Hedonism

Sir Christoff

[christoffholstein-blog]

warrioressasta:

Asta had heard about Christoff as a great warrior from Lothierburg, but she was surprised to see him writing or drawing something by the sidelines instead of training like the rest of the men were. Approaching him cautiously, she sat herself down next to him and inspected his handiwork from a distance. “Interesting… truly not what I would have expected the famous Christoff Holstein to be doing on a fine day like this, but I suppose to each their own.” she murmured, taking the dagger in her hands and stabbing at the wooden table to keep it in place until she wanted to collect it again. 

Christoff’s gaze snapped up at the words of the girl, brows furrowing together at her statement. His eyes flickered to the dagger, buried inside the wood of the table, and he wondered whether or not such a brazen display of weaponry should be taken as a threat. He wasn’t totally unarmed- but she had no way of knowing so.”I live to surprise,” he said, lazily leaning back in his seat to rest his boots on the table between them. “Did you assume the famous Christoff Holstein was illiterate?”

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babettevinter:

There were still many buildings Babette hadn’t explored yet, the redhead was more comfortable around the others from Mykr. Today she’d given up on staying with the others, the need to see more around her was too great. The curiosity was great, there was so much about this city that she wanted to learn, at least enough to know how to get away from things. She hadn’t expected to see Christoff sitting and writing. Watching quietly for a few seconds she finally spoke, “Who are you writing to?”

The back of Christoff’s neck reddened, a sure sign to those that knew him well that the man was feeling flustered. He should have noted her entry- a mistake that he felt foolish for having committed, particularly in the presence of many who could call him enemies. His throat cleared, and he leaned back in his seat, surveying the Northern girl with an attempt at his usual manner. “Is there no such thing as privacy amongst you wild folk?” he asked, his tone careless. “I’m writing to my bastards, if you must know. Their mother must be weeping for me so.”

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hildcs:

during one of her usual sweeps, hilda spotted christoff, fellow royal guard, with writting materials on his lap. he was the one hilda had to trust, even when all her instincts were screaming to trust no one. the brunette had mastered the art of the pokerface — in their line of work it was primarily essential. but, sometimes, there were little things that would catch her off guard. watching christoff in an attempt to put his thoughts into words so he could have a realistic conversation with his children was one of those things. the expression didn’t falter on her features. EMPATHY. even though she didn’t have a family of her own, hilda definitely knew what it was like to be missing someone. the petite woman stopped on her tracks and instead of continuing with her task, paced towards him, a warm chuckles painted on her lips. “what adventure are you writting about this time?”

Christoff was, largely, all bravado, his extravagant cockiness, whilst undoubtedly a domineering factor of his personality, masking the depths of his personality. His calculated shrewdness, for one, and his weaknesses. Hilda, however, was his sister in arms, and there was little he would hide from her. How could he trust her to fight at his side, if he could not trust her with his own thoughts? Luckily for him, she had never given him pause to think that she did not understand, and better yet, she did not entice him into open discussion of matters. “I am telling them of the festival,” he replied, simply. “As much as I would love to tell tales of my daring exploits, there has been little opportunity for heroism yet. No fighting.” 

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shieldofeyjalin:

“Is that what you think? I fear you have been misled.” She’s met many obnoxious men but none too many as haughty as this one. The men from the north know far better than to underestimate the ladies of their court especially where their yearnings were concerned. And if he truly pitied… “Why deny yourself the pleasure of scandalizing me by the telling of your desires. Surely they’re worth a listen.” Why she continued to egg him is beyond her. 

They weren’t truly friends—frankly, more enemies than acquaintances at any given time. But the appeal of a truce was often beguiling, especially when it bore a beaming face and the prospect of spending an evening with a strange man held more allure than it should have for the shieldmaiden. Capricious in nature, she agreed. “I suppose an eve is not too much to spare.” A jesting contemplation rang with blithe in her voice. “Come, show me how you southerners woo your women.”

