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Post by Sol on Apr 9, 2014 10:34:35 GMT
Drops of diamonds flow,
falling from faces full of
dips and curves—crags of
dark skin.
The song dripped from faltering lips—
her voice failing, sobs
wracking her frame.
A man's voice filled her space,
deep, rumbling alto carrying
the rhythm; another voice
joins the tune—
resonating, tinged with power
and grief unmatched.
As one…
the entire church joins,
gliding over the surface of a cream
coffin—accentuated with golden brush.
"His e-y-e is on the spa-rr-ow."
OOC Note: No posting order. Come for intrigue, come for spectacle. Get drunk, dance, watch a bonfire, pick pocket. Steal all the horses. Drink all the sake. Kiss all the courtesans. At a signal, the drums began. Rat. Tat. Tat. Tatatatatat.They moved over the arched bridge that separated Okamura’s Grace from the central district of the town. The horses’ hooves clipped against cobblestone, and the creaking of cart wheels murmured beneath the snare’s steady beat. As they cut across the moat of Jade Lake, the sun’s last gasp lit the water on fire and cast the funeral procession in blood light. Thirteen riders were swathed in dark cloth and silence. Their mounts were identical, lightly built creatures with delicate heads and midnight coats. Military officers, politicians, family friends, advisors, rode grim-faced, their faces weighted as pallbearers. They moved towards the business and residential heart of the city: Renmin Square. It was a night not to be forgotten. In wealthier homes lining the streets, black cloth had been unfurled to cover every window and reflective surface. Black lanterns hung from the angled eaves of rooftops and traditional four-walled courtyard homes. As the procession moved into the city and towards Renmin Square, crowds lined the street. Throngs of people gathered – first a few, and then more closer to the square. From peasants to merchants, the people dressed in darker colors. Some women wore veils or scarves to signify mourning; others simply looked on, with clean and hollow faces. Even the children who normally roamed the streets freely had been caught, a wet rag set to scrape their noses free of grime and snot. They came to lay eyes, for the last time, on the face of a leader who had been loved and respected by many. Current mayor, first rider in the funeral procession, and first son of the recently deceased, as Taiji Okamura rode into Renmin Square the crowds parted like fish. He was dressed to perfection, sharp and dark, with gleaming boots and buttons. One hand reined in his horse, while the other rested on the pommel of his sword. His flint-gray eyes had taken on a tired quality. Crow’s feet had deepened at the corners of his almond-shaped eyes, and a hint of gray was more visible in his dark hairline. He had always been thin, but now his cheeks seemed gaunt. Taiji could have aged ten years in the last few days. Behind the riders, a team of horses pulled a four-wheeled metal cart, which rolled over the cobblestones, burdened by the weight of hundreds of white lotus flowers, harvested by workers from the Jade Lake. With their sharp petals, curved like fine swords, and their golden centers, they were the official flowers of Avalon – and forbidden to pluck from the waters, with one exception. Some blooms had an almost-silver gleam. Among the lotus blossoms, resting peacefully with his hands on his chest as though he was only napping in the sun, was Avalon’s first true leader: the ancient Cornelius Unum. He had left the world deep in his 80s, and with a smile on his lips. That smile lingered beneath his face, wrinkled and liver-spotted by age. The crown of white hair, with a few strands lingering, had been gently combed back. Although his frame may once have been lithe, Unum’s rounded paunch of a belly protruded towards the sky like a great turtle’s back among the blossoms. ‘There is a time to die, and a time to live,’ Taiji remembered his father quoting one mourning, when the old man’s retirement – full of drink, gambling and lithe women – had prompted a lecture from his austere son. Or there was his other, more popular saying. ‘I will sleep when I’m dead.’ He slept now, carried gently through the streets. As he passed the crowds, many paused to bow their heads. Others gently tossed white carnations onto him, or into the path of the horses. Close to Renmin Square, the flowers became like a gentle white rain. The weeping of a few women reached Taiji’s ears. He glanced back, to the crowd of people following behind the cart on foot. Leading the way was his wife, Weihai Unum – the Jewel of Avalon, even as she aged. The timeless rock of his life, with smooth skin and red lips and a discipline in all matters that rivaled his own. She tread so lightly that she seemed to float over the stalks of the flowers. Their eyes met. Taiji looked forward again, urging his horse into the opening mouth of the square. If there was one thing his father would have wanted, it was for his legacy to begin with a bang. Not a whimper. Tonight they honored not just a government leader, but a dynasty. And a dynasty had to return one of its own with great honor. One of his uncles had supplied all of the wine for the