storm-of-silver-blog

[storm-of-silver-blog]

❛ Choose because of what you think, not what others might. ❜

    “Sir Eren... How can I choose what’s right, if I’m so very wrong?” His question drifted from his helm with a somber lilt to it. The knight glanced down at his hands, revealing doubt he rarely showed to anyone. Slowly; however, a smirk crept across his features.

     “I believe that you should get eight hours of sleep, hm? Looks like your advice may suit me afterall.”

[storm-of-silver-blog]

kekliss:

   There’s a snicker from Sehajelle. “I’m no lady, i’m just a baker caked in flour.” Brushing off their shift, the elf nods. “Any time, sadly I live way too far to do it more than once a month though. “ 

     Sehajelle snorts, humored by the others light chatting. “Sounds like you’re proud of him.” Sehajelle smiles softly, glad to find someone so polite. “A bike would suit you, they’re loud though. “ Sehajelle pats their bike, glad their animation powers kept the bike quiet. Sehajelle seems more distracted by how their sitting on their bike, adjusting how they sit, then pulling hair from their face. Pausing on their bike next to Kortin, the elf looks over at the other.

     “Everything okay?” 

     Kortin’s gaze narrowed on Sehajelle once more. “I shall visit when I’m able, the kingdom can be quite demanding at times.” The armored elf politely nodded to the baker, nothing but respect behind his interactions.

     “I prefer alternative methods of travel, and-- my apologies for seeming off.. well more so than I am normally. I don’t interact with people this much, usually they run.”

     He shook his head softly. “Thank you for the conversation again, leaving this walk to silence would’ve been-- unpleasant.” The knight offered an artificial chuckle, the noise seemed wrong coming from his lips.

[storm-of-silver-blog]

sentence prompts ➝  reign

❛ You have no power because I’ve taken it all away. ❜

❛ How many people have you killed? ❜

❛ I know I’ve made mistakes. ❜

❛ But it’s all meaningless without you. ❜

❛ Have you ever wanted something so much that the fear of not getting it makes you wonder if you ever should have wanted it at all? ❜

❛ Something we both want so deeply warrants a bit of fear. ❜

❛ No one will ever keep us apart again. ❜

❛ Men in general like to win ❜

❛ Well, your taste in men always did leave something to be desired. ❜

❛ In the darkest of times you were my conscience. ❜

❛ The more we try to help each other, the more harm we do. ❜

❛ Have you learned nothing? ❜

❛ I lose everyone I love. ❜

❛ What odd turns our lives have taken. ❜

❛ Your life is more valuable than this. ❜

❛ My life is once again the sum of my choices, not someone else’s crimes. And I choose to help my friends. ❜

❛ Tell me, what would hurt more. Knowing the person you love will die, or knowing they’re alive but you cannot have them? ❜

❛ I don’t give my heart or give up easily. ❜

❛ Despite your heartbreak, I must warn you, I show no mercy. ❜

❛ I’m not sure I trust my own fate anymore. ❜

❛ You have to admit, your fate does have a sense of humor. ❜

❛ I need to forget a ridiculous, childish idea that I could love someone, they could love me, and nothing else mattered. ❜

❛ Choose because of what you think, not what others might. ❜

❛ There is always risk. At least when you love someone it’s worth taking. ❜

❛ I never said I was a good person, but one can receive good advice from a bad person.❜

❛ Please, let there be one honest thing between us. ❜

❛ You want to hear something honest? I would do anything to keep you. ❜

❛ Love is never simple. Not that I’m any expert. ❜

❛ We can’t do this. ❜

❛ We were supposed to dance under the stars. ❜

❛ Maybe there is no magic but what we make for ourselves. ❜

[storm-of-silver-blog]

kekliss:

     “What a lovely name.” Sehajelle smiles slightly, leaning over their bike’s handlebars. Their smile fades quickly as a whisper hits their ears, quickly ignoring whispers to focus on the armored fellow. “But my name is Sehajelle. Seha if you cannot pronounce the full name.”

