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  • in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #265291
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    Meriwether was situated in the adjacent room, his stout frame perched atop a stool with his ankles comfortably crossed as he enjoyed the small break he’d taken, to eat his ration of bread for the day.

    Then, he’d heard the bellow. He dropped his bread.

    He had a feeling he was not going to enjoy his break much longer.

    “W-warden?” The guardling rose with much urgency, his auburn curls bobbing as he drew his preemptively shortsword from its sheath. He wasted no time or effort in crossing the distance to George’s office, shoving the door open with haste, steeling himself for a jail-break.

    As it turns out, this was no jail-break at all: it seemed, to him, to be much more sinister, what with the puddle of vomit on the flagstones, or his superior sat up against a wall.

    The order from George was more than enough prompting for him to turn tail.

    Stars above!” Meriwether yelped, backpedaling through the door,

    “A-aye, George! Boss!” He gave a shaky salute as he beat a hasty retreat, out through the guild hall. In his boots with their shiny, new buckles, he ran at a beeline for the sanitarium, a white-knuckled grip on his sword.

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: Dagon's Broodling #265160
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    I really dig the colors you picked! They’re really satisfying and they go really well together. and you emulate the Darkest Dungeon style really well.

    It sorta reminds me of the fungal scratchers/artillery from the Weald.

    Overall it looks super slick! It’s awesome!

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #265114
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    The occultist had no words for what just happened. He surpressed Xuul with seething anger.

    Ibrahim could at least manage to contain his anger outwardly. “No. I do not have a death wish. But you do not look like an avid church-goer.” He fixed his eyes on Courcy with a questioning look of his black eyes. “It was a theoretical discussion, nonetheless. Hardly anything heretical.”

    He lets only a small sigh. The skull disappears in his robes. “I could leave, if you wish. This seems like a private issue.” He stands up and addresses Florence.

    “Don’t bother. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    Courcy regarded the occultist curiously as he hid the skull from her. She couldn’t help feeling that something more than theoretical was in fact going on, though she couldn’t guess at what. A fleeting question passed through her mind, stuck at the tip of her tongue, but it went unspoken.
    “I’d rather get out of here myself, as I’m obviously not ‘avid’.”
    The ginger turned her attention to Florence’s protruding beak, sighing at the sight of the doctor tending to her precious notes. Courcy quietly envied her simplicity – to have her nose buried in scribbles, hiding from the sort of unwanted attention that the hellion had amassed herself. Crossing her arms, she idly rubbed at the hand-print scar on her wrist.

    Florence busied herself with tending to her notes; smeareed badly, but not entirely unsalvageable. She could manage to make out the words if she squinted, and so she did.

    “I do not have an issue against Courcy.”

    She set the collection of notes down on the desk surface to inspect her newly ink-splotched robes. The sight was not entirely troubling, given that they were in need of re-dyeing as they were, and it was certainly not the worst stain to wear, given her profession.

    “I do enjoy this abbey. It is very hospitable.” The Crowgazer nodded her beaky head, wheeling stiffly around to face both Ibrahim and Courcy, “But it is understandable to experience discomfort.”

    “Thank you, Courcy.” She watched her a moment, as if making silent, internal calculations behind her lenses.

    She propped both arms up, stuck straight out with open palms, and took a hesitant step forward; it was as if she had only been described in words how to perform a hug, and attempted one herself.

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #265051
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    Tilly hummed warmly, happily, into his shoulder as she felt his lips again, although this time she moved not with the same, needy fervor she had moments earlier. She moved slowly, her muscles lax.

    “I daresay that I’ll keep on relying on you.” She broke into a smile, grinning now, giddily at the kiss that still provoked the herd of buffeting wings of butterflies in her belly.

    She peered upwards at him, “I’ve seen enough of you yet to know,” and settled into a more comfortable position, in spite of the vulgar aftermath of their bonding. She sat upwards, some, one long, sticksome arm wrapped about his torso to steady herself. The other felt down his braid, her fingers rising and falling between every notch along the braid.

    “Pity to the gossip-mongers.” She mumbled, bringing her face closer to his cheek so that she might kiss singularly on the jaw, just in front of the ear. The richness of his voice, his laugh, was more valuable than gold in that moment. It was a privilege to have the opportunity to listen just at the mouth.

