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Post by Queerly on Jul 15, 2017 10:03:28 GMT -6
Hello Starborn, and welcome to Plot 401: Endings, BeginningsTeam Leaders: Isador & Cyndane Participants: Ragnarok, Hawthorne, Cirilla, Xerah, Regina, Caligo, Azazel Theme MusicPlease keep the following in mind!- Posts must be a minimum of 175 words. There is no maximum!- No strict order is enforced, but there must be at least two posts between your own character's.- No god-moding or reading characters' minds (unless your pony is a literal telepath, anyway)
- Always get consent before harming another character!- Your team is precious. Try to interact with everyone. <3- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'DPrompt: After delivering an improvised speech to those gathered upon Hearthstone’s doorstep, Advisor Isador closes the palace to visitors. With the gate locked and the doors secured, he retires to an early breakfast in the palace greenhouse, where an unusual group of guests await him... Location:: An elaborate breakfast table in Hearthstone Palace's lush greenhouse. Toast, eggs, Time of Day: Dawn |
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Post by Jennycallie on Jul 15, 2017 23:10:45 GMT -6
Isador | Adviser
The door closed, in an almost inaudible click, but to Isador, it might as well have been a strident, ringing gong. It had happened. It had happened. Aodh was in mourning- as it should be, any incursion against them, from the poorest commoner right up to the King himself, was an insult against all of Aodh, and not to be ignored. Mourning the loss of a public figure to such an incursion was proper, and patriotic, and Isador fully supported it.
However.
The late King had himself been a threat and insult against Aodh. And if Isador mourned for the loss of one of Ignacio’s children, he did not mourn for the loss of a leader. Amadeus had not been a leader, no matter how hard the Advisers and other Nobles tried to push him. So no, in terms of Aodh’s future, Isador was not mourning. He was celebrating. Quietly, with dignity- and with like minded company.
It was to that select company that the grey stallion turned his gaze, as he moved away from the door. He nodded at each individual present, standing loosely grouped as they were around the breakfast spread. The Adviser even spared a faint smile for the fidgeting Ciri, spared the necessity of lock-up unlike the rest of her siblings and mother (for their own safety, of course,) due to her apprenticeship under him.
“I trust you all know why you are here, on this most somber- and auspicious- of days,” Isador said quietly. “We are here to recognize the loss and injury committed against our nation, certainly. But more importantly, we are here to celebrate the opportunity that has opened up for us. Thanks in no small part to the efforts of you and those sympathetic to our ideas, many of Eithne mourn the loss of a young life- but recognize that he was a bad ruler, and that through the ashes of this tragedy, Aodh can rise like a blazing phoenix to take its rightful place. We are more than tragedy: we are Ignacio’s chosen, and we will be magnificent once more.”
And with those words and a simple flick of telekinesis, Isador popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, and began pouring.
Post 1 | 367 words
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Post by brandvandet on Jul 16, 2017 1:41:38 GMT -6
Love is like a sin, my love
For the ones who need it the most
If she were a better person, she'd examine the fact that the news came with no small amount of relief with something more than distant acknowledgment. If she were a better person, this tragedy would strike at her in some way, carve some sense of loss within her. If she were a better person, she wouldn't be here. Amadeus's loss felt hollow to her, secondhand. Yes, there was the performative sadness of the loss of such a young soul. The entire city cried its tears prettily along the same script as it had followed for the royal funerals before. At this last one, this end of that line, it was easier for her to let go, like the last trinket of a lost love. There was a part of her that wanted to step from the shadow of that reign and embrace the sunlight Isador promised now. Coldly analytical behind her carefully composed face, she implicitly recognized this opportunity for what it was. They could recover, more easily than they ever could with Amadeus still alive. It was a near blessing from Ignacio, cut cleanly and conveniently and packaged so prettily if they could just accept the gift and move onward. She had never trusted convenient things. Cyndane also recognized this occasion for what it was. The upper echelons of Aodhian society had always been treacherous to navigate and she had brokered many personal treaties over the years. One of the longest bound her to the man she now studied. She had no doubt it was that history that had admitted her to this room this morning. Like pieces on a board, they danced in old steps. She carefully composed a smile, cautious but hopeful and accepted a gently bubbling glass from the grey. “To Aodh,” she agreed and raised it. Cyndane - Aodh - Adviser
w | three hundred and one - p | one |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2017 8:02:42 GMT -6
 1 | 318The click of the closing door rang through the stallion's ears like a gong. Despite the soft murmurs of those around him, the room still felt silent. Ragnarok wasnt one who was too interested in politics. In fact, he never really followed them to begin with; however, the death of the young king had hit everyone, including himself. While the rest of the nation mourned the loss of the child, he now stood in a room of horses who were celebrating it.
And he was loving it.
