sorry about the weapon squire, but strange things have been going on lately about these woulds. Perhaps you shouldn't stick around here for long.” The men all murmur in agreement, a few expressing how they too would rather be elsewhere.
Dorian waves a hand dismissively. “I have heard about such troubles. I feel I can deal with any trouble that I meet out here. Not even the mighty bear is that intimidating after being poked in the eye, no?” He pulls back his jacket slightly so the men get a good look at the polished handle of the rapier at his hip. His cool eyes almost flash as he drops his cloak and motions one of the men forward. The slightly dazed young man strides forward and Dorian hands his the reins to his horse. “I have a reservation at the Jameston Inn. I would appreciate it if you could take my horse to the stable there.” Reaching to his hip he pulls the strings of his coin purse so he can slip his fingers inside. Pulling out two large gold coins he shows them to the man before pressing them into his free palm. “One of those is for you, and I would like you to give the other to the stable boy to ensure Horace here is treated properly.” Reaching up he pat's the black stallion's neck softly.
Around them the winds pick up, thrashing the upper branches of the trees and causing the torches to crackle harshly. The man gives him a nod and goes to take a step back, but Dorian's hand on his arm makes his pause. “Horace is trained to me, like a war horse, so I would advise against trying to ride him, or steal him for that matter.” A few of the men chuckle as the one holding the reins swallows hard.
“Would never dream of doing something as down right dirty as that Sir. No, not ever.” He stumbles out, his voice catching slightly.
The men laugh out right this time and one of them calls out, “You picked the most honest one among us squire, don't choo be worryin' about that 'orse.” They laugh a little more as the young man blushes openly.
The laughter stops abruptly as the first real peel of thunder cracks. The red headed man looks to his fellows and then back to Dorian. “Well squire, stay out here if you like. I can't be risking sick with my boys though. You'll be out here alone to enjoy the storm however you like. Be seein' you.” Dorian gives the man a nod and with a little salute the group heads off towards the opening in the trees towards town.
Letting out another long sigh the vampire turns towards the dark of the wood one more and begins walking forward slowly. 'Well, this gives me more time to search. Humans are good for some things' The wind lashes at his back but as he moves deeper and deeper into the forest's black depths the trees afford him some shielding from it's harsh bite. His senses are primed, seeking out anything that's abnormal or out of place in this un-refined wilderness.
Viltez can feel his tail twitch slightly under his shirt in the back. 'He can't mean they drowned can he? I mean, he almost looked a little giddy at the thought of people being unable to reach the bottom. Maybe he can? That's most likely it, He must be one of those men who do very well under water. We've had a few come through town who work in the ocean, and they can go pretty deep!' The fire crackles gently behind him as he takes a few more bites of the sweet mixture on his plate and listens to his guest talk about his homeland. In his mind grows a picture of the island, and on it a grand shrine. Almost as if seeing the passage of time it dims and crumbles gradually and he can almost feel his heart drop at the thought of such a thing happening. 'He's obviously sad about it. It must have been an important place at some point to the people up river'
At the man's question Viltez chews his lip a bit. 'I haven't traveled far from the village, but I can ell him what I have seen I suppose. Plus the stories, and the maps. . . .' He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. 'He doesn't need to know it all though. I guess I'll go with the important stuff' Taking a breath he smiles and sips down some tea before he begins.
“Well, directly around this village I know of only one shrine, but it's really small, and it's more of a traveler shrine to the forest god. It's about half a mile out of town, through the woods to the south, towards the lake. East of here it's all rolling hills until the town a good thirty miles away, but I've heard that there are some farms for sheep and cows between here and there, but they are away from the main road. After that is the ocean, but that's a way away.” He stops to think for a moment, chewing on another mouthful of his quickly chilling dinner. “To the north and west are the mountain, but to the north there's the Havardo cave. A lot of young couples go there. . .” A faint blush touches his cheeks and with a cough he quickly moves on. “And, um, west, yes, there is a thick forest between us and the mountains, but along the way there is an old stone structure no one really knows the use of. OH!” He snaps his fingers remembering one last detail. “Also to the west is the tallest tree in these parts.”