    “I know enough of you to know that you’re no demon.” She started, listening easily to his tale: it was frightful, indeed, as expected for a wound in so intimate, closely-guarded locations as this, on man accustomed to cruelty. His laugh hardly lessened the severity of such a deed, and she found herself feeling guilty for being hurt on his behalf.

    It was a nightmarish scenario, though, for someone to have had an attempt on any part of their body, especially from one own’s blood. And while Lekalis appeared rather jolly, if not a touch grim, she would be upset for him.

    She rubbed her palm in circular, soothsome motions over the back of his shoulder, before drawing back away from him.

    Tilly began doggedly, “I know enough to know that you’re more than just a vessal, t–”

    Or so she attempted, before she was veritably stabbed in the back in an act of sheer aggression.

    A laugh bubbled over, an “Ach!” and she gave a flinch, hunching protectively as she made to slap lightly his twitching fingers away. There was little time for egress, however, as he kissed her once more.

    While she was no duelist, times like these called for more strategic actions. She made to pull him in deeper into the kiss, with one hand, while the other shot directly for Lekalis’ underarm in a bid for a counterattack.

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #265038
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    Her bones were heavy, laid out beneath him so, her bony legs curled about his hips, loosening their hold on him now that the act had come to a close. For once, she no longer felt anxious to rise, leave, and move, but this warmth was rare and treasured.

    Tilly smiled dreamily up at him, rather, and let herself breathe for once; her rather flat chest, rough with scarring, rising and falling with each content, tired breath. She felt contended, at last, no longer spurred on by threats of poverty, danger, and abject hunger. Almost deliriously, the ground felt stable enough to not collapse under her at any moment.

    Instead, she troubled herself more with the shades in his deceivingly dark eyes, seemingly and exotically dark, unlike anything she had seen before. And, for the moment, she was more than happy to count the number of dark lashes that framed his equally inky eyes, the hairs that made up his brows and beard, rather than frantically the number of coins on her person– which typically wrought more unease, no matter the amount.

    There was no fear of him running out, at least for a time, as she had already promised herself to him and his self to her. For all his injuries, the wounds he’d earned that nigh put him in the ground, he still stuck stubbornly around since she had known him.

    Perhaps it was too soon to claim him after Roderick’s passing, if Lekalis would indeed remain constant. But truthfully, she did not not know who of importance it would please for her to delay… she reasoned.

    She knew that he was finite, in her heart of hearts, but it did not feel so in this moment.

    She watched his lips move, and closed her eyes as she let her legs sleepishly slack: both heels on the ground, both knees propped lazily against his hips.

    “What’s… it to me?” She murmured, pointing her chin contentedly to the sky. Her hat pressed against the wall.

    “I think… I finally got to know you more, I did.” She smiled widely, and brought a hand up to feel along the jaw, and the hairs that grew along that skin on his face.

    She traced her fingers downward, gently along his sharp jawline, so that they’d break contact and lift at a point just under his chin. “You’re a lovely, amazing individual, you ought to know; you’d better not forget.”

    Tilly let the spidery hand rest below her collar for only a fleeting moment before it rose again to motion to the New Scar,

    “But who hurt you there?”

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #265027
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    Foolishly he assumed a degree of privacy, now he could only hope not to suffer from revealing his hand early to a stranger. Though, he heard her name – Courcy – and confronted his mental image with reality. They weren’t far off.

    Ibrahim locked his fingers and grabbed the flicking candle flame in them, dousing it. To the most perceptive, one bizarre thing would be noticeable: the flame have no smoke, nor did it hiss in contact with the saliva. Just disappeared.

    He turned on his seat, facing Courcy. “Greetings. My name is Ibrahim.” He nodded. “We were just having a conversation with the doctor, on the topic of magic.”

    And he froze in realisation. Xuul’s cackling echoed in his mind. Subtle demon…

    Courcy hadn’t been instructed to do more than deliver the clothes, so she promptly handed the robes over to Florence, dropping them atop her arms and consequently her notebook with little regard. Her eyes met with the blank goggles of the doctor’s mask, scouring for some humanity but finding none.
    “Blood sends his regards.”
    Still, she offered a smile, enough to satisfy the fact that this woman was a friend of Blood’s. The ginger turned her attention to Ibrahim afterwards, furrowing her brow at him and spying again at the skull. She was caught off guard at the mention of magic, in the abbey no less.
    “If you’ve got a death wish, there are easier ways to get killed.”