A spread of food laid out before them on a table, but Ragnarok did not touch it. He didnt eat food that he didnt know where it came from- whether he was in trusted company or not. Perhaps, for that reason, he could blame himself for his thinner appearance for his build, but that was not something he was willing to risk. Besides all that, he was rarely hungry to begin with.
Ragnarok found himself quiet for the time being, something that was rare for the wild haired stallion. His back end slumped as he rested a hoof, his ears laid back in a restful manner. He wore his best bridle and collar, a long cloth draped over his shoulder to hide his scars from his past. The rubies present on his attire made his blood red eyes pop as they scanned each and every individual in the room. He recognized a few from the first meeting with the Adviser, though he noticed a few new ones.. and many others were missing.
They probably wimped out. He thought to himself, a hint of a smile gracing his lips as he turned to look upon Isador as he approached. He listened to him speak before taking his champagne glass and tipping it forward toward the others.
"Cheers." His voice rumbled in a soft murmur before bringing the sparkling drink to his lips. |
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Post by grumpyhyena on Jul 16, 2017 8:35:44 GMT -6
Xerah | Pit Fighter
For a moment the world seemed to stand still. Resolute. The zorse mare stood calm, quiet, eyes staring off in no particular direction as she tried to process the information as it came to her. Simple, the king had died. Xerah couldn't really bring herself to morn or really care. She was a slave, her entire life and freedom stolen from her by the Aodhians. It was kind of somber, the king had been so young and from what she had heard from other slaves he had been extremely naive. And by the word of many of them, unfit to be a king. It seemed to be a sentiment many of the horses in Valore shared. She tried to process what was happening now. Cirilla (the pompous brat) had found it appropriate to parade Xerah into the palace, forcing her to tag along like a dog would.
The sound of the door clicking resonated like thunder in Xerah's head. From what she had managed to glean from the small chatter between the rest of the horses in the room was that this motley crew had come to celebrate the fact the king was dead. She didn't quite understand it. Did the Valore hold no loyalty? It was no matter that Xerah truly vested herself in. Amadeus had been no king to her and Valore certainly wasn't her home. But she couldn't quite comprehend why they were celebrating either. They had wanted the king dead. But to what point? And what hand did they have in his death?
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Post by astrumnauta on Jul 16, 2017 12:36:34 GMT -6
Hawthorne | Aodh Commoner Hawthorne did not celebrate the death of a child, thrown into power at too young an age and forced to carry out brutalities that required a much older head than his. Now he was gone just another name to strike off the list of royals.
She grumbled unhappily as she made her way up to the door opening it and closing it behind her, the closure of the door rumbled her bones and she huffed once again in annoyance. Not only was the king dead they were to have a breakfast as if in celebration, as she stepped into the room full of individuals familiar and new, her stance changed.
She entered the room her head raised high and her ears forward. Her lilac eyes scanned the room and landed on Ragnarok, she approached him and went to his side "Ragnarok" she said in greeting.
Her eyes now went to Isador, and she had to hide her distaste at champagne whilst his king lay dead, she did not take a glass and just stood stoic and allowed her face to slip into a neutral facade.
Upon looking around she noticed the room was still quite empty, but she was not worried she refused to be anything but calm, although her stomach roared trap at her. She took particular note to look at equines she didn't know, she flicked an ear towards Isador to listen to his ramblings but was only really half listening to the grey. Post One -- Word Count: Two Five Seven -- Notes: Hello guys, great to be back again - cant wait to see what happens! xo |
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Post by hey-stardust on Jul 16, 2017 16:29:27 GMT -6
♔
1 | 206CIRILLA | AODH | COMMONER
Cirilla had draped herself dramatically across one of the few benches laden with plush cushions, wings splaying out to assure everyone there was not enough room to share; kicking absently at the furniture whilst pleasantries were exchanged, finding the party to be about as palatable as stale bread. It was better to be ‘outside’ she supposed, than to be locked away in that stifling villa with her family as they no doubt mourned. She herself still felt nothing for the loss of Amadeus; he had never had the time for her, and eventually, her the time for him.
She glanced briefly up at Xeroh, and was amused to see the zorse try to glean what had happened from mere snippets of evasive, grand speeches, half-heartedly to fit into a place she clearly did not belong. The situation made Ciri have a fleeting thought about where JJ might be, but it hardly mattered right now; after all, they would no doubt show up eventually, one way or another.
It wasn’t until Isador cracked open a bottle of champagne and Ciri was handed a tiny, celebratory glass of watered down alcohol that the kicking ceased. She toyed with the foaming cider, watching thoughtfully as glittering, azure flecks of her telekinesis reflected off the it as she rolled the liquid within about. She sniffed suspiciously at the drink, nose wrinkling characteristically, then turned the wine glass upside-down to stain the otherwise pristine tiles below.
It was a petty act of disobedience, but one that she hoped would at least make Isador twitch.
these sentiments are second-hand.