“The lady doth protest too much,” he dismissed her rebuff. If she really thought so little of him, she wouldn’t be here, he reasoned. No, she was in the least, as curious about him as he was of her. He could read between the lines, and it was glaringly obvious to him. “I prefer to show, rather than tell. I find that it’s more interesting that way,” he shot her a grin, the kind that had got him out of many tight spots over the years. 

He wasn’t surprised that she agreed to join him- it was inevitable, in the end, that she would say yes- but he had expected it to take far more persuading than it did. She was, as it transpired, a tough nut to crack, and nothing like he was used to in Lothierburg, but he wasn’t to complain. With a flourish he offered her his arm, ignoring that she was not like the ladies of the court he usually spent his time with. “On the contrary, my love. I think it is you that needs to woo me.”

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@ofrosenbvrg

Lothierburg’s queen was, most decidedly, not one of Christoff’s favourite people. In the decade he had served as a royal guard, he had watched the Princess Ingrid grow from a girl into a capable young woman, and had long since deiced that there could be no greater candidate for the throne than she. The king’s remarriage had complicated his assertions somewhat, and should a child be born of the union, it would interfere greatly with the princess’ right to rule. This, he wagered, could only be a disaster, and he blamed the queen entirely for the potential of it, even if no child had yet come to pass. Despite this, he was still a royal guard, and still had to perform his duties, and that included checking up on his queen. “Your majesty,” he said, without any of the courtesy her title demanded. “Still alive and well, I see.” 

[christoffholstein-blog]

Christoff was well known in his own kingdom as a brave knight of the realm, strong and fearsome on the battlefield, and a serial philanderer when attending court. It was a reputation that had been cultivated since he had taken a role in service of the Rosenburg family, aged only 18. Not many realised the range of his talents. His education had been thorough, and his penmanship was excellent, as evidenced by the painstakingly written page in front of him. What would surprise those that knew him even more was the drawings tucked away under the page, talented reproductions of some of Laewyth’s curiosities to send to his children. Bastards as they were, he held a large degree of affection for them, and though neither were yet old enough to read, it helped him miss them a little less if he regularly wrote to them, and sent them trinkets and drawings of his own. So engrossed was he in printing words on the page, he did not noticed the presence of another in the room. 

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roscnburg:

“If I wanted you for myself, I like to think my plan to ensnare you would be a bit better thought out.” She rolled her eyes, quite sure in herself that Christoff for all an unabashed and awful flirt would panic if she were to ever fall into a fit of madness. Sometimes, when she wasn’t as bad-tempered as she was then, she considered pretending interest just to see his reaction. If anything, it’d be worth swallowing back her vomit just so she could laugh. Handed the cup, she softened, and then almost as instantly made a face once more as he opened his mouth. You wouldn’t be half as bad if you were a mute. She took a drink to stop herself from spitting the words aloud. A sigh left her at the small relief of the drink. “Thank you,” a princess never forgot her manners. Even when around people who didn’t deserve them at the best of times. She sighed, looking into the clear water of her cup. “Their numbers bolster our own. I don’t know much about fighting, but I’ve learnt enough about strategy to know that numbers have a part in winning a war.”

“It needn’t be, my lady. It would have worked.” he said with a wink. Christoff took, maybe, far too many liberties with Ingrid, and knew she cared little for him, but it was all just play- with her at least. He was loyal to her and her destiny as his future queen, and despite the words that came all to easily to his tongue, would not overstep his boundaries with her in any physical way, though he would fight to the death to keep her safe. “You’re welcome. Do you need anything else? I am yours to command, after all,” he offered, his tone lower, a little more sincere than it was usually. Her words drew a hesitant nod from him. “In the most crude way, yes. A large army is always helpful, and the Northerners would make great canon fodder to tire out the forces of the West, but it is a little more complicated than that. Too many men who fancy themselves as leaders, and commanders. It does not bode well in my mind,” he confessed, fetching himself a cup full of water and draining it slowly as he pondered his own words. “But that is not for you to worry about. I will return to Lothierburg unharmed, don’t you fear.” he said with renewed swagger, his arrogance was back in full force. 