    Florence watched as Courcy approached, eyeing the robes in the woman’s arms eagerly; she felt unnaturally exposed to the elements without them, even with the dye scrubbed off…

    She was, of course, momentarily distracted by the odd behavior of the skull’s flame, until the robes were dropped onto her her still-drying notes.

    “…Hmmm.”

    The Crowgazer stared at it for a moments, and her shoulders slacked.

    “I wish you had not done that. The ink is still wet.” She fretted at monotone, stepping forward to the desk to tend to her potentially-smeared notes. She overturned it so that the fabric would fall limply atop the desk. In the meantime, she listened,

    “I also do not wish to die.” She added, over her shoulder, the beak jutting out at an awkwardly angle as she looked to Courcy sidelong, from her lenses.

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #265013
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    There was a peace in their solitude that she had not known before; tucked away in their own private nook, Tilly was aware of little else than Lekalis and his concupiscent motions, the sun and the sky. It was bliss, the heaviness of the past days’ weight had been lifted from her shoulders and replaced with a singular, simple want.

    Her arms held him close, wrapping her spindly arms about his body in an effort to pull him closer to hers, as if in fear that he might drift away in that nothingness they tangled themselves in. Her long fingers splayed and arched, pressing the pads of them downwards into his back, an attempt to grab and feel as much of him as she could at one time.

    There was nothing else. Lekalis was all that lay in her present world; all else, the mundane, the sinister, and the grey were all but forgotten in respect to this new world; his touch the ground, his breath the breeze, and his eyes were two suns that warmed her bones.

    She had scarcely registered his words, and only basked in the warmth of his breath on her face, down her neck. Her own breath came heavily, too, as she gripped the back collar of his shirt and dug her heels into the cobbles.

    There was only so much she could do as she pressed her lips to his collar and tasted his neck; it was hardly fair.

    She took a moment for a few hurried breaths, while her endlessly moving hands roamed southwards, snaking beneath the shirt to feel the firstmost of scars. She had the good sense to steer clear of the healing nick she had inadvertently scored closer to his chest what felt like years ago– indeed, each day in the hamlet, the hell of hells, tended to age a person.

    Though, Tilly was the pioneer of this brilliant new world and its hitherto unexplored territories, feeling along the uppermost scar: a simple, clean gash that had long since healed over. She was there for its bloody inception, so long ago.

    The other hand fumbled with the metal of his belt buckle, making to loosen it to ease the other’s passage.

    She recalled, distantly, a time when this man before her, Lekalis, infuriated her; in his actions and mannerisms and shameless debauchery. She was unsure if he had changed since then, or if she failed to see his true qualities until recently.

    Tilly knew for certain, however, that she had surely changed since then.

    She breathed him in, cherished the feel of his skin, though one particular ridge was more concerning: a long, jagged gash from his hipbone downward. She ran a hand along the scar’s length.

    “Why…”

    With a clearer mind, she may have asked, but in this moment it was simply not the case. With her hands around him, clinging to his embrace, she couldn’t imagine parting from him, not so soon when she still wished for more.

    [Yaaay it’s fate-to-black time. Intermission!]

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264973
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    The words were a soft-spoken song to Tilly’s ears; those were three of the most valuable words she’d ever heard, like wading into a cool pond on an all-too-warm summer’s day– and the whiskers of his beard were the breeze that brushed her neck.

    The soapish, perfumed scent of Lekalis was intoxicating, and she drank it in from his neck, the point from which the hairline and the skin met while her hands made to roam over his muscle-hardened form. She was regretful, now, to have declared the fellow a silly fop, so long ago during her earliest encounters with him. Now, though, she supposed the outcome was not as bad as it could be, all things considered.

    But to love only Blood, even as she had come finally to a decision herself? She would have thought it a terribly unfair thing, had her brain not been muddled and her pulse not rushed so fast. She closed her eyes briefly, so as to reign in concentration in spite of the more provocative distraction perched before her.

    He had told her what she wanted to hear, truly, and he deserved to hear the same; he rightly deserved to be made her only. This was no difficult task, after all; while she had loved Roderick deeply, a corpse and a memory made no lover. There was no promise to be made that she had to abandon the memory and forget him, and she’d consider it a true disservice to his legacy.

    There was no point in delaying love, now, for the sake of a dead lover, not in as dangerous an environment as this with so little time.

