solitary blade

"He gives orders. I stab people. I think our roles are clear." ↫ ✤ ↬ closed lon'qu affiliated with ferp

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Raindrops ✤ O P E N

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fortunes-favors:

He tilts the sopping cap back enough to give his full range of vision. Two sharp crimson eyes ready fight, judging by the hostility in this other man’s voice.

His hand curls around the sword hilt.

“A rat is not welcome among rats?” He taunts amused. So be it then, this sword fighter wanted to cut right to it.

He flicks the sword from it’s sheath and spins ‘round the corner. Directing the blade towards the other myrmidon to keep their distance. “They call me Joshua.”

At the sharp sound of the blade being unsheathed, Lon’qu does the same, and the two swordsmen are standing, blade to blade as the rain falls even harder. A grunt at the other man’s reply. “I’ll bother to remember it when it’s worth my time.”

In all honesty, Lon’qu isn’t in a mood to fight. The thrumming of the rain is almost hypnotic. He could probably nap to this if he wasn’t about to cross swords with the myrmidon standing across from him.

“State your purpose.” His position is not amateur. This man has definitely had experience with combat. The blade is shiny and sharp--well taken care of--while the sheath at his waist is weathered. A trusted blade, and for quite some time at that.

“I don’t want to waste my energy on the ilks of you.”

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Raindrops ✤ O P E N

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fortunes-favors:

Joshua wasn’t terribly use to the rain. Not to say he hadn’t witnessed the stuff, he’d seen it plenty on his travels. But he was too acclimated to the arid heat of Jehanna’s sands. Now he was caught in a downpour when it hardly mattered.

He’d walked too far off the beaten path and was completely drenched, his hat laying lower over his eyes than normal and obscuring his vision.

He should take the thing off already and wring it dry but he’d be damned if he got any wetter in the process. It stayed until he found some shelter.

A single iris peered from beneath the brim to find an abandoned cabin just a bit off. A wide grin curled on his lips before he began to saunter over. In his elation he hadn’t noticed the twig he snapped, and when the voice called, he too caught the hilt of his sword in swift fingers.

He edged around the corner of the house, slowly moving toward the voice while still out of view.

“Aw y’know. Just a waterlogged rat.”

A voice from around the corner of the house. A rat, apparently. Cautiously, he steps towards the voice, feet quiet against the damp ground. The sound of rain has become unsettling now, a distraction to the danger that may be on the other side of this house.

“We don’t appreciate rats in these parts.” The swordsman has his back against the wall of the cabin. He peeks over the shoulder and sees another man: Somewhat tall, somewhat disheveled, equally soaked, and equally weary, judging by how his hand also hovered on the hilt of his sword.

Seeing the sword piqued his interest, maybe another soldier who could teach him a thing or two about the fighting styles in these parts. Or maybe it was an enemy who was caught in the middle of an ambush. The rain seems to fall harder, the percussion becoming more and more unbearable with the increased tempo and volume.

He squints but faces forward once again, gazing into the depths of the forest, waiting for the blasted rain to stop. Lon’qu growls, “State your name, wet rat.”

[cursedbybirth]

Chessmaster

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cursedbybirth:

It was Lon’qu who had entered his tent, the familiar sound of his voice breaking through his concentration. He glanced up at the solemn man who seemed to be observing the game he was playing against himself. He had finally gotten himself into checkmate, the side opposite of him, white, having lost. He leaned back a little to look more head on at Lon’qu.

“Have you ever played chess before?” He was not sure really. It was a game he had played against few people here. Not everyone knew it nor was everyone as interested in the game as him. It was not really a game meant for fun unless you enjoyed strategies or complicated things. It was not easy and it took take quite some time to get through a game depending on the player’s experience and skills.

“Also, did you have something for me? I was trying to see if I could best myself quicker than last time. I did, but just slightly.”

“I’ve attempted. I know Khan Basilio is fond of it.” The swordsman smirks as a memory comes to mind: Basilio and Flavia sitting for hours at a table, moving pieces back and forth until eventually one of them slices the table with an axe. It’s probably not the correct way, but the khans used the matches as fodder for at least two weeks until the next one. “I know the basics of this game of wits.”

A shrug as he adjusts the sword at his hip, “I was wondering if you would spar with me,” Lon’qu tilts his head, curiousity rippling underneath his steady gaze, “How so? And how do you measure such a thing when you are your own opponent?” Puzzling, but also fascinating. It is productive to solve and counteract strategies to find flaws and strengthen them, which is important in the heat of battle. Wordlessly, Lon’qu steps forward and sits across from Robin, rubbing his chin as he stares down the chessboard as if he could absorb the formation.

“Do you think of yourself as an above average chess player, tactician?”

[cursedbybirth]

Chessmaster

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cursedbybirth:

A chessboard sat in front of Robin, although there was no opponent for the tactician to play against. Sometimes he played against himself, testing his own abilities and tactics on a much smaller scale. It was both fun and beneficial. A chessboard could be a battlefield as much as a real one was. It did well to test out plans and strategies like this as it could help Robin later on when he was working on battlefield strategies.

Yet it could be lonely too. There was only so much Robin could do against himself. It was better to play against someone, to see how their own mind worked and to test it against his own. He didn’t mind playing against those with varying skills, although those who were also quite skilled he often found himself getting rather competitive.

He heard a sound, like a tent flapping open, as he moved a piece, staring down at the board with an intrigued expression. “Can it wait? I’ve almost put myself in checkmate.”

