faderift | MOD PLOT: NOT ALONE DO WE STAND, PART 1

MOD PLOT: NOT ALONE DO WE STAND, PART 1

WHO: Anyone who wants to attend
WHAT: THE GRAND TOURNEY
WHEN: Bloomingtide 20-27
WHERE: Wycome
NOTES: We'll be rolling one or two events per day, in the order listed, and posting the results here! That's also where you can find your diplomacy or espionage assignments and their results. There will be a second log post in about five days regarding the end of the tournament, to give people a place to RP about the competitions' results once they know them and to react to some other surprise developments, so leave some room for dessert.

The Grand Tourney is one of Thedas's greatest spectacles--all the nations of the world and plenty of others besides turned out to compete in this edition of the famous test of arms. The Duke of Wycome has granted the use of a broad plain outside the city, a vast open span of grass bounded on both sides by minor forks of the Minanter making their way to the sea, and split down the center by another. Scores of the duke's men have been hard at work since the announcement, constructing stands and arenas, the rough wooden rails and benches of the commons and luxurious boxes for the more exalted spectators, lifted above the masses and shaded by awnings, draped with bunting in Wycome's brilliant purple and gold.

Between and among the competition grounds are stalls and roving vendors selling anything and everything, most popular the vast open-sided tents filled with trestle tables and benches and neverending barrels of ale and wine as tall as a qunari. Stages of various sizes dot the grounds, hosting musicians, dancers, tumblers, performers of all kinds. Others wander through the crowds, putting on impromptu shows wherever it looks like there are enough people with free coin about.

A half-dozen new wooden bridges span the central river--more like a large stream, really--and connect the competition grounds to the camping grounds. Tents in all colors and styles are arrayed in rough groups, marked out with the banners of knights, houses, mercenary companies, kingdoms. The Inquisition has sprung for new tents for its delegation to make sure they look the part, dramatic black as a backdrop to the Inquisition banners that fly atop each of them, housing two to four people each. Nearest are some Orlesians with an array of brightly-colored silk structures, and on the opposite side, a mercenary company called the the Grizzly Legion, a particularly rowdy outfit, with banners market by a giant red bear, and bonfires and revelry late into the night every night.

INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS

The general atmosphere of the tourney is raucous and celebratory, but the rivalries inherent in the occasion seem less good-natured than they might have in past years. Nevarra seems divided into two camps rather than one, with a (not-yet-literal) line down the middle of their encampment and their crowds that's bridged only by the brave and slightly awkward few who still haven't chosen between the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams. And the Orlesians, despite rumors that the Empire is still struggling in the wake of its own civil war, seem particularly delighted to see their rivals teetering on the brink—some are even taking odds on how soon they'll be able to get Perendale back. But, of course, no one can rival Tevinter for smugness. If there was a fancy sword awarded for that, they would win it every year, and there's no sitting near their delegation without "overhearing" an unnecessarily loud conversation about the sorry state of the rest of Thedas.

Of course, not everyone is caught up in the affairs of surfacer empires: there are delegations from both Orzammar and Kal-Sharok, each apparently pretending the other does not exist, and the odd Avvar and Chasind who seems to think everyone else is being a bit ridiculous about everything. The most isolated attendees are those from the Anderfels, who stick close together and rarely speak to anyone else—not that anyone else seems much inclined even if they did want to. At the other end of the spectrum are the Free Marchers; this is the one occasion every-few-years when they look to one another as brothers, rather than distinct and often competitive nations.

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

The Grand Tourney's official competitions are scheduled to take place over five days, culminating with the prestigious Grand Melee and awarding of the Celebrant. Before then, the tournament progresses day by day through unarmed combat, archery, armed combat, and jousting competitions, each heavily attended by delighted spectators cheering for their countrymen and any foreigner who strikes them as particularly charming, plus the odd equal-opportunity heckler. A few extra fights break out here and there when tempers flare, between both competitors and observers, and when the alcohol flows more liberally at night the chance of trouble rises. But for the most part, the competitions are fair and the mood around them is celebratory.

Away from the main grounds, a few additional staging areas have been provided for events focused on magic—these are more sparsely attended, due to their unofficial nature and the fears of much of the populace that they might catch a fireball to the face if they wander too close, but enough people's curiosity trumps fear to form a thinner, quieter crowd. The two events open to mages, combat against fade-touched creatures and a version of the melee with teams that allow mages, take place in the early mornings, when they won't be competing with the official events for attention, and are most heavily attended by Tevinter mages who are very, very certain that they can't be beat.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I: Archery

Nathaniel nocks his arrow, draws, aims, angles upward, and lets fly. It hits the target just shy of perfection, so he curses under his breath. He will get frustrated with himself later. Right now, he must remain in the zen of shooting. It's a beautiful day and he's at the Grand Tourney shooting at things. It's not going to get much better than this.

