Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
the Month of Harrowing - Brothers Grimm Masquerade Ball
"It's okay," Amon replied in a hushed voice, flexing his arm and opening and closing the fingers. "Just a tad more bothersome than usual."
"As for actually being here," he said with a smile, returning to normal speaking volume. "Mostly for you; I know how much you love the crowds and these types of events. So long as you're enjoying yourself and happy, I'm happy," he continued, popping a strawberry in his mouth.
"I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible! And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people!" - Taryn, Nerf This
Post by Lorraine Blackmoore on Oct 18, 2015 8:37:39 GMT
Lorraine looked to the Nixie as Thrakazog mentioned her and as she eyed the woman the ex-soldier could understand well why the man at her side would be embarrassed. "She is quite beautiful," came her gentle comment accompanied by a small nod. "I think you are taller than the stag though. You're much stronger than he is. See how small his arms are compared to yours?"
She peeked up at Thrakazog after a moment to see him eyeing each costume with thought upon who he would choose to approach and that brought a smile to her lip. The idea to converse with others, in her mind, was so Thrakazog could make more friends. Lorraine herself never had many or any for that matter save for Thrakazog now, but it was never something that bothered her. Then again, she used to have Felix at her side then. The thought of the fox brought back awful memories and in that moment she could feel the chill of the rain smashing against her body while the sounds of panting breathes and pounding feet filled her ears. Her breath caught slightly as she lowered her hands slowly onto the edge of the bench so as to not alarm Thrakazog when she gripped tightly. A large boom assaulted her eardrums in reminder of the bullet that took the beast's life. All of it had been for the Ex-High commander though her leaving had been unintentional. When the man's voice broke her from her memories, she was more than thankful.
"The... Oh, her?" Lorraine watched as the black skinned and gold feathered woman walked toward the forest and out of sight from the rest of the crowd. Not a moment later a man tailed in after her--was his costume a cat? "I am not sure if..." She let her words fade for a moment as she frowned. "I think those two were wishing for something private to be sneaking off like that. I know. When they come back out we should talk to them. How does that sound? In the mean time, we could talk to... hm, oh, I am not very certain who." And she really didn't. The Nixie would have been a good choice but she was quite provocative and would not wish to put Thrakazog in a situation he as uncomfortable with. Edelweiss and Amon were people she did not know well or at all. The witch would recognize her from their time together in the military. There were several foxes they could approach but she had her on reservations and reluctance on why she would not prefer so unless Thrakazog chose so.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Oct 18, 2015 15:03:54 GMT
Maybe it was the antlers that made the stag look tall to Thrak, but Lorri seemed sure that Thrakazog was stronger, and probably taller too. Thrak told her, "Mebee. Dat's a stag, and Thrak is more ob a bear, yub. Ooo! Nub! Me is da Spirit, Lord ob da Mountains!"
But after that, after he'd picked the costumed guest he most wanted to meet (at that particular moment), Lorri thought it best that they wait to do so. He wasn't too disappointed in her decision though - he'd heard of people wanting privacy all his life, so he understood the concept fairly well, even if his innocence denied him the complete understanding of what such privacy might entail. Romance wasn't a part of Thrakazog's daily life, after all, so the idea of a young couple sneaking off to have an amorous encounter was lost on him.
He nodded agreement. "Hmmm... okie dokie... who else? Ummm..."
He noticed a very tall fellow dressed as a Raven (Tyrell), complete with black-feathered wings. "Dat guy dere... him is in a birdie costume too. Maybe me can feel one of those feathers instead? Or maybe dat lady ober dere! She iz Snow White (Clairee)! Me know what costume dat is, yub!. Or da witch (Jovena)! She is maybe scary... tho she look like she has her hands full wit drinks. Should we mebee help her carry dem?"
While he called the witch 'scary', it was because he knew witches were supposed to be, and not a reflection of the woman's costume or appearance. Villains were supposed to scare people - that's why they were in all the stories, after all! But if he was being truthful... even though he wanted to meet the Nixie, he was more scared of her than he was of the witch. Ahh, innocence. How fleeting it was!
"Oh, me nub know - dere's so many, and me nub know any ob dem. Youz pick, Miss Lorri - you iz smart. Me will follow youz." The ghost said, and stood, offering a sheet-clad hand to the wolf in the red, riding hood.
