House Rashmi
New
The Mountain Endures
Roleplay posts: 5 
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:38:25 GMT -8
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Post by House Rashmi on Jul 18, 2017 19:53:43 GMT -8
 A large, old manor house whose foundations were laid centuries ago, Baldomero was recently purchased by the wealthy House Rashmi merchant family from an old-blood noble who had fallen on hard times. The manor houses several generations of the Rashmi family, as well the associated staff expected of a household of that size. Located in the lush countryside outside of Baloncia, within the borders of Rondón, the manor sits on seventy acres of parks, gardens, and game preserves. The grounds have smaller houses and lodges as well, where gameskeepers and other staff that work mostly away from the manor proper are housed. Just to the north of the manor, a garden and small pond can be found where the children can often be found playing and cavorting.  |
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Jul 18, 2017 22:03:33 GMT -8
Layla was, as usual, wearing full armor and a long coat, despite the heat of the evening. If it bothered her at all, it wasn’t apparent. The tiny priestess ran over the grass, her armor and spurs jangling and clanking with every skipping step. Nearly a dozen children, ranging in age from around ten down to five or six swarmed around her, playing some game of indeterminate and ever-shifting rules. The sound of their wild laughter and shouting carried through the garden to the rest of the family, standing nearby.
“No, no, no!” She cried out, skipping and spinning away from the swarm of hands that grabbed at her coat. “That’s cheatin’! You ain’t allowed to all gang up on me like this! Noooo!”
Despite her protests, Layla howled with laughter, clearly far from upset by whatever foul the children had committed by grouping into one large team against her. Some of the older children were as tall as Layla, and might have even been able to beat her in a flat-out footrace. But somehow, even as a pack, they just couldn’t seem to get her. Every time they grabbed for her, Layla somehow managed to dance away, eliciting more shouts and laughter and called out instructions for surrounding and blocking her in.
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Zenia Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with pale blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Standing a hair above six feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and the long, shapely legs of a dancer. Her skin is smooth with a light, even tan and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
Her voice is a lilting soprano, calling to mind ethereal bells in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially extra-planar education.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling of her jewelry, and occasionally literal bells on her ankles, often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
Zenia's clothes are usually light and airy, allowing freedom to move and to dance. When they aren't breezy and silky, they are sturdy and appropriate for hunting or travel in the wilds.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:29:41 GMT -8
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Post by Zenia Rashmi on Jul 18, 2017 23:06:59 GMT -8
Zenia smiled as she watched Layla Rashmi playing with the children. It seemed like it wasn’t so long ago that she had been running about with Layla and Edmund and Nisha, and now, half of the children out there in that pack were hers. That was the right and proper way of things, of course. In ten or fifteen more years, those children would be having children of their own and marveling at how the years could fly by. And, more than likely, Layla would be playing with that new batch, too. She resisted the urge to call out directions to the children. Partly because it really would be cheating, and partly because she had lost track of the rules of the game quite some time ago anyway, and probably wouldn’t be much help anyway. Instead, she sipped from her wine and looked over to her brother, whose children were likewise swarming after the fleeing and dancing woman. “How long do you think we should let ‘em go on? If we don’t step in sooner or later, she’s gonna run ‘em to exhaustion, an’ the whole lot will be passed out on the grass an’ need carryin’ to bed.” |
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Edmund Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 5 
Physical Description: An attractive man, apparently in his middle thirties, with deep brown eyes and a shaven head. Standing a few inches above six feet tall, he has a strong, muscular frame and the long limbs of a distance runner. His skin is smooth with a dark, clear complexion and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
His voice is a strong baritone, calling to mind the deep wilds in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. He speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially planar education.
He walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only he can hear, the occasional soft whisper of clothes the only audible accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on him: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
He usually dresses in fine robes of silk and linen when in civilized lands, often carrying books and ledgers. Out in the country, or the wilds, he dresses in sturdy, practical leathers, carrying both blade and bow as befits an experienced ranger.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Edmund Rashmi on Jul 19, 2017 12:00:20 GMT -8
“If they are, I will carry the children. You two can try to carry momma upstairs.” He looked over to Zenia Rashmi and Nisha Rashmi with a stern expression, but a hint of mirth in his eye. Edmund glanced back to the swarm of children when a loud shriek rang out, but he quickly saw it was just Layla Rashmi picking up one of the smaller children as she ran. “At least they will actually go to sleep that way. If you want to stop it, you can be the one tellin’ fifty stories tonight.” He didn’t really mind that much, actually. But the process of putting the children to bed, even just his own, was often a rather lengthy ordeal. Being able to let someone else handle it sometimes was one of the perks of having a large family. Layla probably would have been happy to handle it every night, but if she wasn’t reined in, she was as likely to keep them up all night as she was to get them to sleep. She was great with the children, but prone to spoiling them terribly. He couldn’t really hold it against her, of course, but there had to be some measure of discipline. If the children didn’t get to sleep at a decent hour, the next day would be a special kind of torture for all of them. |
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Jul 20, 2017 9:38:58 GMT -8
Layla was largely oblivious to the nearby adult conversation. It took significant concentration not to be swarmed by the mob of children, after all. Of course, picking one up had changed the rules of the game yet again. The shouting and laughing quickly gained a raucous chorus of “Me next! Pick me up, too! Me! Me!” to accompany it.
In short order, Layla was sweeping up armloads of children and running them through the garden three and four at a time. There was no order or organization, just whichever were closest at any particular time she happened to swap them out. Of course, the rest of the children swarmed right along, laughing and shouting as she carried them around.
True to the prediction, over the course of the evening, Layla ran the children to exhaustion over the course of evening. When they started to fade and take breaks, Layla kept playing with smaller groups, cycling in whichever were up to it. That wasn’t her plan, of course. Layla simply adored children. And these children in particular, she loved above and beyond.
So, she played with them. As long as they wanted to, she would fun and play and carry them around, all smiles and laughter. If it meant they would sleep well and deeply that night, it was entirely a side effect. If it meant that she would do the same, that was also a side effect.
Once the children were taken off her hands and carried up to their rooms, Layla dropped into one of the garden chairs. She was fairly winded from all the running, but the wide smile never left her face for a moment. She looked at the gathered adults, the ones that weren’t tucking in various children. “Today was a good day, yeah?”
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Jul 21, 2017 17:53:57 GMT -8
Circe, having sat on the ground at what could only be described as a safe distance away from the hoard of laughing, shouting children, finally rises to her feet once they begin to be ushered off. She exhales a low sigh as she watches them get carried away. "..How do you manage that? Just watching the lot of the run around like that is exhausting." She shakes her head, apparently dismissing whatever further thoughts she had on the subject and moves closer to the group.
"But it was a good day, no denying that." She nods her head, as though agreeing with her own words before taking a moment to look the rest of the gathered adults over more closely.
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Zenia Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with pale blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Standing a hair above six feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and the long, shapely legs of a dancer. Her skin is smooth with a light, even tan and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
Her voice is a lilting soprano, calling to mind ethereal bells in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially extra-planar education.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling of her jewelry, and occasionally literal bells on her ankles, often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
Zenia's clothes are usually light and airy, allowing freedom to move and to dance. When they aren't breezy and silky, they are sturdy and appropriate for hunting or travel in the wilds.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:29:41 GMT -8
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Post by Zenia Rashmi on Jul 22, 2017 3:27:11 GMT -8
Zenia looked over to -Deleted- and laughed, having taken Edmund at his word and left him to deal with the children. She had a lifetime of experience, and still didn’t really understand where Layla’s boundless energy and enthusiasm came from. Circe could hardly be expected to have an answer. “Momma’s cheatin’ somehow. Only thing as makes any kind of sense.” Foregoing the available chairs, Zee instead chose to sit on the ground, stretching her legs out in the grass and leaning back against a tree. She leaned her head on Nisha Rashmi ’s shoulder, watching Circe and Layla from her comfortable spot. There was a strong resemblance in the Rashmi women, but the twins were virtually indistinguishable. It was a fact they had chosen to embrace as children, and never grew out of. They had gone as far as to make sure that the roses they had tattooed onto their shoulders matched perfectly. Even their mother and their children could usually only guess at telling them apart. |
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Jul 22, 2017 13:23:17 GMT -8
“If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’.” Layla laughed warmly and reached over to take Circe’s hand, pulling the elf gently over to her. She kissed the tips of Circe’s fingers, one after the other. “Besides, it is the good kind of exhaustin’, yeah? How many long an’ tiresome days I had doin’ things far less worthwhile than runnin’ about with happy children…”
Layla trailed off for a moment, thinking back over her life and some of the long days in question. After a short moment, she shook it off, smiling up to Circe again. “But no sense worryin’ over what can’t be changed. Enjoyin’ a long day with family is worth bein’ exhausted over. An’ a bit of tiredness is a easy price to pay for it, I think.”