He chuckles slightly. “Apparently a lot of people have carved their names into it over the years and now it's practically a test of love to climb up and find a place to carve you and your sweetheart's name, heh.” Bringing his fingers up he slowly cleans them off of the last remnants of the drizzle and stands. “That's all I can think of for now.” Turning his back he goes tot he sink and pumps a little water over his sticky dish. “I mean I haven't seen most of this myself. I don't leave the village much. . . .”His last comment is quite, but loud enough for his guest to hear.
At the man's question Viltez chews his lip a bit. 'I haven't traveled far from the village, but I can ell him what I have seen I suppose. Plus the stories, and the maps. . . .' He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. 'He doesn't need to know it all though. I guess I'll go with the important stuff' Taking a breath he smiles and sips down some tea before he begins.
“Well, directly around this village I know of only one shrine, but it's really small, and it's more of a traveler shrine to the forest god. It's about half a mile out of town, through the woods to the south, towards the lake. East of here it's all rolling hills until the town a good thirty miles away, but I've heard that there are some farms for sheep and cows between here and there, but they are away from the main road. After that is the ocean, but that's a way away.” He stops to think for a moment, chewing on another mouthful of his quickly chilling dinner. “To the north and west are the mountain, but to the north there's the Havardo cave. A lot of young couples go there. . .” A faint blush touches his cheeks and with a cough he quickly moves on. “And, um, west, yes, there is a thick forest between us and the mountains, but along the way there is an old stone structure no one really knows the use of. OH!” He snaps his fingers remembering one last detail. “Also to the west is the tallest tree in these parts.”
He chuckles slightly. “Apparently a lot of people have carved their names into it over the years and now it's practically a test of love to climb up and find a place to carve you and your sweetheart's name, heh.” Bringing his fingers up he slowly cleans them off of the last remnants of the drizzle and stands. “That's all I can think of for now.” Turning his back he goes tot he sink and pumps a little water over his sticky dish. “I mean I haven't seen most of this myself. I don't leave the village much. . . .”His last comment is quite, but loud enough for his guest to hear.
Yay, post up! And don't worry, I'm not the fastest poster myself :P
A warm glow is kindled in his stomach as he watches the innkeeper examine the fruits of his labor. 'He seems pleased, but I get the feeling he's a bit worried about something. I guess I'll ask him about it when we start eating' Tatsuki smiles at the boy's blush, letting out a quiet chuckle. Pushing off the counter he slides forward, brushing past Shigetoshi to grab one of the large serving boards. “If you would be so kind.” he murmurs softly. Slipping around the young man he calls over his shoulder, “I dished everything out into the required eight servings, so obviously it's one of each dish per person. There are extras in the pots and such back here should there be need for more.” With that he saunters out of the kitchen an in to the little hall leading to the dinning area. 'Now, let's see if I haven't lost my edge with my cooking' Taking a breath, he moves slowly and steadly down the hall, the sounds of voices at the far end making his stomach turn.
'You know, my real job may be more important, but sometimes I think stuff like this is more stressful on me. I mean, I know that no matter what, in the end, as long as the soul is harvested and guided properly, all is well. But with stuff like my cooking, even if I get the dish perfect, there's always the chance that it won't be received well. Why do I do this?' Brushing aside his misgivings about the situation he steps out into the murmurs of voice, which hush as he enters. 'That and in my real job I never have an audience, at least if I do things right' Dropping his eyes a bit he moves carefully around the room delivering his dishes. First to the old couple, who give him wide grins. Then to the group of three sitting close around a single table. The two girls from earlier exclaim loudly in delight over each plate. The taller one looks up at him, her eyes bright, “When Sanada-san told us earlier what you were making, we were kind of put off by how common it sounded, but now, looking at this. And the smell! It's just amazing Tatsuki-kun!”
Rolling his eyes with a chuckle he murmurs, “I thank you for the assessment, but maybe you should taste it first so I feel I have actually earned the praise miss.” She giggles at him but her response is cut off by him standing and moving off towards the last patron sitting alone at a table in the back corner. As he set the fine ceramics down his eyes stay a little too long on the man's face, drawing out a questioning look from him. Tatsuki shakes his head and smile. “Enjoy.” His voice is a little rough, as if he's got something stuck in the back of his throat, but he manages to maintain his smile as he walks to an empty table with the last few dishes. Once they are in place on the table he settles on to one of the mats and waits for Shigetoshi to finish handing out his portions. 'I need this break. I really do. . .' Tatsuki can not see the slightly haunted look that has taken up residence in his eyes as he waits.