Post by Edgar Anapello on Oct 18, 2015 19:16:49 GMT
Edgar made a point of avoiding people he could recognize while attending the Masquerade ball. Some looked familiar, despite the costumes. It were the ones that stayed foreign to him which he made his company. "See here, these are magical leaves that can cure any illness. I cannot part with the three i have with me here, but if you were to come to my shop on another day, after the event..." This was the pitch he gave to nearly all who joined his company, so long as they were willing to listen.
As for his costume, he looked like a simple servant. Youthful clothes that made him seem a bit younger, a messenger bag at his side, and over his face was a mask from the realm of theater, one that portrayed a young boy. Despite looking the part of a young person, his age was still held in his words. And if one were to ask him on the origin of his costume, he would reply that he were the faithful servant from the story The Three Snake-Leaves (<-link) who guarded the leaves that could cure even death.
The Master-thief turned to look up at the voice, confusion in his eyes. "Who's Max?" he asked, before shrugging it off and turning away. This was a night without identities. A night to become that which you are not. A night to be someone different, something more. A chance to live something other than the live you've been trapped with up until this point.
Tonight she was not Max. He was the Master-thief. And he wanted to enjoy this time until the sun returned again and forced the return of the old life, the one better left forgotten.
"I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone." -Lord Byron
"It's okay," Amon replied in a hushed voice, flexing his arm and opening and closing the fingers. "Just a tad more bothersome than usual."
"As for actually being here," he said with a smile, returning to normal speaking volume. "Mostly for you; I know how much you love the crowds and these types of events. So long as you're enjoying yourself and happy, I'm happy," he continued, popping a strawberry in his mouth.
"You should seriously stop making me want to kiss you in public settings." She told with a half-smile. It was truth there; hard not to do it, embarrassing to do it. And she wondered if he had just went up and left all his shyness back at that warehouse he had cocooned himself in before. "Though I guess we're even this time, if I had came here on my own I wouldn't be in this dress." And that was the most sincere truth too, she'd probably be wearing pants again, just like that previous Wonderland themed Ball. She had came as the white rabbit, which was basically a full red suit with a watch and white rabbit ears. Odd old memories.
Back to the topic of his arm though... And no one seemed to be paying attention to them still (thankfully)... "I could give it back for a little while... Your arm of flesh and bone, I mean." Though as far as magic illusions went, it'd be temporary. She had in fact been planning on offering to test that later, maybe on his birthday or something, but thinking of it things would likely be a hellish mess soon. No matter how much Sveden takes their sweet time on the way, they'd arrive there sometime, and the redhead wasn't sure how things in general would be by the next year. Light sweet moments were much easier to see when there is peace.
"All power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men." - John Dalberg-Acton
Amon moved in closer with an amused grin. "Oh? Maybe I should try harder now," he said with a sly grin. "As for your dress: as pretty as you are right now, I think you look beautiful no matter what you're wearing."
At the mention of her offer though, he got quiet. "Really now?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I don't mind it all that much..."
A half-truth. As much as he liked his arm, it was completely unnatural; one reason for making his other, more human arm was to become a little more intimate with Edel without the...well...metallic bulk.
"...Still..."
"I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible! And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people!" - Taryn, Nerf This
Post by Edelweiss Fjäril on Oct 19, 2015 0:42:23 GMT
That first comment about trying harder now got an amused eyeroll from her, and a simple "Thanks." to the compliment. Not going to snicker at that, no. If she did, at that pace her cheeks would be hurting from too much laughter by the end of the night.
Then hearing his quiet question about his arm, the redhead nodded. She wasn't about to go around claiming out loud that she could regrow people's lost limbs, and she definitely had no such ability, but she could give him the feeling of having it back again for a short while. Amon seemed to be discussing the possiblity in his own mind, and she let him do so without interruptions, until he finished with that 'Still...' and she interpreted that as him if not overly interested at least intrigued enough to try it. Sticking a last little truffle in her mouth before freeing her hand away from the plate of chocolatey heaven, she slid her fingers forward till touching the back of his gauntlet - the hand that was just covered by a piece of his costume rather than being actually made of metal. As long as she could locate the target, a spell of this branch didn't really require direct contact; but for some reason the closeness seemed to help her be more precise about it.
