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* Plot Information for Little Terreille

A naive Black Jeweled witch has destroyed the Territory Court. From its ashes a new court is being constructed, one run by a manipulative killer. As the blood runs in the streets of Goth from open gang warfare, the Steward of Little Terreille begins a gambit to rebuild the Territory from the ground up and challenge the Star of Kaeleer.
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Author Topic: this day shall gentle his condition  (Read 446 times)

Description: Attn: Hayden

Offline Davos Sheane

  • Character Account: Inactive
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Role

      First Circle

    • Faction

      Territory Court

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Dash

    • Posts

      86

    • View Profile
this day shall gentle his condition
« on: Aug 29, 18, 08:30:09 PM »
The sun rose over the shores of the Rill River that bisect Goth like the artery to the heart of the Territory of Little Terreille. Across the murky waters Davos could see the rising, smoking rooves of the homes, shops, warehouses, schools, and industries across the dark river. A ship with white sails hung below his seat in the high spire of Tarn Nataniel, its profile beginning to waken with the golden light of the clawing, yawning solar disc. The light bathed Davos Sheane's face, too pale for a man who had once known naught by sailing and using strong hands to build farms and homesteads. Thinner now than when he'd served with sword and sail in the Navy of his homeland, Davos at times saw a different man in the reflection of his high-rising window. A haunted man, perhaps, or merely the echo of one. Yet he had grown more hale in these past few months, nourished by hardy food and service to a good Queen. The bond that he had found by happenstance had been a lifeline out of the squall of his breaking mind.

That he was leaving her behind here, in this nest of vipers brought so close to her heart, nagged at him. Yet his sojourn could not be forsaken - his task ahead was one of importance not just to his Lady, but to his very own blood; a quality that the Son of Sheane valued above most things on this earth.

For all of the hesitation that might have served as lead in his boots the anticipation of seeing the green shores of Scelt gave wings to his heart. He'd not slept much these last two nights from the excitement of feeling the good green earth of Wexlow and Athol in beautiful Danford beneath his feet. He had prepared correspondence to all of the Clan he could think of - a summons to a brighter future. Though he did not completely trust the snake that had offered a promised land, he nonetheless felt reassured when Amerys confirmed the task before him and had seen to the chartering of his ship.

So, with purpose reaffirmed, faith remembered, and sun rising he set forth from his station. Having gathered saber and shield from the armory the fortnight before, he vanished them both into his cabinet and gave one last look to the mirror. Without the crisp suits that Alexander had inspired a shift in fashion of, he seemed more like the old Davos Sheane with the sailor's coat, heavy boots, water-proofed trousers and jerkin of buckskin. Not so much a stranger now, the crystal blue eyes looked sharp for the first time in his near-memory, and his heart lifted upward still.

Though the giant spire of Harmaa's opulence was more than Davos's own taste, he nonetheless found it easy to navigate. He made his way to the chamber of his Cuz, a woman now grown who was foil and firmament, and he knocked gently on the door. While the Lord Black's identity was unknown to the whole of Goth, Davos knew better than to anger a titan - even if it was housed in the shape of a girl barely shy of twenty.

Certainly, Hayden could have winked out of their home and brought them to the coast in minutes - but Davos had insisted upon a boat, both to cover her identity and to give her opportunity to be upon the sea. Besides, if their task was successful, the boat would be necessary transportation.

"Fair morning." The Red Jeweled, Red tressed Prince said in greeting once the door opened. "Shall we break the fast first?" He knew it was a ridiculous thing to ask, but he did nonetheless. The call of his Caste could not be ignored even for expedience sake.








Offline Hayden Sheane

  • Character Account
    • red2black
    • witch
    • Role

      First Circle

    • Faction

      Territory Court

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      phinneas

    • Posts

      468

    • At that moment, Man finds his character.

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Re: this day shall gentle his condition
« Reply #1 on: Sep 26, 18, 08:08:44 PM »
Hayden had eventually relented and agreed to travel by boat, it was true. It was not, as Davos might suspect, for the sake of hiding her identity. She could, after all, simply ride the winds to wherever they made port in Scelt and just appear to arrive off of the boat with the others. But it seemed important to him, and Hayden suspected that he had some purpose other than what he'd proposed in mind. Maybe he thought if he kept her in a confined space she wouldn't be able to walk away from their bickering conversations for once. Maybe he thought he could sway her away from her loyalty to Jonothan. He had made it clear that he doubted the Glacian's altruism, and resented the influence Jonothan had over a Territory seat that he felt should belong to Amerys alone.

In the end it was curiosity that made her agree. In the end, she thought her skill at finding the Winds without a crystal would make her uniquely well-suited to being able to leave the boat no matter where it was. That meant that worst case, she could still walk away if she needed to. And if it didn't come to that, then she got to feel good about her advances in diplomacy, which let her share a ship with a man who vexed her for however many days it would take to sail to Scelt from Little Terreille.

