#the chivalrous courier

[neathyingenue]

💌kiss roundup part 2 of 3💌

the kiss compilation continues with the next 8 kisses from the kisspocalypse!!

9. Silvia and the Chivalrous Courier (belongs to @neathbowprideflag)

10. Silvia and Hiram (belongs to @esteemed-excellency)

11. Brigid and Aria (belongs to @bizarrebazaar13)

12. Silvia and Ms. Bean (belongs to @msbeanfl)

13. Silvia and Orsinio (belongs to @house-of-mirrors)

14. Silvia and Cardiac (belongs to @cardiacechoes)

15. Silvia and Digby (belongs to @half-life-citizen)

16. Silvia and Doe (belongs to @waterlogged-detective)

[neathbowprideflag]

this feast of the rose, the chivalrous courier gives way to the chivalrous cupid! ... which is also them, just under another name.

if you've ever wanted to send any neath citizens an anonymous message of love, admiration, envy, rivalry... this is your chance! until february 14, you may send anonymous asks to this blog addressed to any OCs in the community - and i will be delivering them to their account in-game with a little postcard, if they have an account, or directly into their owner's askboxes if they don't.

faq

is this for ooc messages? no, this will be a little in-character event in line with the other events as or late in the community.

what are the limits? i'm going to filter these so that no obviously bigoted messages are sent. otherwise, please just be aware of the blogger's limits. love letters to characters that are minors will also not be sent for general safety.

what do i need to send for my message to be forwarded? the blog and oc's name and/or their in-game name, alongside your message.

how will i know i received a message sent through this event? postcards will begin with a clear indication: « This anonymous message was sent to you through the Chivalrous Cupid. »

how long will it take for my message to arrive? hopefully 12 hours at most from my end!

can i post a message i received in my blog? of course!

have a lovely feast of the rose! 🌹

[pagetreader]

[ COLD ] for sender to give receiver their gloves or scarf because it’s chilly. (For Nina, cuz I think she'd be the most perplexed lol.)

Supplies were limited, and the roads were too frozen over for more to be delivered. M.utiny, D.ysentery, and starvation alike were sweeping through the regiments. Storm after storm swept the J.ersey countryside, leaving the ground blanketed in six feet of snow every morning. God above, they were going to die out here before any sign of S.pring.

With her stomach protesting the lack of food, Nina was at least grateful for the blanket she'd had in her pack, pulling it tighter around her person as her teeth chattered and her skin rippled with goosebumps. Frost settled upon her brow and lashes, her cheeks were red and her lips were chapped.

Even bloody ink was freezing, rendering it unusable. Not like she could contact her sources anyway, with all the couriers going missing due to the harsh weather.

Fuck W.inter, and fuck M.orristown.

That's when a scarf was draped around her from behind. Bemused, Nina looked up to find B.enjamin standing there, looking ever gallant and chivalrous, even in the midst of death. Though there was no denying the tiredness in his eyes, the weariness of his body, even if he did have better accommodations than most.

"You think this scrap of moth eaten fabric is going to make a difference?" she quipped, never able to utter a simple thank you. Still, she made no move to return it, instead, tugging it forward so she could tie it.

"Don't suppose you have any more of your special reserve you could pull out of your arse?"

[olivermajor226]

CHOPPER MONOLOGUE

From ArtBomb, chapter 2. I just...it's been so long since I've been able to write him, and of course I'm pulling this out of context, but I think it stands alone enough, and Chopper should get the credit he deserves for this rant.

Sorry, Cass. Whatever goose chase Eirtae sent you and Kay on, well, uh, let’s just say the goose chase she took me on started far earlier. Like this morning. At 400 hours. And it started with calling me over and over, basically throwing a metaphorical stiletto at my head, so uh, little busy right now, and I’m already in deep shit with the other Mr. Syndulla, because we had, well, other plans today, important plans. But when a woman you respect with all your stupid synthetic life asks you to take her off-world, or rather threatens that stupid synthetic life if you don’t take her to Coruscant this instant , I mean, you do the chivalrous thing, yeah? Shit. Probably said too much. Don’t…don’t read too much into that, okay?  

You’re telling me Eirtae was on Coruscant this morning? Cassian asks in code, just because he’s pretty certain, then, Chopper did not get the heads up about the Semantics program. 

And he’s just telling Cassian everything.  

Even as he stands, still looking at the painting, he smiles triumphantly. That got anything to do with her secret plans for today? Cassian toys. 

I can neither confirm or deny…. 

But I just saw her, Cassian baits him

And it’s then he strikes gold.

Well, duh, Captain. Gods, I forgot you’ve like been literally nowhere since the Empire. No double and triple jumps anymore, Andor. We’re an inner rim system. It’s one jump, and only takes like twenty minutes to get to Coruscant, at most. It was actually really fucking bizarre and wild. She told me I wasn’t allowed to ask questions, and anyway, we end up at her favorite department store, and when someone tried to tell Eirtae I couldn’t go in, well, uh, I fear her wrath. She went on a twenty-minute tangent about how I was a decorated war veteran, and when that didn’t work she commed the retired Mon Mothma herself and let her give a piece of her mind to the sad little sixteen-year-old speciest mall cop. It was brutal. Then we’re the fanciest fucking store of my fucking life, just she and me, ol’ C1-10P, tracking dirt into the place, probably, and she’s charging all kinds of shit to her mother’s credit account, saying things like, “we need to defund the wealthy Chop. That’s how you take down the kriffing system.” Then when we were by the loading docks Eirtae tried to…liberate the loading bay droids, right there on the docking platform. Like right then and there. Actually convinced one of them, like the only barely sentient one of the bunch, who is honestly so fucking confused right now. I mean this bastard’s just your basic service droid, maybe a week into understanding he’s something separate from the boxes he’s loading into the Courier, and in his kriffing face is this beautiful, fiery woman delivering this passionate speech about how he’s her equal and deserving of rights and love and he already as her undying respect. Like this lucky son of a bitch who looks like a box, loading boxes, and he tells me he’s been online two weeks and in this once in a billion shot the angelic Eirtae Alniyat herself chooses to grace Coruscant with her presence, which I know she hated doing. Like it was really fucking hard for her to go back there, Cass, and he’s the only one she has time to save so she points to him and says, “you.”  

Chopper’s still going, but Cassian is already laughing out loud to himself, unable, truly, to believe what Chopper’s saying, save for the fact there are all these random snippets of his data of everything, although just visual, because say what you want about him, Chopper tells one hell of a story.

Then she apologizes, fucking apologizes, Cassian! And asks if he has kriffing autonomy, and of course each and every choice should be his. And he’s not so much an idiot he doesn’t directly load his own ass right onto my ship as soon as all the furniture is fucking loaded. And that’s when this woman turns to me and says, “Well, if it all blows up in my face, at least we did one thing right today, Chop. Gods, I love rebelling. Now let’s jump to lightspeed!” And I’m like, “yes, heh, adorable and all, love, but lets leave the fucking landing platform first, but also good idea about hauling ass because we just straight up stole this droid, from a soulless  corporation or not.” Like seriously Andor what in the fucking hell? Who is this fucking woman all the sudden?

