The Stars Among Us

[Brandino Gambino]

Hello to whomever may be reading this. This forum serves as an archive for an on-going roleplay titled 'The Stars Among Us' between myself, and User AngelofChaos.

In my personal opinion, the story is quite good, perhaps to outside readers more versed in media such as books and anime (I am not such a person), the story elements may come off as more cliched or seem familiar if such a story has already been published. Perhaps if we've roleplayed before, then you will recognize the story setup, as it is a simple one I've done multiple times. But this particular story, written with the fantastic collaberative efforts of User AngelofChaos, has been my personally favourite one, and has become a story I am fully invested in completing. However, as time goes on, and as the story gets more and more fleshed out, it becomes painfully obvious that such a story should not only be archived, but shared with the community, as I have no intention of making any sort of profit off it anyway, unless this somehow blows out of proportion and becomes viral. Doubt it would though, I am no Rowling, and this can be simply be seen as any other free online story or web comics can be.

With continued collaberation with User AngelofChaos, this forum will be periodically posted with paragraphs from the story that may be only slightly editted for a better reading experience and to accomodate for a better story telling experience as well. We didn't know we would have so much fun with this, and began using multiple characters whom when first introduced, served only minor roles that then became major ones, earlier posts will be editted to portray this as well

Hope you enjoy reader :3

OG UN: Pikaberry
Current UN: Brandino Gambino  

[Brandino Gambino]

MAIN CHARACTERS

Name: Garret
Age: 21
Appearance: Garret
Skills, Powers, Traits: Has sufficient outdoor survival experience, is agile and dextrous, and strong. Great at swordplay, good with a bow, but cannot use magic. For some reason though, he is able to resist the effects and damage from magical energies.
Personality: A good leader, courageous, strong-willed, and smart. He is a good hearted man, and he will stand up to fight for those worth protecting and fighting for, and shows no remorse for bandits and similar bad parties.
Biography: (To be built upon)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Capurnia Guillemont / Amelia

Age: 19 years old

Appearance: Amelia is slender and refined. Her hair is near floor length, tinted a warm ivory-gold that flatters her glowing, fair complexion. Her eyes from a distance would appear a singular violet hue, but upon closer inspection, in fact, fluctuates between several shades of blue and green as well, similar to that of an aurora borealis. Clothing often veils small scars on her extremities that would relatively go unnoticed even if uncovered--possibly even mistaken for freckles by untrained eyes, whereas the scars along her torso, while calculated and meticulous, could never be mistaken for anything other than what they truly are.

Skills, Powers, Traits: Due to borderline strenuous training and numerous tutors, Amelia's natural magical aptitude exceeds most mages three times her senior. As a child, she was a gifted healer with an odd resistance to fire and flame magic. What she lacks in physical strength she greatly compensates in arcane knowledge and magical ability, particularly her versed comprehension of advanced alchemy. While still very vulnerable to physical attacks, Amelia can on rare occasion reaches a condition of elevated power referred to as her 'Nova' state. While tremendously powerful, going Nova leaves Amelia at a loss for control for an indefinite period of time--either until sedated or wounded beyond physical functionality. Beyond her magical abilities, her skill as a marksman is notably capable at best, making her small, nimble frame optimal for stealth.

Personality:
A natural leader; tactful, patient, and studious. Her flawed consciousness can make her apprehensive in her decision making. Amelia often puts herself after others which may come off as inverted or submissive, and by all means can be a devastating assumption to make of her character. Raised to become the next High Queen of the Six Great Nations, Amelia's astute demeanor, and stoic nature grants her the political ruthlessness of a seasoned General.

Biography:
To be built upon.  

[Brandino Gambino]

RESERVED  

[Brandino Gambino]

xxangelsofchaosxx

Looking out over the city with the eyes of dulled, dying amethyst. There was a tremendous ache in the child's chest anchored her to this world. Smoldering ashes from days past still drifted into the air, like a dark snow cursing the very heavens above them. A seldom reminder of what she had done. Flames and ashes still fuming in her nostrils, their phantoms still lashing at her feet.

Small hands clasped to the marble banister that stood just a few inches higher than her head. Amelia had always been a small and frail child. The sadness she felt as she looked over the city made her continuously paling complexion look as though she would collapse any second. Capurnius noted this, taking a stand next to her just as he placed a hand over her shimmering silver hair in an attempt to comfort her. Amelia looked up, breathing in deeply as though the tears threatening to fall were triggered by this gesture. The King had yet to see the life return to her eyes, said to fluctuate like the hues of an aurora borealis. Instead, what he saw before him was the withering shell of a child, slowly succumbing to death brought on by a broken heart. This, of all things, he feared the most.

"When can I return to the city?" She asked with a weak tremble. Her frame looked as though it could barely support the weight of the blood inside her. What she had truly meant was, 'when can I go home?' He recognized this as a sign of resistance to her treatment. While not entirely feral, Amelia was proving difficult to establish command over.

Capurnius searched her face for a moment, feeling the curve of his mouth exceed a comfortable flat line. It was too late and far too important to have second thoughts about this now. "I know this is a difficult adjustment, my princess, but I'm afraid that the city may never welcome you as it did before." He said in a stern, firm voice. "Your power is too great. Now that they've seen how destructive you can be they will fear you. They may never understand you and try to harm you, so you must stay here until you can gain control. The longer we go without incident, the truer of a miracle you will become in their eyes."

"But...but I helped people too," Amelia answered sounding almost uncertain. He watched her eyes flashing down, not trying to lie, but instead, trying to remember. "And my friend...he might be out there."

Capurnius inhaled slowly. It seemed the treatment wasn't taking to her as fast as he would like. Making someone forget an entire person was difficult if they were stubborn enough. "I assure you, my men have searched all over the west of the city for the boy you described, Calpurnia. All they found were countless dead and wounded, caused by your rage."

Amelia's lips exceeded a frown as he spoke her new name, she exhaled a soft "...oh..."

