this world is gonna burn;

I have nothing in this world spare for a story to tell I pray you lend me your ear so that I may spin this tale for you

[jkbeauchamp-blog]

Kristien Farwell, recently titled Lord Farwell, my friend.

Tell me of yourself; are you an Omnium man? I haven’t been here long enough to be sure, but away from Corstorphine too long to have the right ear for the accent. I’m truly in limbo, one might say.

[carverleblanc]

It's an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.

Indeed I am. I was born and raised in Omnium, though my travels have taken me to nearly all habitable lands and some not so habitable. Something about the lands of my home always pulls me back, though, like a tether or a leash. And you? Does Omnium suit you?

[jkbeauchamp-blog]

Only a conversation, my friend, if you’d be willing.

It’s awfully hard to find any of entertaining quality, here, and you seem like an entertaining man.

[carverleblanc]

If it's only a conversation you desire, who am I to refuse? Especially when you compliment me in such a manner.

Carver LeBlanc, entertainer extraordinaire, at your service.

[theladyavalina]

You’ve no cause to apologize. Really. The fault was my own.

[carverleblanc]

On the contrary, it is you who has no cause. If you have a secret, it is of no fault to you that you guard it. Everyone has secrets, m'lady.

[carverleblanc]

The invitation is delivered to Carver via an eagle who flies away rather rapidly, sensing something not quite right about the man. 

[theladyavalina]

You’ll have to forgive me, sir, but I don’t think I’m able to answer that question.

[carverleblanc]

You needn't be forgiven. It is either that you do not know the answer or that you wish to keep it for yourself, and either way it was unfair of me to press for it. I'm afraid curiosity got the better of me and I apologize. 

[theladyavalina]

I…I’m sorry to say that there’s very little that I can find any kind of beauty in anymore.

[carverleblanc]

Truly? Then that, too, is a great pity, for there is beauty to be seen everywhere if you only take the time to look for it. Every flake of snow on the mountains, every curl in a plume of smoke...and even in the curve of your frown, m'lady. Pray tell, what makes it so you do not see the beauty in it all?

[theladyavalina]

I’m afraid that I spend very little time looking at the stars as of late, but now that you mention it, yes. It really is quite something.

[carverleblanc]

Well, that is a pity if it's true. I find them to be absolutely mesmerising, and I need only look upwards to be reminded of their unparalleled beauty. I wonder...what is it you look towards to be reminded of the world's beauty?

[theladyavalina]

Please forgive me, I- my mind was elsewhere. Would you be so kind as to repeat what you were saying?

[carverleblanc]

Ah, it's hardly an issue. I often find my own mind wandering at the most inopportune times, though it's often a result of the company I keep... I hope I wasn't boring you, my lady. As for what I was saying, it's hardly of any importance; I was merely musing about the stars, how they hang suspended from the clouds, never bothered by the breeze. It's enchanting, don't you agree?

[carverleblanc]

My apologies, but the performance is over for the day. That is unless, of course, you require something else of me?

[madelenegiles]

"All manner of things exist, don’t they?" Madelene said, picking up some of her characteristic good cheer. She crossed over the fallen fellow—there was still work to be done, wasn’t there—but she’d meant to hunt Carver down, regardless. Madelene put her free hand under her chin and had a think.

"Oh," she said. She tapped her lower lip with the tip of her forefinger, trying to pull forth a category. She nodded, coming upon a suitable answer. "The kind what I’m not worried about, I reckon. If you’d like, though, I could take a crack at your fortune."

[carverleblanc]

He chuckled at that, nodding his head. "To a certain extent, I believe they do," he agreed, feeling as though her joviality was contagious. It was not a lie, however, as he was sure that if dragons and seers and sorcerers existed, then expert laundresses must as well.

"So, not only a minstrel and a maid, but a fortune teller as well? You continue to draw both awe and admiration from me, as well as a twinge of jealousy." He'd been alive well over half a millennium, and had accomplished far less than she had in her short lifespan. Still, it would be a treat to hear what the future would hold for him, though he wasn't entirely sure it would be accurate, considering his present form was hardly the honest one. "If you're able, it would be an honor to hear what the future has in store for me. But," he hesitated, sparing a glance at the man on the ground, watching as he slowly began to stir, "let us do so while I escort you to the laundress."