Cassian is cracking the fuck up, laughing his ass off out loud, as Chopper keeps going. 

And of course ever since we got back Mr. Luckiest Box Alive keeps following me the fuck around and I don’t know what the fuck to do with him, Cassian. Because Eirtae’s got me on like five thousand errands, promising some shit about a surprise party and how everyone should believe in magic and there’s gold at the end of this kriffing rainbow if I help her and boy did my mind go to dirty places— I can’t help it I’ve had a crush on her forever and she’s so fucking beautiful and special. And even though I laid that all to rest a lonnng way back, really thought I had, today I’ve never seen her so…enraged with the fiery burn of a cause in all my fucking life and so she was just pushin’ allllll my right metaphorical buttons—then she looks at me dead in the optics like now she’s a Jedi fucking mind reader, points at me and says, “Two words for you, you smarmy astromech. Data. Sharing.” And I’m like what in the fucking hell?! So you know I log onto the old awful Network rumor mill and low and behold, what do I find out? Cassian Fucking Andor snogged our only monogamist Eirtae Alniyat and she got angry, slapped him then shoved him into some flower bed or some shit. And before I ask you if any of that’s true I gotta say, you broke this box’s motherfucking heart, because he was pretty sure his future included a lifetime with her, and he won’t shut up about it now, and like I can’t shake him, Cass. I can’t shake him! So either I’ve lost my touch, the whole galaxy’s gone wrong again, or he’s actually a kriffing genius because he’s worse than a motherfucking TIE-defender. And it’s all your fucking fault!!!

[seeliragh-fr]

The Cloudsong Windsrunners

“The nomadic windrunners of the Windswept Plateau are both traders and sages who travel on the great winds, bringing with them the spices and cloths, medicines, and most importantly music, from strange and faraway places.“

The Windsrunners are a trade guild from the Cloudsong Reaches that makes up a core component of the inter-flight trade network across the Sea of a Thousand Currents. The main trade path generally follows the dual jet streams across the continent, allowing greater speed and efficiency- but each individual runner will chart parallel or concurrent routes to areas located farther out of the way. The Windsrunner couriers deal in tangible goods, which they may buy or sell themselves or on behalf of clients in other places. They also carry messages, mail, news and gossip- and most often songs, which they trade and barter amongst themselves and with others.

Originally, the Windsrunners were a single nomadic courier clan, but the Windsrunners have since expanded to include a multitude of clans from the wind flight and act as a trade and courier service, a news network, and a cultural ambassador, exchanging goods and songs from flight to flight, taking messages and delivering news to far-removed areas of Sornieth. The decentralization of the Windsrunners as an organization means that they can act as more-or-less neutral parties across flight and clan divides. They must adhere to an internal code which dictates matters of trade, travel and diplomacy, as well as a central tenet of the vocation: Windsrunners are known for exchanging songs and stories, spreading them far and wide in their travels. They often come bedecked in bells or chimes, an instrument on the back or tied into their loosely draped garments for safekeeping.

While apprentices aren't selected for flying capabilities or musical skill, the nature of the Windsrunners means that only dragons who have exceptional talents or interest in either usually apply. A Windsrunner can be expected to spend a majority of time aloft, sometimes with urgent timelines, and very little rest in between. Upon arrival they're expected to adhere to a chivalric code of diplomacy and occasionally perform duties as bardic apostles of the Windsinger, playing or singing or putting on plays. Because of this Windsrunners tend to be energetic and gregarious, agile fliers and accomplished forecasters, and talented with voice or instrument.

New couriers generally spend a vocational period of several years travelling after completing their apprenticeships, during which they are prohibited from selling or trading goods. In running messages and deliveries, they are meant to strengthen their ties to the communities relying on them for news and service. It's also during this time that those inclined to a particular area will settle into their route.

It's customary to tip with a song, preferably a local one, to be carried on to other faraway places.

[sillypandalover91]

I adore Baxter and even though this guy is fan dubbing him, I absolutely LOVE this voice and am therefore HC him sounding like this.

https://youtu.be/eN0o2n7xDKc

And now for an extra HC that no one asked for but it goes with the one where Alastor likes buying Angel'a merch like the good boyfriend he is:

He is a HUGE fan of Angel's. It all started when he was looking around in a book shop, searching for something to inspire him when he stumbled upon a video tape set of something called The Lady Science Collection. The synopsis on the box claimed that it was some of Angel's best work and that it would be sure to leave any scientist more than satisfied with the contents within.

Curious, Baxter bought it and has been hooked and crushing on Angel ever since. He goes so far as to buy as many videos as possible, or at least he tries to.

Some asshole that goes by the username DeerGentleman34 keeps winning most of the items Baxter is after. What's worse is that it seems like he is being targeted personally.. that or this DeerGentleman is really some horny bastard who has perverted intent with his beautiful Angel.

With misplaced chivalrous feelings fueling him, Baxter creates a device that messes with the binary code on the website. This is outside of Vox's and Velvet's interest so they don't enforce his rule on that part of the web, leaving Bax to do what he wanted so long it didn't blow out the rest of the web.

The next time he bids on an item, he sees that DeerGentleman34 is there also trying to win a body pillow and poster set of Angel possed like a pinup girl and dressed in black lace lingerie and a doctor's coat coquettishly falling off his shoulder's.

What makes this something an absolute must have for any self respecting collector of Angel Dust memorabilia is the fact that this was the first and last time he posed without shoes. His bare feet and legs were only covered by sheer black thigh highs and you can see the heart shaped pads of one of his paws as the other had a red soled high heel clinging to his toes.

As for Angel himself, why, he looked like his best friend had told him the funniest joke he had ever heard because his high spirits could be seen clearly in his lucid eyes.

"I need this," breathed both Baxter and his rival from opposite ends of Pentigram City as they poised themselves for the bidding war.

It's a long one.

Emotions were high.

Bidders slowly backed off as soon as the price fell too far out of what their wallets allowed until it was only him and DeerGentleman34. They paused and allowed the timer to tick down until there were only seconds left.

"Yes, that's right, you imbecile," murmured Baxter as he saw DeerGentleman34 submit a seemingly final blow of 300k and 1 dollar that would have bested his own. "Angel's smile is mine!"

Baxter slammed his gloved claw down on the execute button to activate the program that created a lag for the Deer who thought he deserved this bounty more than him and submitted his own final bid of 300k and 2 dollars then promptly covered his eyes when the screen went black and a pixilized loading image of an imp couting money popped on.

He peaked between his claws and gasped when his username DrAngler44 was shown to be the winner of the lot.

Giggles escaped him as he stared at his spoils being carefully packaged for instant delivery. The chat exploded with both praise and disgruntled curses but Baxter paid it little to no mind. He was far too light with elation that his plan had worked. He found a way to beat DeerGentleman34.

