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@blackheartedpercival
(sean teale, 89, cis male) by the gods is that PERCIVAL BLACKSTONE? the locals say they’re CHARMING & ASPIRING and SHORT-SIGHTED & REGRETFUL. HE is known for being A MINOR NOBLE. word around the tavern is that HE SOLD OUT HIS LOYALIST FAMILY IN THE WARS FOR BLOOD MONEY AND PRESTIGE, but you didn’t hear it from me.
who: @blackheartedpercival
where: outside near the town square
Janthina liked eating her lunch outside when it was nice. The local hashery would set up a table with a long bench for patrons to scarf down their rolls of bread with fine cheese and fresh fruit, or perhaps a stew with meat falling apart on the spoon. She was enjoying a plate with cold cuts and goat cheese, and she picked at it happily. He was sitting down a little ways on the same bench from her, keeping a respectable distance, but she wasn’t about that. She recognized him as the elf that had checked out her stall. Percival… She scooted down the bench closer to him, dragging her plate with her, and Ciar stood up from his position to stay near her side.
“If there was a warrant out for my arrest, where you would suggest I run off to?” She asked. “You look like the type that knows how to keep a low profile when needed.” She popped another grape into her mouth, eying the other with a friendly smile.
Percival found himself nodding in greeting when a familiar face sat opposite him at the table, midway through a bowl of stew, a portion of bread in one hand and a spoon in the other. He paused mid chew, and considered her question for a moment. “Well, I’d wager the best places to avoid the queen’s men would be places they’re not particularly keen on treading or making scene. Sewers, temples, infirmary., their mother’s home. Perhaps those they owe debts to -- seems to be a fair amount of soldiers that patron the Den. That Maeve keeps a tight ship there - I wouldn’t want to test her, personally.” She was much as likely to toss out both the law and the one they were chasing and both parties would come out poorer in her books.
dshnred:
“I also asked if you kicked his cat,” Amadeus countered, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of his drink. “But I am awfully handsome. If he is a fan of my jaw line, I can’t blame him.” The stranger did look awfully disgruntled. Even now that Amadeus was turned away, he could feel the man staring a hole into the back of his head. “Maybe I should say something?”
Percival pouted slightly over the rim of his mug and gave the man an indignant look. “Kick his cat? I’d rather hope not, I like cats.” He brought the mug down to the wooden counter and idly rotated it along the curve of the base of the ceramic mug. “I mean, you could, but I’d like to keep coming back to this place you know - he looks itching for a game of fisticuffs and if you do get involved in such.. I do not know you and I will definitely leave you to the wolves.”
“Don’t be too obvious,” Amadeus turned his attention to the person sitting next to him. “But look over there. That man is staring at us. Do you owe him a debt? Did you accidentally kick his cat? He doesn’t look too happy…”
Percival frowned at the comment and paused for a moment, thinking over the last few days. “Well, nothing that my sober self remembers at the least. You so sure it has to do with debts? Maybe he’s just fond of your looks.”
Venus, Apollo
Venus: Have you ever had your heart broken?
“Who hasn’t?”
Apollo: Do you play any instruments?
“I used to play the piano as a child. Nothing more than parental imposed hobbies. A cousin of mine did teach me to play the panpipes as a kid, though. I did enjoy that quite a bit more.”
Mythology Asks
Anubis: How do you feel about death?
Atum: What are your greatest imperfections?
Bastet: Do you have any cats?
Hathor: What brings you joy?
Horus: What is one thing you’ve had to fight for in your life?
Osiris: Do you believe in the underworld?
Ra: Do you have any major responsibilities or importance?
Thoth: Do you like to read/write?
Arawn: What is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever done?
Bran: How is your health?
Brighid: Tell us about your relationship with your father.
Cernunnos: What is your favorite animal?
Danu: What is your relationship with your mother?
Morrigan: What do you think happens when we die?
Olwen: What is your favorite flower?
Rhiannon: Have you ever been betrayed?
Bragi: What kind of music do you listen to?
Freya: Have you ever been in love?
Freyr: Do you have any children?
Hœnir: Are you a silent or talkative person?
Iounn: How old are you?
Loki: What is the best trick you’ve ever pulled on someone?
Odin: What is your family like?
Thor: Would you consider yourself pretty powerful?
Tree: What have you done with your life? What are you going to do with it?
Aphrodite: What do you think of yourself?
Ares: Are you an easy person to anger?
Athena: Would you consider yourself an artist?
Apollo: Do you play any instruments?
Dionysus: Do you drink?
Hades: Do you have a bad reputation?
Hekate: Have you ever tried to communicate with the dead?
Hermes: Have you ever stolen anything?
Poseidon: Are you a moody person?
Zeus: Are you a confident person?
Jupiter: Would people say that you are intimidating or fairly approachable?
Pluto: Where do you think we go when we die?
Apollo & Dianna: Do you prefer to be up during the day or at night?
Mars: Have you ever gotten into a fight?
Minerva: Do you generally give good advice?
Proserpine: Have you ever felt trapped?
Plutus: Do you have a job?
Venus: Have you ever had your heart broken?
Vesta: Do you like being home or do you try to get out whenever you can?
Morpheus: Do you daydream often? Of what?
who: open –
where: the town square
when: late afternoon
Janthina was just starting to pack up her bottles of mead, and jars of honey from her little stall as the sun began to crest the tree line. Ciar lay with his large head resting on his paws, watching as other merchants and sellers began to pack up as well, his ears standing to attention. It was only from him raising his head suddenly, that Janthina realized someone was behind her. “Sorry, about to close shop. If you really want something, just take a peak of what I have left out,” She said over her shoulder, and gestured lazily at the few bottles of mead still left standing, with the red and gold beehive label on the front.