'You know, my real job may be more important, but sometimes I think stuff like this is more stressful on me. I mean, I know that no matter what, in the end, as long as the soul is harvested and guided properly, all is well. But with stuff like my cooking, even if I get the dish perfect, there's always the chance that it won't be received well. Why do I do this?' Brushing aside his misgivings about the situation he steps out into the murmurs of voice, which hush as he enters. 'That and in my real job I never have an audience, at least if I do things right' Dropping his eyes a bit he moves carefully around the room delivering his dishes. First to the old couple, who give him wide grins. Then to the group of three sitting close around a single table. The two girls from earlier exclaim loudly in delight over each plate. The taller one looks up at him, her eyes bright, “When Sanada-san told us earlier what you were making, we were kind of put off by how common it sounded, but now, looking at this. And the smell! It's just amazing Tatsuki-kun!”
Rolling his eyes with a chuckle he murmurs, “I thank you for the assessment, but maybe you should taste it first so I feel I have actually earned the praise miss.” She giggles at him but her response is cut off by him standing and moving off towards the last patron sitting alone at a table in the back corner. As he set the fine ceramics down his eyes stay a little too long on the man's face, drawing out a questioning look from him. Tatsuki shakes his head and smile. “Enjoy.” His voice is a little rough, as if he's got something stuck in the back of his throat, but he manages to maintain his smile as he walks to an empty table with the last few dishes. Once they are in place on the table he settles on to one of the mats and waits for Shigetoshi to finish handing out his portions. 'I need this break. I really do. . .' Tatsuki can not see the slightly haunted look that has taken up residence in his eyes as he waits.
I was thinking that only the gods have temples, but the more prominent Youkai have volumes where they are mentioned, but never by name. That is something that is only revealed to the human's they come to aid, and after they leave, they take the knowledge of their name with them. *Slow smile* You actually game me an idea of just "why" the Youkai goes to the youngest son rather than one of the sons already likely to ascend to the throne :P How do you feel about the idea of him not exactly doing what he was told to do, or taking on the boy as some sort of challenge to the judgment of the god he serves? It could lead to some fun scenes between the Youkai and others of his kind :P
Alrighty! Here are my boys! Hope you like'em :P
Name: Evan Neal Ashton (Ena)
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 5' 11”
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Black, just past shoulder length with most pulled back in a pony, bangs covering both eyes and right half of face.
Eyes: Dark Brown
Skin: Pasty, doesn't-get-enough-sun white.
Build: Very thin and gangly, muscles are hidden but flexible.
Clothes: Favors dark colors, tight but very flexible jeans, high-top sneakers, and plain black t-shirts.
Accessories: Thick black leather bracer with a double row of spikes on right arm, and a variety of hair ties on the other wrist. Silver dangly dagger earring on left ear. Rather small messenger bag of brown leather with various Celtic designs on it in black marker. Inside the bag is a notebook, a sketch pad, and various drawing instruments.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): Good at drawing and making little comics.
General Personality: Ena is very shy, keeping to himself mostly. He's never been one for making friends and instead only socializes when he needs something or he's forced to. It's not that he doesn't like people, he just doesn't feel he relates very well to his fellow students. He gets along better with an older crowd and can be seen hanging out with the owner of the antique book store. He likes the quiet, and tries to stay out of everybody's way.
Background: His parents were never happy in their marriage, being basically forced into it when Ena's mother got pregnant with his older sister. She moved out when he was still very young, and he took the backlash from that incident. He learned early on to say out of their way when they both began drinking. As soon as he was old enough he bought a lock for his room so he wouldn't be dragged out of bed during their drunken brawls any more. He took to escaping into comic books and manga just before entering high school. Halfway through his high school life he discovered his talent for drawing and started writing his own comic book. Eventually he got it published and now has a decent following. He uses the revenue from his comic series along with a part time job as a janitor at a toy store to pay for a small apartment above a pizza shop. He moved out from his parent's house as soon as possible because they took to spending his hard earned money. As of late he's been getting E-mails from his sister, but he is still undecided on whether or not he wants to respond. He has a new series in the works which he already has a publisher ready to get him started.
