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[Dragonette_11]

Єlizabeth αnne αrabella
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At the Stands
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Tagged: Kai
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Single
&
No Love Interest

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It was at times like these where Elizabeth wanted to scream out 'I am the wanted thief!' or 'I am the one whose yet to be caught and defeated!'. But then again, she had to be a good girl and keep herself out of trouble for the sake of the poor. "We'll just see about that," she merely replied, determined to prove this man completely wrong.

Then he spoke of the creature she had her eyes on. "Yes.. She is quite a troublemaker. I encountered her yesterday as well," she murmured, and now decided that the cat humanoid was female. A few things starting to click in her mind when Kai told . So yes, she did indeed know this man, if not formally. She still had yet to learn of his name for he never gave it when she gave him her 'name'. But she did know that he was one of the Istoth guards whom had come to greet the Seulghem envoy, which she was just so happening to watch from the trees adjacent to the road, right when they had been robbed.

[val.]

Ｋ'Ｊｏｏｒ
job :; huntress
species :; khajit
where :; istoth castle
under rule of :; istoth
doing :; running
with :; --

The Khajit flashed a sly grin, departing from the group of people to her own safe place which was the woods. There was a huge weight lifted off her shoulders, yes, but another, smaller weight held still. She had gotten enough money to buy her supplies to hunt which, in note, she had run out of. But now, K'Joor had a reputation. And she had a feeling smooth, charming words wouldn't get her out of everything. The cat moved in the shadows, staying on the outskirts of the crowds, listening to the bickering people as her mind focused on what to do about her reputation. A idea came to her mind, as she slipped out of the castle grounds and into the forest. The poor usually spread the word rather fast if someone was helping them, so why shouldn't she just give them the meat she hunts to get some positive points on her already bad reputation. K'Joor shrugged, laying a hand on her skinning knife, which was of no use. It was dull as a weapon, made out of wood yes. But her arrows were the most expensive and rare. Ivory and iron arrows were very expensive for a low income person as herself, and for only a quiver of arrows it would take a month's savings. Sighing heavily, the Khajit came upon her camp, and stood at the edge, her eyes gazing around before going up towards the dimming sky. K'Joor inhaled quietly and then exhaled, going to the fire pit and getting a small fire alive, checking on Turk, her over sized black shire, and feeding him before feeding herself of left over tough and almost rotten meat from her hunts.

[Scarlett;]

♕ A d e l a i d e M a c i
Title;; Vagabond - Age;; 22 - Mood;; Fatigued, Alert - Tags;; No one, looking at K'Joor - Health/Stamina;; 80% - Weapon/s;; Dagger

➳ Adelaide forced herself to recoil her hand away from the Arabian stallion's nose, allowing him to eat his apple in peace. She blinked, trying to hold back memories of her past that had been triggered by thinking of Rohan. But her attempt was in vain, for flashes started to zip before her like shooting stars; her mother's face, her father screaming at her to get out of his home, her first attempt at setting up a camp, and finally her last failed heist. The vagabond tried to rid herself of the visions, blinking rapidly and shaking her head as if it would help; it did help, slowly but surely. After a few moments she gained control of herself again, finding her cheeks and eyes hot and tear-tracks down her face. Only then, as shaky hands whipped immediately up to her cheeks to cleanse them of the remnants of the episode, otherwise known as proof of her hidden weakness, did she notice that they had been gripping the trunk of the tree adjacent to her tent like a vise. Addie took a deep breath as her hands lifted from her features, her eyes still clouded but her mind cleared again. That wasn't the first time this has happened, she thought grimly to herself, seating herself on the log nearest the still-burning campfire. She thinks frequently of her past, her sole motive for escaping this realm, though it is beyond her control and understanding; only once before had an episode like that, when she couldn't control herself, happened.