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Post by empyre on Jul 17, 2017 0:15:03 GMT -6
Regina || Pit Fighter || Status: Cracking open a cold one w/ the lords
The king was dead, and Regina had not felt so content since that fated day in Breim. Finally she'd had her revenge, finally she could sit back and be content for just a day with the fact that her whole world had been destroyed by the hooves of Amadeus the Boy King. More like the Boy Tragedy, a soft amused snort escaped her at the thought, and she glanced around at the gathered equine. She grinned at them all, wide and perhaps not entirely sane, but she simply could not help herself; this truly was a day worth celebrating. It mattered not to her that Amadeus was a child, she'd endured things far worse than death as a child far younger than he and yet she hadn't grown up to raze a whole city. Perhaps she was a murderer now, but a murderer of one, how many had died in those fires? certainly lives worth far more than a useless child's. Jana's life was worth at least ten of Amadeus', and she had only been a single casualty.
Her smile was leveled onto Isador as soon as he entered the room and she nodded along happily to his speech. It was all a bunch of useless blabber of course, nothing that everyone present didn't already know. When the champagne was passed to her, a devilish twinkle lit her eyes as she flippantly lifted the glass in a mockery of a toast, making eye contact with all to make sure they were paying attention. She was a pit fighter of course, a performer in the art of violence, and all performers craved attention.
"To the king!" She called, words bubbling with laughter before she threw the glass back, swallowing the champagne down as though it were a shot of whiskey.
post 1 || words: 308
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Post by pony-bones on Jul 17, 2017 9:01:33 GMT -6
Caligo's heavily lidded eyes narrowed as he stood at Isador's side, watching the others filter in for their little gathering of sorts, the bells putting music to his joy directly into his ears, echoing there. Those same spotted ears flashed back against his poll as he realized slaves were among them, and his lip curled in slight disgust. Slaves were a fact of life in Aodh, of course he supported their ownership, but to have them in such a location seemed a bit peculiar. Risky. Perhaps he just needed a better relationship with his own to give him some perspective.
.
.
nah. The appaloosa unicorn swallowed his disdain to the best of his ability, though it felt like a lump caught in his throat as his friend passed around the bubbly spirit, festive in the face of the town's ritual mourning. Political ploys abounded, and if any one of the equines in this room doubted the intentions of this event, then his suspicions would be further confirmed on the lowliness of their poor breeding. Indeed, he and Cyndane were the only unicorns among them, a fact that he was all-too aware of. The feathers of one of Lilith's misbegotten brood soiled the greenhouse floor, attached to her even as they were. Dirty, lowly, a plague on Aodhian society. And yet he maintained his good graces, his head held bowed solemnly as Isador spoke, his horn flashing in the weak morning sun. "To Aodh" Caligo echoed quietly, his voice a low velvet. He needed to push all his disappointment with the present company away. Though he was mildly shocked by the faces that did appear, some causing more alarm than others, he had more to look forward to - the endless march of progress, especially in light of the well-meaning but idiotic boy-king's candle being snuffed out by certainly a well-meaning wind. He heard the cacophonous sound of the champagne bubbles sizzling on the cobblestones, and cast a glance back at Isador's apprentice. "Shaking out of fear, I imagine." He murmured somberly to no one in particular, shaking his head with an impressive mockery of sympathy. "I'd hate to be a royal with times such as they are."
Post 1 | 367 Words
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Post by GingerBlues on Jul 20, 2017 3:29:05 GMT -6
AzazelWhen I pretend everything is what I want it to be
I look exactly like what you had always wanted to seeThe stallion snorted softly as he looked about the lavish room, filled with guests who were all filled with the same relief at word of the boy kings death. It was odd, knowing the child was gone, no longer there to tear down the herd with every poor decision he made.... and yet, here they were, quietly celebrating Amadeus's demise. The thought brought a smile to the striped equine's lips as he listened to his lover's solemn speech.
"...Aodh can rise like a blazing phoenix to take its rightful place. We are more than tragedy: we are Ignacio’s chosen, and we will be magnificent once more.”
"May Ignacio's favor forever burn within our great nation." Azazel said nodding in agreement, shooting Isador a glance of admiration and approval before turning his gaze to the rest of the guests. Those gathered were a mixed lot for sure, and as with all equines, Azazel found he didn't trust them. Sure, many of them had supported the removal of Amadeus from the throne, but one could never be too cautious. With a subtle flick of his ear, Azazel beckoned Micah to move nearer to him, knowing the slave would keep a close watch. Of everyone gathered at Hearthstone Palace, Micah and Isador were the only two the striped advisor trusted, and even then, it was with great caution.
