#Tajorinen

[bishopofblack]

"Be silent, and be still." It’s a pity Tajorinen had not been the Knight some centuries ago, when Irastenys had rather more patience for this sort of thing. But he doesn’t want to play games. Not anymore. He stretches out his hand, catching Tajorinen’s chin in his fingers, feeling the muscle in his jaw flexing. He’s a good match for Ashtoryan. Yet another waste of a beautiful face. "You must be feeling terribly pleased with yourself, to have gotten under my skin, hm? To counsel me, for fear that I might be bereft a second time, for fear of a murderer in our court?" Irastenys traces along the taut muscles of the other man’s neck. "But you see, Tajorinen… There are a few things you don’t know about me. Sit down. Stay still." Irastenys watches as the Knight’s body obeys, and his mind rebels. He must be screaming inside. And this is just a little taste. Sitting there beside him, Irastenys lays his head on Tajorinen’s shoulder, in some mockery of fondness. The poor man is bristling from head to toe. "Relax. I won’t hurt you. And if you’re thinking that next time, you’ll strike before I can speak, well… There won’t be a next time, either."

- The Bishop of Black

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[theskeletonprior]

Don’t Let Them See You Cry by Manchester Orchestra (for the song meme 💖)

This is Simonery vibes. Like, end of the night, stressed to the nines, listening to Tajorinen purring away, deep, deep, deep in the feelings he pretends that he doesn't have. Particularly this bit:

And I tried to write in style But the words just come And I write them as soon as I see them And I'll trust that you write them too And I trust that you love me too

[bishopofblack]

[ID: Digital art of Tajorinen and Ashtoryan. Tajorinen is a tall man with very long dark hair and golden eyes. He is muscular, and his bare arms are covered in large, jagged scars. His long fingernails are pointed and black. Ashtoryan is a pale man with very long white hair, and lavender eyes which look dark in this lighting. Like Tajorinen, he is bare-chested. Ashtoryan has golden scales visible along the back of his neck, on his forehead, his wrist, and dappled on his cheek. Tajorinen is looking down into Ashtoryan’s face intently while Ashtoryan smiles up at him. Ashtoryan grips gently at Tajorinen’s forearm. Tajorinen cups Ashtoryan’s face in his hand, his thumb resting on Ashtoryan’s jawline. /End ID]

The late night hours are by and large Ashtoryan’s domain. Much as he is beset with early morning training sessions, the simple fact of the matter is the barrier surrounding the kingdoms is best observed at night, and in conjunction with the stars above. And so this often means that the Second to the Rook of Black would slink wearily back towards his quarters after an early-morning thrashing at Isbellor’s skillful and unmerciful hands, having yet to see the inside of his bedchamber. He is slinking on this particularly bright morning, after a particularly enthusiastic lesson on Isbellor’s part, although by his own reckoning, hobbling might be the better word for what he is doing. And this means a further delay, because he knows better than to crawl into bed without first soaking in the baths. Much as this means he very well might one day fall asleep and drown in the baths. This early in the morning, the odds are fairly reasonable that he might well get the baths to himself, which would be pleasant, because he could be pitiful and unobserved. His scales are preparing to shed, which is truly the stuff of nightmares, but the humidity of the baths will help. He just won’t be able to whine about it if there’s anyone around to hear him.

- Meanwhile #10

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[bishopofblack]

Tajorinen knows Simonery is here in the library. He is sure he saw the other man, a glimpse at least, of his entirely black attire and dark, braided hair, but now that he’s in the library himself he can also smell Simonery in a way that gives him a trail to follow. Tajorinen knows exactly why Simonery makes this something of a game between them, why he really must protest about spending time together. He doesn’t mind—his past love, his first love, was also fickle in a way he found captivating. That love follows him still as a spirit and so far has no qualms with him giving chase after the elusive spy master, so he’s in pursuit, listening for footsteps, following his nose through the aisles. He has books to collect, which is as good an excuse as any if they need an excuse, but he can see to that after he finds his ever fleeing romantic interest. He spots Femi, the medical Pawn who has taken to being good friends with his Second and meets her eyes as she makes to pass him. She grins, bows her head as is polite, and then points further into the library. He smiles, she smiles, it’s lovely to have an ally.