He noted her submission, staving off a wide smile. "Do you understand now why you mustn't leave? I'm the only one who can protect you from their fury for what you've done. Maybe someday, they'll come to accept you, but that time is not now."

"Yes, papa..."


Laying awake in her bed, Calpurnia draped a hand over her eyes, trying to remember what she had just dreamt of. The conversation was leaving her quickly, even while trying with all her might to grasp it this time. Every time she awoke from a dream like this one it had always felt as though she had walked into a room and immediately forgot why she had done so. Sometimes bits and pieces of the conversation rang in the back of her mind like a nearly forgotten melody, but most frustrating of all was when she couldn't recognize the faces that she saw. Somehow, Calpurnia knew before she came to live with the king she lived on the outskirts of the city, within the enchanted forest. She could remember a beautiful white willow tree that rested alongside a large pond. She remembered playing with children from a nearby village, but somehow, she just couldn't remember their faces. She couldn't remember how to find the willow, she didn't remember how she survived on her own up until the day the king came and took her away. What she did know was that she wasn't allowed to go back, even over a decade later. Trips leading them outside the kingdom had deliberate alterations to the routes so that they would travel the most domesticated roads where creatures living within the Glades would never dare to wander. In this sense, Calpurnia was a prisoner in her own kingdom.

The morning rose through the windows into the open room, it's golden glow spilling along the ivory-gold hair that canvased her face. Strands of silver and creme shimmered like starlight on the verge of fading. Calpurnia parted her lips softly, breathing in the light. Ever the independent one, she had readied for the morning before the chambermaids arrived to do so. Overlooking the garden from her window, she could see the spring sunlight slowly waking the world outside the castle walls as well. She was dressed by the time two girls came in while in the middle of their conversation. It seemed that all of the staff were in a clamor over the new royal guard or guards arriving that afternoon, though no one seemed to know much about it, or why they even needed them. Some were on the edge of their seats, others just on edge, leaving Calpurnia feeling indifferent. Maybe she should have been saddened by the idea that her father may not have as much confidence in her abilities as he always went on in suggesting. Maybe she should share his concern. Regardless, she had no say in the matter. The rumors of a planned attack at the Kingdom's cordial gathering needed to be addressed in some shape or form and this is what the King found appropriate. The entire kingdom would be presenting aristocratic bachelors, though the enthusiasm between the two of them regarding the matter was yet to be found. The truth was, the king made it abundantly clear he despised the idea just as much as Calpurnia did.


It was nearly midday when Calpurnia had been in the library with one of her tutors. Standing in the large, open center of the room, the scene had been purposed for practicing ethereal magic and alchemy, a relatively safe distance from any important texts. Heavier subjects such as fire welding or some other elemental skill usually took place outside or down in a chamber under the castle simply referred to as the safe room. Though she had to admit, the chamber was one of her least favorite places to go; if anything, it was a brilliant idea granted by the King to construct a place that can suppress her magic if there was a need. This had been a need quite a few times when she lost control of herself or felt unsure of her ability to maintain control. Thankfully each time she has faded into unconsciousness it was always in the safe room with a controlled environment, but each time this happened only served as a reminder that she was far too dangerous to be on her own. Her father, Capurnius, always noted that natural born magic users (as he called her kind) that could use more than one elemental ability naturally were a rarity. Granted that most who were born with magic typically took to their environment as a primary elemental, such as someone up north being more accustomed to ice magic than someone from the west. Not many of her tutors over the years were actually magic users and the ones who were never stayed long and left without explanation, so the girl never really knew anyone magically inclined to draw resources from but the scholars that her father hired.

She thought on this as the rather long and wide doors opened slowly, the hinges announcing the arrival of someone brave enough to enter without knocking. First came a servant girl, followed by the king, proudly smiling at the sight of Calpurnia holding a frail and soft glowing light in her palms.

Stricken with a sudden rush of embarrassment, Calpurnia lowered her arms and turned to face him with a slight curtsy. Capurnius noted the formality, shaking his head slightly as he held his smile. With his hands gently cupping her shoulders, Calpurnia straightened in his hands like a mannequin with wide, alert eyes flexing in hue.

"Calpurnia, your skill grows as beautifully as you do." He said with a warm smile.

Calpurnia's eyes softened, further embarrassed than before. "Thank you, father." She answered looking down.

His hands slowly left her as he turned to the instructor, "I'm afraid we have to cut it short today, Izen. The princess and I are to go and greet the new royal guards."

Her ears perked slightly, "Already?"

Capurnius nodded with a pleased smile. They began to exit, Calpurnia maybe more or less leading the way. Capurnius wouldn't have been surprised if she felt some tinge of excitement to see who he had hand-selected to serve their kingdom. As they walked, Calpurnia only marveled at what these royal Knights would do while serving. She read once of a king's guard in a far away land that also served as members of the small council. In a matter of months crime in the city dwindled down to occasional drunken brawls because the chain of command was cut in half. It was inspiring, Calpurnia thought. When the time came for her to rule the kingdom, she hoped it would be with as much wisdom as that king.

"--and all I ask is that you limit any 'demonstrations' until absolutely necessary."

Her thoughts scrambled to catch up to what he was saying. Slowing down to a near halt, the princess dropped the heavy bundles of fabric in her hands, she turned to the king, confused. "Do they...not know about me?" She asked meekly.


Her heart throbbed a bit before he answered, uneasy at the shock it would be to them. But Capurnius laughed heartily. "Sweet child." He said placing an arm around her shoulders as they entered the grand hall. "Of course they do. There isn't a soul in all of our kingdoms who have not heard of my pride and joy. I shout it from the rooftops of the castle, just to remind the sun to rise."

She flushed a bright pink, she certainly didn't know any of those people he spoke of, but almost as though Capurnius read her thoughts, he smirked again, "Of course, such bragging needs to be coupled with some sort of evidence, correct? More or less, this is the true reason we are celebrating your name day with the other kingdoms this year."

