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Post by PFA on Apr 22, 2015 18:05:05 GMT -5
Cyril was grateful for the sympathy, though it took him a moment to fully process it. Ambrose said there was no shame in not being able to make decisions, but Cyril hated it. He hated that it was still so hard for him, he hated that Heather had to do this to him, he... He let that thought trail off, chasing away the thoughts of Heather that followed. He did not wish Heather were here, and he did not want her to make the decision for him. ...He really hated how hard it was to get himself to believe that. "Thank you. ...I'm sorry," he muttered, though even he wasn't entirely sure what he was apologizing for anymore. He took another deep breath to calm himself. The shortened list was much appreciated—it was a lot easier to focus on the three rooms than it was to focus on... however many Ambrose had listed off before. Cyril didn't even bother trying to count. In response to the question about his headache, he added, "I think... I think I'll be fine, but thank you." The common room, the reception room, and the dining room. He let the rooms mull in his mind for a while, trying to determine which one he was most likely to be interested in. Dining rooms were usually visually interesting, but the common room would be more likely to have a relaxed atmosphere. The reception room was similar to the common room, but would probably be larger and more designed for visitors. But which did he want... "How about the, um..." he spoke slowly. "...The reception room?" There was a part of him that wondered if it was the right decision, but he pushed the thought away. It wasn't that important, and they could always visit the other rooms later. If he was going to get through this, he decided, he was going to have to run with it. Finally, after much effort, Cyril makes a decision. Good job, Cyril!
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Post by Celestial on May 7, 2015 17:48:45 GMT -5
Ambrose continued to watch Cyril as the decision fluttering across his mind reflected on his face. He clasped his hands together and waited patiently, even looking away so as to not appear like he was putting pressure on the young man to finally make a choice. Nutmeg, meanwhile, had finally grown bored of Leif and padded over in Cyril's direction, reaching over with her nose to take in a sniff of him. Ambrose, however, noticed this and pulled her away by the collar, not wanting to startle him. Kneeling down beside, her, he stratched her behind the ears and beneath her chin, smiling a little at the dog. Anything to keep her attention away from Cyril until he was sure that he would not mind the scruffy mutt's affections. Even if she was as gentle as a whisper, it did not hurt to take precautions with the skittish young man. As soon as Cyril spoke up, however, the Stallion raised his head up to him and smiled widely. He got off his knees, though he still kept a hand on Nutmeg, and nodded. "Of course, Lord Oberon, the reception room it is. It is just through here, follow me." He gestured to Leif and Cyril before turning around and heading for a door located on their left, his dog following close at heel. Arriving at a door made out of oak, the Stallion pushed it open and stepped into the medium-sized room beyond. The outer wall was broken up by two medium windows, their panes criss-crossed with iron, dividing the glass into rhombuses, some of which were stained red to break up the monotony of the clear glass. Iron candleholders stuck out at points to provide light when it was dark or when the windows were insufficient. Like the rest of Stallion Manor, the reception room was made out of dark stone, but its walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting life in Bern. One showed a hunt against a magnificent stag out in the mountains, another depicted fishing in the Ursine river while yet another showed blacksmiths and metalworkers toiling away at their forges, either making a complex mechanism or simply a horseshoe for a magnificent white horse. Above them, the ceiling was high, combining with the windows to try and make it feel airy and comfortable while below, the floor was made out of flagstones. The centrepiece of it was a large, dark stone fireplace, simply but elegantly carved with precise strokes, its grate cut off from the rest of the room by a granite border. Above it hung a decorative sword and shield painted in Stallion colours. Several sofas and chairs stood in the centre of the room, clutering around the fireplace, broken up by a small table at the centre. On the other side was a small door, hardly ostentatious at all, along with a sideboard cabinet which was set up with wine. Ambrose noticed it and gave Cyril a small, awkward smile. "This is a guest room so normally we have some refreshments available. I'm not going to offer you any," he shook his head. "I don't drink anyway, and neither do you, Master Leif, as far as I am aware?" he asked Leif before glancing back again at Cyril. "What do you think of it? Feel free to look around. I'm afraid it's rather...utilitarian, but that is Bernian architecture." Ambrose takes Cyril through to the reception room, while dog follows. I hope that is a lush enough description for you, Cyril. I'd love to draw a picture but, uhh...I can't do technical drawings.
