this world is dying in our arms |
for a moment he thinks he should leave, head to the grotto, find his children and ensure their safety. surely aidoneus would not have left them alone, though? surely there was somebody there, right? this is the thought that consumes, taking over from his hurt feelings in regards to ghyslaine. @Zelda, too, is a welcome distraction, and a tightening of his lips serves as a greeting. it wouldn't feel right to smile, not when violarum was gone and with him their friends. if circumstances had been different he would have asked ghyslaine. @Astarte appears and has some venom to spill, but for now he remains silent, only tipping his head slightly her way. it is @Olive's question that draws his focus, blinking at her in surprise. for a second he is afraid she means aidoneus, that his feelings have been too obvious and that the whole damn thing is about to come crashing down on his head. it takes him a moment to realize she means ghyslaine, and then he is quick to correct her. "she's my friend... or i thought she was. that boy she is so affectionate with, he is an enemy of mine. his mother killed my wife." he leaves it at that -- there is a lot more to the story, but he feels that sums it up nicely enough. @Halimade interrupts, and then @Violarum himself, the latter earning a questioning look from the wheat king. @Brynja, then, and Alaric finds the whole situation a clusterfuck. Especially when @Ghyslaine disengaged from Nero to join them. There's really nothing he can add to the situation, and instead he allows @Myra 's question to pull his focus. "Yes," it was an easy enough answer, "we used to hunt together when I lived in the Oasis. It's been quite some time..." Lies, but lies for the sake of her well being and so they were ones he would tell a thousand times. As far as anybody here knew the last time he had seen her was in the pit, at one of the Mire rank challenges.. |
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
No fights in progress
With Bordeaux usually energetic today, Patchouli had to resist the strong urge to tell her no, offering only a frown instead. This expression did not seem to serve as a deterrent for the child. Patchouli would get up as the girl headed off to investigate, certain the others were likely to follow along unless they decided they would rather have their naps instead.
When they arrived, Patch would look around the group briefly before settling near her daughter, who had the sense to stay back from the main group. She would feel a strange pang of hurt when she saw @Violarum but she would quickly turn her eyes away from him. She had missed him when he left, but more than that she felt a sense of betrayal when he didn't offer so much as a farewell.. not that she had done anything to deserve one from him. Likely she had seen something in her naive mind that simply wasn't there.
This feeling was soon replaced with quiet anxiety as she noted @Alaric as well. Hopefully he wouldn't even notice her if in meant he might tell her to return to the Mire.
"Does Madre fight well?" he asked Jafar with a somewhat wide-eyed expression, admittedly having never seen her truly battle anybody before. It was exciting to see his mum being a badass, but it was also kind of... odd, and made him uneasy.
their romantic affair (or lack thereof) is firmly denied by @Alaric, as he is quick to relay of the transgression ghyslaine commits through the company she shares. and while the tale contains some good shock value that knits her brows, the youth is more disappointed by the king’s solemnity, by his unwillingness to unwind. must the rulers of amaryllis – apart from vio, that is – be oh so serious? but soon, she is distracted by a stirring in her peripherals that shifts her priorities from the man. and as her gaze flits to the source with hopes of enlightenment, her breath hitches in her throat as a light pressure slings about her neck and shoulders. but her astonishment is fleeting, for the perfume of a familiar tabby wafts through her nostrils, the feminine tones of her possessive croon murmuring against her ear. a giggle slips from jaws gaped in an elated grin as she concludes her assailant is @Halimede, failing to grasp the woman’s attempted claim upon her hide as she mistakes the utterance as a testament of her affection. she does not shy from hali’s embrace (nor would she dream of it), but violarum’s looming presence does cause her to tense with uncertainty. and her features anchor with a frown as the woman relents her hold, quick to inform of double standards that merely serve to confuse olive further. there is a moment of silent pondering before her eyes snap open with understanding, and hali’s endearing will to possess morphs into something far more sinister. for the tabby did not wish to steal her attentions from the mire king – she wanted to steal her. where the youth had spent many a night cursing a complete lack of talent, it finally dawns on her that she had been blessed with one after all. where ghyslaine fosters one for bravery, violarum one for strength, amaroq one for brutality, eskel one for wisdom, halimede one for witticism, and seneca one for beauty, olive harbors the aptitude for trouble. trouble has a penchant for finding her even when she does not seek its company, even when she only seeks friendly conversation in a crowd, even when she wishes to lay low in the underbrush. perhaps she were fated to trouble, and trouble to she. and what greater a matrimony than theirs? they bicker for her sake, and she is silent as their conversation unravels, her gaze bouncing back and forth as each friend states their piece. there is no denying the pride that flutters through her chest as she is forced to acknowledge that she is a hot commodity, and she revels in their flattery quietly, particularly touched by the words of @Violarum. and as the lorien king turns his question upon her, she hesitates for fear of disappointing hali. if only the friends she’d made could unite under one roof – and one that didn’t cover sand. “well, yeah,” she manages, her intent for a gentle rejection to the andal babe very conspicuous in her moving monologue. but @Ghyslaine – in all of her maternal glory – interjects the party with taunting vocals, and for once, olive does not encourage the pale beauty. rather, she shoots ghys an incredulous look before her attentions return to hali. “it’s nothing against you, or even seneca, or anyone else,” she informs the tabby with a shrug. and even when she had fled the premises of the oasis, it had been under the notion that the andal horde would find amusement in her endeavor; but she had been greeted by the miroslav wrath instead, much to her dismay. “i just hate the desert, is all.” and it were a shallow reason, but olive supposes it is good enough to excuse herself from its sandy clutches and seek refuge elsewhere. |
I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard |
Crouched down low still Nazonal made an immediate beeline for the albino figure, aiming to come up on his side where Ghyslaine had been while remaining crouched down, laying beside him in semi-ready to pounce position. She looked a mess from practically crawling over to him, she also looked though... a little tense. Weird for Nazonal who usually thrived in this manner of chaos and energy, the precipse of fighting was no strange place for them. Something was under her skin. Something that also compelled her to try and reach over her paw, place it directly beide Nero's forepaw. I'm here..