evening. Hundreds of casks of baijiu, a rice liquor named for the blinding lightning one saw upon ingestion, had been hauled up from someone’s cellar. Another politican had footed the bill simply for the number of hogs that were slaughtered and roasted for the feasts, their crackled skin – still with long hairs embedded in folicles – given to children as special treats. In piecemeal and honorable contributions, the night had come together. The people of Avalon, and those from beyond its borders, would be given a night of free feasting (for as long as the food lasted) and free drink (hopefully for longer than the food, the politicians had jested). There would be an exhibition of swordplay, showcasing the finest that Avalon had to offer against the finest of other lands. Matches boasting of skill and tradition. He’d heard rumors that even the paint-faced courtesans in Weland’s tea houses had wept so much their cheeks ran black. One less paying customer, Taiji thought, and then was surprised at the lump that caught in his own throat. In Renmin Square, the pyre had been constructed. With his horse dancing in place, Taiji’s eyes followed the wooden structure upwards. Dead trees had been hauled all the way from the Scudder Woods to construct it. The pyre was set in the center of the square, an enormous construction on stilts. Dry brush had been woven in sheaves to resemble a lotus flower’s sharp construction. In the center, Hotaka Okumara’s body would be placed. The erhu players began as Taiji dismounted, and the family fell into place. He watched the city’s guardsmen pushing the crowd back from the pyre’s construction, and wondered, as he had many times before, if it was wise to hold this in such a public place, so near to the tinderbox roofs of ancient buildings. Mages were on hand to quell and control the flames... Still. Taiji stood at attention, and watched the riggings being hooked to his father’s cart, to lift him into the pyre. Soon Taiji, the Unum family, and all of Avalon would say their last goodbyes. Soon the torch would light, and a thousand floating candles would fill the sky. And then, a night of celebration so rich and full of debauchery that it was only fit to honor such a vivid life would begin. |
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Post by Sirius on Apr 20, 2014 0:17:47 GMT
Logan had only just entered the city of Nu-Guardia. He had only just gotten one of the cheaper houses Respite’s Grotto had to offer. Even though it was run down and was virtually destroyed by the various gang wars present, it was still a place to reside, and a place to sleep. Plus, it was literally the only thing he could afford. And his siblings were happy to just be able to sleep some place other than the streets.
He was just settling down when he heard about the death of one of Avalon’s greatest. The legendary Cornelius Unum, they called him. He was said to have a legacy around Telaris, and Logan, being the nice guy, really wanted to pay his respects to this man even though he did not know him or anybody within this city. Plus, there was supposedly free food, meaning maybe the family could eat good. He sort of wished that he could leave his siblings at home as to not disturb the ceremony in any fashion. However, he was deathly afraid of allowing the three to stay in a bad neighborhood by themselves. They wouldn’t even be able to defend themselves. So, he went ahead and took the three with him as he left to Avalon.
Upon entering the city, he went to where the majority of the commotion was located, a place called Renmin Square. He allowed his 2 year old brother to walk and hold his hand, as well as his 6 year old sister. His brother was allowed to walk by himself, as he rubbed his hands together violently. This was a part of one of his habits that he could not break. He let out a light sigh and walked towards the square where the majority of the people were located.
Even with the family of four being relatively poor, they still dressed for the occasion. Logan had one of the tuxedos that used to belong to his father. This was acquitted with a dark black tie, and the same black suit and pants, along with the white filling. The cliché suit, but it still looked pretty damn good on him. His youngest brother, Joey, had a mixed ethnicity of black from his father and white from his mother, leaving him with a light brown complexion. He had dark brown eyes and the most adorable face one could ever see. Logan had put a striped collared shirt on him and a pair of khakis. His hair was combed, even when he would scrunch his nose and defy it when Logan tried.
His sister, by the name of Loretta, was also mixed, except her being older, her skin was slightly darker. However it was still obvious she was mixed. She wore a light pink dress that went down from her shoulders all the way down to her ankles. It was nice and poofy, and he hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail that went far down due to her long hair. She had on a pair of dress shoes, and looked beautiful. His only 100% biological brother, Marcus, was wearing a similar suit to Logan’s, only in a smaller size obviously. His blonde hair was combed and his light blue eyes sparkled against the moonlight.