Standing in front of their respective thrones, Calpurnia actually managed to smile with a skeptical look hiding behind her eyes, "You certain it's not just so you can stop all of the nagging from the mother's of my potential suitors, papa?"

Charmed by the sound of her addressing him with that name, Capurnius found himself equally tossed by her witty remark, still, he smiled as though she caught him in the act. "I couldn't care any less for that." He answered. Turning to the servant girl who had followed them the entire way, he gestured for the door. "Send them in!"

The girl bowed and rushed to the gold framed doors of the exquisitely decorated red room as quickly as she could, where she met two men waiting for the command. She stood in front of the doors and nodded, triggering each man to face one another and then the handles of each door like soldiers before pulling them open. The servant girl rushed through with her long gray dress and pristine white apron being pressed into a flat fabric over her legs before meeting and greeting the men outside the doors.

Brandino Gambino

The sun was rising, the summer in full bloom, beyond the bending sea of wildflowers and restless meadow grass the horizon was igniting into chaotic hues of brilliant gold and fervent red. The hills beyond dipped and bowed, carved up the terrain in effortless slopes of emerald green dappled with yellow, purple, and white. Though the air was presently cool and comfortable, the wake of the sun into the afternoon would inevitably scorch the sleepy dew from the plains and encourage the inhabiting animals to linger closer to the very pond Garret himself was perched beside.
On the inky flat surface he could see the details of the sky, could catch the remnants of the evening fading fast into pallid, drowsy blue. In the depths of the night when the men were still, when the forest and the plains were quiet and asleep he could feel the stir in his soul, the ache of uncertainty and fear of unknowing soothed in the meditative venture into the white freckled abyss above.

But now the morning was chasing away his stars, fading the half of the sky that remained visibly dappled with the brilliant, glimmering flecks. He caught his reflection while he mentally drew the border between night and day, his own image just between. Days of riding and sleepless nights showed in the temporary lines drawing details in his face; the stern set of his mouth, the dull depths of otherwise intensely grey eyes. Wolfish, some would say, their pale color offset by a dark, burned ring about the edges, flecks of blue carving inward in randomized slits of color. Now though, when he stared at himself he could see that they had faded, the color transformed to something more pallid, tired. His hair was unruly, tousled and thick, left to grow until now it were reaching for the base of his neck, ink black locks pushed back with impatient hands revealing premature streaks of silver intertwined along the sides. A beard had started, dark scruff filling in over the sharp angles of his jaw, and a thoughtful hand dragged over it, contemplating a shave before the last leg of the trip.


“Oy pretty boy,” A low voice seared the contemplative quiet, had Garret’s posture stiffened in a responsive second. “quit oglin’ yer’self and come show tha’ welp Jorrah some techniques.” Aubrey, a large burly man twice his age with a particularly discernible aversion for Garret’s undefeated gain over him, stood at the edge of camp, bulky arms crossed like fallen pillars across his platform chest. If it weren’t for his uncanny, unplaced skills for fighting Garret wouldn’t stand a chance against the boulder of a man. He’d admit that’s why the name calling was left unacknowledged, giving Aubrey some grasp on his manliness that he’d presumably lost when he’d been defeated by the younger, trimmer Garret during a recruiting course. Although their heights were the same, both at a solid six feet two inches, their bodies were built entirely different. Aubrey was all brute, moving in one blundering direction with a force enough to knock down walls of brick if he’d had the mind, while Garret could move with an agility and a speed unequalled.

Now Jorrah was a different story, the just of age solider still faint in the hands and stiff on the feet. He was like fighting a newborn deer, goofy and strange. His amour barely fit, less so now since their travels, his still growing frame unable to compensate for the less than opulent eating habits. But he had shown potential, and despite the scrutiny for his decision, both from his fellow comrades and surely the king, he knew a special swordsman when he saw one. They’d swept him up on a pass through town nearest the mountains, the springy lad beating wildly and keen at a sutured sack of rice, secured to a pole. His motions were taut but he'd had the agility, the presence in his movements that Garret rarely saw. Besides, most of the kings guards were well into their thirties save Garret, and fresh, trainable, promising blood was a kind of insurance. Surely he’d convince the king of the sense in his decision.

“Mindin’ a good fight in the crest of the mornin’ ought to do him some good, best time for learnin’ when the grey matter’s fresh for the day.” Aubrey unfolded his stance all at once when Garret approached, unsheathing his own sword to pass it over. Garret paused, a question flitting along the edges of his expression, before taking it, regardless the strangeness. The man seemed relentless to prove that their younger company was a phony, that no way could he be so skilled at his age, unable to accept his demotion among the guardsmen. Garret had no answers for Aubrey, and it sure as hell wasn’t a trick sword giving him his grace.

It was immediately evident that the steel blade was not meant for him, it was too heavy- offsetting his balance and forcing his stance to shift oddly. He turned it in his hand, his muscles arguing against the mass, while his eyes watched Jorrah tie at the straps of his armor. Garret wore none, just the informal white linen of his shirt and fitted trousers. There was no fear of being struck from the youth, not yet anyway.

“You’ll not take it easy on me, yea?” Jorrah called, twisting his sworn in his hands with a warm up loop. His lopsided grin was wild with eagerness to learn, never discouraged by his defeats. Aubrey could learn something from him, but old dogs and that…

“Aye, that would defeat the point.” Garret readied himself, as comfortable as he could get with the unfit weapon in his grip. Jorrah immediately charged, mistake one, and an easy defensive raise of his blade prevented the youth’s to make any attempt at contact.

“Don’t blindly charge, boy. You’ve got size against you, be swift not forceful.”