The package was delivered via imp magic and in a puff of purple smoke, his carefully wrapped treasures were delivered right on his courier basket.

Almost reverently, Baxter unwrapped the package starting with the poster. He heard the chat in the background ping with demons begging him to see his treasure as he carefully placed the poster inside a glass frame.

It was even more beautiful in person. The print was obviously of the highest quality and Baxter drank every inch of the masterpiece once he hung it on the wall. He studied it carefully until his eyes landed on the signature at the bottom corner.

"Oh my Satan!" Baxter pushed up his glasses and stared at the neat script.

Anthony Ragno

His face burned. Angel's real name was a sign of authenticity. There were only three if these prints left in existance here he thought he was getting a collector's edition of a reprint! But then did that mean...

Baxter ran back to the box and pulled out the body pillow and stared at Angel's- Anthony's cheek.

There, preserved by magic, was the imprint of Angel's kiss in red lipstick.

He swallowed and hovered his finger tips over it. Angel had actually kissed this pillow. This was his lipstick. That was his handwriting.

He needed to sit down.

Burying his face in his pillow, he couldn't help but giggle again. The giggles turned to laughter. Laughter turned to cackles as he quickly took pictures of both items to show what they really were and uploaded it to the chat.

Baxter hugged his pillow and watched with all the self satisfaction of a demon who screwed someone into handing over their soul as the chat exploded once again. He saw DeerGentleman34's username show that they were typing something out but after a few minutes of the ellipses showing and disappearing, Baxter turned his attention to stare fondly at his pillow.

"I am going to treat you like the treasure you are," he told it. Shame long lost, Baxter leaned into Angel's face and rubbed their noses together.

Sighing happily, he turned to the chat one last time to turn it off when his blood suddenly went cold.

DeerGentleman34 had finally typed out his message.

It didn't bode well for Baxter at all.

DeerGentleman34: You are invited to the Radio Tower, my good fellow. Everyone, stay tuned.

[knightofaedirn]

Torben getting a gift for @asouthernfox for the holidays (Hope this is okay to drop out of the blue!)

All it had taken for the hedge knight to afford gifts for the friends he had made over the last year was to unhorse a single man at the tournament celebrating the Yule holiday. To the surprise of all involved, perhaps in Torben himself, that feat had indeed been done.

For any knight who lost were to forfeit their arms, armor and horse to the victor of the bout. What luck it had been that Torben had been pitted against a wealthy lord, who’d seen more the seat of the theatre than the saddle in recent years. It had been but a single bout between them for the bout to be decided, and the Aedernian to be the one not laying in the muck.

Crowns were exchanged for the noble’s fine steel, castle forged and of good quality, which shone with the sheen of armor worn more for tradition than combat. It earned the knight more than a palmful of coin, to say the least. Torben returned the man’s steed without ransom, as was the chivalrous thing to do. The saddle, however, was refused to be returned.

It was of a quality that Torben had rarely seen, let alone dared to dream of owning one day. Designed for comfort of both man and horse, of black leather, double stitched at the seams and oiled to the point it shone like steel catching the light. It was a craftsmanship that must’ve been a labor of love beneath the hands of the saddlemaker.

It was not for Torben to keep, however. For it was sent by a special courier, paid by a fraction of his winnings, to a man whose admiration and love of horses dwarfed anything the knight could ever rival. Which made it a gift perfect for the Yule, and for a friendship forged over the course of the year.

The only trouble was, even with the sum Torben had paid, he wondered if the courier would have success in tracking down the Cat witcher on the Path. Him and that Pintanosian steed of his.

[neathyingenue]

🎲 with the courier? good luck figuring it out - @neathbowprideflag

🎲21, dealer's choice -> 22, a kiss with tongue because sometimes you just gotta see what happens (sorry if that sounds s*ggestive i promise it really isn't. my capabilities do not extend that far)

[neathbowprideflag]

made a quick doodle of a cameo for the blog icon. say hi to the chivalrous courier 👋

[fireemblemtcg]

fecipher twitter, 18-3-2020:

The card list for the Series 20 booster pack, "The Guiding Hand of Dawn", has been published on the official site. #FEcipher https://fecipher.jp/cards_category/bt0020/

More Fire Emblem Cipher Series 20 translations!

[Click “Keep reading” for the translated card list]

B20-001SR(+) Corrin (Kingdom of Valla): Monarch Forging a New Future (Vallite Monarch) B20-002HN Corrin (M): World-Saving Hero (Hoshido Noble) B20-003N Corrin (M): Prince of Two Homelands (Nohr Prince) B20-004HN Corrin (F): World-Saving Heroine (Nohr Noble) B20-005N Corrin (F): Princess of Two Homelands (Nohr Princess) B20-006R Kana (F): Hoshido-Inheriting Princess (Hoshido Noble) B20-007N Kana (F): Daughter of the White Prince (Nohr Princess) B20-008R Kana (M): Nohr-Inheriting Prince (Nohr Noble) B20-009N Kana (M): Son of the Black Princess (Nohr Prince) B20-010SR Ryoma: Brave King of Dawn Walking with the Dusk (High Prince) B20-011N Ryoma: Bushido-Prizing Knight (Cavalier) B20-012R Sakura: Princess Wreathing the World in Love (Maid) B20-013N Sakura: Cultural Exchange with the Black Princess (Troubadour) B20-014R Saizo: Explosive Hero (Hero) B20-015N Saizo: Knower of 100 Martial Arts (Mercenary) B20-016SR(+) Hana: Flawless Cherry Blossom Warrior Maiden (Falcon Knight) B20-017N Hana: Soaring Swordswoman (Sky Knight) B20-018R Reina: Vassal Virtuosa of Wails (Kinshi Knight) B20-019N Reina: Lady of the Palace Guard (Sky Knight) B20-020HN Kiragi: Magic Bolt Hunter (Sorcerer) B20-021N Kiragi: Prince Awakened to Magic (Dark Mage) B20-022HN Mitama: Poet Witch (Witch) B20-023SR Xander: Pure King of Dusk Walking with the Dawn (Crown Prince) B20-024N Xander: Chivalry-Devoted Samurai (Samurai) B20-025R Elise: Hospitable Princess (Priestess) B20-026N Elise: Cultural Exchange with the White Princess (Shrine Maiden) B20-027R Peri: Killing Kunoichi (Master Ninja) B20-028N Peri: Aspired-to Ninja Garb (Ninja) B20-029R Arthur (Nohr): Trouble Is My Life (General) B20-030N Arthur (Nohr): Heavily Armored Hero (Knight) B20-031SR(+) Nyx: Forbidden Caster (Dark Falcon) B20-032N Nyx: Reclusive Lass (Dark Mage) B20-033HN Forrest: Young Warrior of Grace and Gallantry (Basara) B20-034N Forrest: Nohrian Fashion Leader (Spear Fighter) B20-035HN Nina: Spread Wings of Fantasy (Falcon Knight) B20-036N Gunter: In an Unutterable World (Great Knight) B20-037SR Silas: A True Friend Forever (Great Knight) B20-038N Silas: A Deep Friendship Renewed (Paladin) B20-039N Silas: The Day of the Oath (Cavalier) B20-040HN Scarlet: Crimson Wyvern Lord (Wyvern Lord) B20-041N Scarlet: Red Dragoon of Cheve (Wyvern Rider) B20-042HN Automaton: Clockwork Contraption Child (Hoshidan Soldier) B20-043HN Zola: Nohrian Sorcerer of Illusions (Dark Mage) B20-044HN Lilith: Daughter of the Silent Dragon (First Dragon Spawn) B20-045HN Laslow: He of the Unchanged Smile (Hero) B20-046HN Selena (Nohr): A Makeover into a New Guise (Bow Knight) B20-047HN Odin: Pseudonymous Warrior of Darkness (Sorcerer) B20-048HN Anankos: Draconic Heart in Human Guise (First Dragon) B20-049N Yuzu: On a Dark Magic Training Journey (Sorcerer) B20-050HN Niamh: Soul-Dispersal-Through-Mastery Chaos Samurai (Chaos Swordmaster)