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Post by PFA on Jun 10, 2015 21:24:40 GMT -5
Cyril managed a small smile as they stepped into the reception room. He immediately moved to one of the tapestries, running a hand along the trimming. Admiring the image depicted on it, he could see that whoever had made it paid great attention to detail. He'd always admired that about architects, and artists in general really. When Ambrose mentioned refreshments, Cyril froze momentarily. But thankfully, Ambrose added that he wouldn't be offering them. Accepting food or drink from others after what had happened... Cyril wasn't sure he was quite ready for that yet. "No, I like it," Cyril told him, referring to the architecture. "That just means someone put a lot of thought into it. To make it efficient." He paused, as if trying to remember what he was going to say. After a moment, he decided on, "The tapestries. Do you know who made them?" Cyril likes it! He asks who made the tapestries.
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Post by Tiger on Jun 11, 2015 12:26:37 GMT -5
Leif quietly followed the two nobles into the reception room, though he’d made sure to give Cyril an encouraging smile when the Oberon settled on a decision. He’d seen the room itself more than once, having been brought there quite a few times when he’d first started coming to visit Kirin at the Stallion’s manor. Eventually someone had decided there wasn’t much point treating Leif’s visits with the ceremony a normal visiting nobleman would expect, but the room itself was familiar and hadn’t changed much, as far as Leif could tell. He didn’t have Cyril’s eye for architecture, nor Kirin’s for detail (except where it pertained to raptors and magic, but that went without saying). His eyes snapped to Ambrose when he mentioned the wine, but fortunately the Stallion was quick to add that he wouldn’t be offering any to Cyril. Leif nodded at Ambrose’s question to him. “You’re correct, I don’t.” Well, not aside from an occasional glass with an appropriately-sized meal to make sure the effects would be dulled, but Leif didn’t think dwelling on the topic of food and drink was a good idea. The only other comment Leif made was an addition to Ambrose’s mention of the room being utilitarian. “Utilitarian or not, it does distribute heat around very well during the winter - no small blessing, as cold as it can get here. At least,” he went on with a smirk, “as cold as it feels to a Corvid.” A low grumble of distant thunder outside reminded him, however, that summer was not quite over yet. Leif is still in the scene, yaaaay! \ o / He thinks about some stuff, confirms that nope, he doesn’t drink, and jokes about Corvids being sensitive to the cold.
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Post by Celestial on Jun 16, 2015 9:50:26 GMT -5
Ambrose stood in place, watching Cyril as he examined the room. At his remark about putting thought into the architecture, he nodded. "Bern puts a lot more emphasis on how things work rather than how things look. Function is considered more beautiful than decoration for just the sake of it, but with funciton there's a lot hidden that you don't necessarily see. The type of stone, how it's cut and how the walls are built are more important. Hence why," he smiled at Leifhere, "it's such a well-insulated place. Everything, from the fireplace to the tapestries is designed to help with that. Obviously, up north, a lot of thought is put into keeping the heat in. Here in Medieville, it isn't such a great concern but we do it anyway," here the Stallion chuckled softly. "Though we are more used to it, Bernians dislike the cold as much as Corvids. It's why we try to keep it out." He frowned slightly at the young man's question about the tapestries, going to his side and examining them. "I'm...not quite sure. They've always been here, I think. I doubt they are Bernian, textiles like this aren't our speciality. My best guess...Veresian? Or perhaps local crafts," he leaned forward to touch the stitching on one. It was definitely fine so whoever had made it had been highly skilled. "But I'm willing to guess...commissioned specifically for Stallion at least. They depict scenes from Bernian life, and the horse," he pointed to the white horse being shoed. "Looks like a Noblesse, which is House Stallion's sigil horse." Ambrose once again turned to Cyril, looking slightly apologetic. "I'm afraid I won't have all the answers to your questions but if you like, we can go ask the stewards? They have looked after this place longer than I've lived here, and there are bound to be records of where things are from or how they were built." Woob-dad explains more about Bernian architecture and how it is designed to keep in heat. He then talks about the tapestries, offering his theory about where they came from, and then asking Cyril if he wants to talk to the stewards if he has questions Ambrose can't answer.