He nodded curtly, dragging back as Garret pushed at him sword to sword, wielding instead with a twist of his frame, carving the weapon down first toward the ankles with a sudden angle for the torso. A sly move, but difficult to do quickly enough to fool a ready opponent. Garret dipped his own blade between his side and Jorrah’s attack, the steel clash of metal echoing off his very skin, pulling at the fog of his mind like a sharp alarm. He could feel it creeping like a chill over his flesh, filling the void of his mind with a hot pulse of clarification. Every fight was like this, within mere moments it began igniting him somewhere deep within, anchoring him to a brief and addictive sense of self that swallowed him whole in the true furies of a real battle.

Jorrah moved again, turning, dodging, exerting, and wailing. Every attempt was batted away, one after the other, every hit harder, sloppier, angrier.

“Patience-“ Garret warned but the youth disengaged and swallowed his rage to push it out into his strikes. His teeth were barred, and though his moved became faster he paid false attention. Garret proceeded forward forcing Jorrah backward, slugging one strike after another with an easy twist, a low dodge, or a defensive block. The sounds between swords echoed off the land, misplaced in the otherwise undisturbed peace. Sweat spilled like crooked rivers along the trainee’s temples, his fatigue against a heavier weapon and the speed of its wielder becoming obvious. A hard strike at a high degree forced Jorrah’s blade suddenly from his grip, the thing falling flat among the upturned dust, whirling around their feet. The youth was next to collapse, toppling to his rump in a exhausted heap, panting.

Aubrey was laughing, a grumbling, satisfied sound that inspired the low chuckles and chatters of the others, presumably getting his satisfaction from distracting everyone’s attention to someone else’s defeat. Garret turned his sword then jammed the thing into the upturned earth, reaching a hand to help Jorrah to his feet.

“If you let frustration and anger guide you you’ll never win a fight in your life whether on the field or off. It’s a careless way to channel your mind.”

Jorrah grunted, dusting off his armor, loosening the ties that held it so closely. “I know it- but it’s overwhelming sometimes, an’ it’s tha’ only thing givin’ me the strength to keep up.”

“Training will give you the strength, once we’ve made it to the kingdom we’ll have the resources to refine that skill. You might practice focusing in the meantime.”

“How?”

Garret paused, unsure how to immediately answer that question, knowing that his own ability to detach from reality had a lot to do with his lack of memories and their aided distractions. “Try just pressing your thoughts on something simple, your breathing perhaps, try and stay focused on just that. It’ll take time to finesse but once you’ve got a handle on the direction of your feelings, thoughts, the rest is easy.”

The pair began to walk, rejoining the group that had now dispersed in order to pack up the camp, climbing one by one atop their mounts.

“Aye my sword-“ Aubrey stopped the two in their pace, gesturing with a sharp nod toward the weapon stashed nose deep into the ground behind. Garret shifted out of his way, replying with a strident nod of his own, the “get it your damn self” gesture met with a knit frown and partly subdued sneer. Jorrah grinned as the two continued forward and readied to depart their last camp.

_______

Sprawling would best describe the city beneath the massive castle, its streets and people as busy as he’d imagined they could be. The feeling of angst that hummed about the air seemed to bite at his flesh like the heat from the midday sun, the black, gleaming steed beneath him flicking ears and tail about as if their souls shared the same sentiment. The people around them separated as they treaded through, some pausing to watch the neatly lined group pass steadily by, the oversized, neatly armored horses casting black shadows across curious faces.

“The princess…” Jorrah had joined Garret’s side, his buckskin mare jerking her lithe head in protest to overeager reigns.

“Hm?”

“She ah, I’ve heard she’s got somethin’ special about her. Lots of rumors travel through the towns, yea, and they’re sayin’ she’s got magic, like maybe a witch, ya think?”

“You believe every rumor you hear?”

“Weel’…" Jorrah shrugged, leaving Garret wondering if he was quite mature in mind for this. He wouldn’t make a good case spitting discourteous words about the royal daughter.

He sighed, shifting his weight in the saddle. “I’d suggest keeping your thoughts internal, like we talked about.”

“She’s not a witch, you nit.” Herrick, the oldest of the group, bearded and branded with long sweeping scars along the majority of his left temple, closed some of the space between the pair at the front. “Garret where’d we get off draggin’ this peasant boy about with us all over the kingdoms anyway.”

“The aging lot of you had me worried, I’ll need someone to keep up with me when you’ve all pegged out.”

Herrick grinned, the sharp draw of his lips revealing pearly whites, oddly elongated canines. Garret had imagined since meeting him he’d probably ate half his enemies on the fields, stored the rest as the unidentifiably jerky he always munched endlessly. It was strange, this group of men clad in their gilded armor, scarred, eccentric, and strange, came together in one refined and admirable group, a band picked directly by the king for the kingdom. In one picture they looked fit for the refined walls, pleasant luxuries, and royal company. They were all-incredible at the head of a sword, outstanding among their peers, and acknowledged for their excellence in conquering. Yet, this very fact in itself seemed strange, a subject Garret contemplated passively.

“I’ll outlive you all anyway. But loose chops here ought to see himself to the stables though or otherwise find himself rightly hung in the square. Surely couldn’t keep his mouth shut once he laid eyes on her, nor his hands squared away to ‘imself.” Herrick’s peppered brows wiggled.

“She’s pretty then?”

“Sure, quite. Fair, gold 'n ivory hair and eyes brilliant as the wild lilac’s in the spring.”

“You’ve seen her before Herrick?” Garret turned his head but not his eyes, directing more his voice than his full attention.

“Sure, I’ve come through this way before, back in my youth training with the eastern militia.”

“Her eyes are purple?” Jorrah chimed, eagerly curious of the minute details.

“Lad whatya’ live under a boulder? There are stranger things in this world than purple eyes.” Herrick waved dismissively, jerking his mount around as they came to a steady stop at the forefront of the castle. Men rushed their steeds, gathering reigns as the guardsmen dismounted. "But no. Such a plain word doesn't describe them eyes. Purple doesn't do 'em justice."

“Herrick is right Jorrah, you ought to see to the horses with the hands, I’ll mention you in due time, but until them mind yourself quietly.”