    Tilly blinked opened her eyes to look back upwards at Blood, half-voluntarily at Blood’s touch, which wrought the emergence of goosebumps and raised hairs all along her neck and arms.

    “Lekalis Fanuschrat,” She began with ceremony, bringing up both hands to feel against him, one on his shoulder and one palmed over the small of his back, just above the belt. “Blood,”

    She made to pull him in with a gentle, albeit firm and veritably needy grip back down from his near-sitting posiion to hold herself close up against his frame.

    “I do love you. I love you dearly, and I love only you.” She gushed, drunk off of happiness, as she moved to meet his lips again…

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264960
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    Tilly’s heart beat in her throat as she uncertainly watched Blood stammer in the face of her assault, and for a moment she feared intensely that she had been the one, for once, to overstep a boundary. That fear was almost immediately assuaged as she watched him break into a glimmering smile, a veritable half-moon and equally as captivating.

    That fatal smile caught her off-guard; the much more forthright kiss was an ambush.

    Although, ambushes were typically unwelcome.

    She needed not gravity to press herself back to him, as she rose to meet his lips and her fingers ensnared his. The cold that nipped at her face had all but abated, giving way to a new flush of warmth in her cheeks. She pressed her knees against his flank, hand gripping his as if in fear that his fingers might slip away.

    It was an overwhelming rush of sensations and emotions as she embraced Blood, and none of it was quite like she had planned; she had never anticipated that she might give in so readily to him, so soon after Roderick’s expiration. Though, it was true that she had not shared too closely with the late crusader in his last days, and she had overall been quite the closed book to him– through no fault of his own, of course. But yet, there was a sinister part of her that wondered, locked up in the ex-lord’s receiving arms, if this was the true reason she had beseeched Roderick to pack up and leave the Hamlet behind.

    The thought was unexpected and stung fiercer than any blow.

    Her eyes stared open and wide back at Blood as he withdrew from her, one lone, elegant strand of inky hair that hung down low in front of a cat-like, exotic face; she had never quite seen features as unusual as his before, but they were no less enticing.

    And he was uniquely compassionate, as well; she knew very few people who cared as deeply and unconditionally as Blood did, despite all of his debauchery. He was a tireless beacon to all, the misfits and criminals and soldiers and the like, those who would have him. She was unsure where herself, Courcy, and even that treacherous pet-doctor of Blood’s would be if it were not for is generosity and patronage. It did not come with no great peril in its own right, either, as the deadly spats with Whately, Nathan, and the Bear-man would testify.

    A painful realization came at a pang: it was possible to love two men at once.

    Her eyes had wetted, and she sucked in a breath as she pushed herself upwards, back to Blood, gripping his shoulder.

    “Tell me you love me,” She pleaded, begged, at a whisper, her breath on his neck.

    “Say it.”

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264958
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    For all of Florence’s frantic scribbling, her handwriting was immaculate, if not a tad cramped. She sped rapidly, occasionally flitting between the inkpot and the notes with her quill as Ibrahim spoke.

    It was only an introduction, and some of it she already had a vague idea of, though most of the material was of matters entirely beyond her– which only spurred her to learn more.

    She crammed in footnotes and questions in the margins, nodding, and had begun to ask, “At what c–”

    Then her day brightened yet more with the appearance of her robes in tow with Courcy.

    Her crow’s mask jerked to the entrance of the archives, and her hand froze mid-sentence.

    “Hello, Courcy.” The rest of the Crowgazer’s body followed her turned head as she made to face the Hellion.

    “I believe those robes are mine.”

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264954
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    Tilly’s fingers loosened at the bop on the boot and the more tender, more vulnerable expression of Blood; there was something satisfying in being able to read a man, to make predictions. Her stomach was in guilty knots.

    She rubbed her hands together and clasped her hands, wringing them anxiously as she eyed Blood,

    Her smallish chin bobbed up and down in a nod, “You keeping yourself alive and unbloodied is enough thanks; no fancy steaks needed.”

    Her bootheels rapped against the stoney side of the hill, rhythmically, as she palmed her hands over her knee.

    “I must admit that that was unintentional– I can’t exactly call myself a wordsmith or anything of the sort– but I’ll take it.” She brought her hands up below her chin, so that it might rest atop her padded knuckles as she watched him,

    “The difference between you and I’s that the folks that kill for me tend to die on my behalf, as well…” Her hands shifted, restless, as if stirred like leaves in wind, and tapped against the line of her jaw.