       Hands flutter to mess with their hair, eyes focused on the space in front of them. Sehajelle’s thin frame adjusts on the bike, their legs crossing as the bike stays steady. Sehajelle’s tired but would rather animate their bike than try and focus on riding. Huffing, flour seems to fly from their nose, which of course Sehajelle notices and is suddenly disturbed by the fact flour is up their nose and now on their clothes.

      Mumbling, the baker fusses to themself. “I swear i take my bakery with me when i leave the house.”

     “A noble name for you as well, it’s a great honor to escort you through the city, Lady Sehajelle” Kortin’s voice carried nothing but the polite tone he always spoke in. One might say that the old knight was a little too formal. “If I’m permitted, perhaps I could order some baked goods from time to time? Sir Eren does enjoy them quite a lot.”

      He looked at them with bright blue hues again, they flickered and spluttered like crackling firelight. “My son likes to take his work with him as well, engineer, always-- tinkering.” The risen elf managed to force out an artificial chuckle, it was unnatural, practiced. 

     “You are quite adept at riding that mechanical beast, I personally used to prefer horses from the homeland, but--” He looked down at his ghastly and unsettling form. “Perhaps I should stick to walking.”

      The knight stopped for a few moments, puzzled. He usually didn’t talk this much. Kortin was clearly confused by his own behavior. It felt different, whether it was a good development or not, he had yet to understand.

[storm-of-silver-blog]

kekliss:

    Sehajelle is unphased by their surroundings, relaxing on their bike as it coasts beside the other. The other’s voice was something new to the sun elf, a pointed ear twitching slightly. “I thank you for your kindness. I am.. not from here so this place is quite a maze.” Smiling, Sehajelle’s hands flutter to a small notepad, looking over some notes on what they can spend before cutting into personal funds.

    “Baking is nothing more than science for the taste buds.” Sehajelle smirks, glancing up at the knight. “And brigands, oh my.” Sehajelle seems to tease the other’s gentlemanly nature, humored by the idea of brigands being used in ones vocabulary. “But there was nothing on the way here, or I handled it and I just can’t remember… “ Voice trailing off, its obvious Sehajelle has some attention issues.

     Quick to pull themselves from their thoughts, Sehajelle tilts their head. “May I ask for the name of such a kind fellow?”

     The march continued, with occasional glances spared in the sun elf’s direction. Lips pursed together slightly, teasing was lost upon the knight, it only seemed to confuse him.

     “Sir Kortin Silverstorm, First Knight of Citrulan and her people.” His voice rang with neither shame or pride, he was simply stating a fact. Eyes slowly shifted back to the sun elf. 

     “I’m only doing the proper thing, I need no thanks. If I was a stranger in a strange land, I’d want the same courtesy.” He offered a respectful nod before looking forward once more.

     His head tilted to the side curiously, eyes staring forward blankly. “What’s your name?” 

[storm-of-silver-blog]

kekliss:

       Sighing, Sehajelle’s bike sputters to life with a noise similar to a sigh. Sehajelle yawns and rolls slowly behind the person in front of them. ‘fair citizen’ felt demeaning to the elf, but they’re more interested in what this person is wearing. Ignoring their thoughts of concern, the elf leans forward on their bike, tilting their head sideways.     The question barely changes how the elf moves. “I really couldn’t tell you. I haven’t hit a mood yet so i’m not sure what fruit i need to bake with. If you lead in me in the general direction of one I’m sure it will hut my nose and invigorate me. “ Chuckling, Sehajelle leans back and sits on their bike, a hand running through their hair ro brush ashy blonde bangs out their face. I’m childish, but honest. Baking is a way of life, i doubt they understand what i mean.

    Kortin glances back at them, his helmet shrouded his facial features, if he even had any. Eyes offered understanding to her words, but beyond that they were rather devoid of anything else. Unsettling.