The youth frowned but abided, guiding his horse around and out of sight as the group, a total of five, climbed the stairs toward the towering doors to the throne room. They sprawled open in time, the large gold rimmed entities swinging with an ease seemingly impossible for their size. At the center bowed a small servant girl, her primeval cotton gown and flat apron pallid against the otherwise exquisitely decorated room behind her. Her smile seemed plain when it received them, and she turned to bring them forward, shade flushing away the lingering heat of metal armor.

The king stood at the head of his throne as the group filed in, fanned out in a semi-arrow line with Garret at the center. He’d half wished it had been appropriate to strip himself from the weight of steel trapping every ounce of body and weather heat if just to sprawl flat on the marble floors, promising to be cool he could be certain. But, as inappropriate as it would be to shed himself bare before the court he decided instead to distract himself, eyes moving from the strong presence of the king to his daughter.
What he saw struck him, like a searing hot arrow bolt into the very pit of his chest that sent his nerves seething like burned twine. His jaw tensed, hard enough to push the tension against flesh, his teeth aching at the clenching pressure. His head throbbed as if his thought searched and reached and groped for familiar unfamiliarity, finding nothing but a void, ceaseless. He compensated the strangling sensations with a drag of an unsteady hand through tousled hair, his gaze dropping hard to the ground, as if his attention itself needed to breath, before returning to latch relentlessly to the king. That unplaced, buried feeling brushed like a sleepy sigh against his flesh, a faded remnant of the chaotic turmoil he’d just narrowly escaped. He cleared his throat, stiffening his stance before Herrick picked up the silence, passing a inquisitive glance to Garret as he stepped forward.

“Your majesty, what a pleasure it is to return, the years have done you, and your kingdom well I see.”

xxangelsofchaosxx

They watched with a mixture of patience and intrigue split between them, their faces still as portraits as the men filed in and presented their arms with a sharp, almost startling precision. With a deepening breath, Calpurnia straightened slightly, feeling on display herself in moments like this. A holographic flicker of iridescent jade and gold dashed across eyes that followed their movements but quickly peered to the king, almost looking for the same validation in his eyes that they wanted.

For a moment, the room rested in the silence, Capurnius slowly stepping forward as the man in the forefront of the battalion gave his appraisal of the kingdom's current state. This mattered not to the king, who was stalkily observing each man as though he could read the discipline in their form. Coming back to the center, Capurnius pressed his mouth into a tight line beneath his peppered beard before he spoke. His voice was a booming tabernacle that filled every corner of the scarlet room like breathing air into a box much smaller than his own mouth.

"Sir Garret, these walls are only as mighty as the men who guard it!" He answered with an almost joyous voice. "As you know, you and your men have been called here to my service because your actions have outspoken many who have come before you. I have searched for men who live under the value of valor, integrity, chivalry, and duty. Most importantly, each of your expertise has been evaluated and I have determined that as a collective, you all have a compatible skill set, making you perfect to serve in my king's guard. If the Gods are good, may you each someday serve my daughter in her reign as queen."

A soft breath escaped from Amelia as she closed her eyes. Part of her truly hated the thought of the day she would succeed Capurnius at his deathbed. The image forced her throat to tighten uncomfortably. Even more so once her eyes began to focus on the man whom of which the king was speaking to. Something within her shifted; a metallic lining like mercury began to drain down into her chest, seemingly worsening the pulsing and burning sensation burying into the muscles in her back. Her hands struggled to stay in place in front of her, wanting to grasp at the increasingly painful situation building up within her center. The last thing she wanted was to alarm the king. Not only to spare him any embarrassment but if he believed that she was going to lose control of her consciousness, he would immediately evacuate her to the 'safe room'. A small, unnoticeable breath passed between her lips filling her cavity with heat, exhaling only served to expel a something unexpected.

Tears.

Large, uncontainable and hot. Calpurnia's face remained unmoving without a twitch or skew or muscle, one large stream of tears fell from her eyes like a faucet. Her hands jot from their perch in front of her to swipe them away. This was out of the ordinary for her, she wasn't empathic, but suddenly she's overwhelmed by the emotions set off by glimpsing at this man? Was there a pain within him that radiated into the room? She shouldn't have noticed it, the idea of such awareness making itself known was vastly more alarming than the actual sense of empathy she felt. Failing to understand something happening within her was nothing new, but an outburst at a moment like this would only serve the king's narrative in regards of her control.

Capurnius paused in his welcome momentarily to acknowledge the young woman at his side. Calpurnia's fingers tuck away what moisture remained at the corner of her eye as she looked up with a coy smile. Composure was her strongest characteristics, thankfully, it hadn't failed her yet.

"With that being said," he continued abruptly, "As such a day draws near, enemies of our kingdom, who conspire against the crown, seek to not only cut short my reign but to keep my dream of Calpurnia taking the throne from becoming a reality. And so, I ask you serve well and in return, the reward you reap from your duties will exceed your imagination. Stand."

He raised an arm with an authoritative gesture before looking to two young men waiting at the entrance to the main hall that would split into the east and west wing. "Show them their quarters. Captain, report to me when your men are settled in."

A stuttered thought rolled through the back of her mind as Calpurnia watched the servants wait to usher the group into the halls, taking a moment to get a better look at their faces. Each of them seemed to be very distinct and unique, whereas there was also a possibility that many of the servants just looked similar and that's what she was used to. Her gaze seemed to fix on the one addressed as Garret, standing tall and bold with obsidian hair that could have paved a canvas fit only for stars. Her mouth pressed gently together, feeling the faintest sense of familiarity that was gone as fast as it had come. It must have been a manufactured memory or even something superstitious like dèja vú. She could shake the feeling easily, though a thought did pass as she wondered why it crossed her mind at all.