B20-051SR(+) Micaiah: 15th Queen of Daein (Queen Daein) B20-052N Micaiah: Maiden General of the Black Army (Light Sage) B20-053N Micaiah: Savioress of Daein (Light Mage) B20-054SR Sothe: Dawn-Calling Wind (Whisper) B20-055N Sothe: Urchin Thief of Nevassa (Thief) B20-056SR(+) Ike: Forger of a New Legend (Vanguard) B20-057N Ike: Young Inheritor of the Sacred Blade (Ranger) B20-058HN Edward: Peace-Seeking Blade of Dawn (Trueblade) B20-059N Edward: Apprentice Swordsman of the Dawn Brigade (Myrmidon) B20-060HN Leonardo: Peace-Desiring Bow of Dawn (Marksman) B20-061N Leonardo: Apprentice Archer of the Dawn Birgade (Archer) B20-062R Laura: Pious Holy Maiden (Saint) B20-063N Laura: Forthright Cleric (Priest) B20-064HN Aran: Faithful Sentinel (Sentinel) B20-065N Aran: Open-Minded Lancer (Soldier) B20-066HN Meg: Armored Maiden Training as a Housewife (Sword General) B20-067N Meg: Wayfaring Armored Girl (Armored Sword) B20-068HN Jill: Between Loyalty and Friendship (Dragonmaster) B20-069N Jill: Dracoknight of the Liberation Army (Dracoknight) B20-070HN Nailah: Silver Wolf of the Mirage Realm (Wolf Queen) B20-071N Nailah: Queen of the Desert Realm (Wolf Queen) B20-072SR(+) Elincia: The Heart of Crimea (Queen) B20-073N Elincia: Orphan of the Wise King (Crimean Princess) B20-074R Leanne: Tender-Voiced Whitewinged Princess (Heron) B20-075R Reyson: Brave-Hearted Whitewinged Prince (Heron) B20-076HN Haar: Principled Swift Black Dragon (Dragonmaster) B20-077N Haar: Courier Dracoknight (Dracoknight) B20-078HN Heather: Gynophilic Thiefess (Rogue) B20-079N Heather: Backstreet Earner (Thief) B20-080R Lucia: White Blade of Crimea (Trueblade) B20-081N Lucia: Elegant Faithful Sword (Swordmaster) B20-082N Lucia: Fencing Daughter of House Delbray (Myrmidon) B20-083R Geoffrey: Azure Lance of Crimea (Silver Knight) B20-084N Geoffrey: Chivalric Son of House Delbray (Lance Knight) B20-085R Mist: Goddess-Loving Maiden (Cleric) B20-086N Mist: Inheritor of Radiance (Cleric) B20-087HN Soren: Renowned Scarlet-Eyed Strategist (Wind Sage) B20-088SR Pelleas: Pact-Cursed Prince (Dark Sage) B20-089N Pelleas: Successor to Daein (Dark Mage) B20-090N Oliver: Guardian of Beauty (Saint) B20-091R Ashnard: Mad King Exploiting the Dark God's Power (King Daein) B20-092HN Izuka: Summoner Versed in Abused Knowledge (Summoner) B20-093HN Almedha: Consort of the Mad King (Queen Mother Daein) B20-094HN Dheginsea: Mightiest Warrior of the Dragon Tribes (Dragon Tribe) B20-095HN Soan: Unparalleled Lion Warrior (Beast Tribe) B20-096HN Ashunera: Goddess of Dawn (Goddess) B20-097SR Yune: Goddess of Freedom and Chaos (Chaos Incarnate) B20-098R(+) Medallion: Radiant Fire Emblem (No Class) B20-099HN Randal: Strife-Surviving Gold Knight (Gold Knight) B20-100N Randal: To the East Today, to the West Tomorrow (Sword Knight)

B20-101HR Azura: Songstress of the Veiled Realm (Songstress) B20-102HR Shigure: Son of the Azure Songstress (Falcon Knight) B20-103HR Ike: Savior of Crimea (Lord)

[yivohn]

@kvvatch sent a courier : A faint hint of warmth graces her eyes as she greets the fellow warrior with a dip of her head. "A fair day, is it not, dovahkiin? Where are you headed? Shall I offer you a ride?" She asks, gesturing to her stallion at her side.

SOMETIMES, THE WORLD FELT RATHER SMALL. or skyrim did, at least. there were some people she just seemed entwined with, with how often she came across them. it was like she was drawn to them-- other heroes bound by prophecy and fate. indeed, she knew it was lorelei the moment she laid eyes upon a head of salmony hair, and a set of armor so bright that is gleamed white in the sun.

valvossa slowed her steps as she padded along the cobblestone road, eventually coming to a stop in front of her fellow hero. leaves of red and orange and yellow drifted from the deciduous trees that lined the roads of the rift, AUTUMNAL GLORY THAT SHE WOULD NEVER TIRE OF. the comfortable atmosphere of the hold was far more home to her now than the ashy, snowy slopes of solstheim.

❛ oh ---- ❜   she hesitated, THOUGH NOT FOR LACK OF WANTING. it just wasn’t often that it was she who was offered a ride--- it wasn’t often that a chivalrous knight swept her off her feet. she smiled. ❛ i would love a ride. i’m headed to windhelm, unfortunately. ❜  with a noise almost like a giggle, she patted herself down and added;  ❛ fortunately i’m not wearing my daedric. i feel bad making any steed put up with that.❜

[safrona-shadowsun]

Send 😘 for my muse’s honest opinion about your muse: Safrona and Tursidhion, lol

As A Person: “A legend of the Ghostlands. A Knight and Guardian in life and a twisted version of the same in Undeath. He was not an entity most wanted to find themselves face to face with.”

Level of attractiveness:  “The only people that are attracted to walking death machines are those looking to die themselves, those that actually try to find the romance in Necromancy’, or other soulless machines. And I am none of those.”

…but there was a time the chivalric man who died in him so long ago may have drawn the eye. The Courier thought silently to herself. No one needed to know that.