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Post by PFA on Jul 22, 2015 12:15:03 GMT -5
Cyril was a little disappointed, but not surprised that Ambrose didn't know all the details about the architecture. Not too many people did, which he'd discovered from studying it as much as he had. His memories were still a little foggy, but he must have wearied the priests at the trip to the cathedral with— No."S-sorry," Cyril muttered, almost as an afterthought, though what it was an afterthought to was a little unclear. "The stewards... okay. We can ask them." After a pause, he added, "But, I want to look at this room some more." The decision still felt a little uncertain, as most of his decisions recently had been, so he stood in silence for a moment, mentally affirming to himself that this was indeed what he actually wanted to do. Once he was sure no one would chide him for doing the wrong thing—or as sure as he could be, at least—he moved to look at the windows, running a hand along the glass. The decisions don't matter, he reminded himself. They don't matter.Cyril agrees with Ambrose's suggestion to talk to the stewards, but says that he'd like to stay and look at the room a bit longer. He still has to remind himself that what he wants is not the wrong decision.
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Post by Celestial on Jul 27, 2015 15:21:51 GMT -5
Ambrose nodded to Cyril. "By all means, there is no hurry. It's still very early in the day yet, we have plenty of time," he followed the young man with his eyes, watching him as he walked over to the window and examined it. Always, Cyril looked uncertain, like a child taking his first steps. In a way, he supposed, he was doing just that. Recovering independent thought was a difficult process, to say the least, especially after so long. The Stallion carefully approached him. "I believe it was created here in Medieville? The glass, I mean. The pattern is Bernian, however. It's similar to what we have in some of the rooms of Destrier castle. Though there, the great hall is more elaborate," he sighed, memories of the castle coming back in a flood. "They cannot be too elaborate, however, or it will get too cold in the winter. Large windows help heat escape." He stopped, not sure if Cyril was really listening or was too busy being occupied with his own thoughts. "Lord Oberon...rest assured, whatever you wish to do it's fine. You're a guest, yes, but as far as I'm concerned, right now, my home is your home. You can go into any room you wish," a smile spread across Ambrose's face. "We don't really have any secrets. Anything you want to do or see is fine with me." Ambrose explains more about the manor and then reassures Cyril that it's okay, he can do what he wants.
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Post by PFA on Sept 28, 2015 12:42:13 GMT -5
Cyril smiled to himself, listening to Ambrose talk about the windows. It was interesting seeing how things like climates affected how things were built: where Bernians prioritized keeping it warm, Corvids instead focused on keeping it cool. And while Corvids put a lot of effort into making things look aesthetically pleasing, Bernians were more focused on efficiency, which had a certain visual appeal in and of itself, Cyril thought. "Oh... thank you," Cyril replied, when Ambrose told him he was free to do as he wished. It was something he had been told over and over again, by others as well as himself, but it was still something he struggled to fully believe. He was promised that that would change over time, that he would get used to making his own decisions again, but it felt like it was taking too long. Finally, after examining the room for some time—Cyril had to admit he hadn't really been keeping track of time much lately—he turned to Ambrose. "I'm done," he said, before falling silent in thought. He wanted to do something else, but what? Did he want to talk to the stewards? Look at another room? Something else? Were Ambrose and Leif bored, did they want to do something else? They said they were here to help, but they surely had better things to do than watch him examine windows... Feeling overwhelmed again, he sat down on one of the couches, holding his head in his hands. "I'm done," he repeated. PFA gets bored of describing architecture and tells Cyril to do something else. Cyril doesn't know what to do.
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Post by Celestial on Oct 9, 2015 8:30:06 GMT -5
It was not Ambrose who reacted first to Cyril's distress but Nutmeg. Before the Stallion could stop her, she pulled herself out of his grip and padded over to Cyril. She gave off a small whimper before licking one of his hands and resting her head on his knees, her brown eyes staring at him plaintively. "Oh, uh, Nutmeg-" Ambrose reached out to her but it was too late. The dog had already settled by Cyril, wagging her tail at him and silently pleading with him to not be so sad. Her tail thumped against the floor rhytmically but she was sitting beside the Oberon calmly and quietly, just like she usually did for him whenever he came out of a vision. The dog would do no harm. In fact, she might just do some good. He sighed and quietly walked over to where Cyril was sitting, lowering himself down beside him. "Lord Oberon...or if I may call you Cyril?" Ambrose asked quietly, deliberately keeping his voice low. "Are you getitng a headache, do you need some help?" he glanced up at Leif in case the Jade mage wanted to provide some assistance. It certainly looked like a headache, given how he was holding his head, but his words suggested otherwise. "It's alright," he continued on the same calm tone he was using before. "If you're done, you can take your time to decide what you want to do. Both me and Master Leif are here to help you and we'll support your decisions," here, the Stallion shot Leif another look in order to confirm this. "But...I know that's a lot easier for me to say than for you to do, isn't it? After you've not had your will free to make a decision, you're wanting somebody to do it for you because you can't do it yourself." He sighed, lowering his gaze. "It's like that with escaped slaves too. But, just like with them, there is hope, and you will recover. All it takes is effort and a lot of practice," a gentle smile spread across Ambrose's face. "Take your time, think about what you want to do and what seems the most appealing. If nothing does, pick at random. Me and Master Leif will both indulge you," he nodded down at Nutmeg. "And if you need to calm down and get your thoughts in order to do that, petting her is a good way to do it." Nutmeg and Ambrose's woob-senses tingle and they try to do their best to help the ultimate Wooberon.