So long as his brain still remembered what it was like before he lost his arm and eye, she could make it work: the feeling of actual tactile sense, smooth fabric of the tablecloth over the actual table, warmth of soft flesh covering bone that stretched or accomodated according to any flexing of fingers, the chill of the evening air against exposed skin for not wearing a sleeve over it... and actually viewing things with two eyes, sense of proper depth perception. The overall feeling of being whole.
Edelweiss lifted her gaze to look at Amon and waited to see what he thought of it (and also mostly to guarantee he didn't start doing anything strange that other people could notice meanwhile that). Deceit was the first branch of magic she had mastered, and tier II had a large amount of uses... Spreading thoughts, sensations, illusions, or in this case all at once like a full-fledged hallucination. There were a few variables that she had considered about it too, like amount of Anders in the proximities and being right next to magic being used, but at the moment she could only hope his actual prosthetic wouldn't break since Deceit affected the mind and not the actual body. So whatever the actual metal limb was doing meanwhile that should be irrelevant for its effects until the cast wears off... but she couldn't guarantee it would still work while at it.
Deceit II casted once. 3 Level II casts remaining.
Post by Lorraine Blackmoore on Oct 19, 2015 4:33:36 GMT
"Bears are most certainly stronger than stags," she grinned then nodded. "Yes, that is correct, you are the spirit, Lord of the Mountains!"
She let him continue on while she studied the crowd then nodded to his words. There was the man with the wings he pointed out. There were two other men with him and a girl. Her gaze then moved to the witch Thrakazog mentioned as well and she pressed her lips into a thin line. With her mask there was less of a chance for her to be recognized but still there was that hesitation. However, Thrakazog could use the company she was sure. "Thrakazog, would you be opposed to referring to me as Lettie for the rest of the party?" Lorri was not too far off from Lorraine. In fact, it was her name shortened and if someone made that connection with her voice then there would be trouble. Then again did anyone even care? She was a nobody even in the military.
"I think we should go and help the witch," came her reply as she accepted one of the man's large hands then stood from her seat before leading the way toward the buffet table. She was careful not to go to ahead or to tug at his hand as the throngs of people would make passing difficult and she did not wish to lose him--though admittedly such a feat would be difficult.
"Excuse me, do you need some help with those," she called to Jovena as they finally reached the table.
Then, they approached a glass maiden. Her mask shined in the gleam of lights and flicker of jewels, her hair, dark satin against her gown, hugging ever so tightly to a thin frame. Wern was taken aback, breath, hinged. He was free from the man as he slipped in between them– grabbing her hand and kissing it ever so gently as he spoke. It didn’t matter what the other was saying. Wern was taken aback. Fear trickled up from inside of him, wrapped around his throat. Everyone was so beautiful, and she, even more so. And he could do nothing. Not like this man before him, who could kiss a beautiful woman’s hands and not be shrugged off. And again with the pulling- that tethering along, once welcome, nor longer such. The man pushed him in front of her, a beast, before the beauty, and he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. "Go on laddie! Tell her the line you gave me back before, about how her eye's made the stars weep with jealousy, boy!" He couldn’t think of anything. Anything except a doll, with a glass face- an idea for a project perhaps. With engravings, all along its thin frames, with jewels for eyes, with stars- no, she was a star. “The stars are jealous because they live in the dark, but you, you glow in the light, ma’am, your eyes, pools that they are honored to bask in.” Wern bowed, heart, pressing against his lungs, the words, shaking from his lips as he tried to flourish his hand like his companion, but it too, trembled in the light of those piercing gems- those cerulean orbs.
Clairee was stunned still. First when the gentleman kissed her hand, even more so when the pair of them spouted poetry in her presence. She glanced behind her, wondering if the person the meant might be standing just past her shoulder and they confused her with that person of beauty. They couldn't mean Clairee. No one ever meant Clairee. She was a shadow on the wall, always around but never needed. Always welcome to stay but never wanted.
A 3rd individual showed up and waved a gentle hello. She recognized him instantly as Tyrell. A nervous smile shown through her glass mask, and a slight blush to her cheeks.
"I admit you already have me outdone sirs, I know not what to say...." she was dressed -she hoped- like a lady of the upper class; a princess of sorts. But she didn't know much about talking like one.
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Oct 19, 2015 15:04:29 GMT
Maeve was exceedingly late. Not that she was so on purpose. After working night shift for so very long, she was hard pressed to do anything she didn't have to during the day. like get dressed for a party...