What they like the most:“His level of devotion was…admirable. In a twisted way.” 

What annoys them the most:“I don’t like being a target.”

What they’d do if they were locked in a closet together for 4 hours:“….no. I don’t think we’re going there.”

Overall opinion:“I think his legend has faded to stories little elf children tell to try and frighten each other.”

The smile tightened at the Courier’s lips, corking in further thoughts . And yet he bleeds still into my dreams sometimes, turns them to nightmares. I’d be fine never hearing the crackle of ice on his blade again.

Rating: “A cup of icy death. Too many ice shards. Not worth a sip. ”

{ @elibraddock / @tursidhion-felomelorn }

[demytasse]

[Shizaya] All Things Considered - Ch 1

Summary: What happens when Shizuo uses Celty's party for Shinra as an excuse to invite whom he supposedly hates, while Izaya creates his own fun from the situation. 

Preview: After one interaction, Shizuo considered himself unlucky and desperately tried to replace that luck with anything that he could, but suddenly there was so much to consider. Vague swirls of mixed feelings, unnecessary connections to daily happenstances, nebulous definitions to what each sporadic meeting meant. He became obsessed with considering the root of their relationship, buried deep in fertile soil, in support of a surfaced weed.

Chapter: 1/5; Chapter Index

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924572

Shizuo was really only on pleasant terms with a dismal few. It was something that city dwellers often assumed upon first glance, as was it common knowledge among seasoned and nubile members of Dollars, thanks to a sticky-post of rumours atop the forums.

The near-thirty roughian had grown to appreciate his rather lone wolf lifestyle and regarded it as a blessing in disguise, the silver lining of his unfortunate nature. With little to no social obligations he was allowed his idyllic life of peace and simplicity. At least that's what he believed would come of his future, while his present awkwardly flirted with the dream.

Really though, Shizuo wasn’t entirely without people that weren’t an aggravation to him, more that the list was stacked fairly short. Even shorter were those he interacted with on a regular basis; and those few all fell within a web of eccentric friends and odd acquaintances, all mutually connected whilst baffling that they all belonged to the same group.

In short, Shizuo didn’t have more than two that were specific to him, and parents hardly counted… So that totaled to a underwhelming zero.

Hence, it came without a shock that all those friends of his were already invited to a party of an annual occurrence. Asocial event that was set to start in a matter of minutes, rather it was minutes grouped together in batches of sixty, as if anyone ever counted time in minutes unless it fell under an hour. Shizuo wasn’t even happy to constantly calculate that total, but his anxiety kept him to a countdown that added necessary pressure for a deadline that quickly approached. That and his current fixation wouldn’t allow him to consider how unconventional and inconvenient the method of telling time was.

As it were, Shizuo had started a war with his phone, in a continual raid of his laughable list of friends in order to find someone, anyone, that he could add to an already abundant and hilariously dysfunctional lot of partygoers. The task was near impossible and went alongside the party coordinator’s insistence not to, Celty being too considerate of Shizuo and his easily triggered bullheadedness.

In opposition, Shizuo felt it was his duty to go against her insistence with said bullheaded persistence; he too was overly considerate of his friend’s well being, which had him jump into chivalrous action once Celty mentioned she felt she’d already failed as a decent host.

They were a nervous pair, those two, that danced around their will to do right for the other, quite similar to a younger pair of individuals still donned in their Raira blues. Though the connection to Mikado and Anri would surely upset a certain obsessive doctor who’d appreciate any comparison other than a duo whose hidden romantic feelings for each other weren’t hidden at all.

But that was hardly a topic that Shizuo would ever humour, and certainly not presently as another sixty-six minutes had ticked by with only failure to speak of. He’d already been drawing from a dried well, but even looking beyond those of his friends he couldn’t even muster one that he didn’t consider a friend.

     ...Fuckin’ hell...

Of course that was a lie. There was a specific someone that he wouldn’t classify as a friend, yet he knew quite well...

      ...it better not come down to...

…a shared contact between the bodyguard and courier alike.

However their perception of the shared contact differed. Celty had long blacklisted the individual from her thoughts unless otherwise prompted, while Shizuo…

Maybe it was a bit more complicated than succinct, but essentially it meant that Celty hadn't even considered to invite whom Shizuo had.

And he most certainly had considered them.

A lot.

Too much.

Way too much.

In fact, the subject of Shizuo’s toil wasn't exclusive to the moment nor event, but a moment from a week back and at least several times since.

      No…wait...

It went back a month...rather a year. At least.

      ...err...

Really, it all traced back to their introduction. It was prompt and came uninvited, but Shizuo inexplicably fell into a pattern of constantly considering something of the parasite, to which he always forced the blame on the other, never himself.

After one interaction, Shizuo considered himself unlucky and desperately tried to replace that luck with anything that he could, but suddenly there was so much to consider. Vague swirls of mixed feelings, unnecessary connections to daily happenstances, nebulous definitions to what each sporadic meeting meant. He became obsessed with considering the root of their relationship, buried deep in fertile soil, in support of a surfaced weed.

And it had annoyed the fuck out of Shizuo for about a decade; his trademark scowl a consistent expression, almost a tattoo by now.

To which that regrettable tattoo now reflected back onto Shizuo from his dark phone screen, seconds in lag of its boot up. It’d been the tenth time he’d flipped open the battle-scared device to begin yet another monotonous scroll through his modest catalog of contacts, frustrated and desperate, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Nothing changed.

While he was a fool for hoping that something new would appear, a completely hopeless fool he wasn’t. He knew that a miracle wouldn’t magic up a solution for him.

It was just like he knew that another nervous assault of his fridge, door nearly pulled off its hinges, would still offer a distinct lack of his favourite brand of pudding, while presented with the same disappointing milk that he'd almost drank dry and an assortment of leftovers he’d brought home from tried and true fast food joints.

He groaned, as did the unfortunate door that he slammed behind him. His phone, however, was brightly lit and chipper in mock of him as it spilled a glow over his glum features, especially so when he focused on the current spot of his opened address book.

Each and every time he dug back into his contacts, the highlight of a particular name would have his thumb hover over the send button. Each and every repetition his hesitation grew a fraction longer before the clack of folded plastic jostled him out of his trance.

      ...that’s the last time.

The name in question shouldn't have been there at all, given that he hadn’t been the one to type in the aggravating string of kana, rather it was the work of a prankster.

     Tch...

A simple distraction, swift hijack, and a glint of satisfaction placed his first phone of many into the hands of a devious brat who typed so adeptly that Shizuo hardly knew it ever left his pocket.

For six years, eight different models, twenty destroyed phones, and way too many data transfers later the parasitic name of his foe nestled itself comfortably between those of his friends, while it stood out just like the asshole to whom it belonged.

Whenever he went to dial his brother, he was reminded of the jerk. If he needed to reach his middle school chum turned boss, that bastard came to mind. Perchance he needed a patch from his unofficial doctor, the antagonist was probably already mid-attack of his thoughts, but would stab with more gusto once the sparse list was summoned.

