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Post by Lizzie on Jun 12, 2014 16:47:46 GMT -5
Karma, after slowly closing the door behind her, obliviously began to make her way away from the castle. “Are you sure that is wise, Princess?” a soft male voice came from the shadows, “A princess should not go out unaccompanied by guards, and certainly not one as young as yourself…”Karma slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. “I’m sure you, as a knight, would think that,” she said calmly, “but I’ve done this before, and nobody’s even noticed my absence. I’ve been fine.” The young girl gazed up at the sky, and tried inaccurately to judge the time. If it were too late, which Karma thought it was, she would have to go inside anyway. “My sister thinks I’m getting her food, I can go down there,” the girl continued to protest, calmly and creepily as always, “I don’t need a guard telling me what to do, following me around, tracking every move to bring back to Desi.” The girl fell silent again, contemplating what to do. She was between a rock and a hard place, or rather, a servants entrance to the stuffy old castle, and the knight protecting a world of freedom below. Then, Karma smiled her creepy smile, and looked up at the man who towered above her. “If you be my guard tomorrow after the funeral, and promise not to tell Desi, I’ll go inside and not tell Desi you were hanging around doing nothing!” the child said, moving closer toward the large wooden door back to the castle. Oh yes, Karma thought, looking at the prettily skinned knight, This will work out quite nicely.Karma chatters to Sir Lancelot ( Birdy) about her plan to go down to the village after the funeral, and asks if he wants to come with, so that she wont steal his skin. Or will she?
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Post by Gelquie on Jun 12, 2014 18:47:42 GMT -5
The situation was incredibly awkward, given the long period of silence after Elin told Kelcey what's what. For a moment, she was pondering what else to say that would prove to him that she's not Destiney until she saw Laurie enter the room. Oh good; this would save her the trouble of running after her. And, Elin figured, Laurie would be better equipped to deal with him. Elin backed away just as Kelcey called out to her sister... With Destiney's name. Okay, seriously, his sister? Now Elin was sure that something was definitely wrong. Elin looked down at the envelope and frowned. If he was calling everyone Destiney, even his own sister, then when could she give him the letter? Thankfully, Laurie was quick to dispel this misconception, and had proceeded to go over to his side to feel his head... Causing him to wince and then shortly after... Ask who his own sister was. Elin gulped, feeling a bit less offended at how Kelcey didn't remember her own name earlier and feeling a bit more... scared. If he didn't even remember his sister... And yet he remembered Destiney, sort of. Elin frowned in response to Laurie's smile. This seemed a little bit odd how he remembered his lover before his family. Laurie seemed to give a look that seemed to indicate that she thought he was joking... Elin doubted this, though. He couldn't pull something like this off. And then later on, more confused words were spouted from Kelcey before he fell deeper into the bed and closed his eyes, unconscious. Elin held back a sigh and took another look at the letter. Well, his sister being here helped, at least. But there was still the matter of the letter... How would she explain to him that the letter was from Destiney if he thought everyone was Destiney? And then it occurred to her... She didn't have to. She was just told to give the letter to Kelcey. And Kelcey was as illiterate as she as. Sure, maybe he'd ask someone what it says, but... Well, at this point how much more could leaving the letter with him really hurt? Before she could move, though, Laurie snapped Elin out of her thoughts. "Thank you for looking after him,” she said quietly to Elin, standing up. "I must be off, sorry. I'll come back tomorrow just in case, but I hope he'll be better by then. We owe you one.""Oh. You're welcome," Elin said. "And thank you for coming by; I wasn't sure what to do with him. But you have to thank Ilsa too; she helped a lot." Elin indicated to Ilsa. After Laurie left, Elin took another look at Kelcey. She took one last look at the letter in her hand before sighing and placing it on Kelcey's chest. She hoped that Kelcey would regain more of his memory before bothering to get someone to interpret the letter. At the same time, even if he did, she hoped it would get him back to normal. Or... Better, at least. She turned to Ilsa. "I'll stay a little while longer, but eventually my aunt will expect me back. I'll be back after dinner to check on him, though. Can you watch him or get someone to watch him until then?" Elin watches the exchange between Laurie ( Liou) and Kelcey ( Avery). She decides that she can just give the letter to Kelcey without explanation and hope that it might jog his memory. She thanks Laurie for coming, and after Laurie leaves, Elin puts the letter on Kelcey's chest. She then turns to Ilsa ( Elcie) and states that she'll eventually need to go get dinner, and asks her to watch him until she can come back.