    Plate and chain clapped and jingled with his every footfall, heavy boots impacted the ground audibly with every step. His words slithered out of his helm in a harrowing echo. “I shall escort you to the smattering of food merchants in the market, we have quite the selection in these walls.” His baritone voice boomed from his helm, sparing neither comfort or social grace in the tone.

    “Baking is quite the talent, I’m envious of such abilities.” Whether or not the heavily armored figure was joking or not, wasn’t exactly clear. His emotionless demeanor made it very difficult to gauge. 

    Elven ears twitched as he exited the alley, stopping only moments to listen for anything that may set him off. Nothing. His ghastly shadow was in full view now that they were once more in sunlight. He glanced one way, it looked another. The scene was quite unnatural, enough to unsettle a few onlookers. 

“How were the roads coming into the city? I would be crestfallen if you encountered any brigands on the road.”  He glanced back, the eye holes in his helmet bled blue light into the air. 

[storm-of-silver-blog]

Blank eyes regarded the person with the mechanical marvel. He looked to his right, then to his left down the alley. Kortin shifted in place, standing at attention. With the nod of his head, he turned on his heel, motioning them to follow.

“Follow me fair citizen, I shall assist you.” He marched forward, his posture perfect all the while. The burly and grisly knight walked with a confident gait. It was easy to know that he indeed was aware of where he was going at all times. Puffs of cold air drifted from his helm during the relatively warm day. Strange for someone to always be wearing full-plate without end. He could already hear the whispers about his unnatural state.

“What specifically are you looking for, perhaps I could narrow down the list of stores? There are a handful that sell fruit in the market district.” The ancient elf spoke with his head slightly turned, though his eyes were still constantly scouring his surroundings as he did so. Always watching.

storm-of-silver:

Two blue orbs blazed furiously from within his monstrous helm. A stalwart figure loomed at the end of the side street. Voices died down as mothers and fathers ushered the children and the elderly from his path. He glanced away from the bronze elf further in the alley, down to the emptying streets.

He quirked his head to the side, eyes locked onto the mechanical steed that the elf rode upon. The armored elf marched down the alley, hands at his sides rigidly. 

The crimson figure cleared his throat. “Ma’am, are you in need of a mechanic?” He clasped two battered gauntlets together behind his back, voice monotone and devoid of emotion. “I know an engineer, he’d be happy to help if you’re having issues with your illustrious steed.”

     A pointed ear twitches slightly, the elf looking up with their brows furrowed.

    “I go by Mx, and no my bike is fine.” There’s a huff as Sehajelle briefly looks up at this person interrupting their thought process. Squinting at the map once more they huff and fold it up, shoving it into their pockets. “But if you want to be vaguely helpful you can point me on the direction of any store with fresh fruit. “ 

[storm-of-silver-blog]

kekliss:

   — @storm-of-silver — 

     It’s rare to see the elf outside of their current homeland. Sehajelle, however, had decided to venture out into Citrulan for their interest in the other sweets they could possibly try. However, no one really seemed to enjoy the idea of a small bronze elf riding a motorcycle around.      Sehajelle was really just trying their best to avoid overcrowded paths, but honestly they were having a hard time doing that. Finding a small place to take a break. the biker sits just within an alley, their sun hat in their lap, and a crude map in their hands.

Two blue orbs blazed furiously from within his monstrous helm. A stalwart figure loomed at the end of the side street. Voices died down as mothers and fathers ushered the children and the elderly from his path. He glanced away from the bronze elf further in the alley, down to the emptying streets.

He quirked his head to the side, eyes locked onto the mechanical steed that the elf rode upon. The armored elf marched down the alley, hands at his sides rigidly. 

The crimson figure cleared his throat. “Ma’am, are you in need of a mechanic?” He clasped two battered gauntlets together behind his back, voice monotone and devoid of emotion. “I know an engineer, he’d be happy to help if you’re having issues with your illustrious steed.”