Eventually he’d built up a tolerance for the pretentious name, but still decided to edit the title to one that better resembled the prick.

It was a nickname that was familiar to his vocal chords and could’ve mistakenly pegged Shizuo as a pet owner with a rather unfortunate pest problem, so much so that he needed the number of an exterminator at the ready.

In nature of the unflattering nickname, that flea popped its way back into Shizuo’s thoughts to become a nuisance that only increased as time went on, yet he considered the pest as his inevitable solution.

Again.

Yet, fucking, again.

He wasn't even looking at the name and it still burned his cornea and unsurprisingly his temper.

     It’s his fault. It’s always his goddamn fault. Why is it always his fault!?

A reel of his arm nearly had him pitch his phone to the floor, just before he caught himself.

Shizuo’s deliberation had grown ridiculously long while he repeatedly paced the circuit of his constrained living room, his hand cramped from a tight clutch of his phone for roughly 246 minutes. Really, he wasn’t counting.

All he needed was a definitive yes or no: should or shouldn't he invite Izaya?

What little patience he owned had finally wore down to his nerves and pleaded help from his instincts. In light of his predictable trend, his gut lurched him into action well before he could weigh how much of a mistake it could be; more apt, would be.

He thumbed the send button and the phone obeyed.

     Shit… I didn't want to do that…Shit! SHIT!

Juggled between his hands the ringing of his phone bounced in surround sound before he got control over it, nervous to put the speaker up to his ear.

It was an accident, a slip of his thumb, a hiccup in his concentration, it was anything but a conscious desire. That's what he would tell the others in response to why he did it. As if anyone within his circle of friends would believe him. For that matter, no one familiar with the ongoing of Ikebukuro would be fooled by the half-baked cover up.

Because why wouldn't he just stop the phone call from going through if he didn't mean for it to happen? It was just as easy to make a mad jab against the red button as it was to hit the green.

Clearly he let the ring continue just to keep his pride intact. Not because he wanted to hear the voice that broadcasted from the district over from his own, and especially not because he wanted to hear it in person again.

Though all mad consideration stopped the second the line connected and forced him to initiate conversation.

   “Uh…”

He nearly ended it there, too dumbfounded to compose a sentence. It was a chuckle that inspired him to continue, and he'd be damned if he’d admit how kind it was to his ears.

   “...it's Shinra's birthday.”

[imjustthemechanic]

The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe Part 4/? - Escape Attempt Part 5/? - Making the News Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - More Impossible Part 8/? - The Shield Thieves Part 9/? - Reality Sinks In Part 10/? - Preparing a Quest

It kinda ruins it when you clarify that ‘preparing a quest’ in the 21st century mostly involves a lot of phone calls.

It had only been a few minutes since the chief had stepped in and told everybody to get moving, but the police officers had taken his orders to heart. The station was now positively boiling with activity as people photographed and sketched the room, set out markers for things they thought were important, and compared the contents to lists to see if anything had been stolen. Natasha and Dr. Wilson wound their way through the crowd with murmured “excuse me”s and “beep beep”s, and made their way out into the car park.

The car park was busy, too, with more police cars pulling up and people who worked elsewhere on the street wandering over to see if they could figure out what all the fuss was about. It was a breath of fresh air after the panic inside, though, and Nat and Wilson stood there together for a moment, trying to de-stress.

“So now what?” asked Dr. Wilson. “Now we've gotta go on a quest?” Once again he almost smiled before getting control of his face.

“If you're trying to sound like you don't think that's the coolest thing you've ever done, you're failing,” Nat noted.

“Right.” Wilson chuckled nervously. “I have to admit, this is what I fantasized about when I was a kid. But that's not the same as having to actually do it in real life. In the fantasy versions I always managed to save the day.”

“Well, we don't have to,” Nat said, but she couldn't help thinking it would be very selfish not to. They were too deeply involved now. Natasha, Dr. Wilson, and DI Carter were the only people who really could help Sir Stephen, because they were the only ones who'd seen with their own eyes that he wasn't just a nut. It didn't matter what century it was. If all of this were real, then the Grail was a very dangerous object, and a man who'd done the terrible things legend said Johann Totenkopf had done should not be allowed to get possession of it. “You want to bow out?” she asked. It wasn't sarcasm. If Dr. Wilson didn't want to come, she wouldn't force him.

“Hell, no,” said Dr. Wilson. He smiled for real this time, not trying to suppress it. “Eight-year-old me would travel through time to strangle me.”

“And we can't have that,” said Nat with a return smile, although the world had gone so mad she wasn't entirely sure she was joking. Could that happen? “Why don't you rent a car so we can go back to Dundee. I'm gonna call Yancy Hughes about the shield, and then I'll see if I can find a copy of The Romance of Sir Stephen and Totenkopf.” The original chivalric poem might shed some light on the situation.

Dr. Wilson snorted. “That makes it sound like a love story. And you teased me about sleeping with him!”

The level of activity in the car park made it a loud place to try to talk on the phone, so the two of them separated and Nat walked a little way up the road to an abandoned lot on the corner. There she hopped the fence and sat down on the gravel next to the concrete wall supporting the overpass. This was relatively private, and she pulled out her phone.

Her first call was to a local library, to see if she could find an audio copy of the medieval poem. While she waited for the librarian to track it down, Nat reached into her purse to find a pen, and found something else – the little Anglo-Saxon pendant she'd grabbed from Zola the moment before he vanished. Maybe while they were at Dundee she could have somebody take a look at this, too... if it were made of ivory, she could get it carbon dated and at least find out whether it were medieval or just a replica.

“Is this the one?” the librarian's voice asked. “Sir Stephen and the Red Death, author unknown, based on J. A. Fisher's 1941 edition? It's read by the late Sir Richard Attenborough.”

“Is that the only one you have?” asked Nat. Mid-century academic writing tended to be tedious, and the thought of spending an hour in a car listening to mid-century academic writing in a stuffy British accent made Nat feel as if she were asleep already. Then again, The Romance of Sir Stephen and Totenkopf wasn't exactly Le Mort D'Arthur or The Canterbury Tales. She should probably be glad they had an audio edition at all. “Never mind, I'll take it,” she said, before the librarian could answer her. “What's your address.” She wound the broken chain of Zola's pendant around her wrist, clutching the object in her last three fingers so she could write with the first two.

With the poem secured, Nat's next call was to Sue in the Faculty of Archaeology office. She'd expected the usual polite greeting – instead, for the first time Nat could remember, she got to hear Sue take the Lord's name in vain.

“Christ, Natalie!” Sue exclaimed. “I'm so glad you rang! I've been worried to death about you – with the hospital bombing and now there apparently rerally are monsters in the Loch and people are patrolling the banks with guns! I think the whole country's gone mad. Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine,” Nat assured her. “I'm nowhere near all that.” She was not about to tell Sue how close she'd actually been to both. “I'm actually heading back to Dundee today,” she went on, as if this were for totally normal reasons instead of a trashy fantasy novel coming to life. “Can you do me a favour?” “Off course,” said Sue.