Logan was sure he had dressed them well for this celebration of the great life of the man that was being honored, and he had told the three to be on their absolute best behavior during their time here. Of course, they were itty bitty children, so the probability of them listening was slim to none.
The young male caught eye of another man coming off of a horse ridden carriage. It seemed like he was holding back tears and seemed dressed for the ceremony. This would indicate that he was one of the relatives of the man in the funeral. It saddened him to see him like this, he wished he could help.
But, he didn’t expect Loretta to pull out from his hand and go surging towards him. Joey soon followed, and so did Marcus. Logan let out a deep exhalation, and ran after them. By the time he got to where they were going, Loretta had already begun pulling on the man’s pant leg, looking up towards him with her beautiful dark brown eyes. Joey was pulling on the other one, concerned mumbling coming from his lips.
“Mister?” She began, her voice about as adorable as her looks, “Why do you look so sad???”
Once Logan finally got to the two kids, he pulled them from the man’s pants and looked up towards him. His lips curved into a smile. “I’m so sorry about that, they don’t know any better.” He said apologetically.
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Aldrid
Nu Guardian
"Bitch, I'm a bus."
Posts: 26 
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Post by Aldrid on Apr 20, 2014 0:58:01 GMT
With a troubled sigh, Basil looked up at the clear summer's sky. The bright azure canvas remained untouched save for the lazy drifting of thick white clouds that shone with an almost holy brilliance. The summer's air was sweet with song, the lilting notes oddly jubilant and uplifting despite that it was a day of mourning. People danced about in their brightly coloured clothes, and laughed and sung together. The energy was infectious, and the young woman couldn't help but smile along with it all. She wandered about the place, marveling at how the children laughed and chased each other about while mothers huddled together and giggled over the latest gossip. Men gathered around kegs of ale, regailing each other with boisterous laughter and tales of courage and valor, trying to one-up each other on the pride scale. It really was a beautiful day.
Basil took a great pleasure in perusing the many stalls and other merchants that crowded together, their accumalitive shouts rising above the music in an attempt to draw in customers that passed them by. She smirked at all the different ploys. Some charmed women with fiendish smiles and quick words, making them swoon. Others appeared enigmatic and sinister, appealing to the sense of people's curiosity and allure for adventure and danger. Others outright challenged those who went by with aggressive words often insulting. Basil found it all too amusing. How many times have her and her brother employed the same strategies? Few of them caught her attention, but most didn't waste their breath on her; the recognized her as bretheren.
It was easy to spot when one didn't have coin, or was a merchant. For Basil in particular, she wore a rather faded cloak, and worn trousers and tunic. Her boots were dirty and thinned out from consistent use; one's first guess was she was impoverished. In part she was, but she was no dreg at the bottom of society. The short sword that rested on her hip drew eyes, both appreciative and nervous. It was finely made, the handle wrapped in black leather. The pommel was simply rounded metal with the stamp of a lion in full roar; a weapon only comissioned to soliders. They weren't uncommon to find, most families eventually selling off heirlooms to keep a float - but they were nothing cheap. Her own blade was a hand-me-down by her grandfather.
Everything seemed to slow though when the faint call of the drums drew their attention. The music stopped and merchants quickly stored and locked away their wares. Stranger and citizen alike congregated on the main road to watch the procession. Basil was no exception. She stood shoulder to shoulder among the rows of men and women alike; she noticed then that in that collective mass that no matter how colourful their clothing or joyous their spirits, their lay the underlying haunt of sorrow. With each strike of the drum, the somber sound quickly silenced the crowds. Lovers turned to each other and cried shamelessly, and children stared on with stony expressions knowing to be quiet, but unsure as to why. How good it must be young, and innocent; it would be a sad day when they finally grow to fit the shoes of men.
Eventually the procession passed along, leaving the crowd to watch in silence as it went along the petal laden streets. The white of the lilies was a stark contrast against the mood, pure and one of hope rather than the dimsal sense of despair that hung over them all like a guilotine. After waiting a bit, the crowd dispersed to go back to their activities or to follow after. The city resumed to life, but it felt forced - the joy had been sucked out of these people, and they only continued on out of obligation, rather than a sense of enjoyment. Basil couldn't bear to be around them any longer, and quickly took her leave. She figured now would be as good a time as any to find her brother again.