[storm-of-silver-blog]

blightmourn:

–{ ☀ }– 

   There’s a hot aired snort that escapes the Engineer as bounding steps falter and slow to a more manageable pace; putting himself right next to the Knight, if only, to stare at him wide-eyed with disbelief.

         “Just because you’re dead, doesn’t mean you don’t need to sleep! New rule! If I need to, then you do too.”

   Tongue slips out from between his teeth in a rather childish display, though nothing less than a lighthearted, breathy laugh wisps out to follow. It’s clear he’s only poking fun, especially with the way the gesture is only held for a split second before he’s feet in front of Kortin again; rounding the corners of familiar streets. 

         “Yeah! I mean–…it might be wonderful, I don’t know, but I think it’s pretty neat!”

   A hand is already digging around to his pocket to pull out a small, brass key, the object toyed with and flipped around his hands idly as he wanders up to the shop turned home. There’s a preemptive duck of his head to dip under the large hanging sign displaying the name of the shop, even if it was just high enough for him to scoot under without problem, it was almost habit at this point. Turning lock and key he pushes the old wood open, allowing it to stay ajar for the Knight to follow while he flicks on the lightswitch; a warm glow illuminating the disorganized area. 

          “Might need to do some cleaning soon, getting a litttttle messy; careful! Don’t trip over the the toolbox when you come in.”

Blue orbs regarded the young elf carefully, his steps didn’t falter however. He glanced around, pausing at the doorway. The knight ducked slowly just into the abode after Eren.

He coughed into a closed hand, eyes quickly adjusting before the light even kicked in. The hulking mass that was Kortin loomed over his surrogate son. He looked around with inquisitive eyes.

“I shall help you clean while you sleep. The shop will look wonderful in no time Sir Eren.” 

The crimson clad knight drifted behind Eren, acting like his unliving shadow. His words boomed out of his helmet, the noise normally set people’s hair on end, but not Eren. Never Eren.

“Also, the kingdom never rests Sir Eren, perhaps when I ... retire, I may slumber.” 

Kortin winced, knowing full well that retirement wasn’t going to be him drinking undead smoothies on some beach somewhere, it was probably going to be in a coffin. Hopefully a hip one by Eren’s design. He’d run the idea past him farther in the future. Maybe.

[storm-of-silver-blog]

Meaningful Sentence Starters

“There’s something I really need to tell you.” “I honestly thought that things would be very different.” “Do you wish you could have done it differently?” “What exactly did you think was happening here?” “How do you decide when it’s enough?” “I would die for this cause.” “There are only a few things in this world that are truly important to me.” “Ideals have to count for something.” “Why should I be a nice person?” “This was meant to be easier.” “I have an idea that I need to share.” “Look, you might not like me but we’re stuck in this.” “You remind me of someone I once knew.” “How long does it take people to change, I wonder?” “There are no good choices here.” “There are days I think we’re just in over our heads here.” “How do you keep going when things get hard?” “Are you genuinely interested in me as a person, or is this a game too?” “I care what I look like because I care what people think of me.” “Why did you decide to do it?” “You know what I really regret?” “I’m still struggling to believe any of this is real.” “Are you certain this is what you really want.” “Tell me a dream? Or a secret?” “Do you think you would still be the same person if things had turned out differently?” “What I really meant to say was very different.” “I don’t know if you’ll like what I have to say to you, but I have to tell you anyway.” “You were never supposed to know.” “Why can’t you just follow instructions?” “Why can’t you just ignore instructions?” “What chains you to this life? What keeps you here?”

[storm-of-silver-blog]

lovereign:

LOYAL KNIGHT:

Fingers pull at the skin beneath her eyes, sighing with a disdain felt only by those who felt let down by failing beauty. She was exhausted, worn out from restless nights in bed, staring up at the sky and mourning her losses. All she wanted, needed was a comforting sign that she could be at ease - even for a day so she may feel true relaxation and calmness, not the falsified joy she plays for her people. 