    It was nigh excruciating to be between decisions like so: to act, or not to act. She knew intimately the danger that lay insidiously in wait in the dark damp of the dungeons and the weight of unspoken words long overdue, the following, relentless regretful sting. It was starkly clear to Tilly that she had limited time to say her peace, especially just before an expedition

    “S’why I’m so nervous about you,” She admitted, almost shakily if not for the grace of her easy-spoken, measured tone. Her murkish-green eyes flitted all over his expression, and she twisted some so that her knees were angled towards him, and gave a small chuckle, “I… rely on you as much as you rely on me. I try not to think on it too hard, but I don’t know what I’d do if I lost all of that Blood.”

    And yet, there was some duty owed to the departed and the grief left in their bloody wake: there was Roderick, with still yet to be buried. His corpse likely hadn’t even cooled. He had taken a scalpel in the neck for her, and his intentions were well-meaning, if only the means hadn’t been so terrible. This was the man, the unfortunate man that happened to be stuck dead in the crossfire, that Roderick had intended to slay. It felt almost akin to a desecration to engage herself with Blood in such a way.

    “There’s no curse about it; we live on the whim of Lady Luck.” She leaned forward to the soapy fellow, and she studied his face, his lips. A hand snaked up to rest on his shoulder.

    Her heart thudded. It was frightfully wrong.

    “Tell me you won’t test her.”

    She leaned further, dangerously, to his face, and she was grateful to her gloves to keep her sweating hands at bay.

    No…

    The knot in her stomach pulled, and she felt almost ready to weep on Roderick’s behalf. She had slain him, watched his eyes glaze over, and callously moved on. It was shameful.

    Yet, still, the dead did not protest. And no one had to know– except herself, naturally. Time was indeed too short.

    She redirected herself and moved to damningly plant a quick kiss on the man’s scarred cheek, and she prayed that Roderick would not turn in his grave too severely.

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264925
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    Tilly listened to his hum with a rather gloomy smile and averted her eyes in kind as his inky ones met hers,

    “I haven’t got a drop of royal blood in me, I’m sorry to say.” She gave a brief, quiet chuckle, with an equally mild smile as she was nudged by the other man, “I was in the lot that kissed up to you proper Bloods: gentry, and all that.”

    She watched as he swayed and toyed with his poofsome shirt, toyed with her own leather jerkin. She thoughtfully weaved her fingers together as she settled down to sit at rest next to him; there was a flicker of uncertainty– or, rather, a flicker more uncertainty that she already was quite prone to mull over– over what she was seeing, her interpretations…

    She knew more than anyone the danger of holding one’s tongue, but now she’d had the harsh lesson against acting too brashly. All in all, there was more apparent safety in keeping her mouth shut.

    The robber scrunched her nose up at the facial assault of the jacket sleeves as it was flapped at her,

    “It’s quite difficult to intimidate those actual demons, you know, in that dark.” She warned with a tilt of her head, back, so as to see more clearly out from under the brim of her hat. She eyed the hills and valleys burned into the side of his golden cheek; an oxymoronic testament both to the ex-lord’s perseverance and to his own mortality.

    It seemed, in Tilly’s unprofessional opinion, to have healed well.

    “You’d better damn well let somebody know if you’re bleeding.” She told him firmly and watched his eyes, bringing up a hand in a trance-like motion to rest almost on top of his left shoulder, so as to run a thumb gently over the facial scarring.

    The man was hopelessly, heartbreakingly finite, she realized.

    “You only have so much blood to lose, mind; try and keep it all to yourself.” She cracked an earnest smile before pausing and drawing back her hand, another sniffle from the nose; the stark change in how she allowed herself to appear felt nigh whiplash-inducing.

    “As a companion, I prefer that you either avoid or share the pointed-est of blows,” Tilly insisted with a nod of her chin, long fingers curled like vines to choke
    about one of the coat sleeves, half-way between a decision to shift it back to Blood, or to let it be and save the competition.

    “Have you any clue how many people rely, presently, on you?”

    The act was a bitter resignation. Her python fingers squeezed the patchwork fabric of the coat.

    “Or the ones that’ve killed for you?”