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Post by PFA on Dec 24, 2015 14:46:48 GMT -5
It took Cyril a moment to fully register Nutmeg's presence, and even longer for him to decide what to do with the situation. But finally, tentatively, he started carefully stroking the dog's head, taking a small bit of comfort in the gentle motions against the dog's soft fur. A small smile crossed his face for a moment, but it faded as he instead tried to focus on Ambrose's words. "I... I hate it," he admitted, thinking through his words carefully. "I hate how hard it is. I hate that..." He trailed off again, lost in thoughts. By the time he finally spoke again, tears were rolling down the young lord's cheeks. "...Why? Why did she do it?" Cyril already knew the answer, of course. People had told him several times that Heather wanted power, to take over House Oberon. But no matter how many times he told himself that, it just never made sense. In his potion-addled mind, he considered Heather to be a kind person who would never wish him harm. Even in his rational mind, he had considered Heather to be a friend. But now he was waking up, finding out that everything he had known was a lie... He choked back a sob, burying his face in his hands. " Why?" Cyril pets Nutmeg, admits to his frustration, and contemplates his feelings of Heather betrayal.
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Post by Celestial on Jan 2, 2016 15:27:04 GMT -5
A soft whine rose up from Nutmeg as she continued to shove her wet nose into Cyril's hand, wagging her tail in a desperate attempt to stop the stranger who her master seemed to be so concerned with from crying. She moved back and forth, continuing to poke him with her snout before climbing up on to the couch and licking his cheek, trying to stop the flow of tears. "Hush, Nutmeg, it's alright," Ambrose said quietly to her, patting the dog's head to calm her. Once Nutmeg was less distressed, he turned his attention back to the young Oberon, his heart sinking as he heard his words and noticed the tears flowing down his face. Without even thinking, he put his arm around Cyril's shoulders, silently offering him a pillar of strength and support. "I'm sure Lord Everett and Master Leif and everyone have told you why, and a good thing too because I am not privy to the details of what happened. But, Cyril, that's not what you're asking, is it?" the Stallion spoke in a comforting voice, though he kept it just loud enough to cut through the sobs that were currently running through Cyril's body. "Everyone else is telling you one thing, but your mind is telling you another, isn't it?" "I know it's hard, untangling the knot of confusing thoughts that you have to have in your head. It's even harder when it feels like it's all you've ever known, or worse, when you can remember a time before but can't return to that," Ambrose sighed and lifted up his eyes to Cyril. "I'm not going to lie: it's unlikely you'll ever be the same person you were. But that doesn't have to be a death sentence," he smiled a little. "You're going to have to work with the person you have become, and you're going to have to rely on other people. That's not a bad thing, however, and you should not feel ashamed of needing help or sometimes being unable to do something. It will get easier with time." He paused, giving the Oberon time to digest his words. "And it's alright to feel what you feel as well. Those feelings are real, they will take time to fade and you should not be ashamed either. You're not wrong for having the thoughts you have: in fact, I'd wager it's normal." Woob-dad does his thing at full capacity.