So heavy is the metaphoric crown rested upon her head, so many duties to uphold that at times, she was overwhelmed. In these moments instinctively she wants nothing more than to turn to her closest ally, the only one who dare not stab her in the back ( as far as she knows ) & instead, gives her aid she did not even know she would need. Arms fall flat against the top of her ornate dressing table, head soon following as her forehead hits her arms. Though she wants to speak with him, Sunhee resorts herself to a minor defeat instead, huffs of annoyance grumbling into a muffle.

That is until the familiar knock comes against her door, head arises from it’s pretend slumber and turns to seek out the sound. “Sir Kortin, my knight –” She muses aloud, it is as though the fates required that he bring about the spark his queen had lost, hearing the silent call for help she kept buried. Rising from her stool she stands e’er tall with grace. A simple cough, dusting down of her regal gown and a quick tuck of stray hairs behind her ear and she sees herself fit for company.

“Enter, Kortin. You may visit.” Her tone exudes the sharpness she brings upon all her subjects in servitude, as is custom - or so she believed. However, behind spying eyes and wall-pressed ears she knows it’s all a ruse, Sunhee was caring to her subjects, all of them regardless of their stature or being. In this instance she refused to let her subjects hear her kindness or her excitement for the company, aware that rumours soon flourish with such behaviours. “Thank you for clearing the perimeter – I feel safer knowing you watch over me.”

With as much grace as the once sterling knight could muster, he entered the royal bed chamber. The door was promptly closed behind him. Hands covered with marred metal clasped together behind his back. His armor always seemed to have new marks of battle every time he visited the Queen. Silent threats that he handled alone, or just a craving for battle? Few rarely found out the truth.

Harrowing eyes illuminated the darkness of his helm as he stalked over to his better. He remained a respectable distance away, kneeling before her as usual. Kortin was always formal and regal above all else.

“I could feel discontent, is there something bothering you my Queen?”

Intentions could be felt in the air, Kortin wasn’t one to kill innocents, but if someone was threatening the beauty rest of his leader, they would be dealt with swiftly. By no hand other than his.

Eyes made there home on Sunhee once more, after they had scoured the room of course. The knight remained knelt down infront of his liege-lord 

“If you’d like, I have no need for sleep. I could remain at your door for the night if you so desired. The kingdom is quiet tonight.”

Head tilted up slightly, strands of white hair slipped out of his helm, piercing blue eyes never wavering.

“I’m here to help, with whatever ails you.”

[storm-of-silver-blog]

@lovereign

Kortin marched through the halls of the castle, heavy footfalls were always intermingled with the clattering of his armor. Servants and royal guard tended to steer clear of him when able, but he payed them no mind. The imposing figure of the Knight loomed at the door to the queen’s bed chamber like the guard dog he was.

The horror inspiring helm that rested atop his head afforded him limited sight, but he could hear quite well even with the piece of armor on. His ears twitched at every noise, every scuttle that was made throughout the floor.

Despite being first knight, some days were slower than others. He preferred to be out in the field, extinguishing threats to the region and empire, but his place was here. Especially when no threats were rearing their ugly heads.

Tired eyes restlessly scoured the hall from left to right. His hand rested on the hilt to his trusty long sword. It had served the tormented knight well in the war, many speculated that it wasn’t originally crimson. The rumors were usually wrong however. Enchantments made it red, but that didn’t stop people from whispering to one another.

His mind eventually wandered, the briefest of breaks in his constant vigil. Burning blue eyes flitted to the door. Kortin was the perfect soldier, always obeying orders, offering advice only when asked. He very much enjoyed the queen, but he took great care not to overstep in any way shape or form... yet still. 

He raised a hand, complex metal plates curled into a fist. Blue eyes flitted to the balled up appendage. Pointed ears twitched a few times as he contemplated further action. Slowly did the hand tip forward, knuckles made contact with the barrier that separated Knight and Queen.

Kortin cleared his throat, his baritone rumbled forth from his helm soon after.