[christoffholstein-blog]

shieldofeyjalin:

Romantic and flowery were the last words Eyja might use to describe the Magnicourt’s nasally accent. There was a flavour to their lilt and it was unpleasant—how the sounds force one’s tongue to writhe and twist is unnatural. However, she did not miss their chatter ( sometimes even private ones ) in the market square, their cadence fluctuating like a repellent song—but yet she lingered to eavesdrop against all common sense.

Though, she might argue that common sense was what drove her to remain to know her enemies. So, Eyja tossed a coin to the waiting vendor after she had spent a few minutes “perusing” his selection of fruit, pretending to be invested in the degree of ripeness when she didn’t care one bit. She had been concentrating on her task that she hadn’t notice a shadow grow at her side until she felt his touch on her shoulder. A fraction too late for her liking and an even worse fault for falling for his trick.

“Has it now? I remember promising an evening but not which one.” A glance at the stall told her that the foreigners had left and were making their way across the square. She decided to let them go. For now. “I hadn’t realise you yearned for my company so.”

He couldn’t deny that in their limited meetings, he had taken a liking to her. Had he not, he would not repeatedly attempt contact with her. Perhaps it was the ease with which she countered his teasing words, or just a natural curiosity for the women of the North. either way, he wasn’t to complain about once again finding himself in her presence. 

“My yearnings in life are not suitable for a lady’s ears. Perhaps I just pity that you were denied an opportunity to swoon over me,” he quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms over the light armour her wore. Despite not currently being on duty, Christoff was still a guardsman of Lothierburg, and he wore his uniform as both a warning and a badge of honour. “You could always promise me this evening,” he suggested, lightly. “Laewyth has many charms, even without the draw of a festival. I can’t think of many right now, but I am sure they’re there.” 

[christoffholstein-blog]

@katharinawinterbourne

“Katharina, my darling,” Christoff called out, jovially by way of announcing his presence. Whilst the Northerners and Laewythians alike tested his patience, it was always a source of excitement to see someone he knew, particularly when they took the form of a pretty woman. “You look lovely, as ever. Are you homesick? Rest assured, you are always welcome to seek comfort in my arms. I’ll see you well.” 

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babettevinter:

Her blue eyes watched his movement, at first with curiosity and then even more annoyance than she’d had before. “I wish I could say the same for Southern men, however it becomes confusing here, when everyone is covered in so many perfumes and ruffles how can one tell?”

“Personal hygiene and an interest in fashion does not make a man less of a man,” Christoff dismissed her words with a snort of amusement. Though he had never been one for extravagant clothing, preferring his armoured guards uniform. “Surely the absence of womanly endowments would alert you, or is your eyesight that poor?” 

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jarlvilkas:

“You speak as if you forget how quickly we murdered the king. A defeat is still a victory if you’ve changed the fate of an entire kingdom.” That was a true victory, they had retreated back to the north but only after they’d changed so much. “And all I have seen of yours are prettied up boys who think they shit gold.” At the mention of Erik and Bjor’s age Vilkas shook his head, “You are still younger than me. You have seen fewer battles than me, you are a whelp.” A pause. “As for Bjor and Erik, it is not their age that makes them worthy of their titles but their actions. It is not only a birthright that makes a man Jarl. He must be proven, we do not have toddlers sitting on thrones.”

“Not my king,” Christoff pointed out, derisively. There was little love lost between Lothierburg and Laewyth, but he wouldn’t expect the Northerners to understand. The death of the Laewythian monarch meant nothing to him. “Even if we did shit gold, it would still smell better than your people,” he retorted. Childish, perhaps, but effective all the same. “You’re older. Doesn’t make you better. War is no place for the wizened and elderly. Perhaps it’s time to retire and leave the fighting to your more virile colleagues.” 

[christoffholstein-blog]

@shieldofeyjalin

Christoff had, as he had asserted on the day, won the joust of Laewyth’s festival. There had never been any doubt that he would, in his mind at least.  His competitors had obviously thought otherwise. His victory should have been rewarded by the Northern girl, but the arrival of the Magnicourt had soured his jubilation, and cause quite a stir, that he had yet to claim his prize. 

