this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
somedays, medeia felt like she had succeeded in all things she had set out to acheive. somedays, she was the queen of all those castles she'd imagined when she was small. but somedays, she just wanted to disappear from all of existence. somedays, she regretted the fact that she --and not rowenna!-- had been selected for her position.[break][break] high priestess medeia trevil, her grace and lady commander of the grand order of the helios knights.[break][break] two days! this had to happen two days before the empyreal cup! a huge group of HK guardsmen were making sure the growing crowd was far away from the designated "unsafe zone." one of the remaining pillars was collapsing. history alive, history moving. but she had no time to feel moved. [break][break] the edges of the pillar went first, crumbling apart suddenly as though infected with a virus. cracks appeared along its surface. who knew how long it would take until the steady destruction reached its end? who knew if this monument would live or perish? who knew what kind of speech she'd have to give at the end of it all? [break][break] she would bear with the pillar for as long as it would take- the protector of the realm, the saviour of the people. she would do whatever it took. and yet before the mighty structure, the only thing she could do was whisper silently: don't fall. the people need you. [break][break] notes:
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rowenna shephard
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NEXT TO A PILLAR, VERDI BANKS
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rowenna was late to the party- a thing she seldom was. unfortunatley, she hadn't been invited. she had been around the banks for an entirely different reason. but she had seen a pigeon fly. and she could recognize medeia's personal pigeon from a mile away. where she worked (had worked, ah!), you needed a good eye.[break][break] rowenna was dressed in black: she was not mourning, it was simply the way she liked it. she removed her sunglasses as several people gasped and the crowd gently parted for her. for rowenna shephard, the frightening duelist and politician, the wraith huntress, and merlin knows what else. [break][break] her blue eyes were stone cold (but when were they not?) and they only narrowed at the sight of the collapsing pillar. "relics of the past," she said dismissively, cast medeia a fleeting glance, and then attempted to move backward out of the crowd... [break][break] notes: n/a
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fane
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NEXT TO A PILLAR, VERDI BANKS
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today fane had the pleasure of being no one at all. she never did regret being born with illusion as her affinity ("weak", some ventured to call it, ahahaha) -- today, she was just another brunette with black eyes and a black cloak. invisible, almost magically so. just another face in the crowd. just another bystander to yet another devastation.[break][break] morale was an important factor in winning wars. [break][break] when she looked at the pillar, the smile on her face was never any larger no any more apparent than mona lisa's. poetically sad, yet defiantly (uncertainly?) present. she eyed the crowd with little reservation. no one would notice her here. she, for all intents and purposes, had never been here. the collapse of one of the foundations of sundial. a living breathing historical figure. [break][break] personally, she disliked the fact that it hadn't gone a different way. there were so many ways it could have gone. this one wasn't the least favorable, of course. but she didn't like what it meant. nine left standing of the original twelve.[break][break] she slid the hood of the cloak back onto her face. "so it begins." she spun around and began walking away from the crowd.[break][break] scrolls used: MY WORLD #1 self | ILLUSIONIST'S HANDBOOK, CLOAKING SCROLL.
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event
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for whom the bell tolls
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welcome to the event FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS[/i]. this event occurs around the same time as suixitium, thread E. for that reason, characters participating in SUIXITIUM or characters otherwise likely to be unable to participate will be excluded from the event. to participate, simply interact with your surroundings. you are free to interact with any NPC present. you will need to make a total of six posts before the thread ends to be eigible for potential rewards. [break][break] there will be mod posts every 24-72hours depending on levels of interest. npcs may leave the thread depending on circumstances.
Post by heath ambroise on Sept 29, 2017 6:46:13 GMT
Heath hadn’t even replied to the pigeon pal he’d received. The tipoff from his colleague couldn’t be clearer. He bolted, practically flying there. Not really…he didn’t own a broom. He’d tried skating just to get the practice in. He’d made it 3 ft on field before continuing his sprint. His bag slapped his side as he sprinted, barely feeling his legs. The strap across his chest was mildly uncomfortable but he didn’t care. Sinclair ran after him complaining about the rush. It wasn’t like they had discovered the tower. Tons of other people would be there by now. Even so, Heath was determined to get there quickly enough and soak up as much information as possible.