“Queen Sunhee, the perimeter is secure. May I be permitted entry?”

His voice was monotone as usual, a grisly side effect to his condition. Dampened emotion. Yet a twinge of color crept into his words towards the end, quite unlike the knight.

[storm-of-silver-blog]

blightmourn:

–{ ☀ }– 

   The Engineer practically skips to a stop, heels digging down into the dirt and cobble before his form is spinning around. A far too dramatic widening of eyes and gasping of breath is given, the palm of a hand smacked to the middle of his chest.

        “AND fifteen minutes?! That is way too long! Eight hours, not anything longer.”

   For but a moment Eren feels as if he’s being smart, dipping the time down by a mere fifteen minutes, because hell, eight hours was better than that! A click of his tongue, and that same hand raises up to now instead point at the Knight, voice rolling out with a dipping to a slight murmur.

        “What about seven and a half? That’s almost eight hours. Plus, when was the last time you slept so long? You do things WAY more dangerous than I do! By that logic you should probably sleep about…ten hours. Yeah, that sounds right.”

   With a crossing of his own arms Eren nods with absolute. Perhaps he had cracked the code, or perhaps, he was talking out of his ass. Most likely it would be the latter; whether that was so or not, again is he facing himself away and planting himself next to Kortin, a few more strides forward given with an ushering to be followed. 

        “C’mon, it’s gonna be dark soon, n’ I got something to show you!”

The jingling of chain filled the air once more, quicker this time as he picked up his pace to keep up with the spirited youth. Eyes scoured their surroundings restlessly as they discussed and walked... well it was more of a forced march at this point.

“I can live with seven and a half.” 

He followed his words with an artificial chuckle, the noise was awkward and didn’t seem natural coming from the knight. An old and battered gauntlet tucked strands of white hair back into his helmet. 

“I’m also covered head to toe in armor, not to mention I’m already dead Sir Eren. I’m quite durable.”

He cleared his throat and shook his head a few times. Kortin didn’t really like the trade off. He’d much rather be mortal again, but-- the curse wasn’t always a bad thing. It better allowed him to serve his queen and country.

“Hm? Did you make something wonderful, Sir Eren?”

[storm-of-silver-blog]

shakenpetals:

;;–{ ✿ } 

   Armiin’s own steps falter to a slow stride, lagging behind with apprehension to draw too close to the armor sealed Knight. Perhaps it didn’t matter what the man looked like, sounded like, or appeared to be–…either way, tensions would rise and entangle, but the undead’s aura of dread offered no comfort. 

   Unfortunately, the Archer found himself desperate, and didn’t wish to get lost in the kingdom for a night. The elf keeps his gaze low and his hands preoccupied, fingers fidgeting together in front of his chest, only giving but the slightest of distractions. Each echo of the Knight’s voice is caught, causing ears to twitch, yet his eyes never raise when offering an answer.

         “Herbs…there are some th-that do not grow in my Kingdom that can–…be found here.” 

   Lips pull to a thin line the more Kortin speaks, Armiin himself not exactly a World renowned conversationalist; and finding it as difficult to reply as it was for the other to ask his questions. 

         “I–…am to assume it is well. Ciravus is in one piece so–so…”

   Tongue is bitten between his teeth with a hissing of breath escaping outwards, and he finds both his hands beginning to rub over paled features. Don’t be weird. Just ask the man a question. 

         “Wh-what of here? Belori lo-looks nice, as nice as it could be, I–I wouldn’t know, I don’t come here often, but, uh, it’s…nice…”

   Smooth. 

Kortin stopped quite suddenly, his heavy footfalls ceased. His helmet shifted to the left, one of his eyes peered at Armiin. The gaze was nothing short of intense, it was as if he was looking into his very soul. Strangely enough Kortin’s shadow moves on it’s own, swaying to the right, then to the left. It cocked it’s head to the side, peering at Armiin as well.

