#rowanrevelry

[lellarps]

continued from here. @rowan-revelry

Axis hadn't expected her to be all teary about it to the point of turning her back. The salty smell prickled his nose. He felt like a harpy following an upset doe, even though Tara was no fragile thing— which just enlightened how excessive this seemed to him.

But he supposed jealousy was supposed to be like this, wasn't it? Unreasonable.

He took a long breath. And sat on the red sheets of the bed. Jealously would, in another situation, be seen by him as protectiveness. As want. But jealously over his lieutenant, in times of war? Absurd. Improper. What was Tara even thinking?

"You are not really this upset, are you?" He asked, hands on his back, after a moment of silence. He knew better than to thread carelessly near an annoyed mate. "Aesira is absolutely no threat to you, Tara" though she could be condescending. And they had been betrothed decades ago. And who knew how Tara had probably learned that.

[uncxntrxllable]

continued from an open starter with @faery-revelry !!

The stranger seemed to ready himself for a fight… Something terribly inhuman; animalistic. The giant wolf’s blue eyes flickered between the man’s various features, furry lips tugged up from teeth to maintain a threatening display.

But then their demeanor shifted entirely, and the way he appeared to admit defeat so quickly came as a surprise. Surely this man had power, the wolf could smell it on him, why back down? Did he struggle to control it?

Ears sprung forward and his nose twitched, Alpha angled his snout down just slightly as his mouth closed, his fur settles. Blue eyes squint, furry brows pinched. The reality is that he only wished to scare the intruder away, most people would turn and run and that is the reaction he wanted. He did not want to hurt him, not unless he made the first move.

His weight shifts on his paws, ❝ Why do you give up so easily? ❞ The wolf raised his head with the question. ❝ I wish you no harm… Only that you leave this territory. ❞ He makes his intentions clear, his tail whipped aside and he stamps a massive paw into the soil, an ear twisted. A second’s worth of teeth bared.

[clearwinged]

"[ 09 ] intermission at a broadway show." for @rowan-revelry

there's quite a lot of chatter -- which is what gives yu minwei away.

the musician himself doesn't do any of the talking, but the theatre is alight with intrigue, with curiosity surrounding his presence. and oliver, whose attention is for once -- tearing away from the scene before him, catches minwei's sheen of light hair, and knows the whispers will be unlikely to ease. (they're too visible, his visuals too prominent even in the dark.)

still, oliver tries to focus, ears attuning to the force -- the calibre of the lead ingenue and her crystal clear vibrato. she sings the house down, head tilted up and beaming with light. and as soon as the intermission is called, people whistle, holler, applaud with abandon, and oliver smiles -- pleased -- to himself. he claps along, drinking in the way she saunters off the stage, chest heaving with effort.

he'd invited minwei to join him.

scheduling had taken longer than he'd expected -- given management expectations and creative endeavours -- but it felt appropriate. he owed him a proper message. and his late night interview with the actress behind martha, would benefit with yu minwei's musical prowess. or so he assumes.

he sinks further into the seat, lungs tight, as if he himself had belted the last chord. "i like this show. this is -- thrilling," oliver muses, legs stretching outward to shiver under the buzz. the crowd mills around the theatre, the occasional whisper cracking into an excited yelp.

he peers over his shoulder, scanning, before turning to meet yu minwei's eyes. "maybe we should get you a baseball cap."

[lellarps]

continued from here.

Axis roared.

The windows of that ballroom shook, and cracked under his power.

But he was not the only one taking an instance — just the only one making quite a show out of it.

Get her out of there — that's what he needed to do.

The Warlord used the openness their own guards gave to swoon the Queen in his arms, before throwing his back against one of those ornated, yet already cracked, windows. His whole body, wings, and magic protecting the Queen from any daring fragment as they fell...Only for him to swiftly take flight midair. Immediately followed by at least two of the guards under his command.

It was a hell of an escape.

Axis did wish he could simply fly her all the way back to their lands... but he'd be risking her. It was too cold for her. And too cold for their wings too. Besides, using magic to hold warmth would demand the energy they could need later on.

But soon enough he got her in the carriage. With a few casualities in the way.

And finally sat right across her, unwilling to leave her out of his sight.

He wanted to hold her.

Yet, he had to touch the carriage, with both his hands, trying to focus on making it as soundless, as invisible, untouchable, as possible.

It shouldn't be a difficult job, at all, but there was a storm within him now.. and there was another starting to rage outside, likely caused by the grieving parents.