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264674
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    /Lekalis/

    “You weren’t there.” He pointed out calmly, he brought his arm up and his hand slipped into the leftern sleeve before pausing, looking out to the buildings, before looking to Tilly.
    He hop-scooted over and flourished his hand out for the coat to, hopefully, catch around the Graverobber’s smaller shoulders. Albeit, to little success, as it draped loosely over her back, he saw to doing his best to drape the coat over himself and Tilly the best he could with the awkward situation.

    “… It’s– Much too… restrictive, I feel. I enjoy the freedom- Hmm…” He paused his movements when the coat seemed to be, loosely, drawn between the to to his contentment. He brushed his shoulder against Tilly’s and looked out over the buildings as well.
    “… Of a cloak. Easier to share, too.” He chuckled, looking over at her before sighing, nodding as he brought his hands into his lap to fidget over idly.

    “Well… It looks like you’re ruminating… I… I know you probably need time alone; but just for this once, I wanted to let you know that I’m here.” He glanced to his hands and then back over the Hamlet, squinting at the horizon.
    “… Others, too, of course. Always will be.” He remedied the intimacy with a shrug of his brows, his eyes occasionally glancing back to Tilly in an attempt to catch hers.
    “I wanted to make sure you were alright and… Well, call me selfish, but I wanted to talk again.”

    “I suppose I was ruminating a bit…” Tilly admitted, begrudgingly, bony fingers splayed over knees and tapping idly over her well-padded kneecaps. Her figure was starkly willowier and stick-like without the bulk of her coat distorting her beanpole silhouette. Her shoulder was sharp and almost uncomfortably angular to lean on, but it was warm.

    “There’s nothing to do about it, you know, ‘cept ruminate and feel sorry for yourself. That’s all you can do when these things happen…” She nodded, taking a breath that shuddered as her lungs pulled it in. She pushed a handful of blonde locks behind her shoulder, out of the way.

    “So I’ve been feeling sorry for myself– obviously. But that never hurt anybody.” She concluded, looking to him with ruddy eyes, expression relaxed at neutrality.

    “I didn’t really… anticipate anyone stumbling onto me like I am now.” The robber quirked a small frown and a shrug as she looked him over, “I do appreciate your being here, mind.”

    She gave a pause,

    “But it should be criminal to go strolling out in the cold in naught but an undershirt. Come now, you’ll catch cold like that.” Tilly tsked at him disapprovingly as she scootched forward on her rear, pivoting to face him from her vantage. The coat slid from her shoulders, but she was well within arm’s reach.

    “You ought to get yourself a more… muted cloak. You’re practically wearing a target on your back with that fancy red one, and you’re wearing it out much too soon.” She lifted the two limp arms of the jacket and tied them together loosely, one sleeve wrapped around the other and folded under itself, so as to function like a very raggedy, makeshift cloak.

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264519
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    The good doctor stared, transfixed by the skull and its hat-like candle. While Florence’s more corporeal studies scarcely provided the means to divine what purpose the skull-charm served, she had the foresight to predict that something entirely odd would happen– but the matters of ‘what,’ or ‘how’ were entirely beyond her.

    “How did you–…”

    Her movements stopped, as she stared between the candle and Ibrahim in awe, and then came to life, then, spurred by the startling observations like oil to a well-rusted machine.

    She reached over the desk in a surprisingly hurried motion for the typically rigid doctor, scrambling for the stack of notes atop the desk’s surface while simultaneously making to unscrew the inkpot’s cap.

    The pot wobbled, but managed to remain upright as Florence brandished her notes and quill. She was almost breathless,

    “What… what do you know?”

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

    in reply to: The Darkest Roleplay #264452
    VanityPirate
    VanityPirate
    Participant

    “I told you to meet me in the tavern, y’know…” Tilly sighed, leaning forward to rest her chin in her palm. She gave a glance away to the buildings below the abbey’s hill.

    “What’s it look like I’m doing out here?” She felt irritable at the intrusion, his haste; she had scarcely been out here for an hour or two before being called back.

    Still, she found it humiliatingly obvious why she was sat out there on her own.

    “The coat’s… warmer if you put your arms through the sleeves.” Tilly explained, quirking her head and motioning to the coat that hung over his shoulders. “It used to be Frederick’s, I told you. He was about your size, a touch smaller, maybe? But it might fit you better than it fits myself…”

    My characters-
    "I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
    "you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion

    Spoiler

    "All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."

    Tilly: Grave Robber
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
    Gold: 4585

    Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
    HP: Healthy
    Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
    Gold: 75

    [collapse]

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