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Post by Layla "Nimbus" Karimi on Jun 12, 2014 22:07:53 GMT -5
“ Hey if you can just get her looking less destroyed and moving again, I'll pay anything man, I need to get home!” The foreigner rubbed his forehead in clear agitation. “ Just give it your best shot over the next few days, it's not like I'm going anywhere.” Clarissa nodded and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, though the baffled looks on her colleagues' faces as they approached wasn't very reassuring. Still, if the man was going to be all right with an imperfect carriage, she figured that they would at least be able to figure out the basic shape of the frame. Looking over the wheels, she was thankful to find that they hadn't suffered damage -- they appeared to be ringed in rubber, of all things, and she had no clue how she would have been able to fix something like that. The apprentices and journeymen continued to ogle at the carriage as they reached it, but the master smith looked it over with a critical eye. "Do you think we can fix it, Master Steele?" Rusty Steele scratched the back of his head with a thoughtful hum. "Well, it's the strangest carriage I've ever seen, that's for sure." He shrugged. "But I don't see why we can't give it a shot. Assuming he has the runestones for it," he added with a glance toward the foreigner. The man, however, seemed a bit distracted as he opened up an outer compartment on the carriage to retrieve a detailed pair of shoes and several foreign objects of a purpose that Clarissa couldn't even guess at. He then tossed her the keys to the vehicle with the assertion that he'd be back in two days. He then began to head out, despite protests from the elderly Stallion man. Master Steele gave Clarissa a questioning look, and she responded by showing him the veesa that the foreigner had offered as down payment. She had no idea what such currency could be exchanged for, but if nothing else they figured he could work off any extra debt. And that was when a crossbow bolt buried itself in the carriage near the old nobleman. Clarissa started and looked up to see a pair of city knights arguing over the deed, and then the one who hadn't held the crossbow approached the nobleman to apologize while the other went off in a huff. Rusty frowned as he gave the carriage another look. "Don't know how anyone could mistake this for a beast, but it looks like it's been attracting attention for long enough," he said. "Come on everyone, let's bring the carriage around to the back of the smithy before anyone else makes a fool of themselves." Clarissa is relieved that Thundy doesn't expect the carriage to be fixed perfectly, but still a little worried to find that the other blacksmiths are no more familiar with it than she is. The master smith, a man by the name of Rusty Steele, says that they should be able to get it into decent shape and hopes aloud that Tony will be able to pay for repairs. Sir Gareth ( Birdy) shooting the "metal beast" startles the group, and while Sir Tristan tries to make amends with the nobles, the blacksmiths decide to haul the carriage behind the smithy so that passerby can stop gawking and freaking out over it.
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Post by Pixie on Jun 12, 2014 22:18:12 GMT -5
The man Ilaria had drawn her sword to protect seemed to react nervously. Meanwhile the woman who she previously thought was trying to attack him scolded her. There seemed to be commerce going on between the two, which somehow involved the injury to his face. Both of them said she was selling him a key. The other woman was talking frantically to her as soon as she drew her weapon, repeatedly saying that no sort of combat was occurring between them. Ilaria noticed she made no attempt to attack him again, adding more grounding to her claims. She loosened her grip on her sword, and flashed an embarrassed smile. It wasn’t her time, at that moment, to fulfill her destiny as a heroine. She was very confused, but she did not regret coming to his aid. If he had been in danger, she could have saved his life! The woman then tried to sell her a key. She hadn’t brought any great sum of currency with her that day, but the key was lovely and she thought it could be the perfect touch to a costume. Maybe it could be used for one of her mage characters. “Sorry, Sorry! I didn’t bring much with me, but I like pretty things.” Ilaria replied, “I have just enough for an ale with my friend. Would that be enough? I’d have more latter. If you are interested in buying also, I sell pretty dresses at the market. I’m a tailor.” Perhaps she could get some business to the guild from her dizzying encounter. Suddenly, another figure dashed straight out of nowhere into the man, apologizing profusely all the while. While she was talking to the key saleswoman, she had been neglecting to defend the unfortunate man. That was foolishness, she decided. She couldn’t make that mistake again. Yet another woman came running out a moment after, but not into anyone, thankfully. She spoke to the key lady, her friend, and asked her to keep her behavior in check. As she continued to speak, Ilaria then realized she had forgotten to sheath her sword. Yes, it was rather hazardous to have out her blade with a chaotic crowd not far from herself. The nuances of being a heroine would take some getting used to. She put away her weapon and smiled affably. “Sorry, Ma’am.” This man kept on getting hurt by various people, and seemed to be a pretty decent person. He hadn’t struck the woman back when she hit him, and hadn’t yelled at her for taking out her sword. Ilaria decided he could still definitely use her protection. “You, unlucky mister, just keep on drawing trouble to yourself.” Ilaria declared “ I’m going to be your bodyguard for the evening, if it’s alright with you. I had forgotten to say: I'm Ilaria Braide. You are not getting hurt again on my watch.” Ilaria talked out the situation with Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) and then talked about business. She listened and apologized to Shinko and then offered to be Lizica 's bodyguard.