- Meanwhile #8

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[bishopofblack]

This is Tajorinen. He comes from a family that has magically fused their bloodline with the attributes of a mountain jaguar. He has feline senses and reflexes. And he purrs.

[bishopofblack]

Simonery Evening is having a heart-attack. He is having ten heart-attacks. Ten entire heart-attacks, and he has only himself to blame. Himself, and the purring, handsome menace that is the Knight of Black. He’d never hear the end of it from Femi if she knew where he was right now. Of course, she’d owe him for the distraction, but it would also require enduring the abject mortification of having told her that he’d let himself be lured into Tajorinen’s bed. They’ve been… chaste, for the moment, which suits Simonery. There’s something about the thought of taking off his shirt in front of a man who ripples when he walks that makes his stomach roll up into a tight little ball. So for a moment, he lies there on the bed, with his head nestled in the crook of Tajorinen’s powerful arm. Then he rolls, touching the tip of his finger to the Knight’s lips, because otherwise he knows the man will surely kiss him again. And he’s rather good at that. Better to nip that—and everything else—in the bud right now, before it’s too late. Well. Even more too late.

- Meanwhile #3

These side-stories are available to our Bishop and Royal tier patrons. Visit us on patreon for more!

[bishopofblack]

[ID: Digital art of Femi and Irastenys. Femi is a trans woman with green eyes, medium tan skin and rich red hair that flows in long, thick waves. She has dots of red henna on her forehead and on the back of her hand, in the middle. Her lips are painted red, and a red streak runs down the centre of her chin. There’s another marking under her eye, a line that runs down from the middle of her eye and terminates in a hollow circle. She’s wearing a red dress with an opening revealing her cleavage. Irastenys is a trans man with medium-light tawny skin and long dark hair. His eyes are closed and he is dressed in black. Femi holds Irastenys in one arm as he reaches up, her cheek resting on his forehead. There are tears in her eyes. /End ID]

Chapter Three | Femi

Oh sweet mothers of gods, the Second to the Knight of White is going to die. The way Syl throws the man into the ground comes with sickening sounds that Femi knows instantly go far beyond what is appropriate for a recreational bout, and the Black Knight vaulting himself over the fencing to the stands also tells everyone that this must stop, now. Tajorinen is racing across the field to intervene, and Femi, without thinking of the fact that either of these warriors could kill her quite easily, hurries to intervene as well. It is worse, when she hears Scythaline choke out a yield, but Syl does not withdraw. Not this. If Syl kills the man it's all over. Femi gets to Syl before Tajorinen does, grasping at one of their arms. "A yield has been called, my Second Knight! You must withdraw!" she insists even though her heart is pounding in her ears. Syl doesn’t even look at Femi, shrugging her away with what seems to be barely an effort for them, but with enough force to take her off her feet. They make a brisk, determined march to their helmet, picking it up from where it’s fallen before they start back towards Scythaline, heedless of the yield and Femi’s entreaties to withdraw. Syl snarls, sharp teeth bared, as they close in on what has so suddenly become their prey.