He stopped short of the crowd, eyes on the pillar. Even on the worst days it was still an imposing structure. It had outlived generations of witches after all. But it felt like this one wouldn’t. At least not him. Heath grabbed at his bag and pulled out a small blank pad notebook and a pencil before furiously sketching the scene. The near panicked crowd, the tower, the two powerful witches that had come to witness the spires possible downfall. He scribbled until he was satisfied. He could clan this up later. Do it better n a bigger canvas for the post. After though, later.
Amber eyes were drawn to a shifting in the crowd. It wasn’t wild, the tower wasn’t falling on them. The witch he had made note of before was on the move. As the people made room for her, Heath moved towards her. Sinclair followed just outside the crowd, unwilling to get trampled by strangers. Determined to begin his information, he followed at Rowena’s heels. He quickly flipped a few pages in his notebook to give himself space for notes. “Master Shepard-!” he called out, taking advantage of the little room the crowd made for her to get in closer. As close as he was willing to get to a powerful witch. He felt the nerves begin to bubble up but refused to get distracted. He would cringe about his mistakes tonight next to a bottle of something.
"My name is Heath Ambroise, I'm a journalist. Ma'am, do you have an idea as to why the tower is suddenly crumbling? Will anyone bother keeping the tower up if it begins falling apart?" he asked, his pencil scribbling quick lines as he took into Rowena's appearance up close. He kept a finger between another page so he could flip back to it to write.
She blinked hastily when she saw a journalist appear. They were too close to the election now, she really should have brought her guards with her. Unfortunately, her strength as a witch made her neglect the benefits of her perogatives as a counciwoman too often. So she, more often than not, was subject to this type of harassment. [break][break] rowenna stiffened and her eyes narrowed. well there were a dozen silly legends associated with the towers, a dozen what-ifs. but rowenna did not concern herself with such trivialities, and she certainly didn't want some bullshit fantasy being passed on through mainstream media. "were there any sort of causes for the collapse of the other pillars, mr ambrose? it is but dust and age. all structures collapse. it's only a matter of time." [break][break] "well we've applied all sorts of enchantments and runes, whenever it was necessary. honestly, i'd prefer if we stayed cleanly out of the hazard zone. the pillar knows it's time has come. our energies out to be saved for more important tasks." [break][break] most politicians would have tried to appeal to the people's dependency on the old, to draw promises in the air about history and values. but rowenna could care less. she was more concerned about that nasty piece of concrete that looked like it could land on medeia's head. not like the enchantress would let that come to pass- but that was beyond the point. [break][break] notes: mentions heath ambroise
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fane
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NEXT TO A PILLAR, VERDI BANKS
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she notices rowenna and feels hersef tsking. idly, she wonders what such a major player is doing all by her lonesome out on the banks of the verda. idly, her mind turns to what feels like too many baskets of regrets and decisions she had not made (or made, perhaps too soon). [break][break] really, medeia trevil has annoyed her for far too long. [break][break] Alas there is nothing she can do. not now and certainly not here. the pillar's crumble seems to have stopped for a few seconds, all the cracks that have built up through the years hanging delicately in the balance. the pillar lookds frozen in time, and fane stares at it- no word escapes her lips, no whisper or shout. her eyes are hollow as she watches it: she is ambivalent to it all. if it tumbles, then so be it. if it stays....well, that makes the game more interesting, now doesn't it? [break][break] from the corners of her eye she sees a blond reporter approach rowenna. her eyes linger for what feels like eternity on the fiery-haired transfigurations master: contemplating, judging, regretting.[break][break] then she resumes her sinking to the back of the crowd, and breaks through. More people have gathered outside the crowd, scattered groups and individuals pushing to be a part of the madness. fane began to move openly against the current, to retreat back to sundial[break][break] notes: this NPC is due to exit the thread provided no interaction is made before the next mod post. scrolls used: MY WORLD #1 self | ILLUSIONIST'S HANDBOOK, CLOAKING SCROLL.