Eyes flicking from guest to guest, they finally settled on Isador's young apprentice Cirilla. She seemed to be throwing a silent fit on a nearby bench, sprawled out in an undignified and unbecoming manner. She was spoiled to the core, and Azazel could not figure out why Isador had taken on the sniveling brat as his apprentice.... yet here she was. At first, Azazel had tried to ignore her ridiculous behavior, but at this point it had become too much. If it had been any other child, Azazel would have had Micah remove them already. Turning to Isador, he leaned in slightly to whisper in the grey stallion's ear. "Please control that creature you call an apprentice, or I will be forced to do something about her myself..." His voice was calm and quiet, though the subtle threat would not be easily missed by his lover.
"Shaking out of fear, I imagine. I'd hate to be a royal with times such as they are." Caligo's voice caught Azazel's attention, and he turned to face the spotted noble. "I wholeheartedly agree." The advisor said absentmindedly, summoning Micah to take the first sip from his recently filled goblet. One could never be too careful, even among 'friends'...
Post #: 1
Word Count: 421
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Post by Jennycallie on Jul 26, 2017 17:19:59 GMT -6
Isador | Adviser
Isador’s lips tightened momentarily as Cirilla poured out her drink, but he offered no rebuke, merely met her insolent gaze evenly before turning his own eyes way, casting an obliquely sardonic expression at the room at large. Blood will out, he might as well have said. Look at the travesty of our royal bloodline. Cirilla was not there just as his apprentice; she was also a walking, breathing, impudent reminder of the folly of her cousin. The best tools, after all, served more than a single purpose.
“Best not to let them reminisce on her cousin with belated affection,” Isador murmured softly to Azazel, his head turned to muffle the words, as he ostensibly adjusted his bridle. “She shares his blood. Let them see her, and draw their own comparisons.” His eyes slid to Caligo at these last words, an unspoken acknowledgement in the calm blue depths. Or perhaps a challenge.
The Adviser looked back out at the gathering, which was going more or less as expected. Regina and Xerah offered a marked study in contrast, one pit fighter boisterous and aggressive, the other unobtrusive and watchful. But neither showed remorse. Years of fellowship allowed Isador to read the subtle lines of caution and conflict on Cyndane’s sculpted face, but no surprise there. And her eyes, too, were dry. Ragnorak was equal parts mocking and wary, disdaining the food (well, he would, wouldn’t he, Isador thought archly) and enjoying the spectacle. Hawthorne alone stood stoic and mask-like, her very lack of reaction itself a clear gesture. And she did not drink of the champagne, one of Isador’s favored vintages no less. Well, commoners will be commoners. An if she disdained the gathering, she also did not weep.
The rising of Aodh once more was nothing to weep for, and Isador approved of the dry, calculating eyes that looked back to him, shaded even as they were in layers upon layers of multiplicity and scheming. To be surrounded by so many clever, selfish equines was truly a pleasure, and Isador allowed the emotion to touch his eyes.
Of course, if the grey Adviser appreciated the duplicity of his associates, he knew better than to rely on them. Their interest must be kept, the knowledge that what they did was best not only for their nation, but also themselves. A promise of future prosperity was in itself not enough, and Isador had planned for as much.
“Although Eithne has a lot of work ahead of it, especially the Advisers,” and he inclined his head towards Cyndane, and Azazel, “some private recognition is in order.” He let the words settle lightly into the room, before turning to Caligo. Again, that pleased, almost sardonic light flickered in the grey’s eyes as he looked at his long-time associate.
“In light of recent events and your efforts at promoting our cause,” Isador said, lifting before him a silken sash, resplendent in deep, brilliant red with shining gold piping, “we the Advisers invite you to join our rank, and assist us in these times ahead.” Isador’s bridle chimed softly as he, with a touch of telekinesis, settled the sash across Caligo’s shoulders.
He then lifted another sash, this one too red with gold accents, though without the Adviser knot and emblem. His cool blue eyes settled on Ragnorak, and the Adviser paused for a heavy, portentous moment.
“It has long been understood that to be Nobility, is to be the best of Aodh, to represent our nation and God in the highest order, down to the very blood in our veins. Yet recent leadership,” and regret shaded the word delicately, “has shown that blood alone is not enough. Nobility can be obtained through dedication, through the bearing and actions of any worthy child of Flame; indeed, Nobility can shine so much brighter through actions, than through bloodlines, and it is in that vein that we the Advisers elevate Ragnorak to the ranks of Noble, for in the name of Aodh, he has been nothing less.” And with a dip of his head, bridle chiming softly once more, Isador settled the sash across the dark stallion’s neck.
“To Adviser Caligo, and Lord Ragnorak, and to all of you, patriots beholden not to blood, but to Aodh,” Ignacio said, lifting his glass of champagne in another toast.
Post 2 | 726 words and I do apologize for them
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Post by empyre on Jul 27, 2017 20:43:21 GMT -6
Regina || Pit Fighter || Status: Fashion Police
After she had downed the champagne, Regina drove right into the food laid out on the table. She was well mannered of course, she had never been a slob in her life, but she certainly wasn't about to let that hold her back from sampling some of the finer foods she'd missed since she was bought by Deidra. She liked the grey mare well enough, but she wasn't nearly as willing to spoil Regina as Jana had been; that is to say, Deidra didn't spoil her at all. Which in the end just meant it was up to Regina to spoil herself.
