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19 August 2015 @ 06:45 pm
[Maybe I have joined too late--! But even knowing so, I shall find my Elys Sanhora community.]

The pitter patter of raindrops on an unpolished surface. How long as this been here? A wedge of steel that had aged well with rust. Her muddy, hard-working fingertips were not shy of curiosity. Grabbing the object that no longer glimmers, it seemed to be partitioned of a door. A door? Out here?, she thought to herself collectively.

The girl beneath the crying sky; how long had she been wandering? Her garments were tattered, the apron worn above her skirt - torn in multiple areas. Her boots; worn and the soles seemed singe. Truly, the sight of her would have others mistake her for something less than a human.

How many seconds have come to pass? How many times has she seen the sun and moon exchanging supervision of the great skies above?

Too many! Too many times...

Her wandering led her to this misplaced door. Her feet crunched against the wet snow as she began to wander a bit more, keeping the object in tow. If it was lost before, it had been found now. For something to be found, it would emphasize some significant purpose [a place where it belonged] in the world. If she could find that place, she might find refuge from the chilling snare of Father Winter.

Perhaps it was out of empathy, really...
An old, ugly, misplaced object in the snow, barren and without purpose, yet even so, still clinging by it's very will to Moira[life]. It fought against the elements, and continued to be - even so. This door, she felt a sense of camaraderie with... Wasn't that a silly notion?
Ah, but humans are silly creatures all of the time? Are they not?


She didn't want to think about the trivial matters, the important thing was finding that place. And little did she expect, she would find such a place soon!
An old home in the snow, without it's door...

"This must be it..." she speaks, with exasperated breaths. Without so much as knocking, she went right in to the makeshift building, kicking the snow off her soles, she adjusted for the door to fit right into place.
As much as she could anyway. She hadn't any tools to fit it to the hinge, so it laid there, slantways against the entrance. Still, it filled its purpose which was not to keep others out, but to safeguard her from the wind's blades.

Now then.... to harvest the essentials of this seemingly abandoned abode before journeying onward. As she readied herself to explore, she couldn't help but to wonder what sort of Roman would a house have to tell?
Current Mood: Desperate
08 November 2013 @ 11:28 pm
[[OOC: AKA Someone missed the Halloween post orz]]

You can see a dog.

Is a very big, black dog.

Now, the dog is walking around curious.

The dog walks around for a bit, and then goes running around.

Finally, it spots you and runs to you, starting barking.
08 October 2013 @ 06:04 pm
[ Halloween has finally arrived into a small town in the Sound Horizon Kingdom.

And what a lively party it is!

Monsters and creatures of all kind wander from house to house, demanding treats and threatening with tricks. Jack-o'-lanterns seem to be scattered everywhere, not just the front of households. Even a few impressive bonfires have been lighted up for this night's celebration!

Where do you fit in all of this? Are you, perhaps...

A child anxiously waiting for your friend to arrive to go trick-or-treating together? Or counting just how many treats you managed to gather together!

A parent preparing your child to go trick-or-treating, be it sewing a costume or making sure they eat a proper dinner before it all? Or back home already and making sure to brush those teeth so there'll be no regrets later on!

A solitary figure reminiscing their past Halloweens, while listening to the innocent laughter of children far away?

Et cetera.

Does it really matter? Take part in tonight's festivities, be dress up as someone else for a change, and tomorrow you just might return back to your own Roman world! ]

Trick or treat, everyone!

[ Just to clear up: throw your characters in and let others comment! Feel free to do whatever, just keep Halloween as a theme here! ]
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16 May 2012 @ 09:55 pm

{If perchance you find yourself before a mysterious château residing in an obviously unnatural sphere of chill temperature, it is usually recommended to turn tail and seek adventure elsewhere. But, if perchance you find yourself drawn towards the open maw of the front gate...

The entry hall is vast,  shadows shrouding a ceiling whose presence is only confirmed by the old chandeliers gleaming far above. Tapestries, colours dulled and threads thin, sway in the cold breeze that swirls in the empty spaces and moans a plaintive song.

The proprietor does not make you wait, curiosity drawing him towards the sound of intruding footsteps. Hair dyed by dusk, life locked in winter; a man touched by death but possessing a semblance of life, standing in neither realm, but standing before you now at the top of the grand staircase.}


07 December 2011 @ 11:36 pm
[There's a man sitting on the old well. Some folks may say that it's cursed by a witch who lost her son.
But Märchen didn't know. He couldn't care less. It was a beautiful night, the moon was full and the cold, white light of it extended the shadows of the trees and houses, so that even the most comfortable home had something sinister. But Märchen enjoyed it.

At least it was a peacefull, silent night.

The only thing you might hear are some silent little vocals from the man in the dark suit, the dark, dusty hair tied with a ribbon, who sits on the cold stones of his well.]
23 November 2011 @ 02:31 am
{ My, however did you find your way down here? It takes an unusual twist of fate indeed to bring a soul to this particular spirit's realm, a world where the strangest of human dreams is nothing short of ordinary. Try not to be too taken aback if you hear words from an unlikely source, and remember not to doubt your eyes and ears! They're as good a bet as anything down here; the logic you learned in life won't quite hold, I'm afraid.

But, who knows? If you put your all into it, you might come out of this world a good deal better off than when you entered. Never question the value of a day's hard work! You may even earn the respect- or even the love, if you prove yourself truly special- of the resident Mother Holle. She certainly isn't lenient, but she knows an earnest face when she sees one... and she believes in issuing rewards when they are deserved. }
24 September 2011 @ 01:14 pm
[Wanting to escape his gruesome work, the old man decided to spend the night walking in the streets of Paris. It was a nice summer evening, people were walking down the streets, some of them dressed with their fanciest clothes. Those were probably going to the opera, to the theater or maybe even to one of those churches which usually hosted classical music concerts. Some couples had directed their feet in the direction of the "Seine", probably to spend a romantic evening walking hand by hand along the banks of this beautiful river. People were filling the bars and restaurants which had put their chairs and tables outside for the people who wanted to enjoy the night air. 