It’s a somewhat lazy day at the barracks and as surprising as it sounds, Lon’qu is bored with training. He’s been hacking at the same training dummy for a few hours now since most of the soldiers have been off doing who knows what. (Not training, that’s for sure.)

Which is why he’s going around looking for Robin, maybe get in some sparring. Some magic, some sword fighting, he’s basically the ideal training partner. Pushing aside the flap, the myrmidon enters. “Tactician--”

At Robin’s request, he grunts and stands near the entrance, observing the game unfolding in front of him. Though there was no opponent, the game is...engaging. Lon’qu watches as the tactician finishes with a triumphant grin. Personally, he doesn’t know the mechanics of the game other than the names of the pieces, but strategy is strategy. It’s a training of its own for Robin.

“That was interesting.”

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Raindrops ✤ O P E N

Lon’qu isn’t a fan of rain. It’s wet, it soaks everything, it makes his boots squelch with every step, and leaves him uncomfortable.

But here he is, caught under the eaves of this abandoned cabin in the woods, surrounded by dampness and disappointment. The steady thrumming on the roof and the muffled percussion on the grass is relaxing, at least. If there was one thing rain was good for, it was the sound. 

An irritated sigh escapes his lips, fingers drumming the grip of his sword, somewhat in time to the erratic rhythm of the rain. At least his blade is dry. A wet blade does not bode well for both the weapon and it’s wielder, especially during a mission. Or in general. (A swordsman is not a swordsman without his sword. Otherwise, he’s just a man.) 

A twig snaps to his left and Lon’qu tenses, left hand hovering above the hilt as his right thumb nudges the sword out of its sheath. He remains facing forward, eyeing the suspicious noise from his peripherals. 

“...Who goes there?”

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mood

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CONFESS your thoughts on Flavia?

“She is...frightening...” She’s loud and a powerful adversary on the battlefield. She’s a force to be reckoned with, indeed. Whenever the Khans got into a friendly argument, it was its own war, people clearing the room before they got caught in the crossfire. “Khan Flavia is Basilio’s equal, hands down.”

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Confess! Which bugs are the cutest?

Lon’qu’s eyes light up, “I’m fond of beetles. Their sheen and anatomy...” He pantomimes holding a bug between his fingers and holding it up to the light. “They’re also very friendly, despite their appearances. They rarely bite...they’re quite gentle.”

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"Time for bed, Lon'qu!"

The swordsman eyes the archer, brows furrowed as he does a once over. This stranger, unsavory at best, is telling a champion of Ferox to take a nap? “It is still midday. I don’t rest on duty.”

Sleep is for the weak. Lon’qu grunts and looks a second time at Niles. “…Who are you?”

[lunaretainer-deactivated2020020]

“I’m you…but gayer!”

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You either die a hero or live long enough to be a villain.

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Confess! Can your stand stop time?

His left hand is above his face, his eyes smoldering out from between his fingers, right arm thrown back with his legs apart, knees facing in. ora ora ora ora ora ora ora ora “Yes.”

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Confess! We know you're... well, I wouldn't say 'scared,' but a little off put by women... (to put it lightly)... but Are you similarly spooked by female children as well?

Lon’qu grunts. “I’m not scared of them, I just want them away from me. Nowi is the only exception of my aversion for some reason.”

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Confess! your feelings towards Basilio

He is one of the most, no he is the most powerful and skilled warrior Lon’qu knows. He’s always admired him. When he asked the swordsman to fight as his champion, he was honored. He follows his orders. He is like a father.  

Not that he’s familiar with father figures. This is probably what a father is like anyway. A father who drinks and laughs loudly. A father who gives him tips on wielding the sword. A father who is both frightening and awe-inspiring.

“He’s good at fighting.”

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Confess! If you had to never touch a sword again, what weapon would you take up?

Lon’qu frowns, “Never touching a sword...” He chuckles as he rubs his chin, “I would take up the axe, like Khan Basilio. I’m sure I could be able to rise quickly to his level. I have studied his style for years after all.” 

The myrmidon mimes a swinging motion, his voice is deep as he mimics the Khan. “’Let’s kick some tail!’” A few more swings. Realizing that he looks somewhat foolish, Lon’qu coughs and adjusts the sword at his waist. “That’s my answer.”  

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Confess! Do you prefer older women or younger women than you? That is, to speak.

“Neither. No matter the age, I refuse to be near them.”

(Younger women remind him of Ke’ri, her youthfulness, and the fact that he was unable to protect her. He finds their energy refreshing, but he feels guilt around young girls.

Older women, especially those in the army, are able to fend for themselves, but they’re...foreign in a way. He’s just uncomfortable, and reminded that Ke’ri never grew into adulthood.)

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confess: if you had to pick a woman to be in a room for 2 hours with, who would it be and why?

“None. Next question.”

(To be honest, it would most likely be Ke’ri, though even then he would feel shame for leaving her behind.)

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Confess - how'd you get known for potato peeling?

“Urgh, that,” Lon’qu scratches the back of his head, “Well, I think it’s when I first joined the Shepherds. I was on meal duty with Gaius. We were having stew that night and for some reason he was amazed at how fast I peeled potatoes. It’s nothing much. A story blown out of proportion.”

And hence, the nickname Taters.

[rpmememaker]

Put 'Confess!' plus an accusation about my muse in my ask, and my muse will confess whether it's true or not!

Here’s some examples to start you off-

Confess! Are you turned on by [insert kink here]?

Confess! Do you like [insert name here]?

Confess! Is it true that you once [insert odd/silly activity here]?

Confess! Are you scared of [insert fear here]?

Confess! Did you cry during [insert movie here]

Or think of your own! Be as cunning as you like…