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Post by Tiger on Jan 12, 2016 17:01:02 GMT -5
Leif nodded in agreement with Ambrose as he tried to reassure the Oberon, and though he tried to look calm, the archmage's stomach squirmed with guilt; maybe he shouldn’t have tried a trip this big so soon. The architecture, he’d hoped, would be a good distraction - but evidently not. He finally approached the couch as Cyril broke down completely; with Ambrose on one side of Cyril and Nutmeg on the other, Leif had to sit on the couch’s arm. Leif quietly said, “Lord Ambrose is right, it’s a normal aftereffect; potions like that...they get in deep, it takes time to get all that out. And, you know, the bare magical effects aside - emotionally alone, this is...it’s a lot to process. You thought..." He hesitated to say ‘Heather’, unsure what effect even her name alone might have on Cyril while he was so emotional. It was still no small amount of terrifying how powerful the potion was. “You thought things were one way,” Leif said instead, “and then...they weren’t. Even if it ending was for the best, it’s...it’s still a loss. And it’s all right to grieve for what you thought you had.” Glancing at Ambrose, he added, “And like Lord Ambrose mentioned, the person you were before.” And as to why… He wished he had a better answer than the one Cyril already knew, something to address the deeper parts of it, the base immorality, the betrayal… But that was a lot more difficult to come to grips with, or explain, even without the lingering effects of a love potion. He didn’t want to leave the question unaddressed - in case Ambrose was wrong and that was what Cyril was asking - but what could Leif say that might actually help? “The why is...hard. You know that - even more than us, I think.” He hesitantly left it there for the moment; maybe Cyril would respond to it, maybe he wouldn’t, or maybe Ambrose would find something there he could draw on - but Leif didn’t have a deeper answer. And maybe all Cyril needed was acknowledgement that it wasn’t an easy question to answer, and not something he should feel bad for having a hard time with. If only Leif had discovered a spell for reading minds, rather than a killing curse. Certainly the former would be much more useful. There, there, Cyril *awkward wing pat*
Leif tries to woobbro and reassures Cyril it’s okay to be having a difficult time with everything. Basically. Nerdmage’s ellipses-filled ramblings are difficult to summarize concisely 8D
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Post by PFA on Jan 28, 2016 17:01:41 GMT -5
Cyril wasn't sure how to respond to what Ambrose and Leif were telling him, instead just silently taking it all in. He found himself absentmindedly leaning into Ambrose's hug as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks. Maybe it was normal for him to feel this way, or at least as normal as it could be given the circumstances, but that didn't make it any less hard to deal with. All this confusion, all these headaches... but he knew he had to keep trying. He couldn't give up. "I... I'm sorry," he mumbled, wiping some tears from his face. "Thank you." He was silent for some time, trying to compose himself, before finally speaking again. "May... maybe we should go to another room." Cyril tries to power through the woob and suggests going to another room.
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Post by Celestial on Feb 9, 2016 15:31:29 GMT -5
Ambrose looked up at Leif as the latter spoke, nodding quietly along with his words but not adding more to them. There was not much more he could say, and if he did, it might be too much information for Cyril to absorb in one sitting. Overloading the poor young man was the last thing either of them wanted to do. Instead, he remained silent and continued to hold Cyril, providing him with all the comfort and support that the young man might have needed. When the Oberon finally spoke up, the Stallion gave him a kind smile and squeezed his shoulder. "Don't worry, it's alright. It's normal. It's like pulling an enormous thorn out from your foot; for a while it will hurt and bleed worse than it did when you had it in but in the end, with time and with care, it will recover and you will be able to walk normally again. There's no shame in hurting for now." As if to reinforce his point, Nutmeg gave him a friendly yip and licked Cyril's cheek, nuzzling him with her wet nose. Ambrose chuckled at this gesture. "And she certainly does not mind if you hurt," he petted the dog's head. "None of us do. We're here to help you." With that said, Ambrose stood up and glanced back at the two men with him. "We can go somewhere else if you wish," he stretched out his hand, holding it out to Cyril. "The great hall has a beautiful high vaulted ceiling decorated with traditional Bernian patterns and elaborate stone and wood decorations. The main common room is built as a pentagon and has a wonderful carved fireplace of basalt quarried from the Perlino lands. There's also a lovely solar upstairs with stained glass around a clear, central window which gives a good view of the Raven's Keep," the Stallion smiled. "The great hall is closest and the solar is furthest away, if it makes your decision any easier." Ambrose gives more reassurance and lists a set of rooms for Cyril to visit, making sure to give him a choice.
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Post by PFA on Feb 16, 2016 13:13:56 GMT -5
Cyril managed a small laugh as Nutmeg licked his cheek, her wet tongue breaking him out of his muddled thoughts for a moment. He then smiled gratefully at Ambrose and Leif. "Th-thank you, I... thank you." When Ambrose described the rooms, Cyril's eyes went wide. They all sounded amazing, especially the solar... but if the solar was the furthest away, that would mean passing up the grand hall and the common room. Did he really want to do that? He wanted to see them, too... "How..." he spoke slowly. "How long can we be here?" Cyril: So much architecture, I want to see it all!!
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