Even after all those years of living in this city, he was always amazed by the atmosphere you could find in the streets during the summer evenings. The city radiated with joy. He loved to spend hours walking down the streets and then to sit in the table outside a café quenching his thirst with the most expensive red wine they could offer while observing people. It relaxed him and proved to be an endless source of entertainement. 

This evening, he decided to try a cafe that just opened a few weeks ago. The interior was gorgeous but it was already packed so he settled outside. It was located in the corner of a square, a beautiful fountain standing in the middle. This square connected four streets so, while enjoying his glass of wine, he could observe the crowd of people coming and going.  He had almost finished his glass when he noticed a small detail. 

A lone person was sitting in a bench next to the fountain, however they were in the shadows and very difficult to spot. Who would sit in the darkness in this night filled with joy? From where he stood he could only make out the form of someone and guessed that this person's head was down. Maybe this miserable person would be in need of some counseling, if it's the case this old man would gladly help. He paid for his drink and walked toward the person sitting in the shadows.]

16 September 2011 @ 09:55 am
[ She's frightened. All of the turns around the tree trunks are only leading her farther away from home, but right now she's not even certain if that's for better or for worse. Her feet seem to want to keep on carrying her, anyways, intent on taking her farther away from the place where those scary men had...
What had happened, anyways? Images are blurring together, melding with the darkness of the forest, everything seeming to swirl in her vision. There had been a lot of pain, and it is still there, dully, along with the salty tracks left behind on her cheeks. On top of all of the confusion from that, she seems to be stumbling into an even more bewildering place, the scenery almost appearing to flicker and change before her eyes. But, much to her relief, it looks like the trees make a little clearing up ahead, and it serves as a nice enough destination when she has nothing else in mind.
Her breath is coming out in little puffs from the exertion by the time she steps out of the shelter of the trees, although she still isn’t sure just how far from the village she has gone. By the time she realizes that she isn’t alone here, she’s already made enough noise that there’s little chance she could have escaped notice. She freezes up, totally still, terrified to see who- or what- she has stumbled across. ]
13 September 2011 @ 02:35 am
[There was nothing particular about the establishment itself that drew her; it was the patrons, a crowd infused with light-hearted unity despite tidings of war on the horizon. A favourable audience for a lone musician to ply her trade. The bard settles onto the seat offered by the tavern master, placing her instrument cases at her feet. She withdraws a lute from one, a handsome instrument of pale wood and simple yet elegant design, and sets about tuning it with practiced fingers.

The room quiets to a hush as she strums a chord; a happy sound, joyful. A slight shift to her fingers, and 'twas as if the lute was sighing in sadness. The bard nods in satisfaction and begins.

Evoking emotion in music is an art that a rare few possess. A man could play the fiddle and call himself a musician, but 'twould be a false title. An he were able to move his audience, to sweep them into the story woven by melody and harmony... only then would he truly channel the power of music.

Luna Ballad is one such musician. Her first song is jovial, matching the room's atmosphere; her second was a heroic tale of valour and honour; her third was a simple village ditty, encouraging the audience to take part. The Lei of Mad Eleanor, Ser Fargrimm's Bounty, Frithulf's Cane, Tinker Tinker... She continues into the late hours of the evening, calloused fingers steady on the strings and voice as clear as when she had begun, her repertoire a blend of familiar melodies and wondrous novelties.
There is a slight pause as she reads the crowd; there is a murmur, men wanting to return home and rest but not willing to leave her presence; the children's voices have gone silent, the hour long past their capacity for wakefullness. She smiles, promising this to be her last, and her fingers dance across the strings once more.

A melancholy melody, the story of a girl on an impossible quest. There is enough hope infused in her voice that the ending comes as a shock; the failure of the girl's quest brings tears to the eyes of all but the hardest-hearted in the room. The last notes echo in the vast silence. Twas not an oppressive silence - twas the fragile silence of pain and sorrow, so delicate that movement would cause it to shatter.
She takes it upon herself to destroy what she had created; the sound of an instrument case being opened seems to shock everyone from their stupor. Rubbing tears from their eyes, grown men took their wives by the waist and led them from the room, while women gathered their sleeping children in their arms, clinging to them a tad tighter than usual. Luna could not see their tears, but she could feel them. Her eyes remain closed, as they had throughout her performance, and she smiles sadly.
The sound of approaching footsteps draws her notice. Her eyes look not at yours, but there is the unmistakeable feeling that you hold her full attention as you approach her.]

Willst thou share a song?
[A burnt village, a destroyed cathedral, corpses everywhere. Even while knowing history, the Black Order couldn't stop its fall. War hadn't spared the cathedral where the Order used to do their cults and the small village next to it. The village is barely even standing, most of it was burned. All the men were killed, the women were raped and killed and all the yougsters were taken to be sold as slaves. 

The priests tried to protect the cathedral at all costs but their corpses are now lying over the ground of the room where they used to pray.  Chronica is sitting on the altar with the Black Chronicle on her lap witnessing the last moments of the cult who protected her sacred book during decades. Time changes and now it's time for a new Era to dawn. 

Evening had come and the area was more lifeless than ever. Chronica was wondering where to go next because she couldn't remain here forever. She had a lot of possibilities. Before she had the time to think, she heard the huge door of the cathedral open. She was surprised, maybe it was a survivor or a traveller who arrived at the worst time. Anyway, Chronica was glad to see a living soul here.]