~**~*~*~*~*~**~
Name: Dirk Jonas Randal
Race: Human
Age: 16
Height: 5'4”
Weight: 125lbs
Hair: Naturally blond but dyed dark green right now. Waist length, bangs the same length as the rest of the hair, strait, and pulled back into two ponies making a swallow tail look most of the time.
Eyes: Gray
Skin: Faintly tan
Build: Lightly muscular, like a gymnast.
Clothes: Too big khaki shorts with many pockets, hanging half way down the calf, and held tight to the waist with a black leather belt. Wears various jersey tops over plain t-shirts. Has a fine stock of the latest top of the line sneakers.
Accessories: A pair of red, black, and green stripped sweat bands, and a step counter hooked to the belt. He carries various oddities and electronics in his many pockets. His backpack is dark green like his hair and is the kind that goes over one shoulder and across the chest with an extra strap to hold the whole thing in place. Attaches to the backpack is a net bag with a basketball in it.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): He's very quick on his feet, packs a hard punch, and can jump higher than most guys a foot taller than him.
General Personality: He's very outgoing and friendly, but he always seems just a little off so he doesn't have many people who can tolerate being around him for very long. He seems to try too hard, but it doesn’t bother him when people blow him off or walk away when he's in the middle of talking. He knows he different, and he's okay with that. He loves sports, for the challenge, not the winning. He's rather critical of himself and tries to keep in top shape at all times in case one team or another needs him. He almost never takes offense to anything, but he has certain triggers which turns him into a flurry of fists.
Background: Dirk grew up in a modest background, surrounded by many siblings. As the middle child, and one of the only of his parent's children related to them by blood, he's always been relied upon to help take care of the younger ones, and teach the fosters older than him the house rules. He's always taken his job in stride, forgoing actually joining any sports clubs throughout his childhood because his parents need him at home. He's very loving and overprotective of his family which has lead to a few run-ins with the local gangs and the authorities, but he's never gotten in over his head. His parents have finally decided they are too old for any more foster kids, at least until the ones they have age out, so this is the first year Dirk has a chance to join a team. He's been contemplating the option for some time now, and has decided that next time the basketball team holds try-outs, he's going to try and get on the team.
Name: Evan Neal Ashton (Ena)
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 5' 11”
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Black, just past shoulder length with most pulled back in a pony, bangs covering both eyes and right half of face.
Eyes: Dark Brown
Skin: Pasty, doesn't-get-enough-sun white.
Build: Very thin and gangly, muscles are hidden but flexible.
Clothes: Favors dark colors, tight but very flexible jeans, high-top sneakers, and plain black t-shirts.
Accessories: Thick black leather bracer with a double row of spikes on right arm, and a variety of hair ties on the other wrist. Silver dangly dagger earring on left ear. Rather small messenger bag of brown leather with various Celtic designs on it in black marker. Inside the bag is a notebook, a sketch pad, and various drawing instruments.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): Good at drawing and making little comics.
General Personality: Ena is very shy, keeping to himself mostly. He's never been one for making friends and instead only socializes when he needs something or he's forced to. It's not that he doesn't like people, he just doesn't feel he relates very well to his fellow students. He gets along better with an older crowd and can be seen hanging out with the owner of the antique book store. He likes the quiet, and tries to stay out of everybody's way.
Background: His parents were never happy in their marriage, being basically forced into it when Ena's mother got pregnant with his older sister. She moved out when he was still very young, and he took the backlash from that incident. He learned early on to say out of their way when they both began drinking. As soon as he was old enough he bought a lock for his room so he wouldn't be dragged out of bed during their drunken brawls any more. He took to escaping into comic books and manga just before entering high school. Halfway through his high school life he discovered his talent for drawing and started writing his own comic book. Eventually he got it published and now has a decent following. He uses the revenue from his comic series along with a part time job as a janitor at a toy store to pay for a small apartment above a pizza shop. He moved out from his parent's house as soon as possible because they took to spending his hard earned money. As of late he's been getting E-mails from his sister, but he is still undecided on whether or not he wants to respond. He has a new series in the works which he already has a publisher ready to get him started.