He glances over at the archer to his side. "Don't be nervous," he counsels whether the other person looks nervous or not.

II: Espionage

Whoever you are, Nathaniel claps his hand on your shoulder and gives a tight smile.

"I'm going to ask you a favor." He's oddly congenial, and dressed very oddly--in no armor at all, only a slightly faded tunic, trousers, and hood. You may regret getting involved.

III: Partay

No games are more fun than actually competing, until you add copious amounts of alcohol and sugar. Nathaniel didn't find the merchant with the amazing cakes they had here when he was a squire, but there are numerous treats that are just as good. If you want to have dinner with him, he is sitting on the grass crunching through a pork knuckle. Or later, you can find him tipsily tossing rings at pegs, perusing vendors' wares, or lounging on the grass listening to beautiful music with a massive grin.

IV: Wildcard

{ in the stands }
Christine hadn't known what to expect on arriving at the Grand Tourney. With nations or powerful families quarreling, it had the potential to be a hotbed of political activity and underhanded plots. And yes, there have been whispers flying around to that effect, but the overall atmosphere is so lively that the rest seems like it can't have any ill effect here.

Sitting up in the common people's stands, she's prepared by bringing a blanket to sit on and has even brought her little dog Ponce, who sits easily on her lap only occasionally, since the rest of the time he's trying desperately to get away to smell everything new. She has a leash on him, and a firm hand keeping him in place, so he's not going anywhere.

As she watches each event, she gets more and more into it, letting out "Ooo"s and cheers along with the rest of the audience and discussing what they're witnessing. Of course, being who she is, she tends to worry about the injuries that might or do take place more than others might, and that's often something she comments on.

{ walking around, playing games, etc. }
It's entirely possible that Christine will gain ten pounds and empty pockets from all the delicious food she's been buying during the Tourney. She can be found walking her dog, sometimes on Church's arm, sometimes not, and taking it all in with fried food on a stick. She's quick to come over to Inquisition members she recognizes to see how they're getting on, and to ask if they've tried the fried such-and-such yet. Eventually she discovers the games and tries her hand at winning a prize. Christine could probably do with a cheerleader, tip giver, or someone willing to watch her dog while she plays.

{ wildcard: aka write a starter or hit me up for plotting something else! }

{ carnival games }
Minka is trying to be wise with her money (since she tends to hoard it like a dragon), but she's also easily led and easily fooled, so it doesn't take much for the game vendors to draw her over with promises of fabulous prizes to be won if only she'd purchase three attempts or some such thing. And it turns out playing games is addictive, because she keeps forking over more and more of her Inquisition pay to try and win.

After another miss with throwing hoops onto glass bottles, Minka growls in annoyance as the vendor tries to get her to buy more.

"Stuff it, nug humper!" she says, stomping away to get something to eat and nearly bumping into someone getting into the food line. She almost yells at this person too, but she doesn't want to risk getting beat up, so she frowns and crosses her arms, waiting to order something.

{ wildcard: aka write a starter or hit me up for plotting something else! }

I. Meet the Parents

Korrin barely gives enough time to set up the tent and set things up properly inside it before she's off again. There's so much to see and do that she won't be back to that tent without one of two things happening; Araceli seducing her, or returning bone-tired and collapsing just long enough to stave off some of that. It's going to be an exciting week, and she's determined to miss as little of it as possible.

On her way to check out the tourney ground before training, she perks up and beckons to the first friendly face she sees. "C'mon, let's go exploring--" But she doesn't get to finish before a well-muscled, bearded qunari man approaches from several paces behind. Scooping Korrin up with ease, he grins and envelopes her in a strong embrace before she can do more than register his sudden appearance, croaking out a response as best she can. "Dad, air--"

A tall qunari woman of roughly the same age as the man though presenting a much calmer appearance, strides over and speaks up, her voice deep. "Kadan, put her down. I prefer our daughter breathing." Despite that admonishment, her eyes crinkle in amusement as Korrin is finally set down, gulping for air. Thanks, Dad.