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[bishopofblack]

[ID: Digital art of Femi and Irastenys. Femi is a trans woman with  green eyes, medium tan skin and rich red hair that flows in long, thick  waves. She has dots of red henna on her forehead and on the back of her  hand, in the middle. Her lips are painted red, and a red streak runs  down the centre of her chin. There’s another marking under her eye, a  line that runs down from the middle of her eye and terminates in a  hollow circle. She’s wearing a red dress with an opening revealing her  cleavage. Irastenys is a trans man with medium-light tawny skin and long dark  hair. His eyes are closed and he is dressed in black. Femi holds  Irastenys in one arm as he reaches up, her cheek resting on his  forehead. There are tears in her eyes. /End ID]

Chapter Four | Irastenys

Before the fight is even over, Irastenys can anticipate how the aftermath will play out. He has known the Kings and Queens of both kingdoms for most of their lives, watched them play together as children, halfway oblivious to what they would become. He has done all he can to remind them of their rivalry, and now, needs no longer to do it. Sometimes he thinks there is no one the Queen of White despises more than Kalmin, likely because she still clings to the belief that he has stolen away her sister. Or perhaps by now, because old habits die hard. She is outraged, or playing at it, and already making demands by the time Irastenys joins them in a tent reserved for discussions like this one. "You will remove that Second from your court, Kalmin. I don't give a fuck how valuable they are, you clearly have no control over their behavior." The Queen of White seethes, infuriated over the fact that despite her anger Kalmin is smiling. Irastenys knows perfectly well that that grin Kalmin is wearing is a threat. Tajorinen attempts to intervene on his Second's behalf. An expected move, but a tedious one. The man never knows when to keep his teeth together, too concerned with regality, with princeliness to be anything more than a disappointment. "No harm was done after the yield, my lady, please reconsider—I shall see to it that they are thoroughly reprimanded—" Setsulin’s crimson gaze on the Knight cuts off his attempt with a condescension that is palpable, and Irastenys very nearly wants to thank her for sparing them. There is nothing more useless than this kind of posturing, and particularly when it occurs outside of one’s rank. "I am not speaking to you, Knight. You were near to having to fight your own Second off, it was obvious to everyone—you should be fucking embarrassed, and in that embarrassment you ought to know to shut your mouth in my presence." Tajorinen immediately balks, but Kalmin claps a hand on his shoulder. A kingly gesture, to allow their Knight to save face, and one that Kalmin is too often required to make.

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[bishopofblack]

[Text ID] Lothbardae is a city in the mountains up beyond the Black Kingdom's capital, most famous for its prestigious and ancient instruction of magical arts. Students are often selected from Black Kingdom families of note and through their education are often reserved a position on the Black Kingdom court, if not adjacent to its major pieces. The students of Lothbardae often enter the school through a series of trials and are required to join their souls ritually with another selected companion who, regardless of class or origin, is accepted into the school as well.   Most, once they've graduated, are made use of in the Black Court or continue their studies in Belmora, though regardless of their chosen career they are unable to part with their chosen partner. The ritual magic doesn't cause pain or sickness should the pair depart from one another, but strangely as though the pact changes the nature of fate, when a pair are parted they will find each other again inevitably. Tajorinen was a selected companion of a student of Lothbardae's prestigious school, and while his companion has died by means which Tajorinen will not discuss under any circumstances, it is highly likely that they are still together, bound in spirit. [End Text ID]

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[bishopofblack]

[Text ID]There are several family lines that in the history of kingdoms have fused their bloodlines with powerful creatures and taken on their attributes. The magic required to make this drastic biological change is currently forbidden in both Kingdoms due to its blood price, but it was done often enough in the past during more extreme times of war that it’s now common to meet people who gain much of their physical strength and attributes from the familial transferred magic. Being someone categorized as beastfolk is inherently a magic talent all on its own, but plenty of people in these bloodlines can have other magical talents on top of their enhanced physiological abilities. People like Argos and Ashtoryan are serpentfolk and as such have scales and serpentine eyes, among other physical benefits, while Tajorinen is from a line magically fused with mountain jaguars and as such has the feline reflexes and senses. Notably, this is one of the only types of magic that is passed on generationally. Despite efforts in both Kingdoms to cultivate bloodlines that are more or less likely to produce specific magical arts, the powers people develop is often randomized and at best associated with the location they’re born in more than their ancestry. [End Text ID]