Traversing the streets was about as easy as trying to use a lame horse to plow a field. It was painful, awkward, and downright frustrating with the slow progression. The streets were confusing to her no matter how many times she had passed under these walls. Each time she returned, it was a whole new box of treasures and adventure just waiting to be discovered. However today, it was just tedious. People jostled and bumped into each other, the impoverished begged, and often flogged by passerbyes. She knew it was going to be a long afternoon before she found her way back to her brother.
It was nearing dusk when she had finally arrived back at the modest inn they shared a room at. The sun set the sky on fire at her back and warmed her shoulders despite how quickly the night cooled. She hoped her brother was close by. She didn't feel like searching for him. As luck would have it, he was just across the street - but what she saw tied her stomach into a knot. He was with a group of men, laughing and cajolling with them; but worst of all, was that he was partaking in the bane of merchants - liquor, and gambling. She began to quickly make her way over to him and before she could call out, a rather burly man stepped in her path, and knocked her to the ground.
Stunned with the momentary disruption, she quickly got to her feet and began to mutter apologies to the man before he roughly grabbed her cloak. She looked up in alarm to see dark set eyes lit with rage. He stunk of liquor, and his beard was unkempt with bits of food sticking out. He shook her roughly and his deep, baritone voice made his barrel chest quiver with each slow-spoken word, "You made me spill meh mead, girl!" Looking down, she grimaced at the disgusting condition of his shirt. The putrid stains made her want to vomit; hell, it definitely couldn't make his condition any worse.
Before he could say anything more though, Basil quickly lost patience. Her foot shot straight up and connected with the man's crotch. It was almost comical to watch as his body went rigid, and his eyes widened in surprise. Then through his drunken stupor, the pain hit. Groaning loudly, he slumped over to cradle his delicates. Basil didn't hesitate. She brought her hands down like a hammer, smashing him at the base of the skull and knocking him to the ground. with a couple of quick stomps she sighed and spat in disgust and anger, before turning to her brother. Except for what she saw was a scene from a nightmare.
The men were gone. There her brother lay in the street as a crumpled heap. She felt a sense of numbing dread overtake her as she slowly staggered towards him, her body quivering with each forceful step. Finally coming to his side, something broke through the fear, and the world grew blurry. She didn't understand why though until a few drops of tears fell down her face. Collapsing to her knees, she reached out with a gloved hand and turned him over. What she saw next froze her to the core.
Blood gushed from an ugly gash in his jugular. His lips had turned blue, and his tanned skin pallid. The man's eyes, the same eyes as hers held no light to them. Normally the soft greens of his iris glistened with mischief, and happiness. His shaggy brown hair clumped together from a nasty head wound where he had been bludgeoned. She couldn't help but stroke his weathered face, her entire body beginning to tremble. No. This couldn't be happening. Not like this. How...? Basil hiccuped, and she felt hands tug on her shoulder. No. She couldn't leave him! He was all she had left in this world! How could this happen?
Finally there were enough hands as someone lifted her to her feet and took her inside the inn. She couldn't seem to register anything, the image of her brother's lifeless gaze emblazoned on the forefront of her mind. Guards surrounded the corpse and sent men to investigate suspicious persons. The patrons of the inn remained quiet out of respect for her loss. She didn't feel anything, even as a waitress came by and pressed a hot mug of tea into her hands, or how a blanket was draped over her shoulder. She murmured her dull thanks the answer an automated response rather than gratitude; and while the city was once more alight with joy and celebration, Basil sat by the hearth of some lonely inn, lost in her own torment and silent lament.
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Post by Faustus on Apr 20, 2014 1:16:35 GMT
Jericho sat on a hillock, about a good three hundred feet out from the city gate, knees bent low so that his buttox was but a few inches off the ground, a collapsible telescope pressed taut against his right, jade green eye. The lights from Avalon swayed and danced against the westward wind, and seemed like little flickering fireflies from this distance. He'd only been there a good five minutes, but could deduce, more or less what was going on by the painting of a moving picture.