A familiar smattering of color and maker’s mark of Rydenhall Mead caught Percival’s eye on his afternoon walk through the town, and stilled his gait - it was a brand he recognized from the Blackstone ledgers and after many a night at either the Seven Stars or the Den. He shook his head free of his thoughts at the sudden voice, turning towards the elf.
“Apologies, lost in my thoughts for a moment there. You from the Rydenhall family’s brewery? I recognized the name -- good brew. How much a bottle?” It wouldn’t hurt to have a bottle or two for his own keep at home, he mused silently, eyeing the large beast at her side for a moment before turning his gaze back to the wares still out on the table.
runawaylegacy:
~
“Wait—Percival?” She gave a wry chuckle, surprise coloring her features. “Well, well, well…small world.” What were the odds that Percival was here? If she had been paying more attention…but a smile slowly crossed her face as she moved to take a seat at the bar. She refused to let her own problems ruin an otherwise happy reunion.
“Oh, you know me. Never been one for a high profile.” If he thought she was dead, then maybe her father called off his attack dogs. “But what about you? It has to have been…what? At least a handful of decades.“ It felt strange to say that, that time had passed so quickly. “What about you? Must admit, this is the last place I thought I’d see you again.”
Percival grinned as the bartender the two mugs over the counter top and pushed one towards Karissa. “Yeah, well, turns out all those years ago you were onto something there. Court is rather... overbearing. Best to live just outside of its reach but close enough to make your appearances. I’ve been staying in our family’s summer house the last few years.” Not to mention it’s size difference compared to the one in the capitol made the lack of once many occupants less noticeable.
“And yourself? I’m surprised nobody thought to look you up here when you disappeared - Delos seems to be the place for quietly disappearing but nto completely abandoning the comforts of that proper town provides.”
“It’s a lively crowd in here tonight,” Amadeus laughed. He was slightly tipsy, and as he turned to Percival, his mug tipped precariously in his hand. “Did you hear the story that dark haired woman told? I don’t believe it. There’s no way she got close to a dragon and lived to tell the tale.” // @blackheartedpercival
Percival mulled over the woman’s story, nursing the tankard of mead in his hands - his third of the night - which was starting unfortunately nearing its last swills. “Mmm,” he started, throwing the last of it back. “Maybe the dragon is a euphemism - I mean, just think about it -- ‘wailing screams of agony’, ‘fiery passions’, ‘monstrous tails and robust limbs covered in rippling scales,” he slid his mug back towards the bartender and and waved him over for another round for him and Amadeus. “Like I get fluffing up a tale for for good measure, but that direction? Well.”
“Well, this place sure is busy tonight.” Karissa muttered to herself, eyeing the crowd with a sly smile. The tavern was always a good place to pick targets, drunk people made easy marks. As evident by the coin purse that she snagged on her way in, giving the leather pouch a small shake. Enough to buy a few drinks and a hot meal. Good enough for her. Practically prancing up to the bar, she leaned against it. “Some ale for me.” She paused, glancing at the person next to her. “And one for my friend here.” It was better to drink with someone, less suspicion if someone came poking around for lost items. “What’re you having?”
Company at the bar was nothing Percival considered unwelcome, but it was the sound of a somewhat familiar voice offering a free drink that threw him more than the offering of a free drink did. “Oh, an ale for me,” he started, turning towards the newcomer.
It was a face he recognized, yet not one he had seen for decades. “Rissa?” he said, surprised. “Well, would you look who the wind blew in -- I thought for sure you were six feet under - I’ve not seen nor heard rumor of you in years,” he said with a wide grin.
WHEN: around dusk WHERE: the seven stars WHO: open to all
if asked, the thing Eroan would have said he enjoyed the most about the seven stars was how the ale never seemed to stop flowing. no matter how inebriated he seemed to be. perhaps it was all his coin or his reputation had come to proceed him. granted, it wasn’t a thing he ought to be proud of, but it was nice all the same to know there would always be a place within Delos he could run to when needed as the number of locations seemed to be dwindling by the day.
it’s possible it was merely paranoia catching up to him, a creeping fear that he and his men could be caught at any time. but the elf always did his best to shrug off such things, to push the thoughts from his mind entirely.
he held the handle of the empty ale mug tightly before bringing it down forcefully on the bar. “another,” he demanded of the all too familiar barkeep, feeling as though he were still far from his fill. however, if any of the other patrons were asked they surely would have disagreed.
Percival eyed the empty flagon and made careful eye contact with the barkeep, before turning to his friend. “Careful there, Eroan - I hope you’ve got the coin handy to clear your tab this time. I’m not covering any tab with your name on it again - you drink both bar and purse dry if there’s no one there to stop you. I know you get paid well but what’s the difference if all you do is empty it night after night?” He shook his head, a wry grin on his lips as he brought his own mug to his lips for a sip.
Percival Blackstone; a mood board
“I think I am surviving in all the wrong ways”
— ten word poem (via thereisonlyblackandwhite)
Louis de Condé (requested by anonymous)
Oh, he’s easy on the eyes, isn’t he?
“I bore a hell within me, which nothing could extinguish.”
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (via malglories)
“I was born: made of gunpowder and exit wounds.”
— Samuel Fox, The Kid, published in Nostrovia (via wildfairy)