Her attention was gained once more by Isador as he began to speak once more, her eyes drawn to the sashes as he lifted each one in turn to promote Caligo and Rags. She tilted her head at the designs, raising a brow. Red and gold? Wow, how original. Not to mention promotions such as those deserved something with at least a couple jewels and some real gold for Igacio's sake! Oh well, no use trying to give fashion advice to an adviser, he probably had people to do that for him. Instead she smirked over at Ragnarok, nipping a bit of his mane to gain the large stallion's attention, "Congrats! Really moving up the totem pole there! Maybe one day we'll get to assassinate you!" she teased. She wasn't jealous, of course, and far from it. If Isador made any attempt to 'free' her she'd just as soon jump into the harbor and drown herself.
post 2 || words 258
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Post by astrumnauta on Jul 28, 2017 2:25:43 GMT -6
Hawthorne | Aodh Commoner Hawthorne wrinkled her nose in distaste at many of the equines
the mare who had draped herself on a seat of some kind and
poured out her champagne on the floor actually got an eyeroll
from Hawthorne.
She had decided last time that she had not liked Regina at all
and the mare had made another appearance and this displeased
her.
She watched Isador raise Caligo to Adviser and raise Ragnarok to
Noble ranks and this vaguely surprised her, she couldn't help feeling
like this was trap, Rags was now raised to a station of power and he could
destroy all he had worked for so easily, like Isador was giving Rags a rope to
hang himself - she would keep this thought for later
Hawthorne looked towards Ragnarok and rumbled out a congratulations,
and looked towards Regina who was nipping the stallions mane and said
"Congrats! Really moving up the totem pole there! Maybe one day we'll get to assassinate you!"
Hawthorne looked at the mare and pinned her ears and dropped her head to
Regina's ear "Be careful with your words child, they can get little girls in trouble"
Hawthorne gave a displeased snort and glare and moved back to Ragnarok's side.
Hawthorne went back to thinking, her face falling into her same neutral facade
What was the real reason they were all here, and who would be the next ruler
she felt like she would have to wait for all of these questions to be answered
She shifted from one foot to the other and flicked her gaze towards Isador,
wondering if the stallion would say much more or let her get back to her designs
she had recently got into designing armor and was in the making of setting up her
own little place in the market.
Her mind often wandered but she snapped her attention back to the front of
the room, she had a feeling this meeting was far from over.
Post Two -- Word Count: Three Three Seven -- Notes: N/a |
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Post by pony-bones on Jul 29, 2017 6:56:03 GMT -6
Caligo | Adviser
How he had missed the chimeric zebroid unicorn, Caligo could hardly imagine. He whipped himself mentally for his discretion, and bowed his head lower as Azazel spoke to him, being careful of his own sharpened spear that jutted from his brow. It was good to be among like-minded equines, that was for certain, even if there were a few in attendance he could do without, both of species and of low breeding. However, as he watched Azazel offer his drink to Micah to taste first, it was evident that the slaves did serve more of a purpose to be here than he had originally thought. How could one get so comfortable in a group of complicit murderers? Hubris, most likely, if Caligo was feeling that introspective. However introspection was nothing Caligo enjoyed wasting time on, and his long-time cohort's voice got his attention as he spoke up again. A grin of unmistakable pleasure spread across Caligo's face, predatory in nature. No, it was the smile of the cat that had gotten the canary, even before Isador's words were out of his mouth and the rest of those gathered observed his Ascendance to Power. The boy-king's untimely death could be easily forgotten in a time like this, but Caligo knew too well that sometimes the weak had to fall to make room for the strong, and sometimes the weak needed a little gentle nudge in the right direction. Thus, with the face of Amadeus clear in his mind, Caligo stepped forward and bowed his head as the sash was settled upon his spotted withers. "Thank you for entrusting me with this honored position. I will endlessly toil in an effort to allow Aodh to rise from the ashes and become the glorious state Ignacio wanted once more." Caligo said, his voice firm but low as he looked Isador in the eye then stepped back.
He had done it. He had risen above his parents' wreckage of their nobility and their name, and gone so far as to gain an adviser position. His hooves may have gotten bloodied, but the end certainly justified the means in his mind, and whether it did to his dear, sweet, deceased parents...he couldn't have cared less. His olive eyes danced back and forth as Ragnarok was raised to nobility from nothing, and he suppressed a sneer of disgust. To share his ceremony with the likes of one such as that was...off-putting to say the least, however he knew better than to say anything. He could complain until he was blue in the face about long, noble lines being diluted by filth, but Caligo also knew politics and the act of saving face. Instead, he just gave a nod to Rags as he received his sash, and tried his best not to silence the slave that dare whisper during such an important meeting. Caligo's spotted ears flicked back against his poll for a second, though instead of speaking, he waited patiently for the meeting to commence. Patience, patience, patience.
