Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13 
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
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Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
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Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 3, 2017 12:28:59 GMT -8
"Only in nature can one behold true splendor. The works of men and women alike can only seek to capture but a shred of it's majesty. Never by mortal hand will you capture such colours, such blend of furious flames standing defiant with the coming night." he said. The world represented itself with its own words and its own images.
"I do not see furious flames. I do not see a sharp contrast which invigorates my mind; no, I see the opposite. I see a sea of thick, grey fog. Everything glows of green. The sun is but a weak child, trying desperately to have its voice heard, but being drowned out by a choking world. There is no peace in the unknown here. It frightens me, really."
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14 
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 3, 2017 12:55:49 GMT -8
"Different worlds," he replied with a knowing smile. "But close your eyes a moment and leave that fear behind. Close your eyes and let your skin paint you a different vision as the last vestiges of the sun's caress can brush your skin and tell you of a different world, devoid of that fear. Know that it exists, and find some comfort that wherever the road takes you, it may yet bring you to this marvelous sight one day."
He spoke with quiet joy, his smile alight like the deep and burning coals of a once bright fire. Still there, beneath the surface and burning bright still. "Tonight, you may find some measure of peace here. At least, I hope."
A yawn struggled from behind a raised hand as he looked towards the horizon, pouring one last glass of wine.
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 5, 2017 14:31:45 GMT -8
In a moment of tranquility, far away from all worlds and all tremendous trivialities, Xiu Xiu closed her eyes. The Lion's mane graced her mind; the residual knowledge dripped from his voice which repeated in her head. "Let your skin paint you a different vision, as the last vestiges of the sun's caress can brush your skin and tell you of a different world." Over and over, the sentence flip-flopped, and she had completely forgotten why she had closed her eyes.
The world was cold. It always was, and closing her eyes just made it colder. The blackness of her eye-lids surpassed that of a cloudy midnight on Pluto. Icy air trickled down her neck, only it wasn't air. It was sweat, manifested from her arduous travel. It felt like air, though.
Her eyes opened to make contact with The Lion once again. She gave him an apathetic shrug, and responded.
"Peace is unattainable, my Lord. You know this. Thank you."
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 5, 2017 14:47:01 GMT -8
He watched her carefully before he smiled defiantly.
"Peace, unattainable? Indefinitely, surely. But we catch glimpses of it, like a lost childhood, now and again. We earn a breath before we are plunged beneath the waves once more," he said with a quiet chuckle before wiping his mouth with a kerchief and tossing it upon the table. A snap of his fingers, and servants came from nearby, moving to cleanse the table of its effects, the Lord's compliments passed on to them so they could reach the cook.
"And what awaits you now this evening, if not some peace?" he said, yawning again.
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 5, 2017 14:52:36 GMT -8
( The Kingdom of Rondón) Some time later... The servants had come to fetch him quickly and he was not one to run, but he did stride purposefully towards the front gates as the royal carriage awaited. He had not bothered to buckle his coat, nor to wipe his hands of earth from where he had been gardening as he approached the royal procession, calling out to them in their native tongue. The briefest exchange left him surprised, and he sent the servants to fetch a number of his things before he excused himself to acquire a pack's worth of clothing and his old sword to wear at his side. His hands were clean, though dirt remained under his nails, when he returned, his expression carved in stone. When the Royal House commanded, he would answer, surely. Though for what he was bound to, he did not know. Time would tell as he left the Castella that morning. |
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Xiu Xiu
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Physical Description: ===============================
Xiu Xiu's anatomy mimics that of an elf, yet if caught with her hood lowered, she does not have the trademark pointed ears that so many of those fae have. She is large in stature, standing just above two meters tall. Her skin is grey, like a white ash; a pigment not often seen. Her eyes glow blue with magic, and her hair has been deprived of its natural color; in fact, her hair is dry and scratchy to the touch.
On her forehead is a rune that does not translate directly from any certain language. Above it, the tail of the rune travels along her scalp, down her temple, over the cheekbone, finally resting below her left eye.
===============================
Clothes and Equipment: ===============================
Various ramblings can be found in written form within her bag of books. Her robes resemble that of a theocratic monastery, yet they are old and not without wear. There are many chalk sticks on her person, as well as a magical staff. Also within her book bag, there are two slabs of stone, and a tough chisel. The stone tablets look to be works in progress, and written in runes resemblant of the works done by those that roam the underground: a well-learned scholar could probably translate the texts, given they have the correct knowledge and reputable references.
===============================
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 21:43:28 GMT -8
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Post by Xiu Xiu on Sept 5, 2017 15:14:23 GMT -8
"Perhaps," the Pilgrim mused, standing free from the chair's authority. "I know where my room is, my Lord. No need to escort me. Good night." She bowed, once again in full, leaving the Lion to his table, and, in fact, making her way towards the room that would be her nightly home.
There was not sleep, just mental ignorance of her world. Staring at the empty wall, devoid of character, she quietly meditated the night away. Only in morning, did she leave, for a small peak west of the Castella. No breakfast was to be had. The Lion had his business, and she had hers.
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Le Lyon de Rondon
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Age: 51
Physical Description: ***********
Harnois le Renard has always been larger than life. Even at the beginning of his fifth decade of life, he remains a towering figure, barrel chested and strong jawed. Little over seven feet in height, it is easy to imagine why they called him a Lion in his youthful days as a warrior and a general.
He keeps his hair trimmed much shorter these days, the dark blonde hair threaded liberall with silver, a neatly trimmed beard framing a mouth lined with years of laughter and smiling that reaches his brown eyes. His skin is tanned by years in the sun and marred with a scar digging down across his left brown and cheek, and the long faded burns of the hangman's noose around his throat.
His hands are large and calloused, from years holding a sword to many years with more hands-on passtimes like carpentry, gardening and even farming with the locals when a strong back and stronger arms are needed.
Age has caught up with him and his bones to creek and groan, moving rather stiffly in the mornings from lingering injuries. But he remains impressively hale in his age. One does not survive the occasional Gauldin assassin still without some remaining skill, after all.
Registered: Aug 31, 2017 10:40:06 GMT -8
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Post by Le Lyon de Rondon on Sept 5, 2017 15:26:54 GMT -8
He rose when she did, a man with manners still after all, and bowed in return.
"Mademoiselle, it was a pleasure to share in your company. Should your weary feet fall upon the stone streets of Vala, you may return here as a guest once more. Provided you've more stories to share, of course," he said warmly. Though he remained curious how she knew where her room would be without having been here before...A mystery for another day, it seemed. For now, he had to discover how the rest of the wine in the bottle upon the table would disappear before the sun was completely gone.
Upon the next morn as he would tend to his business, the servants would let it be known that she could, in fact, partake of a breakfast in form of apology for the Lord's hasty departure. Urgent matters, or so the house staff said. They would happilly see her fed before she would need to make her departure. And should she require it, a number of riders were making their patrols that day and would offer her a spot upon one of the steeds if her journey took her in the same direction, to let her off at her convenience.
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