Having avoided him for the better part of his months at Tarn Nataniel, Hayden wasn't entirely prepared for the image of the man who greeted her at her door. This looked very nearly like the old Davos, the one who'd stopped in at the university to see her now and again when she was younger. The same clear-eyed man who'd taught her about poetry and philosophy, and who'd wound her heart around his own without ever trying. One look at him like this, and she could hear his laughter, bright and bubbling and full of life. It was naught but a ghost now, but it summoned a pang of regret inside of her all the same.

"I've already eaten, thank you," she told him, as she stepped out of her room. Her generous cabinet was packed as well with rations to (hopefully) sustain her for the trip, but she'd eaten a large breakfast anyway. It was habit by now to tend to her first meal well before most others awoke, as she'd been hiding the depth of her Jewels for years, now. Even with dawn this near, she'd already been awake for a bit out of necessity.

"Should we stop so that you can eat?" she asked, the gesture born of courtesy if nothing else. "The cook's already up and working, I'm sure."

Offline Davos Sheane

  • Character Account: Inactive
    • opal2red
    • prince
    • Role

      First Circle

    • Faction

      Territory Court

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Dash

    • Posts

      86

    • View Profile
Re: this day shall gentle his condition
« Reply #2 on: Jan 26, 19, 06:36:29 PM »
A laugh came, unsummoned, from him at her refusal to break bread with him. It felt strange even to his own ears as the sound bounded like an excited animal through the hall. Almost like the laugh had come from another, rather than from his own lips, and he just happened to have been a witness to its presence. It felt like another lifetime that he'd known how easily laughter could come, rather than a miner desperately trying to find a shaft of air in a collapsed tunnel of depression.

"You? Refuse a meal?" The Red Prince's laugh faded into a smile of bonded history, of knowing the other in ways few could summon. "Were I not present, I'd have thought it a tale." The smile lingered, but just barely - a dusting of snow after a winter storm - and he gestured with weathered hand to the hallway of their grandiose palace of metal and decadence enshrined in gold. "But yes, if only to remind me what I've been missing back at home. They do not make breakfast in this place like Wexlow." Easily, his hands slid into the slacks he'd purchased with a sum of money he'd never thought to legally acquire. For all his qualms with the Court that his Queen was attached to, he had little place to complain for the funds he now found himself enriched by. The status of a First Circle Courtier had its benefits.

As they walked together, his eyes kept darting to the windows that overlooked the harbor and their boat. They ought not to have been able to see from this distance, but the height they now were upon made what he'd once thought impossible now a reality. "It's strange to me, isn't it to you? That from the heart of Goth we could see the lifeline that'd take us to the sea." Drawing his hand free from its cloth sheath, his fingers drew along the distant black line that would route them to Scelt. "Almost as if I could leap out and be drawn by the river back to the sea."

Eyes bluer than the dawn turned to regard her own golden orbs that would remain young even as his turned white and gray. "Did you ever think of it? Back in Dhemlan - to be a sailor?" Had he inspired that much in her, or did he only bring her pain, he wondered. Do you remember a time before the Black that was not lined with pain? He almost asked, but was not yet so incensed, so bold, as to strike past whatever armor and shields they could conjure to keep each-other from mortally wounding one another, even in the jousts of words.








Offline Hayden Sheane

  • Character Account
    • red2black
    • witch
    • Role

      First Circle

    • Faction

      Territory Court

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      phinneas

    • Posts

      468

    • At that moment, Man finds his character.

    • View Profile
Re: this day shall gentle his condition
« Reply #3 on: Apr 01, 19, 10:33:05 AM »
Hayden didn't join Davos in his laughter, but instead eyed him with a visible curiosity while he spoke of breakfast. It was so strange to hear his laughter after all this time, to see him smiling and well-tempered. It was an inviting thing, but to some bitter part of her it felt like a trap. All of that charisma and warmth that had drawn her into that old infatuation once upon a time hadn't stopped him from hating her when she'd accidentally hurt him, years ago. That memory, the sight of his fury writ bold on his face, was burned too deeply into her mind to allow her to trust this more charming version of him. It seemed merely a mask to her, now that she knew what kind of viciousness burned beneath.

But they all wore masks, these days, and hers required her nod agreeably and field his attempts at conversation while they made their way down to the dining area.

"I believe that was part of the intent," she commented, when he spoke of the view from the Territory's seat. "--to have a view of it all." She let her gaze linger on the skyline as they moved. It was a striking view. While she'd initially teased Jon about his vision for Tarn Nataniel, it hadn't taken her long to appreciate it. Davos' subsequent question caught her off guard, enough so that the answer came easily and without editing.

"All the time," she admitted with a nod as she looked forward again. "Pirate stories were popular at the school. All kinds of stories, really, about the adventures of seafaring. I always thought it would be an exciting way to live, traveling around like that and learning to guide a boat. My friends and I used to talk about being the ones to explore the Devil's Teeth and live to tell about it." She paused at the door to the lift, waiting for the webs involved to pull the carriage up from a lower floor. Once it arrived she stepped inside, then waited for Davos to do the same before expending the trace of Craft necessary to set the thing in motion once more.


 

 

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