Addie pushed the thoughts to the back of her head at the best of her ability, and set it instead on busying herself with something productive: cooking. But a searing bolt of pain shot through the nomad's arm as she reached downward for the kettle at her feet. Grinding her teeth at the sudden intrusion, her free hand scaled the source of the strike in her right forearm, the gloved appendage ripping back her long sleeve to reveal the wound from not a day ago, the one that her newest enemy, the Kahjiit archer, had given her. How could I forget that little detail? She questioned herself as she set the wound, along with the parts of the arm that she could, down onto her lap. Her spare appendage went to the now cold pot of water, set just beside the flames, and scooped out a handful of the precious liquid, pouring it onto the gashes, which were about as red and firey as the heated fire before it. Though it was a day old and caked with blood, the wound seemed moderately serious. Her lips pursed and body stiff with anger towards the fellow outlaw who had done this to her, she wrapped the injury in spare, tattered cloth carefully, thankful that no blood was leaking out yet. As she did this a whistle disturbed the still air around her, and the thief's eyes only had to dart for a second before it spotted a figure moving in the distance, rather far away, to a form that seemed to be a tent. So I'm not alone... She tried to take her mind off of the nagging feeling of being watched as she tied her bandages, though it stuck to the thought of potential danger. What if it's that cat again...?

((I'm sorry this was so sketchy. My mind hurts right now, to say he least. But I'm just assuming that K'joor and Adelaide set up came near each other, if that's okay.))

[val.]

{{ I will assume that too cx }}

Ｋ'Ｊｏｏｒ
job :; huntress
species :; khajit
where :; istoth castle
under rule of :; istoth
doing :; hunting
with :; adelaide

Even if the meat was bad, K'Joor ate it anyway, and indeed almost puked. Holding what was left of her food resources, the Khajit looked to the dimming sky and smiled widely, her pupils bursting out and taking her whole iris just to show black. It wasn't rare to see Khajits do this, as in most cats, it means they are excited or scared and sometime perhaps over joyed but there is no time for joy in a Khajit's world when every other race has a thing about killing you or arresting you just because you looked at their purse. Grabbing her dagger, her skinning knife and a bag to carry the meat she was suppose to get. K'Joor hoped for rabbit, since the pelts and meat seemed to be rather expensive and a good taste for the rich ones. K'Joor put her hands on the tree that held up her tent, and stretched down, sharpening her claws in the process making a irritating squealing sound. Recoiling herself together, the Khajit leapt up the tree and took to running along the branches, using her claws for balance instead of her tail since she really didn't have one. Suddenly stopping and becoming silent, K'Joor noticed a small flame flickering between the branches and a figure looking towards where her camp was. After a few seconds, she recognized the person to be the nomad girl who had stolen the medicine and of which she had scratch terribly. K'Joor silenced herself and checked the camp out for any valuables from the trees, before hopping down to the ground and landing silently. As the cat took a step forward with her hand on her dagger, a twig snapped in half under her weight, making her eyes flick down to the ground and then back up to the girl, standing motionless.

[Dark.]

{ I scan read... So i may have some little details wrong. Apologies for my post being so late, I'm struggling with both computer time and muse o3o }

Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ Aᴇʀᴏɴ ᴏғ Sᴇᴜʟɢʜᴇᴍ
currently;; making his way to the tourney grounds | tagged;; Alvere, Dorian

Aeron made his way through the corridors, his blue eyes trained on the floor. It wouldn't surprise him if the tourney had already begun, but he had no intention of missing the festivities entirely. He knew his father did not want him to compete; but he couldn't resist, and, if things went well, it could earn him some favours in the eyes of Istoth's King.

Aeron's left hand rested lightly on Widowmaker, his sword-sheath swaying against his thigh. He had no idea if he'd be able to use his blade, or trade it in for a blunted tourney sword. The blue-black steel that fashioned Widowmaker's blade could easily slice through bone. The Prince had chosen to wear simple light steel armour, with a black woollen tunic underneath. In fact, his entire outfit was either black or grey, the monochrome tones draining the colour slightly from his skin. Over his head was a twisted iron half-helm, fashioned vaguely into the shape of a snarling pike. His face was hidden beneath a pair of crudely shaped jaws. The thing was so scratched and dented, it was a wonder it still offered much protection; however Aeron still wore it to battle. For some reason this tournament felt like he was preparing for battle.

It wasn't long before Aeron was walking across grass and towards the tourney stands. The turnout looked impressive, and he scrutinisingly scanned the number of amateurs who had turned up. They were normally lower-class citizens who had limited training; normally, they didn't make it near the final champions. Aeron rarely bothered himself with them; instead letting the knights and guards whittle the low born from the competition.