[madelenegiles]

"Is that the truth?" Madelene said. She was only just young enough not to cluck her tongue like her Gran might have done. She swallowed, instead. His business, she reckoned. He could look after himself, and he was not lying about the man. She hefted the basket over her arm—a bigger basket than the one she carried ordinarily—and showed it to him, quite naturally. 

"There’s a woman what does the washing like no other," Madelene said, by way of explanation. "I go see her sometimes when the laundresses at the castle can’t manage the same miracles. I don’t mind the vagabonds—I know most of ‘em, I reckon, or their type."

[carverleblanc]

Carver nodded, shrugging his shoulders lightly. The fact that trouble seemed to follow him around like a hungry hound was hardly one of his most admirable qualities, and he could likely change it if he was so inclined. The trouble was, he feared that he would grow bored quickly if he wasn't entertained by constant skirmishes. The fact that they weighed on his reputation paled in comparison.

Glancing into the basket, he nodded, eyebrows raising. "I had no idea that that such a hierarchy of laundry prowess existed," he teased, grinning broadly. "And what, pray tell, type of vagabond am I?" he queried, quite interested in how she perceived him.

[madelenegiles]

"Blessed be, Carver," Madelene murmured, pulling a quick grimace. The fellow was breathing, that was true enough. She picked through the alley, one she’d cut through time and time again to shear off a few minutes from the long walk to the laundresses’. There were always drunks tottering into walls, and even, on occasion, a fight that had been sent outside by a stern barmaid. "I never see you but you’ve been in a scrap. Is he well?"

Madelene pursed her lips and examined Carver for any damage of his own person. Not a mark. She supposed, rationally, that the other man might’ve been as drunk as he smelled, and the fight had not quite been one between equals. She laid a hand upon her collarbone. “Are you well?”

[carverleblanc]

"That may well be because there's hardly a moment when I've not been in one," he agreed, chuckling lightly, though he could tell she was genuinly worried. Were he human, he might have worried as well, but as it were he had little need to. Glancing down at the bloke after she expressed her concern, he nodded. "Well enough. I'm confident that he'll awake with little more hurt than his pride," he assured her.

Carver looked off into the distance at the question, furrowing his eyebrows as he pretended to be deep in thought about his current state. "I'm a mite hungry, but other than that I'm swell," he responded, smiling softly at her. He knew she meant after the skirmish, but he also realized that it was quite easy to tell that not a single strike had fallen on him. "May I inquire as to what brings a lady like yourself out through an alley like this one, where such vagabonds like myself are prone to loiter?"

[carverleblanc]

[alexandre-durant-blog]

Some Things Stay The Same: Alex & Carver

To say his father was angry at his return was an understatement and a half. He was furious. Why Alex even considered that it would be a good idea to visit his home on his first week back in town was lost on him now as he ducked under a flying vase that smashed into the wall behind him accompanied by a string of curses the main being. “Stay away from my family bastard.” or “Guards teach him a lesson and get rid of him.”

He turned on his heels and bolted as the sound of footsteps started after him, he didn’t fancy a beating which is what he’d receive if he got caught. Fleeing down the path to his family’s estate he shot onto the route that led to the stables where he’d left his horse only to find a set of guards waiting for him. Groaning he turned and suddenly found himself face to face with the rest who had been chasing him. He muttered something backing up as they enclosed on him, he didn’t want to draw knowing it was just another signal for them to attack. Perhaps reasoning would do him better.

"Now… Come now… There’s no decency in… Hitting an innocent man." His eyes narrowed as he turned to keep them in his focus. Two or three he could manage but six on one? He hardly called it fair. "Let me leave. I don’t want to hurt you…" They seemed to find that funny and Alex sighed and in that moment all hell broke lose the first two men launched to grab him but he retaliated his foot rising and slamming onto the ground the earth under their feet growing uneven causing them to trip and stumble past him though he tried to repeat the process with the next few attacks he quickly found himself overwhelmed by the number of them.

He managed to hold his own adequately for a while driving them back and attempting to make his escape but he wasn’t aiming to injure which was difficult and required more focus (and thus energy) and after a while he soon found himself wearing out. Fighting wasn’t where his skills aided him and wasn’t where he spent time practising them. Eventually a blow landed to his face and to the back of his knees sending him slamming to the ground with a grunt. As tough as he was even he couldn’t withstand six men’s fists and boots and each time he tried to rise he just found himself kicked back down. Once they were content they’d given him a decent lesson they hauled him up and dragged him to the gates tossing him out into the road in a heap before walking away.