Post by heath ambroise on Sept 30, 2017 0:03:39 GMT
He felt like the woman’s eyes to cut him if he prodded enough. The blond swallowed hard as the butterflies multiplied inside his stomach. Heath watched the witch intently, only glancing down to flip a page again and scribble out her words. His eyes would snap back up the most Rowena began speaking once more. He nodded slowly and gave the tower a quick glance before going back to the master, who despite the answers so far still unnerved him a little. She was focused, unbothered by the impending danger. Was that one of the perks of reaching the rank of a master? Dangerous situation like this just didn’t faze you?
“Important tasks such as…?” Heath asked unwilling to be dismissed just yet. Not that he wanted to be anywhere near the pillar that was ready to crash at any minute, but if his story was there…he had the unfortunate task of following. “Once this tower falls would another replace it like the other two that fell? Furthermore, Master Shephard, since the watch tower was a security measure of old will the Order of the Helios Knights up their patrols once it’s gone?” the reporter continued careful not to trip as he scurried along after the grand witch. "How are you holding out?" he silently asked his familiar, who was following despite the chaos of the crowd.
"I would be better if you weren't so close to that mess." sinclair said back, his voice a very angry hiss that reverberated through his head. If he didn't like getting so close, his familiar liked it even less. Still, he had to hope there was some degree of security if he stood behind the witch he was interviewing. The thought kept him from instinctively bolting away fro mthe structure.
Cassius stood back towards the edge of the crowd forming around to watch the pillar crumble before him. He had seen the throngs of people running past his home and could hear the thunderous sounds of cracking stone. Having set down his tools and throwing on his coat, he now stood where he was, gazing at the crumbling monument.
His gaze was stuck solely as his own mortality seemed to course before him. If such mighty a monument could fall, so could he. He chuckled a bit at how grim he had gotten in his own head, and lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the sun.
It was then that, while not watching where he was going, he bumped into the woman in the cloak. With a little "oof", he turned, and offered a hand to the woman. "I apologize, I should be watching where I am going better." His delivery comes with a lighthearted chuckle and an offer of the hand to help her before turning his head back to the scene.
"Quite the event, huh. Reminds you of what's important." A smile creeps across his face, as an old poem rushes to his mind and across his lips, as a gentle breeze seems to flow about him.
"I am Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look upon my works, Ye mighty, and despair..."
There was a pretty lady in a black cloak trying to escape the crowd. He couldn't blame her. It was kind of a pain to walk around this place with so many gosh darn people around. He saw one of the big wigs playing around here and that had to be why there was a huge mob of people just... you know hanging out like they didn't have any place to be at all.
Billy looked at the two women near the pillar... the politician and the demon. Was it unfair to call the leader of the Helios Knights a demon? Yes. Did he still do it in his head all the time when she was mentioned? Yes. She was someone who only cared about her version of justice and truth. He couldn't stand someone like that. He hated that woman more than even the murderers who hilariously called themselves a coven. Self righteousness was the root of all sin... pride in that your truth is the only truth.
The black haired male watched as his feline familiar walked through the crowd towards the two female witches. He was curious as to what had gotten her attention enough to go to these women instead of away like he had planned just seconds earlier. As he pushed his way through the crowd he got his answer. There was a young man about his age with a notebook questioning the politician adamantly. The feline familiar made a beeline for heath ambroise for the attention he was sure to give her. Dr Puddy was sure of it. She would train the poor boy to do so. It was her will.
Dr Puddy crept to the side with Heath, not really caring about anything going on. She purred calmly and rubbed against the boy when she got close enough, making little mews to try and get his attention. She just wanted to be pet... or maybe even picked up. She was a big fan of his sweaters as they were roomy and nice to nap inside of. This is why she loved when Billy wore his oversized hoodies with the pockets in the front. She could always be found inside the pocket then.