He watched as the riders rode through the city, honoring someone deceased, as made evident by the great metal coffin they labored with a sense of sorrow, and the bowed heads of veiled women. As he looked on, an apple, red and crisp came to his lips and a little of it vanished behind pinkish lips. As the scene continued to play out, the apple vanished more and more, accentuated with an audible chewing sound.
Through the telescope he placed his focus on obscure flashes of metal. One of the twelve soldiers seemed divied up more than the rest. He was an obscure shape, but once he pedaled the scope into focus, he could make the figure out a tad more clearly. From his mannerisms, the edging on the pyre, the long looks at the white-robed woman who must have been the mother, wife, or daughter either to the deceased man or the rider, it seemed to Jericho this man was his son. Not old enough to be convinced that he was a brother.
Jericho seemed content, as he saw the man placed on his final resting place, a castle of wood and oil. A smile even crept upon his lips, remaining closed as he chewed diligently. Not a smile for the death of a man. Heavens, no. But a smile that this man, whomever he was, had toiled and labored like every other man. Had met sorrows and trials like every other man. That his legacy was so carved that an entire city had joined together to honour the life he had left behind, and now he was freed from his mortal coil. Freed to go home, wherever he, or anyone else believed that place to be.
Jericho could only wonder what awaited himself on the side. He had heard many a bard, and drunkards tale about their experience in the realms beyond the one he could see, but he found more often than not, that there was a lot of deception in their words. For the ones who did actually seem genuine, they also seemed.... off. Whether they were already touched, and this gave way to their delusions, or if it was the experience itself that made them seem this way, either way Jericho couldn't really put his faith in it. He had been close, a few times. Dangerously close once. But he had never stepped over the brink.
Jericho released a hm from his gut as some commotion seemed to stir on the far side of the square, drawing his attention. He couldn't hear anything from this distance, but the great crowds started to split like a crack in the earth, and he'd have to be blind not to see it. After a quick tiff between a few patrons or so, he couldn't really make it out too well, the scene was laid neatly before him. With a bit of adjusting he could clearly make out.... two corpses? No, one was moving, and the faint color of red against grey cobblestone shown out. He wasn't surprised. Things were bound to happen when hundreds, maybe even thousands of people joined in one spot and with a not-too-small amount of alcohol(and probably drugs) were involved.
Now the apple was reduced to just a hard core, and he discarded it to the hillside. His telescope collapsed into his satchel of holding, wrapped around his body, hanging like a scabbard off his right side, and he began his trek, hands in the pockets of his blue overalls, to the city of Avalon. He needed a closer look at the famous ceremony of the Thousand Lights.
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Post by Portal on Apr 20, 2014 1:20:40 GMT
Calvin Murrow walked into Renmin Square. He wore his usual attire, cargo pants and a regular shirt with a jacket unzipped with an unusually large bracelet on his left wrist. He was attending the funeral that he had heard while fixing the lightning rails that had broken down recently. His usual residence resided in Alvengard, as he was sent here with a team to repair the rails. Once they had done so, they decided to stay for the funeral after they reported back that they had fixed the railing. They weren't given much information outside of the objective given to them, wondering about in the crowd to gather further information. In doing so, Calvin was in the midst of the crowd. He looked around trying to see if there was a way to get a bit of privacy, seeing an alley nearby he ventured to it. Noticing a ladder upwards on the side of a building, he climbed it to the roof of the building. As it was a general apartment building in Avalon, he leaned over the edge of the roof as he attended to his bracelet. “Chrome, scan.”
Scanning…
“Alright… It seems functional…” He whispered to himself. A sly smile crept on his face as he saw his creation come to live.
Scan complete.
“The whole city of Avalon is present. Due to the numbers of individuals, it will be populated to its max capacity. As I sense the area for magic powers, there are those that have an unknown potential in magical abilities. The area can be contested as a highly dangerous zone. But considering the event, it may or may not lead into an unfortunate series of events for the populace as a whole.”
“Marvelous. Just truly brilliant!” As he exclaimed his fortunate experience, he laughed whole heatedly only to quickly hush himself as he noticed he was in a public area. He attended the party with his newest creation, A.M.O.S. Artificial Magic Operating System, O.S. for short.
“Now then, what else to test out…” Calvin moved his hand over to his bracelet, pressing a certain button. The bracelet transformed into a little miniature model. It floated in midair as Calvin gave it the attribute of air walking, as he registered it by fusing it within the magic crystals that is used to power up such a device. With all the features popped up as visuals due to the built in holograms that are produced in this form, he browsed through his options while also keeping an eye on the crowd, waiting for the perfect timing for his new test run.