II. Carnival Games and Vendors

When she's not training or competing in the big events, there are other games to be won. Korrin knows that plenty of the games are rigged and the prizes are cheap, but that doesn't stop her from spending her hard-earned coin as she pleases and treating it all like serious business. That stuffed sea dragon won't win itself, and so she'll try her hand at that marksmanship game. Or maybe you find her wielding a large hammer to compete for who can swing it hardest. The pot of coins keeps growing, and no one has won the grand prize (located in a mystery box) yet. And so on and so forth; anything that requires a good aim or strong arm and she'll be there. Help her out or cheer her on, or if you're a familiar face wanting to join in, she might spot you some coin.

III. Partying with the Grizzly Legion

One of the reasons Korrin doesn't get nearly as much rest as she perhaps should is because of a certain rowdy crew with banners marked by a giant red bear. Having found her kind of people, the party-loving Vashoth will join early and stay late into the night as often as she can manage and still be in fighting form for her events. Any familiar faces joining her will be met with a wink and a big tankard of mead, ale or 'what the hell is that and why is it so strong', depending on what she knows or suspects they can handle.

"Go head, have some! And then we're dancing, this beat is too good not to move to it."

Later on during the evening, when a break is needed, Korrin is a willing pillow by the bonfire. She'll only be nudged from her spot if someone's ill and needs help back to their tent. Otherwise, she'll keep celebrating until the party winds down.

IV. Cheering Section

Though she's not participating in the non-mage events, Korrin still attends almost every event. If a friend is taking part, it's practically guaranteed, as she'll put her booming voice to good use and cheer on her friends or boo their opponents (if they're people she doesn't know/care about). She's also helpful for clearing some space if someone wants to join her antics, waving over a vendor to get fresh candied apples or whatever else they'd want.

V. Wildcard Hit me.

Inessa and Garahel make their way over as the unarmed combat portion of the tourney begins, with treats to spare. Ponce is offered doggy treats if Christine assents, and she stops the vendor long enough to purchase some lemonade and roasted nuts, offering to share. She is relaxed and chatty until it's Kain's turn, upon which she become utterly focused on him and his opponent, some woman she doesn't recognized. Every blow at him provokes a wince, and every time he counters, a proud grin forms. When the other combatant is the victor of that first round, she claps politely as Garahel pouts.

"Oh, well. He'll do much better in the armed combat, I'm sure."

Edited 2018-05-25 14:52 (UTC)

I: Churro Stand

Before the stall opens, Colin isn't sure if he's ready to be surrounded by this many people in a huge plain from which there is no escape. But when business gets going, he finds his brain and body both remember what it was like to help his mother run her stall in the market district, hawking the food she made for the day and charming customers into the fold. Soon, he can't make churros fast enough. By the end of the first day, he has sold thousands of them.

Thousands.

Which totals to, like, three sovereigns made. Which most would consider a fortune for a single day's work, but obviously business is slower on hot days and busier on cool days. The sheer foot traffic of this event is what guarantees good money is being made by vendors here, especially food vendors. Especially especially drink vendors. And Colin's churros are delicious. For that, he sends credit, and a kiss, from his fingertips to the sky, a gesture he learned from someone special.

Grazie, Mamma.

II: Shopping - Day 3

When his stall closes at last and he has ducked into his tent for a bath, he emerges feeling fresh. His feet are killing him, but closing early means this is his chance to actually see the rest of the festivities. They are expansive, of course, far more so than he could ever explore in one evening or in several, but he's going to do his best. First, he gets a half-frozen wine from a nearby stall and then he makes a beeline for pretty clothes so he can spend some of his hard-earned profits. Find him at a stall trying on brightly colored tunics, one scarlet and dotted with gold, one hunter green and embroidered, one a stunning royal blue jacquard. All fit closely in the torso and come down to his knees, with a split skirt. Any longer and they would be too much like robes to interest him, but he loves the elegance and richness.

III: Tavern - Day 3

After a fancy tunic is purchased, he can be found lounging at one of the many tavern-like spots, drinking and listening to music. He listens to stories, laughs, and eventually lies on his back in the grass to watch the sky. It's incredible. Five years ago, this would have been unthinkable for him, a mage, to be here and under the open sky listening to music. One year ago, it was impossible to imagine, as he shut himself in his quarters and shook at the thought of speaking to people. Last week, he hadn't even believed all the nations of Thedas could come together peacefully to play games and share food. In a world at war, this event is an extraordinary thing.

If you don't find him and join him while he's upright, you might trip over him when he's not.