Layla turned and nodded to her daughters, sitting together under the tree nearby. “‘Sides, after startin’ with them two, the rest of that lot is damned near relaxin’ by comparison. Unstoppable little hellions, they was. Endless fonts of mischief, shenanigans, an’ nonsense. No idea where they got it from.”
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Jul 23, 2017 15:19:59 GMT -8
Circe turns her attention down toward Layla, shifting and shuffling a bit awkwardly in place when the woman kisses at her fingers - though she doesn't voice any objection, allowing her to do as she pleases. When Layla speaks up, she turns her attention over to Nisha and Zenia, quietly shaking her head. "Yeah, no idea at all.."
"But you're right. There's not much reason to complain if that of all things is what tires someone out."
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Jul 24, 2017 12:57:52 GMT -8
She gently nuzzled her cheek against Circe’s hand, then closed her eyes and leaned back again. “I think you was a bad influence. Always tryin’ to light off fireworks in the house an’ things like that. It set a example to the girls. Trouble waitin’ to happen, that.”
Layla held the captured hand in both of hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Then she pulled it to her mouth and bit down on the edge. A soft sigh of contentment whispered through her nose as she chewed gently on the elf’s hand. It was perhaps a strange gesture of affection between them, but it was an old one, and uniquely theirs.
The tiny priestess was constitutionally incapable of being faithful for any significant length of time. It was a fact she had always been honest about with Circe, and had never been the source of anything more than mild friction between them over the years. If it had been a problem, they certainly would never have lasted so long together. But there were things Layla shared with Circe than she didn’t do with others, and strangely enough, this was one of them.
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Jul 24, 2017 18:52:42 GMT -8
"...I'm fairly sure that was you." Whether or not she really had been setting fireworks off indoors, or she simply decided to correct Layla might be just a little unclear. She was rather confident in her statement, treating the subject with the same sort of seriousness she treated most thing, but maybe it was just some joke between the two of them.
Beyond turning her attention more toward Layla for a moment, she didn't seem to mind having her hand gnawed on like it was. At the very least, she didn't speak up if it bothered her, but for the moment, anyway, she simply allowed it to happen, treating it as though it were an everyday occurrence.
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Nisha Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with pale blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Standing a hair above six feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and the long, shapely legs of a dancer. Her skin is smooth with a light, even tan and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
Her voice is a lilting soprano, calling to mind ethereal bells in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially extra-planar education.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling of her jewelry, and occasionally literal bells on her ankles, often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
Nisha's clothes are usually light and airy, allowing freedom to move and to dance. When they aren't breezy and silky, they are sturdy and appropriate for hunting or travel in the wilds.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:45 GMT -8
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Post by Nisha Rashmi on Jul 25, 2017 20:10:01 GMT -8
Nisha watched as Edmund Rashmi carried the last of the exhausted children up to the house. She could only tell her own daughter, Night, apart from the other older girls from this distance by the long tail that hung down from her younger brother's arms when he carried her. "Careful with that 'un!" she called out teasingly. "That there is precious cargo! I ain't got a spare!" She clinked her glass against her twin sister's, the movement so in time it was almost like there was a mirror between the two Rashmi women. The afternoon had been idyllic. Nisha had been hesitant to return, knowing the dangers the children might face away from their protected childhood home. But there was only so much room at the cabin, even with the multiple additions their mother had built on. No, they were old enough now to enter the world, albeit one that was protected still as much as it could be. She motioned to the beautiful scenery, the pond that stilled now that there were not small legs splashing through it to the other side. "I still say the pond in the kitchen back home is better, don'tcha think, Zee?" |
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Zenia Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with pale blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Standing a hair above six feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and the long, shapely legs of a dancer. Her skin is smooth with a light, even tan and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
Her voice is a lilting soprano, calling to mind ethereal bells in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially extra-planar education.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling of her jewelry, and occasionally literal bells on her ankles, often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
Zenia's clothes are usually light and airy, allowing freedom to move and to dance. When they aren't breezy and silky, they are sturdy and appropriate for hunting or travel in the wilds.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:29:41 GMT -8
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Post by Zenia Rashmi on Jul 26, 2017 6:31:02 GMT -8
“If you need a spare, I might be willin’ to trade you one or two of mine.” Zenia laughed as she met the salute with her own glass. It was a bit of an ongoing joke. As with so much else, the twins had gone through their first pregnancies together. For the first time in their lives, it had been easy to tell them apart, as Zenia had been a few weeks ahead of her sister, and also carrying triplets.