Since the festival, he had been disgustingly busy. The arrival of their enemies had everyone flustered, and as a royal guard, his presence was necessary at his king’s side. For the first time in a little while, he had some time to himself. It was almost ironic that it was now that he glimpsed her. It was starting to become a bit of a habit. Making his way over to her, he tapped her shoulder neatly, before stepping to one side so she would not immediately see him, would have to look both ways before glimpsing who it was. 

“It has just occured to me that we didn’t get to share the lovely evening we agreed upon. Such a shame for you.” 

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roscnburg:

“Or perhaps, they did it simply in the hopes that you’d grow so hot that you’d pass out, and tonight their women would be spared despoilment.” Dressed in fine silks, Ingrid was cooler than the guard, but she could feel herself wilting. The climate alone would have been no bother but combined with the fire it had been made into something too heavy, almost oppressive. It was making her cranky. Her brow wrinkled and her mouth scrunched up unattractively. “You’d think we could save having the savages all melt until after half of them have died in battle. It’d be a lot more prudent.” 

«✧ “Ah! So you are the culprit! If you wanted me to yourself, my princess, you’ve only to ask. I’d be more than happy to oblige, though I fear it will not help us both to cool off,” he said, suggestively. He did, however, noting her discomfort, cross to the window to retrieve a jug of clean, fresh water, still relatively cool, and pour her a cup, pressing it to her hand in an uncharacteristic display of consideration. “Drink. I will catch you if you swoon, but I fear it’ll leave you embarrassed,” he pushed her, gently. “I’m not sure how useful they’d be, anyway. I’m sure they lost the last war they fought,” he said, airily. He was right, obviously, given that it was against their own people.

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babettevinter:

“After all these years savages is still the only thing your people have?” Laughing she looked over the man, a warrior himself she supposed. But too prettily adorned to seem a threat. “I could help you come up with a better name should you like.”

«✧ “Savages, barbarians, heathens, those who shit in the woods... take your pick, my love. Which do you prefer?” Christoff offered with mock courtesy. “I’ll say this for you Northerners, backwards as you are, the women truly are something to look at. There’s plenty I would like you to come up and help me with, and discussing witty nicknames isn’t on the list.” 

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jarlvilkas:

“Heat would not stop anyone if taking this city was what we wanted whelp.” Cocky, young and too proud. He doubted the man would have survived a true pillaging. “And standing here I find my people much cleaner and more civilized than the ones you call your own. But young men hardly know anything.” 

«✧ “Then it was the strength of our soldiers and not our climates that beat you back to your frozen wastelands? Good to know,” Christoff said, dismissively, though the latter comments drew a snort from him. “All I’ve seen is your people, wine-sodden and crusted with dirt. I am not so young, my jarl. Elder than both of your fellow rulers- though perhaps you were referring to them?”

[christoffholstein-blog]

ofbjor:

At first, Bjor smiled at the man’s words. While the young jarl was used to warm weather, he was inclined to agree — and he almost did, but the other’s next words wiped the smile from Bjor’s face. “Savages?” He asked, his northern, Myrkr accent all too recognizable. “I don’t understand. Do you truly believe we are so horrible?”

«✧ The man’s reactions were not what Christoff would expect from a Northerner. In fact, he would have been less surprised had he drew his sword and stuck him with it. “Well, all I know of you is you’ve got a habit of raiding our towns and butchering our people. I’d say yes, I truly do. Am I to understand I am the first to say so to your face? I can assure you, we’re all thinking it.” 

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terenzfiedler:

“It was not me, I assure you.” Terenz took a bite of his apple before glancing at the stranger. “And I highly doubt an obstacle as small as the weather would stop them, if that was what they wished to do.”

«✧ “Are you sure? The nights are cooler here, I could almost understand it if it was one of our own, attempting to make it feel like home,” Christoff shrugged. “Who knows the ways of the heathens? They escape me, to be sure.”