Post Count: 2 | Word Count: 508
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Post by brandvandet on Jul 30, 2017 20:43:19 GMT -6
Love is like a sin, my love
For the ones who need it the most
Cyndane sipped quietly at her wine while Isador made a simple, but loaded speech. This meeting had never been likely to be a simple retreat from the rest of Valore. It was not a sanctuary where they could avoid pretending for a couple hours before they returned to the public view. In here, they had to pretend as much as ever. She watched with a carefully composed expression of good grace as Isador gifted two less than pleasant people powers he had no actual ability to grant. At least, not unless there were further changes than just one death. “So this is your bid for power, Isador,” she said, unwilling to let this pass without a challenge. She was pressing her pawns out on the board, unaware she was several moves behind in this game. Her tone was genial. After all, this was only to be expected in this situation. It was Aodh—ambition was a cardinal virtue. Succession here was tricky. It was easy enough to avoid traveling down Lilith's particular branch of the family. Solaris had been clear in underlining the decision made by Remiel that that political travesty could never take place after the Talorian tragedy. The question was where it went next. There were several old houses, a few which even wove into House Soleil by marriage or money. Her own House, Vandet, was no younger than any of the others, not in any way that mattered. Cyndane knew Isador was aware of this. “Others might have an interest in the throne as well, of course,” she said. He'd spoken enough for the moment. “Cousins seem to come crawling out of everywhere in times like these.”The pit slave made an offhand comment that made her pause. There was something about the phrasing there that made her itch at the glib sentence. An assassination joke was a faux pas as it was but pits were allowed to be a bit brutish. She had rarely cared to be around them herself and had cleared them out of her staff as soon as she had the power to do so. She met Isador's eyes with fire once she'd worked it out. There was a camaraderie in the sentence and it was only years of carefully crafted patience that allowed her to smooth her face away from fury before it broke the surface. Even a pit slave was not stupid enough to fuck up like that if she weren't among friends and Cyndane knew this viper's nest well enough to want to avoid being bit. That specific bit of knowledge was only truly useful outside of this room. “You might want to do something about your more talkative associates, Isa,” she offered as if it were friendly advice. Cyndane - Aodh - Adviser
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Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2017 21:16:54 GMT -6
2 | 574The stallion's hears pricked at the sound of the door opening, his head swinging to look back as he heard familiar hoof steps approaching. A small smile graced his lips and he dipped his head in greeting. "Morning, Hawthorne." He rumbled pleasantly, now more at ease with her at his side. He gave a glance at the child on the bench, rolling her eyes as she dumped her drink upon the floor. "Spoiled brat." He mumbled under his breath with a soft chuckle as he rose his glass to his lips for a quick sip. That speckled thing was the reason he didnt like children; they were obnoxious.
His focus jumped between the soft murmurs of different conversations as they made their way across the room, but he soon became disinterested in them, quickly tuning them out. He turned toward the mare beside him, taking in a breath to start up a little bit of small talk himself, but was quickly (and unintentionally) interrupted by the grey adviser's voice.
His back leg cocked, hip slumping, eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the sight of the stash around Caligo's shoulder. His ears flicked, disinterest clear on his features. Just another fat cat moving up in the ranks; what's new he snorted, smirking at his own thoughts.
It was then that the grey stallion's blue eyes locked on his own, causing the stallion to narrow his brow in slight confusion, but correct his posture- hooves pressed together, head raised, and ears alert. Another sash was in his grasp, though lacked the emblem of the advisers. The stallion stood still as Isador approached, speaking his piece and placing the fabric across his dark shoulders. The moment had him quite stunned; he had always been the one to mock the nobility, to promote the commoner wealth.. yet here he was.
A smirk broke the stallion's lips, his eyes narrowing. Was he a hypocrite? Maybe. But he was going to take full advantage of it.
He felt a tug at his mane and glanced down to see Regina at his side, teasing him playfully with a short outburst of congratulations.. among other things. "Maybe one day we'll get to assassinate you!" He figured she was joking; the humor among pit fighters, he was sure, was nothing filtered, but he did allow a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips as Hawthorne whispered a small threat to the mare. Always loyal, that Hawthorne was.
"Thank you." Ragnarok spoke with a dip of his head. This was perhaps the only time those words had left his mouth and he had meant it. He then turned and poked back at Regina with his muzzle in her mane and a teasing grin. "Just you try." He sneered with a wink.
He glanced toward Caligo as a string of intelligent words left his lips, and he found himself rolling his narrowed eyes for the third time that day. It seemed to the the "in thing" for those high on the totem pole to talk in intellectual script.. well Rags wasnt going to be caught dead speaking like a rich kid with a stick up his ass.