YELLOW PVP: open to any & all fights but ask first for DMs
Please contact me OOC if you want to bring TW topics into our threads
show me what it's like to burn Unfortunately, said company is already occupied - her brother and who cannot be anyone except her father surround her, a buffer and shield that Scorpius in no way wants to test. So he does not, but passes them by and tries to catch @Sedona's eye when he catches Thrain’s question. “Does madre fight well?” That is… interesting. Scorpius glances toward the battle and stops short, mid-step, as his gaze roams over Sedona’s mother and - And his mother. The rage that bubbles up inside does not break the surface of Scorpius’s dediecedly flat expression as he tears his gaze away from the fight, and it lands on his father and sisters. He seeks them out instinctively, coming up to @Léonie's side and sitting down without a word. Without a snarky remark or greeting. He presses silently into her shoulder, ruby eyes locked on the fight as if he could somehow will the battle one way or another. |
In all honesty, Adrien would prefer to stay away from what would surely prove to be just another circus display of violence. The call was for a part of the Rainforest though. A part of the very same jungle that had grown so special in Adrien's heart these past weeks. The place where she and Nazonal were going to build something grand together. It was slow going, perhaps, but it was going.
So she can't really ignore this, can she? With this event happening so close to home, she should at least be aware of the major details, shouldn't she?
So the French lady approached the gathering cautiously, doing her best to keep her tall, peachy frame hidden amongst the thick leaves of the foliage that had been lucky enough to survive the recent fires. Admittedly, her own genetics work against her when it comes to stealth, but she figures she might as well try.
She doesn't know either of the woman who are currently tussling over the right to rule this section of the Rainforest. She doesn't know enough to say who she thinks should be the winner here, but she hopes that, whichever one of them it is, they won't do anything to disturb the relative peace that the jungle had settled into.
Naturally, when the battle begins in earnest, Adrien can't help but avert her eyes away from the scrap, choosing to take a moment to study the crowd, screeching fearlessly at the gathered crowd. @Marja is, as always, impossible to miss. "Oh, please calm down before the wrong lion takes notice of you, Marja. Please." Adrien might have to step in then, though she has no idea what she might try to do to fix it.
@Nazonal is there too, crouched beside a white lion that Adrien doesn't recognize. Was he another friend of theirs. If she wasn't so on edge, Adrien might've tried to go over there and introduce herself, but for now she stays put. Besides, they both look a bit somber, she thinks. Perhaps they would prefer to be left alone.
With a sigh, she would turn her bicolored gaze back towards the battle, wincing slightly as the scent of blood began to seep into the air.
Pathfinder Level 3 perk to remain hidden
1 is failure, 2 is success
speech
Halimede had almost hoped @Olive had been stolen against her will, whisked at the whims of @Violarum simply because she was the most desirable. She would never fault the man for wanting such a prize, but it were the way he'd gone about it that slighted her the most. Under the nose of Antares' challenge had they slipped into the Oasis. Halimede was more upset at the Andal lions who had fought against their own comrades to ensure an escape than she was at Violarum and Olive themselves, but the nature of it all had still left a wound, a hurt Halimede could not quite understand.
She opens her mouth to retort, but not before @Ghyslaine appears. She is a woman all-too-familiar, thrust into the fray of that fight for Halimede what felt like so long ago. Before the world had turned asunder, at least. But long had the rains brought the Oasis back to its full glory. Confusion sprawled across her expression at the Heiress' words, brows knitting. Her and Olive weren't close, sure, but she'd been the closest thing Halimede had to a friend that wasn't Leander or Seneca, broody boys that they were. And poor Halimede had a difficult time letting things go, not when so much had already slipped through her fingers because she'd been too afraid to act.
“Bored? Me? Never. I'm far too entertaining,”
she announced, her cheeks puffing out. But unlike most other lions present, she supposed, Halimede had never known anything but the desert. Compared to her homelands, the Oasis had been a step up. It is only when Olive speaks does the crack in Halimede's façade begin to seep through.
I just hate the desert, is all.
She wasn't sure why that had hurt the most. Olive had been the closest thing in a long time Halimede had to a friend who'd matched her energy, who could engage with her in such fantastical fancies, so much so that she'd truly been preparing the early stages of building their glorious moat and yet—seeing Violarum and Ghyslaine so fiercely defend a woman who clearly had no intention of ever staying hurt. “Ah—I see—well,”
she began, trying to find the right words that would choke back the tears, “I guess I'll be going then.”
If she were not worth enduring the desert, then was she worth anything at all?
Queen Halimede Sandpaws the Third would resign herself to that lonely desert. Alligators and elephants and all.
Exit Halimede
She can be discussed in OOC settings.
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