Speaking of which...
She entered the golden gates dressed like a man. Every day of the year she got dolled up in some frivolous costume or other. Tonight, she was the huntsman. Whether she was the huntsman from snow white or red riding hood even she didn't know. The point was, she looked tough, and dangerous, and it felt good.
Maeve followed the breadcrumb path up to the main attraction and spun in a slow circle to take it all in. There was something to see in every direction, and the people! the people here tonight made it seem like she'd entered a whole new reality. A breeze blew past, bringing the autumn chill with it and she smiled, smugly, in her fur vest. her forearms and hands were wrapped with lenien and a dull ax swung casually by her thigh from her dominant hand.
The music wasn't bad. She could be a bit of a music snob of late, but she chose to overlook her personal impressions. S'long as she didn't have to perform she wouldn't be complainin'
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Oct 19, 2015 16:40:38 GMT
The Red Riding Wolf led the big ghost through the gardens by the hand, as if she was leading a child on a trick or treating escapade. Thrakazog didn't mind it though - with Lorri leading, he didn't have to navigate the crowd himself, which was a good thing. The sheet sometimes flopped a little so that the eyeholes didn't quite line up with his eyes, and rather than bump into people, he was confident in Lorri's leadership to keep him from doing just that.
They arrived back at the buffet table, near the drinks, the Stag, and the Witch. Lorri brought them both to a halt, and called out to the latter, "Excuse me, do you need some help with those?"
Thrakazog finally let go of her hand so that he could adjust the sheet and bring it back into place where he could see things once more. Once settled, he waved a hand cheerfully and eloquently greeted the woman, "Ug dere!" His bass voice rumbled out from beneath the sheet, though to be fair, his 'wave' was mostly obscured by the fabric, and the motion only caused it to slip out of place form his eyes once more.
Once he fixed it (again), he corrected himself in his most menacing voice, "I mean... Oogaa-Boogaa! I am da Spirit Lord ob da Mountain! And dis is Miss Lottie!" He incorrectly remembered the name Lorri wanted to be called by, but he knew it wasn't 'Lorri'. "Who might you be, Miss Witch?!"
Then he brought his voice down to a lower volume and he leaned down to speak to Jovena more conspiratorially, "Wez wuz watchin youz from ober dere, and saw mebee youz needed sum help carryin all doze drinks. Yub?"
Post by Stephen Leland on Oct 19, 2015 23:09:57 GMT
Surprisingly enough she did nothing to alter the dance, following his movements easily. The pressure to change the waltz faded, allowing him to relax into the steps, listening to her hum a new melody with a hint of a smile. The quiet moment was interrupted by her - once again - making some snide comment about his dance skills and even throwing in an insult about his eye patch effecting him attitude this time. A displeased frown lit his face as he debated on whether she was teasing him or if he should really take her comments personally... It was odd that she brought up his eye patch though; did he really act differently with it off? He rarely took the think off for obvious reasons and she was one of the few people who had seem him without it so there might be merit to her words.
This train of though was blow from him mind when she started to glance around, instantly alerting him to possible danger or trickery from this unpredictable woman. "What are you planning no-" before he could finish she reached up and pulled off his mask, leaving him blinking in shock and halt their movements. Although it was dark the candle light was still bright enough to momentarily blink the yellow, feline eye that was accustom to being hidden. "What - " his head snapped around as he looked to see if anyone was around, knowing she already looked but he wanted to be sure, "Queens, what the hell Vieka!" He turned his icy gaze back to her, grabbing her hand in his tightly just in case she wanted to remove any other article off of him, "Is this really necessary?!"
She flinched ever so slightly under his tight grip and cleared her throat slightly, shifting from resting her weight on one foot to the other. Awkwardly, she tried to manipulate her hand (still in his grasp), so she could reach her own face, knocking the top of her mask so that it pushed over her nose before slipping off her face and rested against the golden rope hanging around her neck. The top of her face that had been previously covered looked relatively similar to the bottom. The black paint that darkened the sides of her face reached up to under her eyes and the golden henna continued on over the top of it as well, however around her eyes the harsh edges were softened with a dark brown to make the black seem a little softer. small amounts of glitter was splattered on her eyelids, although she didn't bother doing too much since she thought it would be covered the whole night (and She'd only done it for herself in the first place).