What traces of her memory she did have weren't always pleasant ones, but she held each one dear, regardless. She remembered what it was like going hungry on nights she spent in the city walls. A small smirk tugged at her lips when she faintly remembered times she ran barefoot through the forest with the other children. She could imagine what it must be like for the children who continued to grow up there; whether or not they still relished in the summers the same without her. One could dream that they could run forever, wherever they were going. It felt like there was more to remember, but nothing else came. Calpurnia looked up from her thoughts, feeling once more like she stepped into an empty room in the back of her mind. Her memories felt as empty as the room around her, lacking substance and meaning in every sense of its needs. Capurnius said that the shock of what she had done and the injuries she sustained were the reason for this, but it felt like no matter how much she tried, there was no amount of force she could use to remember herself in another place and time.

So AngelsOfChaos thought we had lost the start of our RP and took it on herself to remake the introduction to the best of her memory and ability. Isn't she just wonderful??  

[Brandino Gambino]

Brandino Gambino

The King Capurnicus had dismissed the group, to be lead through the castle by a few of its stationed guards. Leaving the throne room, Garret couldn't help but quickly glance back at the princess, meeting her enchanting gaze one more time... What was that strange feeling? he wondered... Just as Herrick gave his shoulder a small nudge. Looking up to him, he was giving Garret a telling smirk, slightly shaking his head in disapproval.

The guards who guided the group tried to describe to them the basics of its layout as they walked down the flights of stairs. "There are 5 floors, the top floor here, has the throne room, the King's bedroom and his facilities. The 4th floor is the same way but for Princess Calpurnia" one of them explained.

Garret took a moment to get a real good look around. The castles interior was just as ornate as any other, ivory marbled walls, and crimson, gold and black velvet curtains and rugs centered each hallway and stairway. There were odd looking sconces hung on the walls, a black metal gothic style frame shaped like a cone that housed a pale blue orb of light. During the daylight hours, they seemed unnecessary in the places where sunlight beamed through the windows to illuminate the halls. Going down to the 3rd floor, they were passing a great hanging chandelier designed just like the sconces, but with a dozen orbs of light encased in crystal shaped onyx colored frames. And he remembered on his way through the city, street lamps just the same. It was unlike anything Garret seen anywhere else before.

"The third floor is where your quarters are. It is also where you'll find the living quarters of the Royal Guard Captain Sir Argos, the King's Right Hand Orgrim, and Mistress Lazura" he continued, as the pair of guards led them off the main grand staircase and into the hallways of the 3rd floor. Walking down one long corridor, turning left one and going further, lead them to a smaller stairway worked into its own hall. "This staircase will bring you up to the 4th and 5th floor, and also down to the second floor, but not to the main" the guide pointed out before continuing. Garret was taking mental notes of the path he had taken so far, but it would be important to explore the castle further with the rest of the group, so they all had a basic understanding of the layout. "Your rooms are at the end of this corridor, just around the corner." Reaching the rooms, one of the guards hustled forward opening up 3 doors along the wall in a row, and a 4th on the other side. "These are the rooms" The mercenary group stepped forward, Aubrey quickly raced into the nearest one to check it out, exclaiming his excitement once inside. Garret and Herrick peered into rooms of their own, at this time choosing a room wasn't that important to him.

Continuing  forward, the guards that lead them into one big room with multiple cushioned chairs around an exquisite black carved wooden table. There were a couple chests, a few shelves, and 4 mannequins equipped in basic sets of iron armor, and sporting halberds."This is the final room designated for your party. You may make use of it as you see fit, for storage, for planning, or to relax during your breaks" the soldier told them. "But I must caution you, while you are guests of the castle, you are also under the Kings payroll. You and your party will be expected to follow the same basic rules as the other guards. You are to treat nobility with the utmost respect, but not speak unless spoken to, or its absolutely necessary. This includes Princess Capurnia. You will respect the property of the King, no snooping around, absolutely no vandalism, and thievery will be punished severely. When you have the time, seek out Captain Argos, he will further explain your roles and go over the emergency response procedures with you. Good day men" the guard explained, ending with a simple salute, and leaving the mercenary group to their own devices.

Garret turned to Aubrey and Herrick giving them both a nod. "Well guys this is it. I think if we do this job well enough, we will be set for a loooong time. So lets do our best here. I have to go see the King again, Aubrey, can you go find Jorrah and show him to these rooms? Please try and find him before he embarrasses himself, or us" Garret asked him. Aubrey nodded, "You got it man" he complied, leaving the rooms. "Herrick, you wanna get us settled in? Jorrah and Aubrey should come through with our stuff soon, I'm going to see Capurnicus, and afterwards find Argos" Garret told him.

Just as he was leaving the room, Herrick grabbed his shoulder. "Hold on Garret" Herrick said stopping him. Garret turned to look at him. "Yeah?"

"You gonna be okay around the Princess?" Herrick asked. Garret nodded, "Yeah of course, why wouldn't I be?" he asked. "I saw the way you 2 were looking at each other. You realize she's a princess, and your just a mercenary right?" Herrick asked him sternly. "Yeah I know, I'm not gonna try and get with her" Garret objected to defend himself. "Good. I could see Jorrah pulling an idiotic move like that but you've been professional the whole time I've adventured with you. Even though we are here to protect her, we can't develop any sort of feelings for her, except to foster the sense of protecting her for the King as if she was your own daughter" Herrick explained. "I know Herrick, I'm not gonna mess this up for us" Garret assured him. Herrick nodded, believing him. "Alright. Its just like you said, we have to do our best, all of us. Now go see the King" Herrick told him sending him off. Garret nodded and proceeded to make his way towards the throne room where he had just met the King.

Garret followed the path they had taken to get here, since it was the easiest for him to remember and follow at this time. Along the way, Garret had to wonder just what it was he felt earlier seeing the King and Princess. That burning anxiety that had overtaken him and smoldered in his core. Was it fear he would mess this up? Was it awe in the first time that Garret ever met royalty? Or something else entirely? As he approached the throne rooms doors again, the feeling was rearing up again, giving him a sudden hot flash. Just before opening the doors, he took a few deep breaths. "Calm down.... Focus..." Garret muttered to himself. Whatever it was the King wanted to talk about, Garret needed to show confidence and conviction in his attitude and words, not fear and uncertainty. Getting a hold of himself, he opened the doors again to see King Capurnicus, maintaining his own presence against the powerful radiating one of the King's.