The young witch did his best to sneak up on Heath. While he didn't use any kind of magic or spells to mask his movement he was quite light on his feet thanks to his years in the circus and was not a very large man so it was easy to not... stand out. He was trying to get the drop on Heath, hoping that the woman would be to annoyed with his kind of abrasive questioning to warn the young man. He didn't give off an aura of malice after all. Once he got close enough, just seconds after the cat made contact he was within range as long as they didn't like fly away or anything like that.
"Hey babe, fancy seeing you here" Billy hummed as he attempted to put his arm around Heath's waist seeing as he was a few inches shorter than the older boy. He was being purposefully annoying as he always was to Heath especially. He knew Heath had no interest in him in that way and the feeling was mutual. Billy felt something more akin to how an older brother felt to a younger brother. He wanted to embarrass the young man at every opportunity available but still would defend him when someone else said something bad. He was definitely the best big brother obviously. He tipped his not existent hat to the two powerful women with an added, "M'am" for some effort of politeness he didn't really mean.
[attr="class","elihcontent"]HE LIKES TO THINK OF the banks as a sort of refuge, a little corner of the world carved out in a picture of idyllic, tranquil scenery. today, however, the banks buzz with activity; oddly enough, elih is there too, the urge to run away in the opposite direction somewhat offset by blatant fascination. he lingers at the edge of the crowd, nondescript, dark eyes dark hair and a muted cloak around his shoulders; some others brush past him and he only shifts to accommodate, content to remain where he is for now.[break][break]
a familiar blond approaches a red-haired lady -- rowvenna, his memory supplies, and goes on to elaborate with various superlatives that allows him to come to the conclusion that she is not one to be messed with -- and he watches with mild amusement as the interrogation commences. there's a persistence that governs heath's actions and he cannot help but admire it from where he stands.[break][break]
eventually, his eyes recenter on the pillar, its edges giving way, crumbling into dust. an uneasiness settles in his gut, uncertainty at what it could mean. he's sat through enough lessons on the history of sundial to recognise their importance, symbolic if nothing else. from the expression he can glean from the faces around, it's somewhat of a controversial topic.[break][break]
someone slows as they pass him, privy to a quiet, solemn musing. "front row seats to history being made, huh."
I press the button and[break]it bursts into life[break]This time nothing will escape my sight
Ling watches with wide eyes as cracks spread through the pillar, tracing their way through the painted runes and fortifying enchantments that have so protected sundial all these years. History being made with their gathering as witness - the part of her not utterly entranced by the sight in front of her wonders how, many years from now, texts and documentation and history books will present this day, this event. Likely dependent on what comes next, she decides absently.
As solemnly as the majority of the people here are treating the crumbling, she cannot help but feel torn between fascination of the intricate runework wrapped around the pillar, and devastated at this loss of a runic heritage site, this loss of an active masterpiece. An array so massive, so old, so powerful as this long-term multi-tiered array that she can tell must have taken many runescripters and witches working in conjunction to complete and activate, well. They certainly aren't common.
Moving closer for a better view, she hears a passing murmur of "front row seats to history being made, huh." A familiar voice - she blinks, looks around - "Elih!" she exclaims, half in greeting, half in surprise. But even seeing her friend and fellow coven member here can't do more than momentarily distract her from the pillar, the runes. "Elih, the runes, look at the runes!" At this point, she's not even sure what she's feeling.
"Do you think they'd let me copy some of the runic structures before the pillar crumbles?" she muses, eyeing the crowd, the guards, and honest to gods Medeia Trevil. Despite the ( probably ) bad idea it is, Ling can't help but inch closer to the pillar anyways, quietly pulling a notebook and a pen from a storage array ready to take notes.
Through the woods we ran Deep into the mountain sound
[attr="class","mtnsndb"]A few hours ago, Desmond saw cracks appear in one of Sundial's pillars on the surface of his drink. It seemed that his vices of divination and alcohol both wished to ensnare him today. There was no reason for him to go there in person; Desmond had neither the desire nor the means to alter the fate of that ancient building, and there certainly wasn't anything he felt the need to say to the people watching. All he knew with certainty was that the tower would begin to crumble. He was ignorant to the details of the reason or result.