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Post by Elcie on Jun 12, 2014 22:39:36 GMT -5
Ilsa didn't really need to stay with Kelcey after she got him settled, considering that Elin was there to help him, but there was no way she could resist something like this. She stood there, munching on pieces of candied ginger that she'd somehow discovered in her pocket. (Xavier's experimental foray into snack foods had been expensive, and she'd told him to stop, but the results were undeniably delicious and, surprisingly, great for eating while watching something entertaining. She filed "food-to-eat-during-hijinks" away for later as a potential business move, though it would need a catchier name.) The ginger became a bit of a problem as Kelcey began referring to Elin as Destiney. It was difficult not to burst out laughing and spray bits of chewed ginger all over the pair of them. Valiantly she resisted, even when his sister Laurie came to visit and Kelcey began calling her Destiney, too. Unfortunately, as Laurie turned to Elin and told her "We owe you one," Ilsa's mouth was too full to protest. She managed only an indignant stare at Kelcey's sibling. "You owe Elin?" she finally managed to sputter, long after Laurie had gone. "Whose room do you think this is? I could've been putting nobles in here!" She sighed, shaking her head. Ah, well. She could try to wheedle something out of the Kiddes later - or maybe, in Kelcey's current state, it wouldn't be too difficult to convince him that she needed rewarding. Contemplating this, she turned to Elin, watching as she left the letter for Kelcey. "I'll stay a little while longer, but eventually my aunt will expect me back. I'll be back after dinner to check on him, though. Can you watch him or get someone to watch him until then?""All right," Ilsa sighed. "Suppose I'd better. I'd better tend to the crowd downstairs soon, but I'll send Xavier up later." --- Downstairs with Frederick, Xavier was completely caught in the younger man's glamours, not really registering that there was something odd about his quick decision to trust Frederick with something he hadn't even told Ilsa. He was not even able to recognize the familiar sensation of being caught magically in another's power. He couldn't. This was due to nothing Frederick had done. The elf had no way of knowing that he had hit upon Xavier's weakness in more ways than one. The glamour had probably hit him several times harder than Frederick even intended. “I am not certain who may know. That is why you must listen out.”Xavier found himself nodding. "I will. Eventually, you hear everything here." He felt himself calm as he said it. Of course that was true. He wasn't going to get sent back to Courdon, because Frederick was going to help him. Everything was fine. Ilsa amuses herself by watching Gelquie deal with Avery, though she is slightly offended that Liou seems more grateful to Elin than to herself. She agrees to watch over Kelcey. Meanwhile, Xavier is completely caught by Frederick ( Pixie) and agrees to help him, believing that Frederick is actually just helping him.
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Post by PFA on Jun 12, 2014 22:48:19 GMT -5
As the meeting continued on, Jeniver wandered the house in boredom. Most of the rooms were too small to practice magic in, she'd decided, and that left her with not a whole lot to do during the meeting. There had to be something interesting around here... She was walking down the hallway, when suddenly, she heard a voice. Was that... singing? No, wait, of course—it must have been Joffery. He was practicing his singing voice, again. Well, at least it was better than nothing. Jeniver carefully pushed open the door, peering inside the room. Lord Joffery was dressed in his finest robes—apparently having them fitted for his meeting with the princess tomorrow—and was patting down his hair while absently vocalizing to himself. Seeing that he didn't seem to be doing anything particularly important, Jeniver pushed the door open further, at which point he noticed her. "Ah, Jeniver! How good it is to see you!" he said with a smile. "How are you faring this lovely evening?" "I'm okay," she replied, wandering into the room and sitting down on the chair. "I'm bored, though. There's nothing to do here." "Oh! Perhaps you'd be willing to assist me, then?" Joffery asked, clasping his hands together eagerly. "I've been working on a ballad for Princess Destiney. Would you mind giving your opinion on something?" "Um... I guess?" was her response. "You see, this is what I have so far..." Joffery cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. And then, again, he started to sing. " Dearest Princess, pure and fair, With starlit eyes and raven hair, Your Highness now to serenade, 'Tis I, Lord Joffery, of House Jade!" "It sounds pretty good so far," Jeniver admitted. "Thank you! I'm quite proud of myself." Joffery beamed from ear to ear. "Now then, I think I should also include a description of myself to impress her, maybe include some things about House Jade as a whole... but I'd also like to include some more about the Princess, to really flatter her and see how much I care about her. What do you think I should do?" Jeniver blinked. "Um... can't you do both?" "At once?" Joffery paused to think on this for a moment. "Yes! Perhaps I could include comparisons to her, to emphasize how well we fit together... genius!" "Do you think I could help with my magic somehow?" Jeniver asked him, clutching her wand with an eager grin. "To make it super special?" "Ooh, yes. A touch of magic could give my song a little extra oomph," Joffery agreed. "To truly emphasize what House Jade has to offer... so many possibilities!" "Yeah!" Jeniver nodded. "What could I do?" Joffery blinked, looking down at her with a thoughtful frown. "Well, I'd like to talk to the other mages, since what I have in mind might be a bit out of your league..." "I can practice!" Jeniver insisted stubbornly. "Tell me!" "Well, you see, I'm envisioning something like..." Jeniver finds Joffery's room, and they discuss songs and magic!
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Post by Avery on Jun 12, 2014 23:00:06 GMT -5
... there was a funeral fit for a king...
The moon was bright and full, a glowing silver orb fringed by a cloudless black sky. And as most of the denizens of-- and visitors to-- Medieville slumbered, others… stirred.
A window of a ground floor room at the manor of Lord Marson Jade rattled as the lock was deftly sprung from outside. Only the well-to-do in Medieville slept with windows locked, nominally because they were the only ones with Stuff to Steal; but as with most things nobility-related, it was merely a show, a pageant. The determined would not be kept away by flimsy brass locks.
A figure slipped in through the compromised window, feet landing upon the floor with nary a sound (the intruder had much practice with Staying Quiet). Breath held, they surveyed the room. In a four-poster bed-- a proper bed, not a pile of mouldy hay-- a noble snored throatily. The thiefling slipped over to their side. The noble slept on their back, neck exposed; and wrapped around their neck was a feathery talisman, held on a leather cord. The thiefling smiled and took a knife out from their pocket, fluidly slicing through the sinuous leather before pulling the talisman away. Illuminated by a sliver of moonlight, the thiefling examined their newly-won trinket. Then, they slipped back out the window and disappeared into the blackness of the night.