Slowly Kortin continued to walk, looking back to the path ahead. His shadow returned to normal, following as usual.Could it have been Armiin’s imagination? Who knows?

“Yes, we grow a wide variety of spices and medicinal herbs. We’re quite the shining example of our empire.”

His tone was matter of fact, it was as if he was speaking on reflex alone as well. His tower shield clanked against his back as he slowed to a halt, arriving outside of a local spice shop. He loomed in the shop window, causing some of the business to filter out. 

He used to wince at the reactions of the populous, but over the years he had grown desensitized to the fear. 

“It’s good to know that your home is stable Sir. Should any brigands darken your door, I would be glad to eviscerate them for you.” 

The words hung in the air awkwardly. To add to the tense situation, Kortin’s hand snapped up a little too quickly, his thumb sprang upward. The thumb’s up looked out of place on the knight’s blood red gauntlet, but he offered it anyways.

“Belori is nice, especially our corner of it. You should try the watermelon, I hear the citizens love it.”

[storm-of-silver-blog]

blightmourn:

–{ ☀ }–

   There’s a subtle roll of Eren’s eyes given with the first answer received, head tipping ever-so-slightly to the side, and still, does he stumble his steps backwards to keep facing the Knight as they spoke. 

        “What’ya mean? They’re just some tiny robots, I don’t think they’re really artificial beings, just some metal that moves n’ stuff! Plenty of room for a bigger one.”

   Clearly, he seems to be missing the point and obliviously flashes up yet another tooth baring grin before finally turning his body back forward; just before he was about to find himself tripping in a pothole, too. How lucky. A small leap is given over the imperfection in the path, though once feet again meet the Earth a withering groan is rumbling through the Engineer’s chest.

        “Eight hours is WAY too much. Do you know how much time you’re missing by sleeping that much? Like–…eight hours of time! I could be working, or cleaning, or reading a book, or playing with the cats!”

   Head dips back just enough to gain the smallest glimpse behind himself, and to match the motion a hand is flicked into the air with four fingers jutted up.

        “Four hours.”

Kortin instinctively reached out, eyes wide when Eren stumbled. He rushed forward a few steps, until of course the engineer righted his path on his own. The knight cleared his throat, quick to hide his concern. He glanced around, looking to see if anyone saw what had just transpired.

“Your body requires ample amount of sleep of sleep, you participate in rather strenuous work, and around dangerous implements.. You could injure yourself.” 

The knight was quite stern. His tone was nothing but fatherly. Blue eyes scoured the path before the two, his arms were crossed. He wasn’t about to negotiate with Eren about this.

“Eight hours and fifteen minutes.”

The age old tactic of shifting the time upwards. He had been a father once, before Eren. He knew what he was doing.

[storm-of-silver-blog]

ambitioux:

Elated that he had not only decided to converse with her, but had even confirmed that he could in fact make her a helmet, the mage clapped her hands together, voice overflowing with delight. Perhaps if she wore a helmet outside, people wouldn’t shy away from her so often.  

“Will you make me one?! I’ll pay you of course! Just name your price! I have money, and flowers, and tomes, and poisons, but I don’t know what you would do with those last two things, so maybe not…” She crouched down to the floor to begin stuffing dirt into her jar, glancing up when the sound of jingling reached her ears. Blinking slowly upon realizing he had stood, she craned her neck upwards to watch him approach, smile unfaltering. 

To say she was surprised by his towering height would be an understatement, but she was far more fascinated than intimidated by the man’s stature, especially since he had knelt down to her height to offer some dirt. “Yes, that’s perfect! Just drop it right in here.” She assured, pushing the jar towards him. Truth be told, she hadn’t expected him to take her up on her offer, but she was pleased that he had. Her encounters with others rarely went this smoothly after all.

“Oh, can you make it look like yours? The helmet I mean. Except maybe with eight eyeholes instead! You know, like a spider. Or maybe three, like a cyclops!” She mused, dropping down to sit cross-legged and rub the back of her neck. “But look at me rambling again! I’m so excited that I almost forgot to ask what you meant when you said you crafted your helmet the day you came back! Where did you come back from? Were you traveling?”