Briefly, Vieka connected her dark gaze to his cold one, knowing he would not understand the significance of her actions but not entirely minding. Admittedly though, she couldn't hold his icy stare directly for long, instead choosing to look away and force them back into the waltz to keep her mind distracted from the fact her face was openly on display in what could very well become a public setting. The noble may have been used to seeing her face at this point, but that did not mean she was used to her face actually being seen. Unable to wear her mask in the Leland Manor had been difficult as it was and she only functioned as well as she had because she went by a different name and locked herself in her room 85% of the time. But He always had that eye patch on, the one that hid half his identity.
When she was talking to him, she felt like she was talking to the image he presented himself to be, or more accurately the image others expected him to be. If she was going to interact with the noble, she wanted it to be with him. his thoughts, his opinions, his ideals. Not what others expected him to think, say, even feel.
"It's nicer this way, isn't it?" Was the only thing the dark haired ander said, although she didn't expect him to realise what she meant.
That first comment about trying harder now got an amused eyeroll from her, and a simple "Thanks." to the compliment. Not going to snicker at that, no. If she did, at that pace her cheeks would be hurting from too much laughter by the end of the night.
Then hearing his quiet question about his arm, the redhead nodded. She wasn't about to go around claiming out loud that she could regrow people's lost limbs, and she definitely had no such ability, but she could give him the feeling of having it back again for a short while. Amon seemed to be discussing the possiblity in his own mind, and she let him do so without interruptions, until he finished with that 'Still...' and she interpreted that as him if not overly interested at least intrigued enough to try it. Sticking a last little truffle in her mouth before freeing her hand away from the plate of chocolatey heaven, she slid her fingers forward till touching the back of his gauntlet - the hand that was just covered by a piece of his costume rather than being actually made of metal. As long as she could locate the target, a spell of this branch didn't really require direct contact; but for some reason the closeness seemed to help her be more precise about it.
So long as his brain still remembered what it was like before he lost his arm and eye, she could make it work: the feeling of actual tactile sense, smooth fabric of the tablecloth over the actual table, warmth of soft flesh covering bone that stretched or accomodated according to any flexing of fingers, the chill of the evening air against exposed skin for not wearing a sleeve over it... and actually viewing things with two eyes, sense of proper depth perception. The overall feeling of being whole.
Edelweiss lifted her gaze to look at Amon and waited to see what he thought of it (and also mostly to guarantee he didn't start doing anything strange that other people could notice meanwhile that). Deceit was the first branch of magic she had mastered, and tier II had a large amount of uses... Spreading thoughts, sensations, illusions, or in this case all at once like a full-fledged hallucination. There were a few variables that she had considered about it too, like amount of Anders in the proximities and being right next to magic being used, but at the moment she could only hope his actual prosthetic wouldn't break since Deceit affected the mind and not the actual body. So whatever the actual metal limb was doing meanwhile that should be irrelevant for its effects until the cast wears off... but she couldn't guarantee it would still work while at it.
Deceit II casted once. 3 Level II casts remaining.
As the spell began to take hold, Amon's arm made a small spazam before going limp. So she was using Deceit huh? Well, the first time he didn't know about it, and the second time he let it happen. He should really test out how to fight it at some point...ah well. He trusted her, so might as well let it run its cour-
Amon blinked. It was disorientating at first, but...
He closed his right eye. Yeah...he could see out of his left eye. He did a quick, subtle glance around before realizing another change: his right arm was human, a mirror of his left. He flexed the fingers for a bit before finally looking up at Edel with a small expression of wonder. Queens she was beautiful.
Slowly, he moved his right arm to caress her face. For one second, just prior to the spell running out, he could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her cheek.
Then the sensation was gone.
The image of the right arm disappeared, and the left side of his vision went dark. Amon gasped a bit, closing his eye and bowing his head.
One with the machine.
He still had his right eye and left arm.
No regrets.
After collecting his thoughts, he blinked his eye a couple of times, looking at his mechanical arm as he willed for it to move again. A couple of seconds later, it became operational again.
"...Thanks," he said, flexing his mechanical arm and looking up at her. "...Odd how you don't really miss it until you're reminded that it's gone..."
"...Still...no regrets..."
"I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible! And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people!" - Taryn, Nerf This
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