[break][break]But, following the trend of what types of visions he usually saw in the water, he could render a guess.
[break][break]There was no reason for him to go there in person, he told himself again. And he does, in fact, resist appearing at the scene of the event by the time is starts. Crowds and leaders gather without him. Fragments of rocks tumble without him as witness. And that's fine. There's no reason for him to be there.
[break][break]The seer takes another swing of his drink before muttering inaudible curses under his breath. He stands, snatches his coat, and heads towards the tower from his vision.
[break][break]
---
[break]It isn't difficult for Desmond to part the tides of curious witches. Although his appearance is not as famous as his name, it is equally as foreboding. He's taller than most, and his sharp, tired eyes look as if they have nothing to lose, were someone to get in his way. His expression is marked by a hostile irritability from knowing full well that he didn't know his own reason for being here, and this causes most to move for him without the need for words. As others shuffled closer to the crumbling structure and craned their necks to snatch a closer look, Desmond just searched for a portion of the crowd which was (relatively) subdued and asocial. When he did, he slowed to a stop and rooted himself to his chosen position.
[break][break]"Front row seats to history being made, huh."
[break][break] The words touched the air on a quiet voice, and caused Desmond's mind to pose a question. Was this the front row? It didn't feel it. It felt like the people here were merely watching shadows on a wall, looking in the wrong direction entirely. He was about to mutter something along these lines, but is promptly frozen by the voice of a ghost. "Elih! Elih, the runes, look at the runes!"
[break][break]And in this moment, Desmond is sharply aware of the tug of those puppet strings tying him to his visions.
[break][break]His mouth closes slowly, his gaze remains glued to the center of everyone's attention, and he doesn't say a word.
Sel’s face contorted into a grimace as she fruitlessly tried to escape the sea of onlookers. With increasing intensity, she began to release a stream of half-growled, half-muttered insults, cursing her foolishness for immediately running towards the booming sound of crashing rock. Originally, she had expected something serious, like an injured passerby but to be merely greeted with a crumbling piece of glorified stone in exchange for her worries felt somewhat humiliating. Irritating even.
Although, she had the heard the tales, to her these towers were nothing more than age-old relics from a time long past. Witches gained strength from trusting themselves and these pillars were bound to erode away eventually. Relying on them was a sure sign of trouble. Nevertheless, it was still worrying to see the anxious eyes, frightened faces and nervous chattering of the crowd which encased her like a box.
Forget it, she couldn’t do anything anyway. But the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Suddenly the crowd started to push back. At five foot tall, she could already barely discern anything through the dense jungle of bodies but the crushing weight of the crowd only made it worse. Falling pillar or not, it should be considered public indecency to clog up an area! Though it was primarily her fault she was here in the first place. It was then, a stray blow to her head sent her stumbling out of the crowd and slamming head first into someone else.
‘This really has been a lovely day, hasn’t it? How much more wonderful can it….?’ Her sarcastic voice disappeared as she gazed up at the massive frame which she had just hit. Oh no.
Percy knows the story well. His father used to tell the story in painstaking detail, every night he has the chance. It's the only story he tells, which made Percy realize, a long time ago when he was merely a child, that his father is proud of the Helios Knights. Percy asked him for the last time, when he was twelve. It's the same question, heard by his parents so many times already. His father's answer is absolute.
"My love for your mother is greater than the pride of the coven."
The news easily spreads to the whole of Sundial, even to far-flung areas where the sea kissed the land. Percy has just received a mission for Hydra when he hears the news from a clique. The pillar was mentioned only for a few sentences, and then it fades.
Strange, Percy thinks. Has the pillar lost its fame so much it isn't worthy to be a topic anymore?
He wonders what would his father think. Maybe he'd be enraged. Remorseful, sad, disappointed. But his parents swore to never meddle again with coven politics, to never pursue power again, to turn their backs completely to witchcraft. Perhaps, his father would not even go to see one of the pillars crumble.
But Percy would.