IV: Wildcard

Edited 2018-05-24 19:38 (UTC)

Nate is a little drunk. Potentially more than a little, if the way he's missing pegs says anything. Anders comes over, smiling warmly... and then puts his expression back in check. He can't be Mr. Howe in public here. His smile is still there, but it's far more polite as he joins Nate.

"Having fun?" And then, just in case, as Anders doesn't know how much Nate's had today, "I'm Theo Howell, the mage sharing your quarters for this trip. I think you missed your shot. And the last one, too."

"Oh?" Nathaniel is definitely tipsy. Not falling-down-drunk, but...loose. He taps his chin with his last ring. "I'm a very lucky roommate, to share quarters with such a handsome stranger."

Edited 2018-05-24 20:07 (UTC)

It's funny, sometimes, and equally compelling and charming the way Nate can turn something Anders had been prepared to be disappointed by into something charming and sweet. In this case, Anders had expected to need to keep a little bit of distance in public. But this? This has potential. There's a brief softness in his eyes as he looks at Nate, before he fits himself back into the role of stranger.

"That sounds like flattery. Or flirtation. Is this when I admit I watched the archery competition and admired your form and profile? Or should I keep that to myself?"

I. Market Stalls

When she's not in the stands to cheer on the friends she's made in her time with the Inquisition, Nari is out in the market with an eye for quality. Despite her ears and vallaslin-- and sometimes, when it comes to curious craftsmen who would very much like to talk about ironbark, because of-- she can often be found leaning casually at one booth or another talking animatedly about this craft, or that material, or appreciating with endearing forthrightness the skill in making or discernment in choosing the goods that are displayed. By and large the elf leaves smiles in her wake, and her list of who to contact on the Inquisition's behalf in the future grows.

Writing while moving is a difficult concept sometimes, however, and she'll run full-on into you while going from one stall to the next. A surprised yelp and a quick apology issue forth before she even looks up to see who it is.

II. Inquisition Camp [evening]

The sounds of raucous merriment are ubiquitous; drums, horns, loud drunken revelry in every pitch from low and booming to high and tinny. It permeates the very air-- has been doing so all day-- and with that and the stares and whispers she's caught directed at or about her all day, Nari is all shemmed out (except, perhaps, for you) and can be found seeking as much peace as possible at the Inquisition's farthest campfire. She's whittling away absently at something and tossing the resultant curls of wood into the flames and looks up at your approach with a welcoming half-smile.

III. Sportscasting! (for Myr) although they're in the stands so feel free to overhear whatever 8)

"The grass on the pitch is still green, although the footfalls of so many hopefuls have tamped it down; even those who leave without reward will be remembered by the ground until next year," Nari says, her head turned and voice pitched so that it can be heard clearly by the blind mage seated beside her. "The breeze that just ruffles our hair is stronger up high, snapping the brightly colored pennants back and forth as if they're as excited as the crowd to be here to witness the contest. Beneath their dance are the nobles in their boxes, decked in finery and as pleased to be seen as to see." Some gentle humor, then, "they mean to appear nonchalant, but they're every bit as excited as the commoners below, who are a riot of color and noise all the way down to the children climbing whatever and whoever they can to gain a vantage point. Arms everywhere are thrown to the wide blue sky, everyone near bursting to cheer full-throated for the first valiant warrior to emerge.

And ah," she says, taking on a gently teasing lilt, "here one is now. Tall and broad and dark, with a grin bright enough to vie against the sun that even now strikes his armor to brilliance."

"Ser Simon Ashlock, Templar Knight of the Inquisition!" calls a page, his young voice ringing across the pitch.

No-one could deny the man's the very picture of a knight come walking out of a chivalric romance. The cheer is deafening.

IV. Wildcard (Or, if you want a prompt just for you, hmu!)

Edited 2018-05-24 21:25 (UTC)

Nathaniel looks at him for a moment, as if sizing him up for the very first time in their lives. He'd thought this would be agonizing, but now, while he is half-drunk, it seems like an opportunity. A perfect, beautiful opportunity to re-imagine how it might have been if they had met as strangers, and he had been bolder.

"Throw the ring or get out of line," someone behind them yells.

Nathaniel smiles, and lifts a hand to placate the line behind him.

"A bet," he declares, and looks at Anders. "If I make this toss, you let me buy you dinner. If I don't, I buy dinner for everyone behind me."

The people in line behind cheer and clap their hands. He had better make this shot.