Amid the leafy trees that lined the manor grounds, another figure crouched, hidden but watching. Someone has been very naughty, they thought, staring at the departing thief. But useful. I’ll have to tell the others. I think this crafty thief might make a very good addition to the Shadows.
**
Some hours later, as the night stretched on-- and long after the thiefling and rebel had left-- a screeching airhorn sounded against the breeze outside the manor of Marson Jade.
No one in the house so much as flinched. They kept on with their sleeping-- or spell-learning-- or plotting about marrying princesses-- not at all flummoxed by the sound.
“Darn it!” screeched a disappointed voice, staring dejectedly down at their specially crafted airhorn. “Why do my pranks never work?” A sigh. “Next time… next time…”
**
On the grounds of the Stallion Manor, another miscreant lurked-- one Davorin Silverkin, to be precise. Davorin soundlessly flitted from window to window, not burgling, but peering in-- namely to learn which nobles were staying in which chambers, in case anyone should hire him to take out a visiting Stallion…
He paused at one window in particular, doing a double-take. Was that… he furrowed his brow. How… interesting. It seemed as if one of the Stallion nobles had a hobby. A very delicious hobby. He wanted to laugh, but wouldn’t risk the noise, instead choosing only to smile.
“Who goes there!” a voice cried in the distance. A Stallion guard.
Davorin’s blood ran cold. He took a deep breath and considered his options-- either press himself flat against the exterior wall and pray to Lord Woo that the guard wouldn’t find him… or make a run for it. After giving one last glance to the baking noble, Davorin chose the latter, fleeing into the darkness. Lord Woo had never answered his prayers in the past, anyway.
Eight, he’d decided by the time he got home, out of breath and still grinning crookedly. If someone paid him eight minor items, he’d take that Baker’s head.
**
A king’s funeral in Kyth was an exhaustive (and exhausting) event, beginning just after dawn with a procession through the streets-- the king’s polished oak casket pulled by majestic palace horses en route to the Grand Woo Cathedral, where the service would begin shortly.
The service was strictly a nobles-only event, and as it took place, palace knights struggled to hold back the rapidly-growing peasant crowd that had begun to surround the church. As a dour priest eulogized the deceased king inside, outside the throng of the city’s poor quickly devolved into a dizzying mass of jostling and yelling and patriotic singing, intermingled with the occasional fist-fight and passing around of warm, flat tankards of ale (no one was quite sure from where it had originated).
Why, you ask, had such a crowd assembled? It was simple: while the service was an exclusive event, the proceeding burial-- at the royal cemetery located at the base of the Raven’s Keep-- was a public affair. Whomever most closely followed the procession from the cathedral to the burial grounds was assured the best view of the event, aside from the nobles; those who lagged would be relegated to positions where they wouldn’t be able to see much at all, even if they stood on their tippy-toes. And well, life in Medieville was often dull and hard for a peasant; however tragic, the interment of King Starmey provided entertainment and distraction.
Not to mention, wine. Wine was a big part of the mourning tradition in Kyth; it was traditionally gifted to mourners by noble families to show that even in their time of grief, they still practiced the holy ideals of charity. But as the funerals of princesses Fate and Sunshine last winter had shown, only those mourners who fought their way to the front of the crowd would get any.
It was, thus, very important to the peasants to be at the front of the crowd.
And so when the doors to the cathedral sprung back open after an hour-long service-- and the casket started its journey to the cemetery-- the peasants rushed to follow it. The atmosphere was almost festival-like. And only four sad souls ended up trampled by the time the coffin arrived to the cemetery: a new royal funeral record low!
It was a sad day, strictly speaking, but it was also good day. A day of drinking and socializing and, for a select few in the crowd, gazing knowingly at each other. Smiles in their eyes, even if frowns (appropriately) graced their lips. They did not speak to each other, but they did not need to. Their glances said it all.
This will not be the only royal funeral Medieville sees this summer...