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Post by Sirius on Apr 20, 2014 1:32:44 GMT
Mahlo had legitimately just walked off the boat to the continent of Telaris, when he heard about the tragic death of one of the place’s finest. He had started a legacy here as a leader of the church, and his legacy was never to be forgotten. He was always the type of man to respect a legacy. And if that meant he would have to go out of his way to go to the Square where the funeral and celebration would be held, even when he barely knew any of them, so be it. Well, of course he spent the day taking in the beautiful sights of the delicate and artistically adept continent, before making his way down to the city-state of Avalon to pay his respects and, maybe celebrate as well.
Mahlo’s story is one of abuse and family sadness. The mirrors had taken everything he had away, but in turn gave him great powers that can help people and destroy evil. He hoped that within Nu-Guardia, he could make an impact and be one of the leading “good guys”. And in this time of great distress, Mahlo would hope that he could bring some charm and grace to this celebration.
As the sun had begun to fall through the gap of the mountain peaks, and the heated day gave way to a cool summer night, a star filled night arose within the moonlit skies. In that moment, Mahlo arrived at the time of celebration and remembrance. He did not need to plan ahead of time to wear something fancy or stunning for this occasion, as he was always seen wearing a three piece suit. Black pants, dress shoes, along with the tuxedo top accompanied by a unsullied bow. His long blonde hair covered the back of his head and his thick bangs would occasionally fall in front of his face, specifically his light green hues. He was, hopefully, prepared for the festivities.
He stopped, at the gate leading into Avalon, his keen perception detecting the procession for the male, who he now knew went by the name of Cornelius Unum, was given his respects as the metal coffin was placed in it’s respected spot. Children held stony expressions, their innocence resulting in them being entirely oblivious to the sadness that oozed from the people. Men and women alike were crying. The ones that weren’t crying only looked at the ground as the lump stayed within their throat. And afterwards, the festivities began once more, accompanied with the feeling of undertoned sadness behind the forced smiles. It is sad to see somebody so influential to an entire continent go. But the gods in the heavens had obviously chosen that it be his time, and nobody on the planet could possibly change such a thing.
In the corners of his peripherals, he detected a puddle of red on the cobblestone streets, although he could not make out where it was coming from. Even with the mixture of happiness and sadness, the violence still was evident. Such a shame.
Mahlo was about to begin his trek towards the brightly lit square, when he heard feet make their thud against the cobblestones. He looked over his shoulder, his light green hues resting on a man who, wasn’t necessarily the most formal looking, but didn’t look all too bad. He had his hands within the pockets of his overalls, and he looked like your average hillbilly. But, Mahlo was never one to discriminate.
His lips curved upwards into a smile. “Well hello there, stranger,” He began, “Come to gawk upon the ceremony of a Thousand Lights as well?”
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Post by Alchemist on Apr 20, 2014 3:12:38 GMT
Kayana’s eyes swept over the beautiful view of lights, absorbing their fire. A few moments passed, the funeral procession, an inky black line, came to a halt. As they lifted the deceased king onto the wooden pyre, the new priestess took her place at its’ front and center.
Clad in all white and silver, her warm brown eyes took in the thousands of people that had come for the event.
A clergy member from the row of them behind her brought forth a podium with paper on its’ surface, a prepared speech…
She raised her head and gracefully motioned for him to come no further.
The Priestess of Avalon turned back to her people and outstretched her arms. Her full lips and brown sugar colored eyes pulled into a warm smile.
“My brothers and sisters, we come together under one part of the sky to remember our beloved leader, Cornelius Unum. May I remind you all that this is a time of great happiness, for one of our role models and the very heart of Avalon as found peace with our goddess Suara. Do not stand with your heads bowed in sadness. Smile for him. Laugh and enjoy this luminous, beautiful night. As these flames climb into the sky for the couple hours that they do, may the life that burns inside you become one of its’ brightest in the darkness.”
A light sound of claps, then a roar of cheers erupted that shook the priests’ frame, and then she bellowed with laughter herself. With a wave of her hand and a few final smiles to the family of the deceased, the celebration commenced.