In his right hand, Aeron twirled a small white rose. Usually, at these sorts of things, Aeron presented a rose to some pretty onlooker and ask if he could be her champion. It was the type of thing that sent the young ladies of Seulghem into a frenzy, to even earn a small token of his affection. Today, however, the onlookers would be sourly disappointed. His father's advisor had ordered Aeron to present the rose to the Princess of Istoth, and only the Princess of Istoth. Aeron scanned the Royalty box. No princess there. He frowned slightly; perhaps she was a little late, like himself.

The Prince spied Alvere, standing near an Istoth man; they seemed to be conversing. Clearly, he was well enough to compete. The wonders of Lady Adela's healing power never ceased to amaze him. A smile played on his lips as he neared the pair. Aeron drew to a stop in front of them, holding out his white rose toward Alvere, "Your beauty rivals that of a thousand flowering waterlilies. May I have the honour of being your champion." Aeron cracked a toothy grin, before letting out a loud laugh.

[Keriae]

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[ male ] [ seulghem ] [ tagged: dorian, k'joor ]

Alvere gave a slow nod to the mage: what did it matter if he used weapons in a way most people looked down upon? There were no rules saying you had to use a blade in a certain away (although he himself did prefer that). He didn't have chance to reply however, as the familiar form of his friend and prince headed into the arena. And, as was custom, and what happened every single time he took part in a tournament, Aeron had a white rose clasped in his hand as it twirled between his fingers. The Royal Guard let out a low groan.

Aeron came closer and delivered his words in a smooth, sultry voice. Placing his hand over his heart, Alvere put on a look of pure excitement. "Oh my!" He exclaimed, plucking the tiny white flower from the prince's fingers and lifting the scented petals to his nose to take a deep sniff. "Why thank you, dear prince. You can surely be by champion." Now handing the rose back, the guard let out a laugh to join his friend's. "I'm guessing this is for the beautiful Princess Evangeline?"

He wondered if Aeron had chosen to do that himself - he highly doubted it, although it was still possible - or if his father the King had ordered him to not give it to some noblewoman. After the night before, it was essential that they gave a good impression to the Istoth royal family. Offering a rose was the first step towards that. "However, I would have offered a red tulip, not a white rose. You know a red tulip means love, and a white rose innocence and secrecy." What a funny thought it would be if Aeron was having a secret relationship with the Princess he would no doubt marry!

[Dark.]

Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ Aᴇʀᴏɴ ᴏғ Sᴇᴜʟɢʜᴇᴍ
currently;; making his way to the tourney grounds | tagged;; Alvere, Dorian

Aeron laughed as the Royal Guard took the rose, sniffing the delicate petals; acting every bit the blushing maiden. His jest had been well received, and Aeron felt in high spirits. Carefully he took back the rose, rubbing his forefinger over one of the petals - as if to smooth out some imaginary creases.

The Prince scoffed as Alvere commented on his choice of flower, "Ever the romantic, eh?" He paused. Aeron hadn't really given much thought to the colour of the rose - white was just the colour he normally chose, "I've always been intrigued by innocence ... and secrets add to the excitement." he twirled the rose once again, still smiling "They also signify honour and white itself means peace." Although his honour was debatable, peace was something they desperately needed to try and maintain. Aeron cast a brief glance over to the Royalty box once again. The Kings and Queens sat on their cushioned seats; yet the Princess was still nowhere to be seen. At this rate, he'd be giving the rose to his own mother.

Aeron turned his attentions back to the men infront of him. His gaze flickered onto Dorian. An Istoth man, average build. He didn't really seem the tournament type. The Prince allowed a smirk to grow, "Are you planning on competing in the tourney?" he laughed, "...And there was me thinking the Istoth people may actually pose some competition! I fancy my chances even more now!" Aeron meant it as a joke; as always, he was completely unaware of how potentially insulting his words sounded.