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Post by PFA on Jun 13, 2014 15:20:19 GMT -5
Jeniver thought the funeral service was really boring. It mostly consisted of everyone sitting around moping, singing hymns (sung particularly beautifully by one Joffery Jade) and talking about how tragic it was that King Starmey had died. I mean, yeah, it was a funeral, but still. Jeniver Jade had better things to do than to sit around and be sad. Like magic practice! She considered slipping away from the funeral so she could do more magic practice, but her mother gave her a stern look before she could even try. She knew her too well. It was too bad, really. She'd been practicing those spells Joffery wanted for his performance, but they were very hard to pull off properly... and the innkeeper didn't seem to appreciate the collateral damage her failed attempts had caused. Ultimately, her parents grew tired of having to pay her for broken furniture and had Marson make room for them in his house with the other Jades. Sigh. No one ever appreciated her magic. She glanced over at Joffery, who didn't seem to be paying much attention to the funeral, either—he was constantly patting down his hair and mouthing song lyrics to himself. Preparing for his proper meeting with the Princess, of course. Even he seemed hesitant to let her perform at the event, insisting that it had to be absolutely perfect in order to win over Princess Destiney's heart. But she was getting so good at magic, Jeniver thought! Besides, wouldn't a child prodigy impress the Princess even more? If only she had more time to practice... Finally, they left the cathedral, the pallbearers carrying the casket to the cemetery. Jeniver was all too eager to climb out of her seat and follow the crowd— wow that was a lot of peasants. They were surprisingly rowdy, too, considering this was supposed to be a funeral. Peasants got excited over the strangest things. While Joffery waved at the crowd as they passed by, flashing them one of his famous charming smiles, Jeniver clung to her mother, doing her best to avoid the louder, smellier peasants. She wasn't very fond of peasants, she'd decided. They seemed to be frequently drunk and always smelly. Eventually they made it to the cemetery, and Jeniver was grateful. That meant the funeral was almost over. Then there would be that big feast, and Joffery would make his appeal to the Princess. And maybe she'd get to perform! She really hoped he'd let her perform for him. She really wanted to help him impress the Princess. Maybe she could find some time to practice before the feast... Jeniver is bored during the funeral, while Joffery is distracted thinking of how he's going to impress Destiney. Jeniver contemplates her magic skills (or lack thereof) and hopes Joffery will let her perform for him during his appeal to Destiney. She'd been practicing! (Much to the chagrin of the innkeeper ( Elcie) and her parents, the latter of whom having become tired of paying for the former's furniture.)
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Post by Shinko on Jun 13, 2014 16:05:07 GMT -5
Collab post with Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) Morgaine looked down at her mourning dress dourly. She hadn’t worn the thing in sixteen years, not since her husband’s passing. She’d gained some weight since then, and it was rather too tight. Should have tried it on before the day of, she thought ruefully, Not that I’d have wanted to commission something new from the tailor. I imagine he’s having a tremendous windfall with the entire city buying clothes for the funeral.The old woman emerged from her room, walking down the hall. She heard her partner still in her own room After the little misadventure yesterday, she was determined that there would be no key throwing at the event today. “Don’t stuff any keys in your pockets,” she called through the door. “We’ll not be doing any selling at the funeral anyway, they’ll throw us out for disrespecting King Starmey’s memory.” Rosalie twirled around in her lovely mourning dress. She wasn’t exactly happy she had an occasion to wear it. Death was always a sad thing, but it shouldn’t be. It was like the end of a story but at the end of the story there is always a new beginning. There had to be a new beginning here. Rosalie skipped out of her room and puffed out her cheeks, “But Morgie, I can’t go anywhere without my keys you know that!” Morgaine rolled her eyes. “You very well can, you’re just being stubborn. Why do you need a small treasure trove of decorated keys at a funeral anyway? With your pockets jangling you’d just be asking for a pickpocket to take advantage of you in the crowd.” Rosie crossed her arms, “I’d like to see a pickpocket try and steal from me, I’d give them what for!” At this she pumped her fist in the air for good measure. “You never know when someone might want to buy a key! And, I just don’t feel right not having a few keys…” her hand went up to the lovely silver key she was wearing around her neck. Morgaine knew this argument of old, and knew it was a pointless one. “If you’re so insistent then fine, bring your keys. I will laugh when we come home and there are fewer in your pocket then you left the shop with, then take the difference out of your pay.” She sighed. “And for heaven’s sake, dont try to solicit anyone to buy any during the events today. If someone recognizes you and asks, fine, but I’d rather not have angry guards swarming us because we were taking advantage of the king’s death to line our pockets. Regardless of if you can or can’t take down a pickpocket before he filches your keys, you can’t overcome a trained warrior, and don’t try to pretend you can.” The woman beckoned, leading the way down the staircase. Rosie listened. She was used to lectures, she got them a lot. Blah, blah, blah. Don’t do this Rosalie, don’t do that Rosalie, I’m old and mean Rosalie. She sighed. “Fine, I won’t, pinkie promise” Rosie followed Morgaine down the stairs. Guess she wouldn’t be profiting today. Oh well, it was a solemn event after all. Morgaine looked at Rosalie out of the corner of her eye, suppressing a sigh. She constantly wondered how she’d ever agreed to work with this flighty girl. Oh right, it was because she was too nice for her own good, and the young woman was at least funny when she wasn’t causing all manner of havoc. And often still funny when she was, though only the sort of funny that one could really enjoy in retrospect. They eventually arrived at the church, where a crowd had already started to form, though it seemed that their early departure had spared them having to deal with too much of a crowd. They’d soon be surrounded on all sides though, a prospect that made Morgaine sigh. It was going to be a long day. * * * “I think they’re bringing the casket out now,” she said at length, as the doors began to creak open. Rosalie wiped her eyes. No crying today. It was happy! Happy she told herself. “Yeah,” Rosalie mumbled to Morgaine softly. The older woman put a hand on Rosalie’s shoulder, giving her a small half-smile. Though Morgaine didn’t really feel all that personally sad, since the king was just a name high on a hill in Raven’s Keep to her, she understood that anyone’s death was a tragic event. Rosalie was a more sensitive soul, and the old woman wasn’t going to belittle her for wearing her grief more plainly. They followed the casket to the cemetery, walking along with the crowd. The old woman could see distinctly bored expressions on the faces of a few of the nobles, particularly the younger ones. She squeezed Rosalie’s shoulders more tightly, trying to fight back a spike of annoyance. Hopefully their work would see the nobles getting rather more interesting things to think about, if they found the king’s death so very dull. Morgaine makes Rosie promise not to throw any keys at the funeral, after trying and failing to get her to leave the keys at home altogether. They go to the chapel, then follow the procession to the cemetery. Rosalie is sad about the king's death and trying not to show it, while Morgaine is distracted by being annoyed at the blatant disrespect represented by the bored expressions from some of the younger nobles.