He finds himself in the middle of the crowd. Murmurs echo, some are disappointed, some are fearful, some are... laughing? Percy could never understand mob mentality. He just watches as pieces slowly, slowly tumble out of their intended place, leaving the tower more susceptible to completely falling apart.
As usual, the Knights are present. There is Rowvenna, and Medeia. He is warned not to approach any of the Knights. He knows it, as a Leviathan you should be wary of everyone, for anyone might be out to kill you. But Percy's a good egg. What can go wrong?
'So many things,' Seraph whispers in the back of his mind.
"Miss, excuse me," he says in an innocent voice, bowing his head slightly. Miss Trevil is the high priestess of the grand order, after all. "May I just ask, do the pillars have any magic left, even in this state?"
Medeia stared the pillar down as she considered its meaning, as she pondered the events of that day: the day she had been made leader of the Helios Knights.[break][break] She was so lost in thought she half didn’t hear the male. When he was done she sort of blinked, amazed that her guards hadn’t shooed him away and also amazed at the dullness of the question he presented her. She wondered what they were feeding kids these days if that was the sum of all their curiosity. [break][break] Regardless, she addressed him with a smile and raised a palm to tell the other members of the knights that they shouldn’t drag the poor sod away.[break][break] “I’m sure I misunderstand you. There is magic in all things, the pilla---” Medeia finched-- inches above her, a chunk of pillar had collided with the invisible wall she had set up around the perimeter. She gave the chunk an appraising look, the kind she might give a witch that forgot to address her by her title.[break][break] The crowd gasped and the chunk fell to the ground. Medeia turned back to the young boy. “The pillars have always had more than the average amount. But the magic in them is ancient, so the mana’s been evoked in such a way it’s impossible to tell if it’s been shaped or if that’s the way it’s always been.”[break][break] Sure, according to legend the pillars had been imbued with the magic of the first twelve-- but there were as many interpretations for that tale as there were faces in this crowd. [break][break] "If I had to say...it feels like the magic is deteriorating at a heightened rate. Regardless, don't worry yourself too much. It isn't uncommon for old structures, especially when continuously preserved, to go through this process." [break][break] Well, that was a lie. But with Medeia's charisma, she could have told anyone the pillars were actually ten pound turkeys wearing tophats and they'd feel compelled to swallow it.
Rowenna eyed the boy as he appeared, and let the scene play out before she cared to speak.[break][break] The boy’s greeting earned a pained sigh from Rowenna. Nothing more and nothing less. Unlike Medeia, she wasn’t in a position where fake smiles were integral to her role. So she offered nothing with open, caring arms. To heath, however, she gave an inclination of her head. “I’ll leave you to it, Mr Ambrose.” With that, she turned from the crowd and began moving away.[break][break] She eyed Medeia- caught her eye and gave her a knowing smile. Medeia’s little message with her eyes was met with a frown. She had alone time scheduled after this. Too much interaction with idiots would drive her a little off the edge. But she supposed Medeia was a presence she could tolerate- if not her than no one else.[break][break] She nodded briefly and moved to leave.
[break][break] notes: this npc is due to exit in the following post if no interaction is made
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fane
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NEXT TO A PILLAR, VERDI BANKS
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Fane had almost slipped out of the crowd when suddenly something knocked her back into it. She stumbled, but the illusion remained flawless. She looked at the outstretched hand and smiled gingerly, refusing to take it as she straightened herself. The man spoke to her, and she couldn't help but sigh internally and eyedthe person, scanning his features for a list she was familiar with. [break][break] Huh. He wasn’t a leviathan. And yet-- where had she---ahhh.. Of course.[break][break] “I didn’t think you’d have an interest in poetry, young master Constantine.”[break][break] She’d let the words sink in before she turned to face him fully, innocent brown eyes with nothing to say and nothing to hide.[break][break] “It’s a lovely piece though. Apposite, too.”[break][break] She’s say nothing else. Instead, she stared at the pillar with her hollow eyes and thin-lipped smile, curled bangs slipping out of her ebony hood. The chunk of the pillar fell forward, hovered, and fell downwards, and Fane only blinked as a reaction. [break][break] “Oh. The high priestess is quite talented.”[break][break] She smiled an adoring smile. [break][break] scrolls used: MY WORLD #1 self | ILLUSIONIST'S HANDBOOK, CLOAKING SCROLL.