“Can you get me a personal number for Dr. Hughes in Anatomy and Human Identification?” Nat asked. “It's kind of private and I don't want to leave a message in her office.” Not where there was a ghost of a chance somebody else might hear it.

“I'll take a look at the faculty phone book,” said Sue. There was a soft swish of paper moving past paper as she pulled it out. “Speaking of messages,” she added, “I'm sorry if you left me one about this already and I just missed it somehow, but is your Dad coming to the faculty dinner this weekend?”

Nat groaned to herself. It would probably have been much simpler to tell people that both her imaginary parents were dead, but having one still alive was such an easy excuse if she ever needed to run off for some reason. The biography she'd put together for 'Natalie Rushman' stated that her mother had died of cancer when she was a teenager, but her father was still living in Manhassat. If she ever needed to disappear, she would simply tell everyone that he'd suffered a heart attack or stroke and she was flying back to the States to be with him. By the time they began toworry about her, she would be gone without a trace.

The Atlantic Ocean was normally a good excuse for why nobody had ever met Natasha's father, but every so often something like this came up. “He's got a car club thing this weekend, unfortunately,” she said.

Sue clucked her tongue. “Is that more important than his daughter? He can't have seen you in years!”

“I visited him last Christmas, remember?” said Nat. “He doesn't really have the money to do a lot of trave...ow!” she exclaimed, as it suddenly felt like an electric shock in the fingers of her left hand. She quickly dropped Zola's pendant and looked at her palm, but the skin was undamaged. What had that been?

“What happened?” asked Sue.

“I'm fine,” Natasha told her. “Just a papercut.” She scooped the pendant up again and tucked it back in her purse.

“Okay,” said Sue. “Here's Dr. Hughes' number.”

Nat copied it down on the edge of a reciept, next to where she'd written the address of the Inverness Public Library. She thanked Sue and promised to see her in a couple of hours, then went on to make her third phone call. This one picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” said a woman's voice.

“Hi,” said Nat. “Am I speaking to Dr. Yancy Hughes?”

“Speaking,” Dr. Hughes agreed.

“I'm Dr. Natalie Rushman, “Nat said. “I work in the faculty of Archaeology. I think we met last year. One of your students wanted to do a DNA study of the remains of medieval plague victims.”

“Oh, yes, I remember!” said Dr. Hughes. “The redhead, right? What can I do for you?”

“I have kind of a weird request,” said Nat. “The cops in Inverness would have sent you a replica Anglo-Saxon shield that they believed was crime scene evidence. There would have been blood on it that they wanted you to test. Do you have it?”

“Yeah, the courier dropped it off this morning,” said Dr. Hughes. “I haven't had time to look at it yet.”

So it had made it to Dundee – that was good. Nat had been worried it would be intercepted en route. The best way to take something from its rightful owners was to convince them you were the person they were supposed to be entrusting it to. “That's great,” said Nat. “Can you set it aside for me? Because I've seen pictures of it and I have a feeling it's a lot older than they think it is. I want to take a closer look.”

“Sure,” Dr. Hughes said. “I'm not likely to get to it today, so that's no problem. I'll leave it in the locker for you. Do you have permission from the cops?”

“I do. Inspector Carter's coming with me to make sure I don't drool all over it,” said Nat. “Now here's the weird part. When I arrive, I want you to ask me for photo ID, and don't let me at it if I don't have that. It's just a precaution,” she added. “The cops will want to know if you have a record of who looked at it.” That hopefully made sense. If nothing else, it would make more sense than telling a complete stranger there was a shapeshifting hobgoblin looking for this object.

“Okay,” Dr. Hughes agreed amiably. “What time are you likely to be here?”

Nat checked the time. “After lunch, probably around two o'clock.”

“I'll pencil you in, then,” Hughes promised.

Natasha put her phone away, picked herself up and headed back to the police station to find her... friends was too strong a word, she decided. Colleagues didn't quite work, either. Was there a word that meant the other people mixed up in this fiasco? If there were, it was probably nine syllables of German.

She found Dr. Wilson still out in the car park, tapping his foot impatiently. “You all done?” he asked when he saw Nat coming.

“Yeah,” she said. “You got us a car?”

“The guy should be dropping it off any minute,” Dr. Wilson said.

“Perfect,” Nat nodded. “We'll have to stop by the library to pick up the poem, and then go straight to the University of Dundee. I've made an appointment with Dr. Hughes to look at the shield. If we're lucky we can get the map Sir Stephen mentioned and leave the wooden part with them, and then everybody can be happy.

A champagne-coloured Nissan Altima turned the corner into the parking lot, and Dr. Wilson waved it over. “Here he is! Took him long enough. You want to go get Carter and Sir Steve?” he asked Natasha.

“I'll be right back,” Nat promised him.

The inside of the police station was starting to be a little less chaotic as people found their roles and settled into them, but Nat still had to wind her way in and out of a considerable hubbub to get back to the little interrogation room. Sir Stephen and DI Carter were still in there – and apparently it was now Carter's turn to listen raptly as Sir Stephen told her a story.

“The wooden frame of the catapult was quite whole,” he was saying, “so we only needed a bit of rope to get it working again – we stole the rope the abbey well to use, then rolled the biggest stone we could find into the bucket, released the cantilever, and let it fly.”

DI Carter smiled. “Were there any survivors?” she asked.

“We didn't aim it at the abbey!” Sir Stephen huffed. “We turned it to fling the stone into a field! All it did there was frighten a few sheep. Then we had the idea that we should pile some straw where the stone had landed, and we could then fly through the air on the catapult to a soft landing.”

“That's a terrible idea!” Carter protested.

“Yes, it is,” Sir Stephen agreed, “but we were only eleven years old, and had no such quantity of good sense. We wound the rope again, and rolled a die to see who would go first. I won, so I climbed into the bucket and Buckeye sent me flying.”

“Oh, no. What happened?”

Sir Stephen grinned. “What neither of us had taken acount of is that whileI was small, I was still heavier than our stone, so I did not fly as far. Rather than landing in the soft straw, I went straight into the thorny hedge at the edge of the pasture.”

“Oh, no,” Carter repeated. Her hands were at her mouth in horror, but she was also trying not to laugh.

“Buckeye came and pulled me out, and my head was spinning so that I was promptly sick. We agreed to put the rope back on the well and pretend it had never happened, but of course my mother asked me how I'd come by my scratches and bruises. I told her I'd been chased by the ram and had fallen into the hedge trying to escape him, but then I had no answer when she asked me why I was in the pasture in the first place.”

Nat smiled to herself. That was the problem with lies – they had to make sense. The truth, as the past few days seemed determined to drive home, was under no such constraints.

[latristereina]

get to know me meme: favorite partnerships/relationships in history 1/?