~**~*~*~*~*~**~
Name: Dirk Jonas Randal
Race: Human
Age: 16
Height: 5'4”
Weight: 125lbs
Hair: Naturally blond but dyed dark green right now. Waist length, bangs the same length as the rest of the hair, strait, and pulled back into two ponies making a swallow tail look most of the time.
Eyes: Gray
Skin: Faintly tan
Build: Lightly muscular, like a gymnast.
Clothes: Too big khaki shorts with many pockets, hanging half way down the calf, and held tight to the waist with a black leather belt. Wears various jersey tops over plain t-shirts. Has a fine stock of the latest top of the line sneakers.
Accessories: A pair of red, black, and green stripped sweat bands, and a step counter hooked to the belt. He carries various oddities and electronics in his many pockets. His backpack is dark green like his hair and is the kind that goes over one shoulder and across the chest with an extra strap to hold the whole thing in place. Attaches to the backpack is a net bag with a basketball in it.
Powers/Skills(If Applicable): He's very quick on his feet, packs a hard punch, and can jump higher than most guys a foot taller than him.
General Personality: He's very outgoing and friendly, but he always seems just a little off so he doesn't have many people who can tolerate being around him for very long. He seems to try too hard, but it doesn’t bother him when people blow him off or walk away when he's in the middle of talking. He knows he different, and he's okay with that. He loves sports, for the challenge, not the winning. He's rather critical of himself and tries to keep in top shape at all times in case one team or another needs him. He almost never takes offense to anything, but he has certain triggers which turns him into a flurry of fists.
Background: Dirk grew up in a modest background, surrounded by many siblings. As the middle child, and one of the only of his parent's children related to them by blood, he's always been relied upon to help take care of the younger ones, and teach the fosters older than him the house rules. He's always taken his job in stride, forgoing actually joining any sports clubs throughout his childhood because his parents need him at home. He's very loving and overprotective of his family which has lead to a few run-ins with the local gangs and the authorities, but he's never gotten in over his head. His parents have finally decided they are too old for any more foster kids, at least until the ones they have age out, so this is the first year Dirk has a chance to join a team. He's been contemplating the option for some time now, and has decided that next time the basketball team holds try-outs, he's going to try and get on the team.
Post up! Finally! So sorry :P I actually kept missing the fact that you posted :P *Bows* So sorry, I hope you like it :P
Chall sits quietly, tensing only slightly when the large man stands. He feels a faint flicker at the thought of a comfortable bed after his less than restful night on the hard ground in a flock of sheep. 'The warmth will do me some good. I just hope I don't tear open the wound again on my way back there' Rolling his good shoulder the mage's attention is caught once again by the teapot. To the side his tail twitches appreciatively as he reaches out for the cup his host had set out for him earlier before grabbing the tea off the hook.'This smells wonderful. I only get the really harsh strong stuff at the castle, this is much lighter and delicately fragrant. Despite the inevitable bitter taste, I find myself really craving this' Chuckling to himself he keeps an eye on the large man as he moves about the small home.
'He's rather calm. I like that. Now, if only his mutts would stop having the urge to eat me, we'll be good' His brows furrow slightly, ears flipping here and there before settling on the large female. 'I wonder what keeps crawling up their craws anyways. It's not like I'm being threatening. Cheesh, they keep getting all uppity when I'm lost in thought. Not all that dangerous when I'm thinking, now am I?' He continues grumbling to himself as he pours himself a cup of the willow bark tea and takes the first sip. The sharp feeling on his tongue last only a moment before soothing out into a rather dry feeling, but it's enough to interrupt his line of thought. He hums lightly, willing the tea to work quickly so he can sleep.
The dog is just barely in reach, but now that she's alone Chall feels a little calmer about the large beast's presence, so with care he reaches out a clawed foot and scratches her back gently. He large head turns to look at him and he stills. A moment of silent understanding seems to pass between them and after a few seconds she rolls slightly on to her side so he can scratch her ribs. Her fur feels smooth but coarse beneath his toes, definitely the fur of an outdoor dog. The feeling relaxes him, almost reminding him if his brother's unkempt mane of fur. “You're a fickle little thing, aren't you girl?” Her head turns at his voice but flops back down as he flexes his toes and hits a particularly good spot. Rolling his eyes he takes another sip of tea, a faint groan escaping his lips as the warmth from the fire finally reaches the point where he has to move away.