Their own guards and servants (the ones who had already managed to be there) were also giving everything they had... the carriage had been floating now and then, avoiding obstacles that could get them stuck.

Later on, they were almost at their border, they had even slowed down somewhat... when Axis noticed that Tara seemed... awake.

He frowned. His hands leaving the groud of the carriage as he stepped closer, one knee stil down. His hands were calloused, yet gentle, finding her knees.

Axis wanted to touch. He yearned for touching, holding, caressing—Keep the harm and the sorrow away from his sweet, troubled mate. Grab the turmoil with his bare hands and get properly rid of it. But it was not possible, of course. So how could he fix it?

"My Queen..?" he whispered. A firm hand of his found her cheek.

May I hold you?

But the question never left his lips.

Instead, he sat right beside her, bringing her close to his chest. In a attempt of a grounding, affectionate hold. A hold of silent promises and care.

@rowan-revelry

[lellarps]

continued from here!

It all happened so fast — that useless, stupid stag! One moment Queen Tara was there. And the next, she simply wasn't. The Warlord's heart sank into his own chest. Darting eyes, flaring nose. A quiet, murderous thrill and growl towards a dumb animal.

But humans were frail. He could not divert his attention.

The bottom of his wings dragged across the snow as he went on, a burning feeling on that sensitive skin, but he walked through the thick layer as if such a thing didn't truly matter. The world seemed to close off in buzz and foggy noises as he directed himself.

Then, he finally held her close to him.

Her smell, her warmth. Or what was left of this last one. But she was alive.

Axis held her firmly and guided them to safety, a nearby cavern. His wings, though not that strong right now, trying to shield her from the weather. He helped her sit on a corner, where the wind barely reached. He grabbed a thick blanket from the bag he still carried and hastily put it around her, worried eyes darting to see any injuries along the movements.

Her breath was a reassuring sound. He was so glad to hear it.

Then, he took both her hands, and brought them closer to his lips, using his own breath to warm her up. His wings, were up and strong.

"I do believe I said that a stag wasn't a good idea".

@rowan-revelry

[lellarps]

continued from here. @rowan-revelry

As Li Hua had already trashed all her way through and she had already been worn out from all the energy it took to raise those fancy walls... all that was left now was a resigned face.

It had all been so exhausting, she barely realized when she did sleep, though being so close to the other, skin to skin, feeling held...

Just to hear the name of another...

Li Hua's eyes opened. And narrowed. The princess would, any other day, let go and ask elegantly about it later, placing herself as a superior being with no such time to spend with frivolities, pretending it didn't actually matter.

But if there was one thing she was owning now after so much trashing around, was her will to do some unsophisticated things. A will spiced by being the one in Ash's arms, wearing nothing but underwear, hearing such an unacceptable thing such as another's name.

Venomously, the princess poked one finger into each of the dame's closed eyes. Not aiming to blind yet, of course, but to wake the other up with petty menace.

@rowan-revelry

[lellarps]

continued from here! @rowan-revelry

— he had said that with fangs showing, while leaning on the entrance, clearly unable to fully keep his own balance. He had pierced through skins with those same sharp canines just hours ago. Torn bodies apart with his bare claws once his sword was lost. A beast with a mate to hold couldn't simply be locked away, could it? Or that's what he had convinced himself of to get his own ass back in one piece.

It was somewhat of a wonder when, even considering the blood, the dirt, the smell.... she approached him that quick. And hugged him. Didn't tremble, like both his foes or even allies would. Or held her distance, like a cold royal. Simply stayed there, as if to secure he'd stay this way. That he wouldn't slip through her fingers.

It was good to be genuinely cared about.

He reached out, bloodied hand barely touching her cheek. His body ached. Not even the Warlord could tell how much of that blood was his or others'. It did hurt. And his wings were tired and blood-bathed too.

"I didn't mean to upset you so" he said, in all his frankness and, surprisingly, lack of arrogance. Heated by the bloodbath of the battlefield, in the presence of those fops from the Council, this was certainly uncommon.

But this was Tara. And the Council and his own facade could screw themselves after everything he had gone through during these last few days...

Besides, though he could feel in his core that she had been physically fine all this while, it was certainly nice to see and smell so. It made him, secretly, want to cry, even though he couldn't quite place why.

They were both fine now, after all.