[Keriae]

(Oh my gosh what happened to that speech text oh gosh how do i cope so sorry guys! </3)

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[ male ] [ seulghem ] [ tagged: dorian, k'joor ]

"No one is innocent once they meet you," Alvere responded quickly, patting the seat next to him, "mind you, I don't believe I was innocent before anyway..." Before he'd been in the Royal Guard he'd been a squire for a former guard, and the wise old man had often sent him away to the taverns after a long day. The evenings there had lead to many a night in the company of a not-so-fair maiden, much to the distaste of his own parents. Luckily he'd never managed to give them grandchildren: if he had, he didn't even know if they existed.

"You should be more romantic, anyway. It always works for me and you're the Prince, for God's sake. Anyone would be happy to receive romantic compliments from you." He teased, following Aeron's gaze to the Royal Box. Still no Princess Evangeline, and the tournament would be starting soon. Speaking of which, it might be an idea to get warmed up. It wouldn't be a good impression to rip a muscle or ligament during the tournament, not when showing the swordmanship of Seulghem. "Warmed up yet?" If Aeron wasn't, Alvere would be happy to put him through his paces.

[sparky246]

Dorian Lewis
Male|Twenty-Two|Mage of Istoth
Tournament Courtyard|Tagged- Alvere, Aeron

"Are you planning on competing in the tourney?" At the question, Dorian let out a huff of air. It was the best he could do when trying to conceal his laughter. Him, competing? No. Dorian opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the arrogant prince. Mouth snapping shut, Dorian fought a frown. Just because it was true didn't make it okay to speak out loud! But Aeron had meant it as a joke. After all, Dorian often walked the line between insult and jest too.
"Don't worry, I won't be competing. You'll be facing much fiercer foes than me." Genuinely smiling now, he added, "I'm just here to watch you beat each other with glorified sticks. The name's Dorian," he added as an afterthought. It wouldn't do any good to engage in conversation if the prince didn't know who he was.
Listening to Aeron's easy banter almost made Dorian wish he hadn't spiked the royal's drink. Emphasis on the almost; Dorian wasn't that well-behaved.

[Scarlett;]

♕ A d e l a i d e M a c i
Title;; Vagabond - Age;; 22 - Mood;; Fatigued, Alert - Tags;; K'Joor - Health/Stamina;; 80% - Weapon/s;; Dagger

➳ Adelaide blinked, though it didn't help with her conscious screaming at her to find out what was disturbing the forest around her. She gazed down at the bandages wrapped around her arm, a tourniquet of sorts, that was already showing blood through the stitching. Slightly frustrated, and with her anger rising slightly, she undid the wrappings and retied them, now a bit less tight compared to before. Sighing, she set her arm at her side once more and her eyes immediately pinpointed on the canvas tent-like form that was almost a mere dot in the distance. They'll have to show themselves sometime, she reassured herself, though she was more alert than before, by far. She couldn't afford another competitor or enemy in her life at the moment, especially now that she was bone-dry of gold and only had a few rather low merchants who would fence for her. Her eyes went up to the ever-dimming sky, her hidden worries growing as the sky grew darker. Though she tried not to show it, Addie could be a rather nervous nelly at some points, even paranoid. What if they see my fire...? But her predictions and rather so assumptions were interrupted when a branch broke just to her right side. Her head whipped around just in time to see none other than the Kahjiit from earlier standing motionless before her, caught mid-step in a creeping gait.

Addie's eyes grew wide as the feline's did, though hers didn't intensify too much. Her spirits suddenly replenished, and she inwardly pushed back her worries, some of them now coming true. She couldn't let her new rival and possible enemy have the satisfaction of seeing her weakened, though she already was physically from her wound. But she couldn't help that. Her eyes locked on the archer's and not leaving anytime soon, her free hand advanced to her other side, pulling her long sleeve over her wound's bandages, though it gave the intruder a full display of her doings before hiding it. "I never did learn your name," she indirectly queried, biting back some sort of sly retort or greeting. "But that can be learned later. What I am curious about would have to be how you have the audacity to approach me after our little meeting earlier." Her bored expression folded into a frown, her voice now edged with slightly more anger. She hoped that the cat didn't just scuttle away, as she had done just after she wounded and robbed the vagabond of nothing in particular; it would be rather interesting if she chose to not act a coward and explain herself.

((OOC))