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Post by Layla "Nimbus" Karimi on Jun 13, 2014 16:59:18 GMT -5
Clarissa spent the funeral service hanging along the edge of the crowd, away from the mad clamor nearest the cathedral doors. She had no desire to be part of the confused jostling for the best view, or the wine-and-ale-fueled fights that tended to come of it -- especially when she had a tricky job to get back to after the funeral. The foreigner's carriage was turning out to be more and more confusing as she and the other blacksmiths continued to work with it. She still hadn't figured out what all the strange gagetry that they'd found in its front compartment was even for. Even so, Clarissa had her reasons for wanting to take part in the morning's processions. She had grown up among the servants in Raven's Keep, at least prior to her apprenticeship under Master Steele. Her parents, true to the family name, both worked with the falcons in the castle mews, and her sister had remained in the Keep, taking up work as a housemaid and marrying a porter. This meant a number of things for the journeyman blacksmith. For one, she had actually seen the late king on a few occasions. He'd seemed like a kind and reasonable enough sort, and that familiarity had made his death a little more personal, a little more sad for her than for many of the others. She felt the need to pay her respects. Besides that, the funeral was an event that her family and the friends of her childhood were likely to attend. With a little luck, she might get the chance to catch up with some of them. Finally, the cathedral doors opened and the trek to the cemetery began. Clarissa weaved carefully through the crowd as it followed the procession, keeping a lookout for familiar faces from Raven's Keep. During the funeral, Clarissa hangs along the fringes of the crowd, reflecting on her desire not to get involved in the trampling because she has that dang metal carriage to get back to after the funeral. We learn that she grew up among the servants at Raven's Keep, and she keeps a lookout for her family and old friends like Liou as the service ends and the procession to the burial begins.
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Post by Jayeee on Jun 13, 2014 17:08:24 GMT -5
It was a good day. A harmonious day. King Garrick Stallion knew this as he'd opened his eyes that morning - thoughts of himself flooding his brain. He was handsome and charming; an unbeatable specimen of man. What a way to start a funeral. Slipping out of his bed, King Garrick strode over to window, flinging them open with a grandiose gesture and proclaimed, "The slums are alive with the sound of Garrick!" An epiphany had arrived last night. That was the name of his muses - the people he employed to write performances for him. He named them all epiphany for dramatic effect. He needed the perfect show for that Princess, to express his utmost despair at the death of the old King, while also portraying his sensual body and desire to join the Princess in the bedchambers. It was a delicate balance. As the star of the show, King Garrick made sure that the funeral itself was an exciting affair. He didn't stop dancing once. Not even for a break. He was so courageous as he swung his arms about, melodiously suggesting that he was there to soften the Princesses heart through the power of dance as his cape was flung over the heads of the mourners. In truth, he wasn't sure which one the Princess was, so he made certain to sit on the lap of every woman in the Church, just to be sure he'd covered his bases. He hadn't even stopped once the funeral was over. The procession to the cemetery was as much a part of the show as anything else. The peasants deserved a taste of what was to come, after all. And he wanted to give them a perfect view. As such, King Garrick had travelled partway to the cemetery lying on top of the coffin. "Hope you've some muscles, chaps," he'd muttered to the pallbearers as he flounced onto the coffin, lying on his stomach with legs bend behind him and head rested on his arms. He swayed his legs and head to the rhythm in his head. He even waved to his family every now and again – they were sure to be so proud of him. "Oh, Princess," he called to nobody in-particular, "High on a coffin was a lonely Stallion, Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo." He continued until he grew bored of staying in once place, after which he pounced into the crowd dramatically with a satisfied grin and nudged a nearby noble. “Bet you wish you were me right now, right?” The spontaneous King Garrick is visited by an epiphany in the night, gifting him with the perfect performance with which to win the heart of the Princess.
He spends the duration of the funeral dancing in order to impress the mourners with his beautiful moves, and then mounts the coffin during the procession so that he can direct his show to the masses - what a kind King he is!