For a while he lay there wincing but he wouldn’t get anything done staying here, a drink would serve him better he decided. Once he was on his feet stiffly he looked around spitting out a mouthful of blood from his broken lip he started down the road until he entered the town. Seeing a figure he walked over to them. “‘Scuse me, d’you know where the tavern is?”

[carverleblanc]

Carver sat on a barrel of salted herring, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of dried beef. His eyes were wandering over the people who were milling around in the market, selling and buying various wares. Each one was a different story in and of itself, he simply needed to fabricate and embellish a bit.

The flower-seller, she was a maiden who would give a rose to the man she would vow to spend eternity with. The priest buying bread, he would tear off the crust and feed it to the pigeons while the inside he saved for the hungry on the streets. The mother with two brats hanging off her skirts and another on her hip, she was waiting faithfully for her brave husband to return home from war, and she may well keep waiting for years and years. 

He was so deep in thought, that when he heard a voice behind him, he didn't turn back to see who it could be. "There's one just up the block, you can't miss it," he directed, only then taking the time to glance back. "Gods...you look like a beast ate you up than spat you back out again." Rising from his seat, he shook his head. "Let me buy you a drink, and perhaps you can tell me who left you in such a state."

[madelenegiles]

Madelene kept her hands busy when she could. There was a spot in M’lady’s petticoat that would not come out, and Madelene supposed she might as well take it directly to the laundress and have her sort it out with her professionalisms.

She rounded a blind corner, not thinking much of it—and with the grace and speed of a long-time servant, she sprang back around, to allow whatever was happening to resolve itself to her presence. She had not seen too much, so likely it’d be fine. “Beggin’ your pardon,” Madelene ventured, stepping forward a bit more slowly.

[carverleblanc]

"I do wish you would reconsider, sir," Carver pleaded, his hands up in protest. He was in an alley with another patron, trying desperately to talk him out of a friendly brawl. The man was drunk, and so of course he wanted nothing more than a good, clean fight. It was foolish, really; he'd won each and every fight he'd gotten into since he came to the city, and quite easily at that. It was hardly good judgement for anyone to try and best him, and yet the fellow before him wanted just that. "A stiff breeze could blow you over, so I hardly see how this is-" He ducked out of the way of a swing, sighing deeply.

It was over in a mere moment's time, and then Carver propped the man up against the wall, hopping someone would find him later and tend to his bruised ego. Mostly, he hoped that when he awoke he would remember that he had asked for the fight in the first place, and it was only himself he had to blame.

He heard the girl before she said anything, and so it didn't startle him when she spoke, edging closer. He rose slowly from his crouching position, turning to smile brightly at her. "Miss Madelene," he greeted warmly. "I apologise for the scene," he said, gesturing back toward the man who laid unconscious against the wall, "but it was a necessary evil."

[lordcommanderfarwell-blog]

Pray tell, where could’ve that overgrown cat run off to this time?

[carverleblanc]

Have you tried putting out a saucer of milk?

[carverleblanc]

tavern talk || carver&OPEN

Crystalline eyes skirted over the other patrons in the tavern, each of them immersed in a world that was so foreign to him that he could never hope to unearth its secrets. Each word, each gesture, each batted eyelash was a mystery, and one that he could only theorize as to the contents of.

He was studying an elderly man who was admiring a daisy when the serving girl laid a plate of mutton in front of him. "Will the sir be wantin' anything else?" she asked, but he merely shook his head before pressing a few coins into her palm. As she walked away, he spared a glance toward the barkeep, who was eyeing him cautiously. He honestly didn't blame the poor man; if one of the most notably belligerent strangers had come into his bar, he'd keep a close eye on him as well. As it were, however, he had no intention of brawling on that evening, as he wasn't fancy on the idea of moving to another town after being booted out of the last viable tavern in the city.

Staring down at his plate, he sighed softly, poking at the boiled carrots, cabbage, and potato that accompanied his meat. His eyes raised when someone sat down next to him at the bar, and he turned his plate so that the vegetables were toward them. "Would you like these? I absolutely cannot stand the damned things," he offered.