Is this what it would have been like if they'd flirted before Justice, before Rolan and Rylock and Kirkwall and everything? Not entirely, he decides. This is more like if they'd met, well, here. Not as Grey Warden and prisoner in the cells, but as two equals.

"How very forward," he says, looking at the toss Nate's previously missed. Anders steps forward and lightly kisses the ring. "For luck. Let's hope you're a little more steady on your toss than you've seemed, shall we? Make the toss, Archer, and let's see if you have a date."

If he thought he could magically help without 1) the people noticing or 2) making it veer wildly off course, he'd do it. Unfortunately, his Force magic abilities aren't worthy of bragging rights.

It must be Nathaniel's abilities, then, and between the wine and the kiss, he feels assured. So he turns, breathes, aims, tosses...and the ring clatters over the peg like it's coming home.

The line behind them applauds nonetheless. Nathaniel takes Anders' hand and bows low over it.

"Serah," he murmurs, "where would you like to have dinner?"

The person behind them in line, instead of immediately taking his place, pauses to see what will happen.

Despite how he knows the reality, that they'll have time together in the tent later, and soon enough they'll be back in the Worst City In Thedas where at least they don't have to hide things between them, Anders holds his breath as the ring flies through the air. When it lands on the peg he can feel his heart start to beat again and there's the slightest hint of extra moisture in his eyes after Nate's taken his hand.

"I passed by a tent serving Antivan food earlier, all bright colors and so many lanterns it even shines in daylight. It smelled fantastic. You can take me there, Serah." It's like a story, the handsome archer winning a date with the fair mai--ge, they may as well go somewhere that's equally story-like in appearance. Plus Anders adores the spice of Antivan food and knows Nate does too.

The man in line nods his approval and Anders has to smile at him too. This is nice, being another face in the crowd to everyone except Nathaniel.

"And you may call me Theo. You needn't bother with serah when we're on a date." It's a better name to be called than Detlef, at least.

All he needed, really, was sufficient motivation to make the ring toss. Motivation to play this role, and to not have to pay for dinner for everyone behind him.

He moves out of the way of the person in line behind him, still holding Anders' hand.

"Theo," he repeats. "My name is Nathaniel. Show me to the tent, and I will make good on our bet."

His hand belongs in Nate's. There may be no country that wants him, no location he can call home anymore, but he doesn't need that when he has this. Anders gives Nate's hand a subtle squeeze as he leads the way through the crowds toward the tent.

"I hope you like flavor, because this is where you'll find a great deal of it." No jokes about Fereldan food follow; they're not suitable for a first date. Probably. "If you'd chosen the food, Nathaniel, what would you have gone for? What... tastes do you have?"

That's also probably not suitable for most first dates, but it's absolutely how he feels theirs should go. He's always been a flirt.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a jousting knight in possession of a good set of plate armor, must be in want of a squire.

There were several about; young men and women scurrying from the tents of their knights to the pitch and back. The Inquisition had its own set of youthful hopefuls, spending the time before the joust began tightening buckles, hoisting heavy shirts of maille, checking lances, and the like.

Nahariel is not a squire. She is, however, wearing Inquisition regalia and had, as was her wont, done an exhaustive amount of armory research to better enable her to quickly judge the differences in fit, style, and wear so as to report well to Commander Coupe on what might benefit the outfit of the Inquisition forces, so she knows what goes where and how it ought to sit, and is currently involved in securing padded bracers over the wrists of Cade's equally padded gambeson.

She also has what might be termed a particular vested interest in the task that has little to do with the resultant glory the Inquisition might gain today.

"If I had to wear all this," Nari says conversationally as her nimble fingers make quick work of the lacing, "I'd not be able to move a step."

"In food?" Nathaniel has to step back and think how he would have answered this if this was the first time he met someone. And he smiles. "Well, I'm Fereldan, so I have a weakness for good meat, good fat, and crispy crust. But I also love foreign spice. Foreign excitement. If I could blend hearty tradition with spicy excitement, I would."

Okay that's not just food.

Considering how much of his life he's spent in Ferelden, Anders isn't sure he counts as foreign anymore. But he's absolutely going to take 'foreign spicy excitement' and pair it with Nate's hearty tradition and steadfastness.

"There must be a way to do that." They're guided to a table with a beautiful scarlet and blue table runner and several candles. There isn't a shadow to be seen.

"A good herb bread, hot, fresh, there's nothing that can beat that for aroma or flavor. Pair that with a spicy sausage dish from the Anderfels, with a good gravy, and you've an excellent blend right there."