 

[xxangelsofchaosxx]

Capurnia had returned to her quarters shortly after departing with her father, greeted by the afternoon sunlight spilling over a canvas of summer hues outside of her window. The colors practically poured into her vision, a vibrant but solemn reminder of her boundaries within the castle.

Capurnia did not want to hurry the maid who had been working tirelessly all morning to help her prepare for the evenings festivities, but there was only so long she could bear wearing the dreaded metal-ribbed corset. Whatsmore, she had to manage doing this fitting only minutes before her lessons. She smiled lovingly as the flustered woman danced around her, effort and meticulousness evident in her withered expressions, but the pain was becoming too much on her hips and below the cusp of her breast. She let out a staggering sigh, catching the woman by surprise. Had she forgotten that Capurnia had to breathe?

Being a living doll to these people, she didn't suppose they would know.

"Is something the Matter, your majesty? Too tight?"

Capurnia looked down to the woman and nodded.

The maid stepped back looking her over. She tapered around the girl like a bird before pausing in front of her again. With her lips pressed in a hard line, the maid nodded, quickly removing the corset.The release of pressure on her ribs was instant and cleansing. The princess inhaled, relishing the sensation of her lungs expanding just as the old woman dropped her hands to each side of her body gently.

"You have such a lovely frame, tonight you should be fine with the fabric corset and bustier, agree?" Capurnia smiled nodding softly. The nurse reflected her small sliver of joy taking the princess by her shoulders. "You are beautiful, my dear. Please smile all night, and don't be afraid to speak up!"

The frail girl's cheeks eclipsed her eyes for a fraction of a second as the woman gave her a motherly scold.

"I'll do my best." she answered, the maid's eyes lit up bright, happy to hear the princess' voice again.

"That's the spirit, my sweet Capurnia." She nodded adjusting the last leafy strands of hair before making her way to the door. The girl sighed softly to see her leave but made her way to her desk as dutifully as she always had.

She found it difficult to talk to others, but all the same loved to listen. As the chambermaids braid her hair in the evenings, they would gossip, and though Capurnia had no idea who they were talking about half the time, it still felt nice to be included. Her instructor Maradus didn't seem to mind at all that the girl practically lived within her mind. As long as he got his gold.

Today during lessons, Capurnia was particularly more derived in her thoughts than usual. But instead of her usual dreamscapes, she looked onto the city beyond the walls of the garden. It was uncertain whether the view was her Father's most obtuse act of cruelty or just a coincidence, but the sight of the city constantly invoked a sense of remorse and longing for freedom that failed to find baring or inspiration within her. When Capurnia remembered her life as Amelia the images were instantly obscured by the smell of sulfur and flashes of rubble falling and flames hot across her skin. Her body was overwhelmed, trembling with an agony that radiated from within her chest. She could hear a cry, someone was calling to her. She had to protect him...

Her thoughts snapped back into focus as she looked around the room once more.

Along the corners of her room, there was a lone chambermaid working diligently to polish the marble floors, paying particular attention to the molding and baseboards against the wall directly across from her bed, on the farthest side of the room. The young maid looked up from her task and quickly scrambled to give a well-practiced bow and acknowledgment of Capurnia's presence. "Your majesty, I apologize, I will finish here very shortly."

Capurnia rose a thin hand to gesture that no harm was done in the girl being there. The maid's eyes softened with a heavy breath escaping through flared nostrils. The way her body released all of that tension at once reminded the princess of the man they called Garret, and the sensation that filled her heart with such a sudden heaviness.

A sudden curious notion floated around her thoughts, asking the maid without thinking, "What is your name, girl?"

The directed question rose the servant's eyes to Capurnia's intense stare, while she didn't radiate with the same kind of energy that Garret did, there was a sense of nervousness there that would have been recognized by anyone--magically inclined or not. The castle had rules enforced about making unnecessary eye contact with superiors. It made Capurnia wonder if the rule was enforced because of this situation and whether or not the chambermaid was aware of the rule or just didn't care. The answer was abrupt and wordless, the girl looked away as if she had read the princesses thoughts. Her mouth fumbled over her own tongue briefly before she could find the answer in the back of her palate, her voice delivering the name to the princess with care and curiosity, "Gaile, your majesty."

"Gaile, where is that you hail? What part of the city?"

Her mouth tugged into a hard line, trying not to look down at the floor as she answered as if she were about to be persecuted. "The...West city."

Capurnia closed her eyes, giving an acknowledging nod to her answer. Of course, her father selected servants from the most desolate part of the capital. It was the most 'charitable' thing he could do short of actually repairing the damn place. Ever since the fire, that corner of their city has served as a rataway for those who simply couldn't keep up with the insanely obtuse cost of living, but also as a reminder of Capurnia's greatest sin. Her eyes lifted from her thoughts before they could turn bitter and were met with the studious stare of the maid in front of her. Capurnia inhaled softly as she spoke, "I have a favor to ask of you, Gaile. Would you kindly oblige? It is rather strange, but in exchange for your discretion, I will reward you."

Gaile's lips curled into a tight line as her eyes widened, her short hair sweeping at each side of her face. It was either something in the promise of reward, of the anticipation of taking part in something possibly magical glittered behind her eyes in an impossible attempt to hide any ulterior motives. Capurnia nearly immediately regretted revealing any trust in the girl but remained unwaivered. "Anything, my Princess, please, just name it."

Capurnia needed to channel the emotions that Garret had been protruding earlier in their encounter. Sorrow. Somehow, sorrow was the only word that came to mind. That's what she felt when she saw Garret, so in some shape or form, she had to elicit those feelings from Gaile in some form.