It was then that the red mare spoke up, and Ragnarok found himself turning his attention to her with his ears shifted back on his neck. He kept his red gaze fixated on her, brow narrowed, only to shift to Isador to gauge his reaction. |
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Post by hey-stardust on Jul 31, 2017 9:23:55 GMT -6
♔
2 | 238CIRILLA | AODH | COMMONER
Ciri had certainly taken the expression: ‘pour one out for the fallen’, quite literally and a step too far; but all in all, the stunt got her exactly what she wanted.
Head tipping to the side as Isador’s gaze met hers, she smiled back at him, the expression hollow. A mere, subtle bearing of teeth, if you will. Rolling from the couch thereafter, Ciri returned to her feet, stretching out her heavy wings and shaking them vigorously; loosing small feathers that cavorted playfully around her legs from the man-made breeze.
When the bells first began to toll that morning, they had been a source of excitement for Cirilla. “The mark of change, the start of something new…” Isador had promised, but now they were simply a vexation, their uniform cry of melancholy no better than the conversation around her.
With a quiet huff, she drifted away from the congregation and went to fuss listlessly over the numerous flora that spanned across the greenhouse, plucking off the occasional petal that got in her way, until Isador began placing sashes and empty titles upon mere men, that is.
Watching the event unfold from afar, she could not help but think that her mentor should have draped the material directly over their faces instead, for it would have drastically improved their looks, and perhaps then, contempt would not be the only genuine emotion on display here for all to see.
these sentiments are second-hand.
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Post by GingerBlues on Jul 31, 2017 11:27:52 GMT -6
AzazelWhen I pretend everything is what I want it to be
I look exactly like what you had always wanted to seeAzazel nodded in silent agreement as Isador promoted both Caligo and Ragnarok. He will make a great leader... The advisor thought to himself,watching as they grey equine draped a sash over Caligo's shoulders.
“To Adviser Caligo, and Lord Ragnorak, and to all of you, patriots beholden not to blood, but to Aodh,” Isador's voice rang out in another toast.
Raising his glass in agreement, he turned his head to look at the newly appointed advisor. Azazel nodded once approvingly before taking a sip of his champagne, letting the bubbles dance over his tongue. Caligo was a good choice as an advisor, and he was sure to be an avid supporter of Isador becoming the next Aodhian King. "May you always be a voice of reason in these trying times." Azazel said, a smile playing across his dark lips.
His thoughts were interrupted however by the dark pit slave across the table. "Congrats! Really moving up the totem pole there! Maybe one day we'll get to assassinate you!" He flicked his ears back in displeasure at the mare's ill timed joke, glancing at Cyndane briefly to try and gauge her reaction. Yes, many at the table had had a hoof in the events that were taking place, in fact he had provided a good chunk of funding himself. Still, not everyone was privy to that information, and the slaves comment was a bit too on the nose for comfort.
“You might want to do something about your more talkative associates, Isa,” The mare's voice was friendly as she spoke,but something about her manner disquieted Azazel, almost as if she knew. Of course, that would be impossible, as there was no solid evidence, but still... His gaze returned to Regina as Hawthorne bent low to whisper in her ear, hopefully scolding the reckless mare.
Careful to remain composed, he took another sip of his champagne and returned his gaze to Cyndane. "I do believe you are right, Advisor, equines from all across Eithne with even a hint of royal blood are likely to come crawling out of every crevice in the days to come. Even still, we do not need another "leader" like our late King. The Aodh need someone who knows how to rule on the throne, lest we see ourselves destroyed entirely."
Post #: 2
Word Count: 382
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Post by grumpyhyena on Aug 1, 2017 9:32:48 GMT -6
Xerah | Pit Fighter
The zorse mare nibbled slowly on one of the smaller appetizers that were presented on the table. She rolled her eyes and huffed at Cirilla's bratty attitude, but she hadn't really expected more from the short brat. Chicken wings, she had called her once, and she felt it was an accurate moniker for her. Ears forward and more alert, Xerah watched as the horde of nobles and citizens alike spoke about the demise of their king. She had managed to piece it all together in her mind, it all falling together like a puzzle. It was a coup. And a very smart one. They had set themselves up to take complete advantage of the boy king's untimely death. Her father had once spoken about some strategy game that the Aodhians enjoyed. Playing pieces all around a board like they were little soldiers. These highborn bastards were doing just that.
"Isn't Cirilla related to the king?" she sneered, shooting daggers at the winged brat. The royal family was so large and convoluted pretty much half the herd was somehow related, "Just plop her ass in the chair and call it a day." her voice was gruff, ears flat and looking very unimpressed.
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Post: 2 WC: 208
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Post by empyre on Aug 12, 2017 13:43:00 GMT -6
Regina || Pit Fighter || Status: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Regina reveled in the attention her little quip at Rags brought her and she smiled back at the large stallion genuinely. She liked him, and now that he was a noble if she managed to convince Deidra to pawn her off to him then she'd be living a high class life style once again; so making nice now was a must. A snort of laughter escaped her at Xerah's deadpan suggestion to just put the brat on the thrown.