"I might tell you of other details later, My Queen. It is rather nice to see you in one piece too" he promised, with a soft smile. "Aaand.. of course, you'll love to know that I conveniently learned where the hostages are being kept" the ones that hadn't made out from the castle during the fatiguing day "including that young handmaiden of yours".

[lellarps]

continued from here! @rowan-revelry

As she approached the corner, not suddenly at all, Fayeth felt like crying too. She needed not to hold her gaze on the dress or the bruise. There was... Sorrow. And maybe grief? And it hurt badly, didn't it? It broke her heart altogether to feel it, even though she hadn't exchanged more than some pleasantries with its source.

Someone handsome. But who she found quite odd and had a thousand curiosities to ask to, if given the liberty.

"Are you...?" Alright, your royal highness?

That seemed like a rather dumb question.

Fayeth suddenly realized that simply acting true to herself should be enough... a gesture of goodwill, at the very least.

The young princess caught her own skirt, so she could ease her way down into sitting near the other: right in front, yet sideways, with her back against the wall.

In a way, a shield from the rest of the world. In another, some soothing presence.

She then grabbed a small package from her pocket and gently offered it to the other, with an extended hand and open palm. It was a piece of chocolate she had been saving since lunch.

She felt like she had barged into something rather private. But she had good intentions... and this had to count, right?

[lellarps]

Closed starter: @rowan-revelry

Axis spent most of his time glamoured. Sometimes within the Goblin Camp, overhearing conversations, and periodically flying over it, having a very close look at the topography and overall organization of the small territory.

It took him the full five days to grab everything he needed.

When he met Tara again, in the throne room, he held no satisfaction. But he was unharmed, and his wings were once again in their full glory, with no sign of distress.

"My Queen" he dutifully bowed, a few meters away from the throne.

His eyes were dense when he searched for hers.

"Your orders were followed through. If I may have... a private moment to report and show your majesty the results".

[lellarps]

closed starter! @rowan-revelry. based on the first one.

In a way, hardwired and programmed to be — even empathy and opinions were coded. But... things slowly built from there over the years. How much of it had been upgraded by his master, and how much of it had simply... blossomed? Nova could only guess. A rare privilege, and, even so, somewhat of a cursed one when he gave it too much space to roam. At least he could find fulfillment despite his assignments, and even show some strange emotion in glass-like eyes... Anyhow, until more autonomy was found, his solace was quiet. And often silently relished in the company of this one human, who seemed to regularly get themselves into trouble.

Nova knocked on their metal, locked door, holding a toolkit.

"Nova, the janitor," he announced to the camera by the entrance, voice nearly too smooth. The screen beside the door flickered to life, casting his reflection back at him— he could pass for a cyborg rather than an android if he tried: the subtle artificiality of his eyebrow movements was the only giveaway of his nature. Still, he was one of the finest of his generation; a side haircut exhibiting little squares of the metal within contrasting soft skin, a short, well-drawn beard around his jaw, and waves of hair that reached his ears. One could even ask why a reasonable person would spend so much money on an android only to use it as a janitor for an apartment complex.

[lellarps]

the armoury in the late hours of the night, stinking of polish and tears (muse is dealer's choice!)

To be fair, on this rare occasion of accompanying her father on a visit to another kingdom, Fayeth had tried to be on her best behavior (you see, as to maybe buy more opportunities like this). But sometimes... sometimes she simply could not simply abide by her duties and remain confided. And this time it was not even about a decision deliberately taken, but, instead, a whisper of something she could not ignore. It made her yearn, and reach out. And feel like crying.

Said whisper took her strolling through the castle she was in, her steps soft, silent. Uninterrupted. You see, strange things happen when a Seer simply let go of control... strange, inexplicable things. Such as mysteriously not being spotted by guards, strangely taking the right turns at the right time, to the right place.

Only to be taken to an armory room, one in which she quietly entered. Was this sniffing, she could hear? She took some steps forward, her heart torn between curiosity and some sorrow that hardly belonged to her.

"Hello?" she quietly called out in the poorly illuminated room.

@rowan-revelry

[lellarps]

closed starter to @rowan-revelry. based on this.

An effortless grace accompanied Xuan Ye's nature, even though he was tense and unamused. Dark eyes laying at the figure on the other side of the room with a glint of something strange. In his mind, he played with his options: to either indulge himself with crossing this busy dinner and demand answers from that stranger, or to, most likely, kill them on the spot and avoid troubles he didn't want to face.