"Close your eyes and clear your mind." She instructed, her voice calm and firm. When Gaile did this, a deep breath filled with anticipation was the only sound in the room. Capurnia's posture straightened, folding her hands over one another as before. "From as far back as you can remember, I want you to think about every moment in your life that comes to mind. All of the happiest and saddest memories you can--but say nothing to me about which you are concentrating on."

Her eyes stayed closed, but her voice returned to the princess sounding confused, "Y-your majesty?"

"Gaile, please," her voice softened, "focus."

She bowed her head quietly, very visibly doing as she was asked. Capurnia took in deep, meaningful breaths, doing her best not to note any of Gaile's expressions as she did so. Her face had hardly shifted, looking almost as if maybe she were in the middle of a prayer between herself and the countless entities that dwelled within. Despite the tears that threatened to fall or the sad, melancholic smiles that pinched the sides of her mouth, Capurnia was both disappointed and relieved to find that this experiment was a failure. It was a bittersweet failure though; on one hand: she now knew hadn't suddenly developed the torturously overwhelming attributes of a sympath, but on the other: she was no closer to an answer as before.

With a deep sigh, Capurnia grazed the back of her ear with a strand of hair tucking behind it. In no way did the girl fail in her task, Capurnia had simply put too much faith into this one experiment. She did her best not to sound so discontent, thinking that maybe making good on her promise would serve as a distraction for Gaile, but she also needed to keep her quiet about this. Each hand removed a gold earring, glittering with one small gem. With a shallow breath, she uttered an elven curse of the tongue like a prayer.

Gaile seemed to have heard the princess approaching because she looked up from the floor and darted her gaze directly into her eyes. Capurnia starved off the need to feel self-conscious, fully aware that the sight of them were drastically bewildering. It reminded her constantly that she wasn't like others. She was different in maybe the worst possible way wished upon someone, despite how often she's been told how beautiful her features were. Carefully, her hands shuffled the earrings into one palm, which in turn cradled the servant girl's fingers. Gaile's eyes widened, looking up to Capurnia and back down when a sudden and startling burst of warmth wrapped around the base of her smallest finger. The princess withdrew her hands, revealing a ring, thin as a wire that had been sculpted into the shapes of leaves and ivy, the two small red gems--clearly meant to be roses--sat proudly on polar opposite sides of her finger.

Her lips parted in surprise, nearly ready to protest when Capurnia interjected. "You did splendid Gaile."

"Thank you, your Majesty." she answered breathlessly.

"Don't mention it." She commanded. As long as she wore that ring, she literally wouldn't.

Capurnia gave a small nod to the side, doing her best to disclose within herself the disappointment. She would have to talk to her father about this, as much as the thought of such made her sick to the bottom her her chest. Only heaven knew what this was going to mean for her further down the line. What test would she have to endure? Would it mean a visit to Madarus, the court Maester.

Memories flooded her thoughts, making her cringe as if they physically inflicted pain. Just the idea made her eyes shrink in her sockets, her hands instinctively gripping tightening into one another. The emotions farthest from resembling comfort dug into her, leaving a sour taste on the back of her tongue.

No, nothing came of this. Nothing happened. No one needed to know.

Capurnia's nails digging into her own arms seemed to ease her out of the sinking thought, looking up to Gaile, still admiring her ring. She was completely oblivious, giving Capurnia a means to excuse herself from the room.

She marched down the corridor, unsure exactly where it was she wanted to go. Panic had stricken her suddenly, knowing beyond an insurmountable certainty that the King would somehow find out--just the way he always somehow knew when something new occurred in her abilities. It was a cycle she desperately attempted to break, even going as far as attaining an ancient elven curse of silence to keep her father's birds and spiders from returning to him with things she needed him to not know.

The air around her felt just as constricting as her thoughts, now choking her outside of her invasive thoughts. Capurnia marched faster, pacing against the perfect white marble with heavier steps. The sensation only seemed to worsen the further down the wing she had become. The stables, the garden, either one of those places had to have clearer air than here.

Choosing the garden, she pivoted the corner of the next opening to the south corridor only to be met with the overwhelming sensation that plagued her earlier that morning. Weights the size of boulders dropped onto her stomach, feeling as though her insides were barely held together by her corset. Amethyst eyes flashed over the image of the man her agony radiated from, suddenly finding herself sickened to her very core.

It felt like she was being electrocuted by one of Mardarus' machines, but Capurnia corrected her posture with several short inhales that were deeper than thought possible. Beads of sweat and heat spilled down her neck and temples in waves of discomfort that would have convinced her that unconsciousness was just seconds away if not for the primal urge to run.

Capurnia's only defense seemed to be averting her eyes as he passed. Like something too holy to gaze upon, or too horrifying to identify. Not looking his direction somehow significantly lowered the stress accumulated in the center of her chest, the pulse in her ears becoming quieter as the clacking footsteps carried her burden away. Guilt soon replaced her pain, allowing her to continue fleeing as soon as she could catch the breath escaping her bursting lips.

She had no idea what was happening to her, but the very sight of Garret had now twice brought her to tears. It was frustrating and confusing because this was unlike anything she had ever heard of. It felt as though something within her knew something her conscious self did not. Like walking into a room in the back of her mind and forgetting what her purpose of being there was, only then replicated an infinite number of times.

Her aura swelled with misplaced anger and guilt she didn't understand. By the time she reached the stables the feeling still hadn't left her, leaving Capurnia to believe that maybe whatever was happening between these exchanges were maybe getting worse. Far from a sanctuary, the stables opened up to the girl with dimly lit corners and the sounds of life carrying between the gates. It was a tolerable amount of noise, much quieter than her own mind, it seemed. Capurnia quietly walked past them, looking for an easy place to hide for a while.

Thoughts of Garret streaked through her thoughts like lightening, she cringed, shaking off the intrusive images with a low growl. "I'll just tell Father to find a new guard," she uttered softly. "Would he understand if I told him it made me uncomfortable? He'd have to...it'd just have to."