Kayana stood silently for a few moments as the stagehands began to light the pyre. Quickly, the flames began to lick the wood and crackle against themselves. The clergy and all its’ members moved back to escape danger, though they were sure none would come over them.
In the bustle of bodies and the accumulating smell of booze and sweat, the Priestess slipped away, leaving her holy clothing of ivory cloth and silver jewels on another woman with a resemblance so close to hers it was almost terrifying.
Kayana dived into the people of the Renmin Square, barefoot in a black, flowing dress that exposed her pale, strong legs and delicate curves, long auburn hair tied tight in a braid at the back of her head. At the sound of allegro, excited music she answered, weaving through her people with ease as if she’d done it a thousand times, took a spot off to the right of the group and began to dance by herself, twisting and twirling barefoot, arms outstretched. The glow of the hundreds of lanterns illuminated her skin, giving her an extra burst of happiness.
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Duchess
Nu Guardian
Poetry is emotion put to measure.
Posts: 39 
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Post by Duchess on Apr 20, 2014 17:33:34 GMT
The Duchess stood nearest the Gates, clad in flowing silk of the deepest blue. It hung from her body like a waterfall hugs the cliffs from which it falls. Sheer fabric, it was, but modesty was more than prevalent. A silver chain wrapped about her neck, the collar left in her quarters for this special occasion. The chain, threaded through the neck of her gown, gave a rather imperial stature to the garb as she stood, back straight and bare white, her glittering ruby eyes upon the exalted young man as he rode closer. His eyes, grey as storm clouds in the summertime, were filled with memory and grief. Yet he rode as though nothing in the world bothered him. As though nothing of ill will had ever happened to him. Such regalia had the queen thrown. Her lips parted for a moment, but the bundle shifting in her arms grew a bit too warm for comfort, and she let out a small cry.
From within the white, now slightly charred, satin, a small reptilian head of the softest silver appeared. The same shade of the mayor's eyes, that storm-cloud grey. The creature's eyes glistened with the heat of the hottest fire, blue and white around elongated pupils. This creature, legendary in its own rite, had not been bred for the likes of men in nearly one-thousand years. Born from the singular, annual at that, egg from her familiar, Dragnos was bred to be as strong as his mother. Creeping from the silk, its gossamer wings spread, tiny clawed feet digging into the upper arm and right shoulder of the Duchess so as to perch there, nose buried lovingly in her hair.
"Sweet creature..."
The sound of her voice brought him out of hiding, eyes wide and peering at her as she turned her head to gaze at him with love. One hand rose, the back of her index finger stroking his nose as to illicit a purr from the creature.
The mayor rode closer, and she took a step before him so as to guard the gate from his passing. She couldn't well let him leave without his gift, could he?
"You grace, I have...a little something for you."
Dragnos perked up once more, the sound of her voice filling the infant dragon with joy. With a jerk of her head, he spread his wings, at the moment only a span of a couple feet, which would grow to hundreds wide. Pushing off from her shoulder, the little creatue floated in the air for a moment before a few hesitant flaps of its wings were made, and he propeled himself shakily toward the shoulder of Taiji. The little creature the same alluring shade of the man's eyes.
"Dragons are peculiar creatures...aren't they?"
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Post by Sol on Apr 21, 2014 1:59:10 GMT
Hollow orbs traced the white tresses of the queens garb as she gave her beautiful speech in memoriam of his father. He was satisfied with the choice. While he wasn't a man of faith, he could appreciate the lessons it had to offer, and thus held a great respect for Kayana. His father spoke highly of her, among other priestesses.
There was a sense of dread, that change was surely coming. There was no going back. A new queen was already in place to take his fathers magnificent throne. It wasn't the throne he cared about. Nor the legacy, or the wealth, but the symbolism in the act. The world, although grieved was prepared to change, and Lord Solar Dawn had led this country right so far, hadn't he? He had picked his father from the clergy, so he must have been a man of great foresight. He had never met him personally, but he was a close friend of Taiji's fathers. He made a mental note to speak with him on it later.
Dim, grey eyes were filled with a sudden burst of life. A part in the crowd, and the faint shriek of screams echoed off of the houses and stones of Renmin Square. He had heard feigns of sadness from the women in respect for his late father, but this one was different. This one was not filled with sadness, but despair. When the ocean of bodies all moved away after a raging torrent of frantic running and screams, mitigated by the on duty Guard, there was left a bloody wake. Blood had been spilled... again.
