closed minigame!
It was a quiet night at the port of the Royal Harbor, nothing more than soft voices of patrols and ship hands could be heard among the rhythmic splashes of the black tide against the muddy shores. The moon cast herself in a full pale light as a cold wind swept ashore, the bells beginning to ring solemnly in the chilled gale, and a glimmering spark burning on the bleak horizon.
It was the head of The Culler’s royal fleet of warships, back from a voyage to the other end of the galaxy after almost three sweeps away from Alternian waters. The Violet Seahorse had been gone too long, and word quickly spread over the port that her mighty crew, and captain, were home at last.
The main dock was cleared as The Seahorse crept closer, a thick brine spraying up around the chrome vessel like angelic wings as the sound of her Psiionic engine could be heard like thunder on the raging sea. The lights of a signal grub waved her home, and with a seismic groan the massive imperial vessel shuddered to a halt, her gangplank dropping with a thud on the dark shore, and a rush of compressed air hissing out from within the thick hull. Seadogs and Threshecutioners piled out of the ship with cheers and proclamations of “I’m gonna pail a HUNDRED bucketwhores!” and “I’m going to drink until I can’t feel my gills!” and the crude like. The port town was in an uproar, many loved ones and respected military heads finally home from what could have been an impossible journey.
When the crew was already stamping the muddy streets and beginning to make good on their horrid promises, the captain made his way down the plank, calm, collected, and cold. A few hiveless bums were all who saw The Tactician make birth, and they raised their hands to their horns in a drunken, but respectful, salute as the Prince strutted by them, his cape flowing dramatically in the frigid wind.
The Violetblood made his silent way to his favorite tavern, the Intoxicated Bilgerat, and entered the establishment by swinging both doors open wide, the sudden light from the bar shining off his spectacles and armor, an elaborate mail, and fitting of The Culler’s right fin and adviser. The barmaid saluted and dusted off a stool for The Tactician. She was used to his royal patronage, and welcomed him home with a promised night of free booze and food, a gesture which the tired captain thanked graciously.
Some trolls knew him as a salty captain, or ruthless Tactican. Others knew him as the Grand Threshecutioner, the merciless crosshairs of the new empire. Legends and fear named him Orphaner. Other myths called him The Prince of Hope. But his Empress called him Eridan Ampora, and it was that name he would be answering to tonight as he heard the sound of Her own Hiveboat, The Alternia, shake the windows of the BIlgerat.
>Your name is as mentioned before, and it is good to be home.
She had her sources. They were everywhere, and there wasn’t a second that went by that she didn’t fully know what Eridan Ampora was up to and where exactly he was, If this fact had been of folly, well, she’d worry constantly. It took every ounce of her willpower not to cull her sweet moirail often, he was lucky she had an irregularly strong amount of willpower.
..Of course, other feelings that would often resurface partly played into this ability to not tend to him. The Empress stands tall and proud, the hems of her dress flowed freely in the wind. The moonlight illuminates her presence, and it shines against her many jewels and gold bracelets. Letting out a deep, baited breath, she cannot hide the big grin plastered on her face. Her crew knows of her true feelings, as if she didn’t make it obvious enough to where she would literally storm about the castle to reach the communication beacon, thinking it would be him with another report, and if she was lucky, a story of his conquests. She often wondered if he grew tired of her, and perhaps this is why he would leave for such long periods, but she did not dwell on these feelings, that would just dampen her good mood!
The boat docks, and she is escorted outward by her friends. She liked to refer as anyone who worked for her a friend, and she didnt really like to be pampered by her servants, either. Especially, when some of these people who worked for her, were people she had known her entire life. Kanaya Maryam was her trusted left hand lady, and Karkat Vantas was among her many Threshecutioners, for example.
Equius, her guard for the night, upon his outright demand and concern out of his Empress for wanting to go to a low level Pub on the double, walks incredibly close to her, much to her disdain, he barely even wants her to be seen and insists she does not enter this bar, she is above it. She waves her hand in the air to shoosh him away, and enters the pub, almost all of its inhabitants getting stiff and eyeing her in anxiety. She giggles, literally loving the reactions people give her, rolling her eyes playfully. She strides in confidence towards the man who still faces the astounded bartender, with the lightning shaped horns, she can hardly contain herself. She does not want to completely embarrass him, so she makes a mental note to call him by one of his many titles.
“Eridan!” She calls out. “I mean. MY TACTICIAN, SHELLO!!!” She giggles a bit, spinning his chair a little so he can face her. Equius rushes behind her, standing a little too close again, this causes her to retreat to Eridan’s form.
“I missed you!” She says quieter, and wraps her arms around him, squeezing him tightly, burying her face into his neck, deeply inhaling to take in his scent. “Im so glubbing happy youre FINALLY back!!!”