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Post by Tiger on Jun 13, 2014 18:31:23 GMT -5
Leif didn’t enjoy funerals, either, but they were at least not as interminable as parties. He wasn’t the only one unhappy to be there, of course. Dislike of funerals was one of the fairly average things about Leif. Even his own House wasn’t immune to the boredom; he noticed Joffrey mouthing what were probably song lyrics to himself and primping his hair, and Jeniver, the young child of two of Everett’s council, was particularly twitchy. Leif didn’t pay too much attention to the ceremony itself, preferring instead of examine the church. It was about what he expected - much bird imagery, but most of it raven-shaped. It was about the same in Corvus - predominantly phoenix imagery to reflect the ruling House sigil. Leif wondered what the non-avian Houses did in their churches, but only idly. Unfortunately, the contemplative quiet couldn’t last for long. He’d been trying to ignore it all throughout the ceremony, but House Stallion’s eligible bachelor was making a grand fool of himself by dancing. Dancing, the lout, and fraternizing with every woman at the funeral. He at least left the girls alone, including Jeniver. The better for Garrick; while the adults of House Jade's council could handle themselves, Leif would have intervened if he tried anything on children. He kept his hand on his wand until Garrick had paraded elsewhere. But Garrick wasn't done yet. Appallingly, he rode the casket to the cemetary. Leif, staring at this obnoxious moron who would be competing with Joffrey for Princess Destiney’s hand, felt a sudden and inexplicable sense of deja vu - of bizarre inevitablity. A gut instinct warned him not to underestimate ‘Lord’ Garrick. The strange feeling quickly washed away as Garrick leaped from the coffin and rejoined the crowd. Underestimate - hah. There was nothing to underestimate, unless it was the capability for impropriety. He remembered the solemnity of Lord Everett’s words at their council the previous day. Perhaps the Lord of Embers had been too hasty in assuming House Stallion would send a competent suitor. Yes, Joffrey would still have to win the hand of the Princess, but surely Garrick was not any true competition. Glancing to the brown-haired noble, Leif could see him swelling with anger and, no doubt, a song. Surely, of the two, Destiney would prefer the one who hadn’t ridden her father’s casket like an exotic divan. Unless she was quite foolish...and Woo forbid, the kingdom should not be ruled by a fool… Leif looked up at the sun, trying to judge the time. He hoped this would end soon - he wanted to leave to find repair for Ayleth’s cage, and preferably, before a song broke out. Leif complains about being at the funeral, noticing that PFA is bored, Joffrey looks ready for song, and that Jayeee is a classless boar (love you, Jay <3), complete with a momentary feeling that this has all happened before. He thinks to himself that surely Destiney will prefer Joffrey and hopes the funeral will be over soon so he can go do BIRD THINGS
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Post by Killix on Jun 13, 2014 18:53:43 GMT -5
The funeral, Kirin's least desired aspect of the visit to Medieville, proved to be both boring and highly embarrassing; boring due to the repetitious and vapid eulogy about how unbearably sad it was that King Starmey was gone, and embarrassing due to Garrick's... Well, due to Garrick. Kirin momentarily contemplated the many ways Garrick's absurd behaviour might reflect on House Stallion's reputation as he gazed into the church's beautiful stained-glass windows, hand resting on his chin in deep thought. The Multicoloured light danced around, illuminating the room and everyone inside. Patterns changed and wandered with the sun in a way that the light almost seemed alive and ready to play. If only the manor had beautiful stained glass like this, Kirin thought, he would be able to lift the vivid colours straight from the palette of light itself. Suddenly, everyone was standing. Was it over already? The doors opened and the casket was carried out, with everyone else following behind. Outside the church, a crowd was waiting eagerly. A lot of peasants. Kirin couldn't help but accidentally bump into a few as he followed the procession. It wasn't too bad... until Garrick leapt from atop the casket and landed right on him. Kirin was knocked right into someone, and they were both sent tumbling into the grass. "My apologies," he quickly got to his feet and dusted himself off, "This crowd is perhaps a little too excited." Kirin offered a helping hand to the person he had collided with. Kirin blanks out during the funeral, gazing into the stained-glass windows instead of paying any real attention. Jayeee 's casket-leaping actions throw him straight into someone during the procession to the cemetery.
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Post by Celestial on Jun 13, 2014 19:41:05 GMT -5
Why was he here? What good could possibly come from Ambrose attending the funeral? Yes, he was a noble and he had to be there to represent his house but there were many better people who could gave gone instead of them. Ambrose was barely aware of anything during the funeral but it was hardly because he was seeing anything. On the contrary, his mind was unusually clear but after so many years of visions, he was vary of clear days. Throughout the whole funeral, he kept expecting a vision to hit him out of nowhere. Here, in front of all these nobles and the peasants waiting outside. Garrick was already making a fool of himself, Ambrose was not going to show his House up by suddenly going wild-eyed and insane. He did not want to, that is. If the visions decided to come, they would come. And it would not be so bad while the funeral was going on, he was quiet enough when he was having one, but if the nobles began filing out of the cathedral or he was expected to recite an oath or a prayer or just somebody tried to speak to him and he did not do anything but sit there...it would be like with Lucinda yesterday. He'd be treated as a crazy, helpless old senile man. Which he was, essentially. Ambrose just wished he was not. The thought of an oncoming vision in public did nothing to steady his nerves and he found himself constantly twitching and glancing at his family members throughout the whole event. Even if he was dressed nicely, it was impossible to fully hide his insanity. It was only a slight relief when they got up and began the procession. Ambrose lost sight of Alain so instead he stuck by Lucinda and Kirin, at least as close as he could to them. If he had a vision, they would look after him, it would be alright. It would be alright. The noise hit him first. All around, the peasants were having a