It was almost too much for him to handle. His eyes became kaleidoscopes of horror. For a brief moment the world seemed to stand still for Taiji. Then he leaped into action.
"Ari, Bato, Form a ring around the corpse and the girl! Let no one near my mothers carriage or the crime scene. Contact the police. This is their affair."
"Sir!" Shouted the stout, blonde haired Bato. He whistled, and beckoned four other guards, himself and Ari making six. They and their steeds formed a circle, and after a brief moment of chanting, erected an anti-personal barrier keeping anyone who was not already within the circle at the time of casting out. Ari dismounted, removing the green cloak, a picture of bloodied blades depicted on the back. The sigil of the Peacekeepers, and handed it to one of the other officers with a sense of smug.
He knelt down at the side of the corpse. He touched and prodded, and occasionally pressed his ear to a part of the body others wouldn't think. The eyes, the brows, as though he were listening for something that only he could hear, and then his eyes went to the wound. A deep gash, six inches across, and with an uncanny precision right at the jugular. Whoever killed him was no ordinary man. This laceration was done with practiced proficiency. The most logical answer was an assassin. Whoever the guy was, he had some demons.
Ari's eyes went to the various camoflauged archers on the roofs, alerting them to be even more vigilant now. He whistled to two other guards that were previously surrounding Taiji's mothers carriage, and ordered them to go check on the girl who had just lost her brother. She'd need some form of consolation. He wept inside for her, but outside he was made of sterner stuff.
Taiji's gloved hand ran through ebony locks, eyes sullen and sunken. His fears of holding the event in such a public place were realized, and he knew it was only a matter of time before this event gave way to madness. The scariest part to the young mayor, was that the drinking hadn't even started yet.
His attention broke as a woman of abnormal ivory complexion had come to his side. The White Lady herself. He dismounted and gave a humble bow.
"I am sorry we could not have reunioned on brighter terms, m'lady."
"You grace, I have...a little something for you."
He came up from his bow, noticing something he did not before. She was carrying something. Large and smooth, perched on her shoulder. A.... dragon? Not a drake or wyrm, this one had four legs and wings to accompany them. He dared not let the queen walk around these streets with such a prize. Unguarded no less! Before he could accept the wondrous gift, it cam barreling into him, and it elicited from him a warm smile. He had not even done that since the days of his fathers passing. His fingers grazed the little creatures soft underbelly playfully.
He then looked around, reminded of the chaos that was slowly starting to disperse, and people began to fill the empty spaces again. "I don't know if you saw or heard, but there is already a swath of commotion. We've accumulated one dead man already. The night hasn't even begun, yet."
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Duchess
Nu Guardian
Poetry is emotion put to measure.
Posts: 39
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Post by Duchess on Apr 21, 2014 2:19:08 GMT
Her eyes followed his movements, a small smile upon her face. Young Dragnos seemed to already adore his new caregiver, and it warmed Delia's heart to see such a happy sight. What was this? A smile brought to the face of the mayor? It was. Quite a wonderful smile it was as well. She gave him a nod.
"You must understand that I do regret what happened to your father. He was a strong, noble man." Her words caught in her throat, but she arched her brows, set her jaw, and gave him a strong smile. A hand rose, resting on his forearm.
"You are most welcome to join me in my dining hall whenever you wish. My cooks are quite wonderful. I sometimes even enjoy getting time in the kitchen myself. Good company is important in times of hardship."
His words, having been spoken earlier, had finally reached her ears, and bright eyes flickered about the courtyard. Uneasy souls and violent bodies pressed against one another, the mob growing exponentially as they stood exchanging pleasantries. The angry voices rose, moreso in rejection to the passing of a great leader, but there was still the air of apprehensive defense. Would they lash out? It was not something she wished to risk. Her eyes rose to his face before she spoke, unseeing.
"Zinc! Escort my back to my estate." Her voice shook, the words of the mayor sinking in ever still. "Sir you should go..we can exchange pleasantries on a later date. My lo--His Majesty will see that you are allowed here any time you see fit."
With a warm smile, she turned from him, the little yips of Dragnos fearful. Peering back over her shoulder as she walked briskly, she spoke sternly.
"Take care of him. He is strong."
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