It takes great work to keep his expression simply warm and not all-out mischievous. They're just talking about food here. The server, as if on cue, brings a basket of breadsticks to their table and Anders takes one casually.

"But that's not to disparage what they serve here, look." A server is bringing dishes to a nearby table and Anders can see exactly what he wants, pasta in a sauce with peppers and shrimp. "See anything you like?"

Kylo still felt as awkward as could be in social situations like this but he was happy to find at least one familiar face who was like minded in their need for some quiet. He wonders, for a moment if, it would be unwise to disturb her but then she smiles at him before depositing more curls of wood into the flames.

"You not very good at these things either?" It had been so long since he'd been made to go to some social affair that even one or two drinks left him somewhat lightheaded. He was glad for the break. He was glad to have someone to just relax around.

"Not a bit," replies Nari, the corner of her smile inching up a bit farther. "Too many people, too much noise, no real way to escape it even for a moment, and too many wondering why one would want to. And the stares." Another curl of wood rises, forms, is tossed, and disappears. "I'm sure you get them too, hn? For the shard?"

Spectating

He had debated signing up for at least one of these events but decided against it. His newfound mistrust of the Inquisition made him wary of drawing attention to himself. He didn't want to put a larger target on his back than he most assuredly already had after his outbursts on the network. Still, he's fine watching events unfold and he's even starting to get into it after a while.

It starts subtly, his eyes lighting up during matches where he finds familiar faces competing, and then he lets out a soft cheer here and there, beginning to enjoy the show and enjoy each match. When he catches himself lifting a fist and letting out a bit of a cheer he clears his throat, hoping he isn't caught doing something so embarrassing.

Carnival Games/Market Stalls

While he wasn't competing in any of the tourney events, he was getting a bit competitive with some games in the carnival. If anyone fancied trying to best him at a ring toss or skeeball, they were welcome to. He wasn't going to take defeat laying down and would probably try for best two out of three.

While not playing games, he walked the faire grounds with Caedus on his heels and food in his hands shared between himself and the sweet mabari who was already growing quickly in the short time Kylo had him. The pup was likely to stop and sniff everything, from people to people's food if they weren't careful, and Kylo would bring him to heel as best as he could. The setting was perfect in helping him relax and not be so tightly wound up.

Dancing

Unless you were Rey or another familiar face, Kylo could be found standing off to the side with a drink in hand, staring from face to face as others enjoyed themselves dancing and drinking and partying the night away. He was never terribly good at raucous gatherings such as these but he wasn't going to shy away into his tent the rest of the night either. Should anyone be brave enough to ask him for a dance he would need some serious convincing.

Even so, he was dressed cleanly for such an occasion, looking ever the part of a prince as was his heritage on his mother's side. Despite being in all black and looking as somber as ever, he wasn't a terrible dancer and was actually quite adept on his feet for one so tall and lanky.

Edited 2018-05-25 00:59 (UTC)

Peering around for something new to catch her eye, Korrin isn't exactly paying close attention to her immediate surroundings. So naturally, she's a magnet for those even more oblivious. The sudden impact of being run into causes her to stumble back and automatically put up her hands to steady the person before she even realizes their identity.

"Hey, be careful--" Glancing down, it sinks in after a moment and she smiles in recognition. "Nari? Damn it, now I can't be hypocritical when it's you. Are you alright?"

"Mm. I do. It's usually because of the shard or because of how tall I am and because I wear all black." He smiles ruefully, knowing all too well how these people feel about him and how they probably all saw him now that he's made his feelings about the phylacteries known.

"They stare at you because you're an elf, I take it?" He wasn't immune to the treatment of elves and mages, but in his mind it was the problem of the natives, not something Rifters should get tangled up into. He was somewhat starting to reconsider, given they were all being painted with the same suspicious brush.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a puppy will get a woman cooing over it as soon as she spots it. And so the pattern holds when Tessa sees Caedus trotting along beside his master.

"Oh my God, look at you!" she says, wearing an ear to ear grin. "You are just the cutest thing." Sorry, dude, but she's talking to your dog. Looking up at the puppy's human, she asks, "Is it okay if I give him a treat?"

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 39

MOD PLOT: NOT ALONE DO WE STAND, PART 1

Nathaniel Howe

Christine

Minka

Korrin Ataash

In the Stands

Colin

III

no subject

no subject

Nahariel

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Pre-joust, wherever armor is [for Cade]

no subject

no subject

Camp!!

no subject

Kylo Ren

I

no subject

{ market stalls }