Kortin clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth a few times, the noise resonated and echoed inside of his helm. He shifted his stance slowly, chain links beneath his plated exterior jingled. A battered hand gently deposited a handful of dirt in the jar presented to him.

Eerie eyes locked onto jovial young woman. She didn’t seem afraid in the slightest, quite the contrary infact. Kortin didn’t very much understand. The confusion he was feeling crossed his eyes. People usually feared him, especially his horrid helm-- yet she wanted one of her own.

A small fleeting smile touched his deathly pale lips. He held up a single finger, pointing it skyward. His tone was gentle, not quite as frigid and commanding as it usually was.

“I only have one favor to ask of you. There is a small and quaint shop. ‘Erengineering.’ It’s run by someone very important to me. If you could maybe spread the word about it, or maybe visit it, bring him some flowers? I think that would earn you one helmet with as many eye holes on it as you want.”

The knight wasn’t usually this long winded, but when he spoke of Eren, he was always quite passionate. As passionate as a dead man got anyways. He closed his eyes and scratched the back of his neck with a plated hand. 

“I was sent away-- to slay a creature most foul. I failed, quite shamefully I might add. I wear the helmet at all times because of this.” 

He knocked his knuckles against the cheek of his faceplate. 

“Plus, covers my monstrous visage.” He added at the way end, whether or not he was joking? Hard to tell. He never took the think off.

“You have quite a bright soul, young lady. I’m quite envious.”

[storm-of-silver-blog]

A cacophonous noise filled the air as Kortin’s head slowly turned to face the new voice. The remainder of his body remained eerily still, the echo of movement still slithering out of his armor. People rarely ever visited Kortin, talking to him in such a manner? Even less likely. His suspicion was eased mildly by the strange demeanor of the girl speaking to him.

Neat helmet? That’s a first-- well it would be rather improper to remain silent. Kortin reached for words, yet only a grunt spilled forth. His eyes knit together in a look of perplexity. 

“Yes, I crafted it the day I came back.” A short pause filled the air before he spoke once more, baritone voice booming from his concealed mouth. “I could make you one, yes.”

His form shifted as he rose to his full height, slightly imposing on its own, but with the blood red armor more so.  He stalked forward, armor grating and jingling audibly. His shadow lagged behind before snapping back into position. The grim knight knelt down to scoop up a handful of dirt, head tilted as he did so.

“Is this suitable madam?” He spoke up in a polite tone, despite his harrowing voice. Gathering dirt was quite strange, but then again so were a lot of things in this world. Kortin didn’t very much mind the company either, it wasn’t every day that someone greeted him without apprehension.

@storm-of-silver

It truly was such a shame that she couldn’t grow dirt inside of herself. It would have made her life so much easier. Instead, she had to take detours upon reaching any country to scour their land for soil and place it in a jar to take back home. Inconvenient as it was though, it was also nice to take the occasional break from whatever task she was trying to accomplish to simply appreciate the outdoors. 

Typically, her search for soil brought her to forests, as she figured she might as well enjoy the scenery if she was going to be there for a few minutes. What she hadn’t expected upon arriving in this particular forest, however, was the lone person sitting in it. It wasn’t as though she had never encountered someone on her explorations, but what really stood out to her was the helmet atop his head. As much as she didn’t want to startle him, curiosity swiftly got the better of her, and she just couldn’t resist striking up a conversation.

“What a neat helmet! Did you make it yourself? Or design it at least? Could you get me one? I don’t know where I would wear it, but it’d be nice to have.” The mage rambled, nearly bouncing on the heels of her feet. “Ah, sorry, do you not want to talk? Don’t mind me! I’m just here to collect some dirt, you see.” She chirped, pulling a jar out from her bag and placing it on the ground. “Want to help? The more the merrier, as they say!”