[attr="class","shockwave-lyrics"]and i'm waving through a window
[attr="id","shockwave-textbox"] There is very little true purpose she, Aisling Fei, can serve in a happenstance such as this. The crumbling of the pillar, of Sundial defence, of history she cannot see, nor is her affinity one that might be able to contribute to the creation of barriers such as Chanel's might. She cannot assist with the control of nor defence of the crowd, nor has she any invitation to be here beyond the generic call for helios knights fledglings. For all that she wears the crimson and gold of their Order's colours, Aisling holds no more purpose here than the average civilian. Less, even, for she cannot even obverse the event that will no doubt be recorded in detail into the annuls of history.[break][break]
Then why is she present? Remnants of pride, perhaps; honour and responsibility and a desire, no matter how foolish, no matter how futile, to be above her useless, worthless eyes.[break][break]
'Another piece just fell off,' Lyze observes gruffly, likely sensing her mood. A familiar heavy weight on her shoulder, she feels his feathers brush against her cheek as he shifts position, no doubt glaring at something or rather in their way. She sends him a pulse of quiet gratitude, head held high as she steps forth according to her familiar's instructions. 'So that's what the sound was,' she quips lightly, an effort to alleviate Lyze's concern despite knowing their bond will not allow for such deception. Masks, facades, moulding oneself into the shape of another's desires - she has had a lifetime of experience doing so, habits deeply rooted even through their awareness of the fact.[break][break]
Another step, and suddenly she's stumbling as a person bumps into her; Lyze puffs up instantly, amber eyes fierce and dark, glaring at the offender. "Watch it!" he snaps, talons tightening on her shoulder. Any further words are cut off when Aisling, having regained her step, chides gently, "Lyze."
I press the button and[break]it bursts into life[break]This time nothing will escape my sight
Ling would be the first to admit that her self-control sometimes maybe kinda isn't the best, especially when faced with a mystery or something interesting. Especially especially if that 'something interesting' has to do with runes. Therefore, it really shouldn't be surprising to anyone that knows her that she doesn't wait for Elih's response before taking another step forward, pressing against the crowd - most of whom are, understandably, taller than her by a significant amount - and straining on her tip-toes to get a better view.
( She resorts to jumping up a few times, but it doesn't really help, and it's really undignified ( not that she had much dignity in the first place, she is well aware of that thanks ) so after they end in failure, she gives up on that front and pretends it never happened. )
In between scribbling fragmented notes of what she can see down, and peering up at the pillar, a man catches her eye - tall and dark-haired, a drink in his hand and something shadowy cast across his expression. Normally, she wouldn't have paid him much mind, focused as she is on runes; perhaps if she'd encountered him on the streets or in the cafe, she'd badger him about sleeping or eating or something like that - the man sure looks like he needs some badgering - but that isn't what happens. Instead, instead it feels like she has suddenly been punched in the stomach, a tangled mess of emotions impacting her right in the chest so much so that it hurts and she can't breathe anymore and she's remembering- remembering- something but she can't grasp it, it slips from her fingers like a nebulous dream and she wants to cry out, cry and-
“Hey, maintain the line, please, miss. You could get hurt.”
-she is abruptly dragged back into reality by a voice, polite but exasperated. She takes a breath for her now-screaming lungs, blinking once, twice in confusion as the feeling of overwhelming feeling, of drowning fades to nothing as if it never were. "Oh," she says, and blinks again. Then the blonde's words register and Ling forgets about the man momentarily to grin, embarrassed, at the honestly really really pretty woman in the reds and golds of the Helios Knights.
"Sorry about that," she chirps, rocking back on her feet. Glancing down at the notebook in her hand, she waves it in the vague direction of the Knight, a sheepish smile on her face. "I was just kinda excited. Was trying to take some notes on the runes, you know?"