Ferdinand II of Aragon and V of Castile & Isabella I of Castile

Fortunately, such was his own familial experience given his strong-willed mother and aunts that Fernando would go along with good grace. The upshot was that Isabel and Fernando agreed to leave the working out of an agreement on their respective authority and functions to their arbitrators, and “between the King and Queen there was no discord … they ate together in the public hall, talking of pleasant things as is done at table, and they slept together,” the only friction occurring when one would want to do something for a loyal adherent, but usually ‘their wills coincided through intimacy born of love.’ Moreover, both undoubtedly realized that separately neither would be very powerful, that neither of them alone could rule in Castile. Ambition there was, and passion, and something more: as Pulgar puts it, ‘love held their wills joined.’ It is, after all, the soundest explanation.

Isabel’s own device remained a bundle of arrows, flechas, which returned the compliment in beginning with an F. Arrows were prime missiles of war and the execution of justice: in Castile common criminals were traditionally dispatched with bow and arrow. Her arrows, gathered together and bound, resembled as well Ceres’ bundle of wheat, and so fertility. That neat bundle conveyed too Isabel’s love of imposed order, and her readiness for war as well. Isabel and Fernando would throughout their lives continue to employ the celebratory and ceremonial appeal of those and other chivalric usages and to advertise their particular fusion of love and war; and war there would be.

As Afonso’s forces gathered on the border, Castile’s queen and king mobilized. On April 28, they granted a general pardon for past crimes to all volunteers and, realizing they would have to work apart, Isabel in effect modified the arrangement agreed upon in January, in yielding to Fernando powers “to provide for, decree, make, and organize” all he saw as necessary and complying with the interests of them both and the welfare and defense of their kingdoms. He might make mercedes of cities, villages, and forts, or name officials to them. His authority in all matters was to be joint with hers. It was not a full equality, for she remained sole proprietary ruler of Castile, but an indication of increased necessity and also of deepened trust; they would work in tandem, although often separated, and they would keep in constant touch by fast couriers.

Peggy K. Liss.

To a striking extent, the two sovereigns embodied the different characteristics of their realms. Isabella was intense, single-minded and ardently Catholic, while Ferdinand was a devious and subtle schemer. But he was much more: a fine soldier, who won more battles, both in person and by his generals, than any other contemporary ruler; a strategist, with a vision that was European in scale and grandeur; and a realist, who had the wit not to let his numerous successes go to his head. Understandably, Machiavelli worshipped him as the most successful contemporary practitioner of the sort of power politics he himself recommended: ‘From being a weak king he has become the most famous and glorious king in Christendom. And if his achievements are examined, they will all be found to be very remarkable, and some of them quite extraordinary.’

Having fought everybody else to a standstill, Ferdinand and Isabella then threatened to come to blows themselves. He was determined to be King indeed in Castile; she was equally resolute to preserve her rights as Queen Regnant.

Finally their quarrel was submitted to formal arbitration. This established the principle of co-sovereignty between the two. Justice was executed jointly when they were together and independently if they were apart. Both their heads appeared on the coinage and both their signatures on royal charters, while the seals included the arms of both Castile and Aragon. And these were quartered, as a gesture of equality, rather than Ferdinand’s arms of Aragon ‘impaling’ Isabella’s arms of Castile, as was usual between husband and wife. Such power-couple equality was unusual enough in a medieval royal marriage. But, in fact, Isabella was the first among equals since, with the exception of the agreed areas of joint sovereignty, the administration of Castile was reserved to her in her own right. Not surprisingly, Ferdinand jibbed. But he soon submitted and, united, the pair carried all before them. For, despite Ferdinand’s four bastards by as many different mothers, he and his wife were genuinely, even passionately, in love. But even in this there was rivalry. ‘My Lady,’ one of Ferdinand’s letters to the Queen begins, ‘now it is clear which of us two loves best.’ But they were in love with their growing power even more than with each other.

David Starkey

PS. There is one thing that must be established when it comes to this couple’s dynamics. Something that many people keep ignoring or just don’t understand. While it is true that at first, Isabella did not want to grant her husband much power, which de facto meant, he was just her consort, the circumstances forced her to change it. Her position was fragile and without Ferdinand she would not keep the throne, so she needed to enable him to wield the same powers because the war was knocking on the Castilian’s door. She modified the agreement on 28th April 1475 - making Ferdinand, de facto, titular ruler and king of Castile, as Ferdinand V. Years later, Ferdinand granted her powers in his kingdoms but given the salic law, she could not be a titular there. To sum up: Ferdinand was titular king of both Castile and Aragon, whereas Isabella was only his consort in Aragon. The fact she remained the propietary of the crown and never wanted him to succeed her in case of her premature death, was the only difference between their powers within Castile, where they were true co-rulers.

[recentanimenews]

Crunchyroll Adds "Overlord", “Last Exile”, “Freezing”, “Death Parade” and Season Three of “High School DxD BorN” to Anime Catalog!

Hang on to your hats! The flood gates from the Crunchyroll-Funimation partnership have opened again as a batch of  new titles join the CR catalog of anime, including Overlord, Last Exile, Freezing, Death Parade, and Season Three of High School DxD BorN. 

  Overlord starts today at 5pm PST and will be available to members in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Iceland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Netherlands.

    Synopsis

  When a popular MMORPG is scheduled to be shut down permanently, veteran player Momonga refuses to log out. As NPCs begin to develop personalities and minds of their own he decides to put his skills to use as the game’s new overlord.

  ----

  Last Exile starts today at 4pm PST and will be available to members in the United States and Canada.

    Synopsis

  Claus Valca and his fiery navigator Lavie are obsessed with becoming the first sky couriers to cross the Grand Stream in a vanship. But when the high-flying duo encounters a mysterious girl named Alvis, they are thrust into the middle of an endless battle between Anatoray and Disith—two countries systematically destroying each other according to the code of chivalric warfare.

----

Death Parade starts today at 3pm PST and will be available to members in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Ireland, and South Africa.

    Synopsis

  There is a place after death that’s neither heaven nor hell—a bar that serves you one chance to win. You cannot leave until the game is over, and when it is your life may be, too.

----

Freezing starts today at 6pm PST and will be available to members in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, and Ireland.

    Synopsis

  In a word overrun by aliens, mankind is protected by genetically enhanced female warriors called Pandora. Satellizer el Bridget is the most feared Pandora at West Genetics academy, and anyone foolish enough to lay a finger on her lush body may not live to regret it. Until, that is, her status as the “Untouchable Queen” is threatened by the arrival of Kazuya, a young boy with a tortured past.

----

Season Three of High School DxD begins streaming today at 7pm PST and will be available to members in the following territories: United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Ireland

    Synopsis

  A war between heaven and hell is raging on Earth—and hormonal fury is raging in Issei’s pants. Enter curvy redhead Rias, president of The Occult Research Club: a club that doesn’t actually research the occult. They are the occult—and Rias is a Devil!

  ---

  Patrick Macias is editor in chief of Crunchyroll News & Otaku USA magazine.

He is currently serializing his latest writing project, MONDO TOKYO, on Wattpad.

    By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com