"I wouldn't do that if were you, she'd certainly spill good wine on the throne as well." She said, taking a sip from her own glass, emerald eyes shooting a look over at the feathered disaster of a child. "Besides, she's a Lilith spawn. She'd end up dead even faster than the last one."
Though as she thought about it, head tilted slightly, swirling her glass midair --the sparkling gold of her teke glinting off the champagne-- the more she realized she didn't exactly trust anyone in the room to become king. "And I suppose Xerah and I were never in the running, not that I'm compaining at all, as long as I can keep my job I'm happy but in order for that to happen we need a king that can actually hold this herd together. Let's try someone older than an infant this time, yeah?"
post 3 || words: 225
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Post by Jennycallie on Aug 13, 2017 1:18:43 GMT -6
Isador | Adviser
Isador didn’t turn his eyes to Cyn as she spoke, not at first. There was plenty else to look at, after all, plenty plausible distractions. The champagne swirling in his crystal goblet, for example. But did he ever feel his fellow adviser’s stare. He lifted his own cool eyes to her blazing ones, held the gaze for a moment. A brow arched. Are you suprised? He might have asked. Are you not complicit? He tilted his glass ever so slightly towards the mare. “Much needs to be done, both internally,” and he nodded to the intimate gathering, “and nation-wide. I am glad I, and Aodh, can continue to count on your invaluable support, which has proved so helpful in the past.” He held her gaze for a moment longer, something serious and perhaps even earnest flickering across his features. He turned to Azazel and Caligo, then suddenly lifted his head, crystal glass landing lightly on the table in front of him as he stared out the window, frowning. He could hear… bells, not solemn and mourning but wild, disjointed, and- shouts? And was that… smoke, rising in the distance?
Panicked hoofbeats rang down the hallway, followed by a series of knocks at the door. Isador cast a quick look of warning to the group, and a second look, shaded with subtlety, at Azazel, and then he crossed the room and flung open the door. A whispered, gasping conversation followed. Isador stood very still, even as the messenger scrambled back the way she had come. Then he turned, and faced the room.
“I must go,” Isador said seriously. “If reports are to be believed a,” and he hesitated for a moment, “dragon, is attacking outside the city.” Well, the flame was off the wick now, and no use wishing it back. If anyone in this room hadn’t realized what had been guarded in that tunnel for the past three months, they were bigger fools than Isador had credited them. “Evacuation is underway, any refugees must be given quarter within the gates. Chevaliers and those slaves that can be spared are fighting the blaze…” And Isador hesitated, then swept his cool gaze over the room. “Assist in these matters as you see fit; but the dragon must be… dealt with.” And the grey stallion nodded his head once, seriously, then spun and was gone.
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Post by astrumnauta on Aug 16, 2017 14:15:40 GMT -6
Hawthorne | Aodh Commoner Hawthorne allowed her mind to wander, she believed they were
in no immediate danger, and the stupid comments coming from
around her were almost laughable. She often became frustrated
listening to others, did these equines never think what they were
saying?
The boy king had tried his best and throwing another child onto
the throne would only cause the same bloodshed and the large
mare did not like to see children slaughtered.
"We need a King or Queen wise in their years, somebody
to steady this very rocky ship. "
Hawthorne looked at Isador her gaze fixed on him,
"But not somebody already in a position of power
such as an advisor, surely someone in the royal house
must fit the bill, no?"
She would not support, if it ever came to it, his grab for power. This
is how she suspected things would pan out and it left her unsettled.
She then watched Isador look towards the window and say something
about dragons, and give them all options and she looked at Rags,
If a dragon was roaming Aodh then she probably should do something
as a Ex-Chevalier, but then again
she was supposed to protect Ragnarok, she toyed with the ideas.
"A Dragon Ragnarok, we should get you somewhere safe
neither of us are prepared to fight a dragon and I really
don't fancy my chances today - I'm ready to leave and evacuate
you on your word."
She looked towards Rags her only show of concern was a raised eyebrow
it was a terrible tell of hers. She allowed herself to release a breath
that has built up in her chest and controlled her thundering heart.
She looked around the room and decided she would follow Rags
even if he did go off to fight the dragon, but she thought he was a
iota more intelligent than that.
She had already summarised 3 routes of escape for the pair, before
she looked back to Rags, her ears perked under her facial armor.
"Ready, Boss?" Post Three -- Word Count: Three Three Three -- Notes: Might sneak another post in if Rags adds anything Thorne needs to reply to. |
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Post by Queerly on Aug 22, 2017 21:20:29 GMT -6
Plot Complete - All Users Rewarded Chapter Bonuses
Stay tuned for a wrap-up journal!
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