The dog lets out a noise as he retracts his foot and slides down to the floor in front of the hearth. After a moment she stands and wanders of to the head of the house. Rolling his eyes again his gaze shifts down into the murky depths of his cup and he can feel his mind slipping. 'The old woman's, Marge I think he called her, spell is still dragging at me. I hope it clears up soon. If any villagers come by with less than friendly, or at least civil, intentions I need to have complete control here' He remains silent for several minutes, his mind drifting from random thought to nonspecific musing until at lats he realizes he really needs to get some real sleep. His eyes come into focus and he realizes that the fire is a little dimmer than it was before. With a sigh he downs the rest of the tea, and he smiles as he can feel that the pain in his shoulder is slightly less.
Murmuring a “Thank you.” to his host Chall climbs carefully to his feet and stalks carefully to the open door in the little alcove. Spotting a very humble bed a relived smile finds it's way to his lips. He utters another thank you, unsure if the man is close enough to hear him, but at this point he really doesn't care. His steps are a little uneven, but he manages to make it on tot he bed without falling over. 'Ah, sweet sleep, may you find me well in the morning' Pushing the covers aside he curls up, a faint cry coming from him as the position stretches his shoulder. He lets out a little whimper, shifting until the pain fades, and without bothering to cover up he is overcome by the combination of the leftover magic and his own complete exhaustion.
'He's rather calm. I like that. Now, if only his mutts would stop having the urge to eat me, we'll be good' His brows furrow slightly, ears flipping here and there before settling on the large female. 'I wonder what keeps crawling up their craws anyways. It's not like I'm being threatening. Cheesh, they keep getting all uppity when I'm lost in thought. Not all that dangerous when I'm thinking, now am I?' He continues grumbling to himself as he pours himself a cup of the willow bark tea and takes the first sip. The sharp feeling on his tongue last only a moment before soothing out into a rather dry feeling, but it's enough to interrupt his line of thought. He hums lightly, willing the tea to work quickly so he can sleep.
The dog is just barely in reach, but now that she's alone Chall feels a little calmer about the large beast's presence, so with care he reaches out a clawed foot and scratches her back gently. He large head turns to look at him and he stills. A moment of silent understanding seems to pass between them and after a few seconds she rolls slightly on to her side so he can scratch her ribs. Her fur feels smooth but coarse beneath his toes, definitely the fur of an outdoor dog. The feeling relaxes him, almost reminding him if his brother's unkempt mane of fur. “You're a fickle little thing, aren't you girl?” Her head turns at his voice but flops back down as he flexes his toes and hits a particularly good spot. Rolling his eyes he takes another sip of tea, a faint groan escaping his lips as the warmth from the fire finally reaches the point where he has to move away.
The dog lets out a noise as he retracts his foot and slides down to the floor in front of the hearth. After a moment she stands and wanders of to the head of the house. Rolling his eyes again his gaze shifts down into the murky depths of his cup and he can feel his mind slipping. 'The old woman's, Marge I think he called her, spell is still dragging at me. I hope it clears up soon. If any villagers come by with less than friendly, or at least civil, intentions I need to have complete control here' He remains silent for several minutes, his mind drifting from random thought to nonspecific musing until at lats he realizes he really needs to get some real sleep. His eyes come into focus and he realizes that the fire is a little dimmer than it was before. With a sigh he downs the rest of the tea, and he smiles as he can feel that the pain in his shoulder is slightly less.
Murmuring a “Thank you.” to his host Chall climbs carefully to his feet and stalks carefully to the open door in the little alcove. Spotting a very humble bed a relived smile finds it's way to his lips. He utters another thank you, unsure if the man is close enough to hear him, but at this point he really doesn't care. His steps are a little uneven, but he manages to make it on tot he bed without falling over. 'Ah, sweet sleep, may you find me well in the morning' Pushing the covers aside he curls up, a faint cry coming from him as the position stretches his shoulder. He lets out a little whimper, shifting until the pain fades, and without bothering to cover up he is overcome by the combination of the leftover magic and his own complete exhaustion.
© 2007-2026