party. He did not understand why. If what Alain had told him was true, there was going to be chaos. If what he had seen in visions of similar events was true, there was going to be all out war. Even when there was an official heir to the throne, the position of king was unfilled and people would walk over corpses to get to it. At worst, they would end up like the far off country of...what was it...Westeros that he had seen. Well, Ambrose prayed to the good 'Woo it would not come to that. At least their ruler was only incompetent, not evil. At any rate, Ambrose was struck by curiousity. He stopped by the nearest group of peasants and looked them in the eyes as they passed around the wine. "Why are you partying?" he cried out. "There is going to be chaos now that the king is dead. This is no time to party." *** Alain stayed calm. While to othersiders, it would look like he was putting on a brave face, those with even a cursory knowledge of the Grand Duke would know that he was completely undisturbed by anything his idiot son or his lunatic brother did. He sat through the entire funeral wearing his finest clothes, silver horse-headed cane in hand as the requiems, prayers and eulogies swirled and echoed around the cathedral. When he was called up to say a few words for the late King Starmey, Alain oblidged and gladly took the stage. His speech was short and to the point but it gave Alain an opportunity. When he was not distracted by Garrick's...antics, he got a good look at the faces of the other noble lords. As he suspected, House Jade seemed like the ones who had something brewing in the wings. So he was not wrong. They were also looking at Garrick's performance with disgust and distaste. As he spoke, Alain felt the condescesion towards him in their eyes. Good. Surround yourself with idiots and others begin to suspect you are an idiot as well, to their downfall. After a while, when the service finally ended, Alain got up with the other nobles and prayed as the coffin was carried out first. It was then time to walk behind it, to accompany the King on his last trip. As a loyal and most exalted lord of the realm, Alain had his pick of places but he chose to walk right next to Lord Everett Jade. As they exited the cathedral into the rabble that had developed outside, Alain wandered up to Everett, tapping his cane against the ground and walking with a slight limp. He smiled at the other nobleman as a wolf would smile. Lord of Embers. What a pompous title. Embers were left after everything else had died. "Hello, Lord Everett. I apologise for my idiot son, I hope he did not scare the noble ladies of House Jade too much," he bowed his head and then looked straight ahead. "An excellent farewell for our dear king, don't you think so? I can only pray his soul goes to our Lord 'Woo in peace," he paused as he waited to gauge Everett's reaction. "Poor young Princess Destiney, to lose her father at such a young age. But I have faith that she will be a good queen, she had good guidance." Ambrose frets that he is going to get a vision at the funeral and spends it all being twitchy. When they finally exit, he stays close to Kirin( Killix) and Lucinda( Kristykimmy) but stops by a group of peasants when he sees them drinking. He asks why they are partying and warns them that with the death of the king, there will be trouble. Alain remains calm despite Garrick being an idiot. During the procession, he approaches Lord Everett( Dan) and makes "casual" small talk.
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Post by Kristykimmy on Jun 13, 2014 19:48:42 GMT -5
Lucinda awoke that morning, feeling a groan rising in her. Laid out across the room was the black gown she was to wear to the funeral. She hated the color black. She had a distinct memory of pitching a temper tantrum after being dressed once again in black after the death of her father. Now, she had been only two years of age, closer to three but still only two, and it was possible it was a false memory, but it was undoubtable that the six months of mourning all those years ago had soured her on the shade. She pouted the entire while as Dolly dressed her in it. “Dolly, why do we have to wear black?” she complained as the maid finished. “Because it is the custom, my dear Mistress,” Dolly said, laying out the veil for later. Lucinda wandered into her sitting room, as it was not quite the breakfast hour yet. She sat down at her harp and adjusted her skirts, hideously color skirts. She warmed up her voice by singing scales. In the middle of it, someone started whistling along. She stopped, the whistling did too. “Dolly, are you whistling?” Lucinda called. “No, never, ma'am,” Dolly replied, poking her head out. “I did hear someone whistling along with you.” “So strange. That happened yesterday,” Lucinda said, perplexed. She started singing scales again, and Dolly returned to her work. Midway through her singing, once again the whistling started. Lucinda stopped again, annoyed and perplexed, unable to find where the sound was coming from. She gave up and left the room to have her breakfast. *** Lucinda was not one to judge her elder family members, but she was also one to abide by what she believed was the proper level of propriety for the situation. Uncle Garrick was hardly abiding by the proper levels of propriety for a royal funeral. He danced everywhere, sat in the laps of the women in the church, and finally mounted the coffin of the late king to serenade Destiney. She was glad for the veil she wore, it hid her face and her embarrassment. She was sure that Garrick meant well, but did he have to show it in such an improper way. Hopefully Destiney would be forgiving. She walked along in the procession, staying next to her Great-Uncle Ambrose and not far behind Kirin, trying to focus on the mood. It was something she was sure they would sing about someday, probably including Garrick's antics, and perhaps she would write the song they would sing. Things came to a head when Garrick leapt from the coffin into the crowd below, landing on Kirin Mao and knocking him into the people around him. Lucinda hurried forward to find them getting up, Kirin brushing himself off and offering a hand to the person who had been knocked down with him. “Kirin, are you hurt?” she asked, pulling out her handkerchief in case any wounds needed it. She turned to the person who Garrick knocked down. “I hope you are unharmed. I apologize on behalf of House Stallion.” Lucinda hates the color black. The whistling vase continues to mess with her. At the funeral, she is embarrassed by Jayeee's antics, though she hopes he means well. She sees Killix knocked down and goes to see if he is all right, apologizing to the person knocked down by Kirin when Garrick leapt into him.
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