Holly, Ivy, and Willow were slightly older than their cousin, but all four girls had been born the same summer, and the age difference meant less and less as time passed. Within a few years, the only reliable way to tell any of the four girls apart was Night’s tail. And, taking after their mothers, they actively sought out ways to hide that difference.
They weren’t quite the perfect copies Nisha and Zee were, but it took a lot more effort to sort them out than it took for them to mimic each other. Not helped by the fact that that they had all mastered the fine art of having two distract someone while the other two switched clothes. Within two or three minutes, they could undo any sorting that had been accomplished.
Over the next few years, their families had gotten two more chances to tell the twins apart. Even though anyone might be content to stop there, Zenia had followed the triplets two years later with a son, Rowan. Marigold, her fourth daughter, was the youngest of the pack of children. At five (and a half, she would insist), she was already showing the distinct features of the Rashmi women. While she wasn’t able to trade places effectively, despite her best efforts, there was no mistaking the family resemblance.
“You would say that, it was your idea to dig it.” She gave her sister a playful bump with her shoulder. “You was always the hellion an’ troublemaker, draggin’ me into your trouble.”
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Jul 26, 2017 11:23:47 GMT -8
Layla chuckled softly at the twins’ banter. They had always had a sort of good-natured rivalry occasionally pop up between them, but it never really got very far. They would argue about which was the big sister, or which had gotten the other into trouble, but Layla was convinced that even when they were arguing, it was mostly with the intent to confuse and distract. At the end of the day, they were about as close as it was possible for two people to be, as far as she could tell.
She looked up to Circe with a wide smile. “Maybe that was me. It almost sounds like somethin’ I might do.” Layla kissed Circe’s fingertips again, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and hugging it to her breast. “I got you…”
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Jul 26, 2017 21:41:05 GMT -8
She watched and listened to the pair's conversation, not seeming all that concerned - about them, or much of anything going on around her, just idly observing the others. "..I'm pretty sure you would." Her answer was straightforward as it was the first time, and just as confident.
Yet when Layla pulls her hand over, she freezes up - but she doesn't do anything to prevent her. In fact, she doesn't do much at all, simply standing there quietly, though noticeably more awkward, just a bit more uncomfortable than she'd been the moment before.
She eventually broke the silence, looking back down toward Layla. "You.. do, yeah.."
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Edmund Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 5
Physical Description: An attractive man, apparently in his middle thirties, with deep brown eyes and a shaven head. Standing a few inches above six feet tall, he has a strong, muscular frame and the long limbs of a distance runner. His skin is smooth with a dark, clear complexion and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
His voice is a strong baritone, calling to mind the deep wilds in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. He speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially planar education.
He walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only he can hear, the occasional soft whisper of clothes the only audible accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on him: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
He usually dresses in fine robes of silk and linen when in civilized lands, often carrying books and ledgers. Out in the country, or the wilds, he dresses in sturdy, practical leathers, carrying both blade and bow as befits an experienced ranger.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Edmund Rashmi on Jul 27, 2017 8:42:10 GMT -8
After some time, Edmund returned to the garden to rejoin the others. Not nearly as much time as it might have been, considering the children had already been mostly passed out when he began carrying them up. Wrangling ten children into bed when they were wide awake was not a project for one man, but tucking them in when they were already out wasn’t too bad.
He padded over to the garden with his typical near-silent step, picking out an unoccupied chair to sit in. Rather than interrupting the quiet conversations, he simply sat and listened, looking out over the pond as night fell around them. Edmund had always been the quiet type, in stark contrast Layla and his sisters.
He appreciated the constant joking and chatter, though, despite rarely taking part in it. He had grown up with it, after all, and he had learned young that too much quiet often meant something was wrong. Adding his own children into the mix only heightened that sense.