He hummed lowly, his long fingers drumming lightly on the table, a subtle rhythm that hinted at his usual undisturbed soul.

You see, it wasn't every day that he acted this bluntly to the invisible echoes he could glimpse around others... but this stranger had been unlucky enough to have a very specific echo around them, one that pinched into his very immortal soul.

[lellarps]

@rowan-revelry liked a post for a starter! loosely (?) based on "Done for" from EPIC: The Musical!

Calderon boiling. Smoke all over her far from humble, fancy cottage. Some chickens running around the place. Pure chaos, if one would ask, but for Daegal... it was just some slightly less boring day, looking for something fun, with her own intentions all over it, of course. "All I did was reveal their true forms" she said, smitten smirk on the corner of her lips. Eyes finally settled on her guest.

[clearwinged]

"what the hell are you doing here? experimenting with a new scene?" @rowan-revelry

the sound is worse when oliver closes his eyes. (it begins to remind him of construction work and war zones and woodpeckers and sandpaper and whipping winds and even the good screaming sounds like the bad -- unnerving kind.) so he has to squint instead, leaning in uncharacteristically, into the heat of yu minwei's exhale, to focus.

it takes an abundance of effort -- and he slouches when they pull away for an answer.

oliver lifts his right hand and cups it gingerly against minwei's cheek, yelling a response. he tries to enunciate, but he worries he'll embarrass himself and spit by accident. it seems probable, a likely case for someone as perpetually estranged.

"one of the lighting technicians has an interesting story! -- i'm here to interview him!" he stops to dig his trusty notebook from his coat pocket and holds it up in reminder. neither of them are dressed for the scene, it appears. and oliver is grateful for this fact, if only because he isn't so entirely alone in doing so now.

(except oliver is oliver, and yu minwei is essentially a superstar. different conditions apply, he's been told.)

he leans in again, curved palm lifted in the ask. "why are you here?"

[clearwinged]

"A wonderful production; did Orlando want a part?" from @rowan-revelry

"figures you would respond poorly to creative offers as well." oliver is stiff-lipped, irritable in mere minutes. he supposes the half-sipped rum is partly to blame, but the air of ease surrounding minwei bothers him plenty. most parties are uninteresting. most people are uninteresting. and oliver had thought the notorious yu minwei different -- that he was not most people. he knows it isn't particularly kind of him to be any form of judge, but it also seems ridiculous to navigate the world without an axis to pivot. so he has a system, pertinent numbered categories and levels of expectation. and minwei, above his though arguably fascinating bandmates -- had appeared to have creative sense. he thought highly of him. he still sort of does, unfortunately. give or take a few beliefs. he sets his drink to the arm of the couch -- not so invested that a tip or spill would bother him (it isn't his home after all). "shou is not why i'm here. and you're not considering the flexibility of my offer," oliver clarifies, terse but more forgiving than he usually is. this is big for him, patience. he shifts his legs, drags his knees to angle in minwei's direction. "i'm oliver. you've heard of me -- yes?" he taps, uninterested at the wood of the guitar. "this is unnecessary. i'm talking a lyrical -- creative brainstorm."

[clearwinged]

" [ HAIR ] // Tara & Kane " for @rowan-revelry

it had been raining. he doesn't tend to mind -- drizzles, downpours -- it's the thunder that tends to leave his jaw numb with pressure. but when he arrives, hands cold to the touch, the ginger-brown of his head unkempt and dripping, he feels apologetic. tara is always exceptional, all darling eyes and ironed fabrics, all effortless grace. the distance, though presently figurative (as he stands, hovers within arms reach) seems to echo in moments like this. whatever performance he tends to pull in wealthier crowds, quells -- inevitably -- under tara's gaze. he wishes he could hold it better, keep his chin tipped up for longer, drag his shoulders back. but her hands, only gentle and kind, peel him apart. he folds into her, light lashes briefly falling to the scrape of it, until he's swallowing, gulping at the familiar heat. the warmth he gets in being under her scrutiny. "ran 'ere," kane mumbles, breathless for all the wrong reasons. "saw the sun dip, and ran 'ere." it'd be easier to argue the yearning to be a sense of loyalty, as if his experiences in the mud would explain away his protective tendencies. except he knows this to be selfish in nature. her thumb moves across his damp hair, and kane thinks -- there's safety in numbers. this is a known truth. (except tara feels bigger than this -- blinding and soft and like the presence of one hundred, one thousand, one million. they can't simply be two.)