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Zenia Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with pale blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Standing a hair above six feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and the long, shapely legs of a dancer. Her skin is smooth with a light, even tan and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
Her voice is a lilting soprano, calling to mind ethereal bells in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially extra-planar education.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling of her jewelry, and occasionally literal bells on her ankles, often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
Zenia's clothes are usually light and airy, allowing freedom to move and to dance. When they aren't breezy and silky, they are sturdy and appropriate for hunting or travel in the wilds.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:29:41 GMT -8
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Post by Zenia Rashmi on Jul 29, 2017 9:24:10 GMT -8
“Welcome back.” Zenia smiled and raised her glass to her brother when he returned. Or a little while after, since she didn’t notice him at first. She was used that, of course, having grown up with him. Even when they were children, he had mastered the art of moving without being seen or heard. He had never had the taste of mischief she and Nisha had, though, so they had rarely been able to get him to use the skill as part of their games.
“The children all sleepin’ in their beds, then?”
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Jul 30, 2017 7:57:28 GMT -8
If Layla noticed Edmund Rashmi returning, she didn’t mention it. Either she hadn’t heart him, or simply chose not to call attention to it. Not that it mattered so much when Zenia spoke up. Or Nisha. She couldn’t tell them apart by voice any more than by sight, and wasn’t about to try. It was an exercise in futility with no prize at the end. Instead, she kept her focus on the elven warrior standing over her, leaving her children to their conversation. “Tell me about your day, darlin’? Anythin’ interestin’ happen? Anythin’ fun? Anythin’ I need to hire a crew of skilled artisans to repair?” She laughed warmly and kissed the tips of Circe’s fingers again. |
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Jul 30, 2017 15:02:16 GMT -8
Circe was far from the most observant of the group, and likely wouldn't even notice Edmund's return, as quiet as he was. Instead, she keeps her attention on Layla, still shifting about on her feet. "..No, nothing like that. If anything needs repairing, it's probably because one of the children broke something."
She didn't seem particularly upset as she said this. Apparently she'd accepted the idea that they would break something or other and had come to peace with it. Or it was a common enough occurrence that she thought it not worth her time getting upset over.
Whatever the case, she offered a lazy shrug, as though there wasn't much else to say.
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Edmund Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 5
Physical Description: An attractive man, apparently in his middle thirties, with deep brown eyes and a shaven head. Standing a few inches above six feet tall, he has a strong, muscular frame and the long limbs of a distance runner. His skin is smooth with a dark, clear complexion and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
His voice is a strong baritone, calling to mind the deep wilds in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. He speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially planar education.
He walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only he can hear, the occasional soft whisper of clothes the only audible accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on him: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
He usually dresses in fine robes of silk and linen when in civilized lands, often carrying books and ledgers. Out in the country, or the wilds, he dresses in sturdy, practical leathers, carrying both blade and bow as befits an experienced ranger.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Edmund Rashmi on Jul 30, 2017 21:26:34 GMT -8
“They are asleep. I make no promises regardin’ which beds which ones wound up in.” It might have been a joke, or it might have been a simple statement of fact. Or a little of both. Either way, he retrieved his glass from before and returned Zenia’s salute, then took a small sip. He wasn’t much of a drinker, as a rule, but the Rondón wine, served chilled and sweetened with fruit, suited the warm summer evenings incredibly well. It also suited relaxing company more than hijinks and carousing, which might well mean that the loud and rowdy part of evening was well behind them now. Zenia Rashmi and Nisha Rashmi might not be teenagers anymore, but they were still more than capable of reliving their wild youth when the mood struck. They would all be grateful for the large plot of land Baldomero sat on when his sisters discovered the quality of the local horses. Although it was their neighbors in the nearby town of Baloncia that would benefit the most, if their past exploits of tearing through the streets at a full gallop were anything to go by. Edmund shook his head at the memories, glancing over to the two, then back over to Layla and Circe. He had known the elf for a little over a decade, now, and despite her not actually being a Rashmi, she was probably the one closest to him in temperament. Of course, whether she took the name or not, she was a part of the family now. Family wasn’t about names, or blood, or ceremonies. Family was about the bonds that endured. After this long, Circe was a part of the mountain. |
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