Mead, book piles & the open road.

The writings of Joan Lionsbane. Discord: Joan#6792

[mynocturnality]

Creepy Gothic church ruin

[meadnbookpiles]

‘Arborstone, The Echovald Wilds.’

[meadnbookpiles]

11th of the Phoenix, 1335 AE

There was nothing there.

Nothing of substance to be garnered from Eul’s evasive pleasantries, nothing to be learned by anything else at present, and most certainly - nothing on the balcony, despite Jia seeming so sure that something would be. We’re back to grasping at straws, and quite frankly, this feels like we have less to go off on that what we’ve left Tyria with.

The pieces... they don’t mesh together at all, why would the old man not want our support? Aunt Kef did illustrate that he was... reclusive, at best, and that his reply to her offer was a mere polite acknowledgement - and yet, should one truly reject a source of aid so readily offered? Especially when the lives of his Household and family members are quite apparently on the line?

It’s unsettling to consider, infuriating, really, as if something is right there, impossibly dodging out of the corner of your eye, a small mental nudge away from a fully fledged conclusion. 

I suppose we may depart to Shing Jea next? Jia’s badgering did manage to secure a vouch that we’ll be permitted to research the family Estates. There was supposed to be an Uptown apartment in Kaineng, as well as a Vacation Home by the Jade Sea... how wonderfully bizarre penning these names here, as destinations I may soon visit.

It’s a pity Drae was as tied down with his work as ever, getting through impossible stubbornness was ever his gift... we might have surfaced from our encounter with different results then, not defeated - victorious! 

Well, maybe.

[meadnbookpiles]

The Akaiya perched by side of a busy boulevard, the back of the structure strikingly born aloft thick columns, suspended over a wide canal - rife with skiff traffic. Though sizable in its own merit, the establishment was dwarfed by its grander, more modern neighbors. Yet there was an inarguable quaint charm to the scarlet painted beams, and the relief of ivy decorating the bamboo panels. 

Beyond the front door a narrow hall waited. It’s interior scarcely decorated apart for a magnificently inked scroll - colorfully depicting a scene of crimson and turquoise tents draped amongst unrealistically enormous painted shells. An antique desk bellow the scroll was occupied by a likewise ancient looking Canthan, her leathery skin creased and crinkled. “Cha-Ming!” She croaked, and soon a young woman bustled forth out of one of the many adjacent doorways.

“Pahabazhen. Welcome to our Akaiya!” Cha-Ming chimed in a musical voice, smiling warmly as her gaze swiftly appraised the group. A light scrunching of her skirt by a small plump fist betrayed the presence of a toddler lurking behind her. After a flurry of cordial, if shallow introductions, coins were exchanged and ledges marked.

Later that night, Joan shut the wooden panels in her small chamber, weary of the constant intrusive blare of the city’s Jade Tech infrastructure. Her lodging was bare bones humble - a dresser, and enough space to unroll a futon. She hoped Solveig and Penelope will be pleased with their similar arrangements... as she did entertain a somewhat jealous suspicion that the Caballeros might have gotten a nicer deal with their couple’s suite overlooking the canal.

A lonely pang followed that musing, thus she repicked the old, battered journal in an attempt to quell that line of thought, replace it with another, a more cherished one. Her eyes traced faded words on worn paper, a treasure relayed to her over the breadth of several lifetimes... and perhaps somewhere in the grand scheme of the Universe and its many machinations, a small circle closed.

'The Akaiya perched by side of a busy square, overlooking Kaineng’s Docks.’

[meadnbookpiles]

The bed of clouds unfurled, allowing a glimpse of the graceful bend of the Talon’s hull, and further down bellow - a boundless blue, darkness folded in its furrows, reaching out to the horizon... it was well named. And yet, the Unending Ocean was endless no more... and there was she, going South, more South than she’d ever been. 

She thought of Truls, the serious line of his small mouth as he pondered her replies to his many queries, and Eira’s brown eyes, sparkling with joy as she romped around astride on her stuffed raptor.

And when these agonizing musings overstayed their welcome, she thought of her companions instead. Thinking of how it didn’t always bode well - bringing others along. She had blundered in the past.

“Don’t forget your circumstances. Don’t forget your friends.”

Perhaps - if her aunt had lined some mercenary pockets instead - that would have been easier, simpler, there won’t have been too many questions asked and soon enough, probably, the parties would have parted ways over some petty yet inevitable disagreements. 

But these... these were Mandel, and Cervato, Solveig and Penelope. Old friends, old antics. 

And before them - the path to a land shrouded in myth and danger.

This time she will have to do better.

She will have to bring them back.

[meadnbookpiles]

‘Baby Eira’

[meadnbookpiles]

"You're very pretty and smart and I think I may be a fangirl."

Joan grinned, tucking away that unsigned note into the folds of her latest worn travel journal. "... finally. This legend spreads."

[meadnbookpiles]

When you look at me...

(( Will answer for @melittathalassa ))

"Meli... my first thought was she seemed a bit aloof. But then after a Hydra almost chewed my leg off she came along to cheer me up, so my second thought was a tad better."

[meadnbookpiles]

"When you look at me." - Mercer

"Mercer... that would've been a while back... hrm... someone who doesn't like showers? Aye."

[landscape-lunacy]

Iceland - by Arnar Kristjansson

[meadnbookpiles]

‘A fall by False Lake.’

[meadnbookpiles]

📷 Favorite picture/screencap of your muse?

(( One of my oldest game Joan screenies... basically her chilling out in the Shiverpeaks in her first RP armor. ))

[meadnbookpiles]

🌌Favorite alternate version of the muse?

(( A good RP frand has been creating Joan NPCs in a bunch of Pathfinder campaigns he’s running. My favorite so far was a kick-ass Oread fighter & blacksmith Joan, complete with her own bear helmet. Though there are a bunch of others - another Joan happens to be the Duchess of Absalom (!!!!), and another one that’ll be introduced into another game sometime soon is apparently going to be a paladin (a cool paladin though!). ))

[meadnbookpiles]

"How do you feel about rumors and people who gossip terrible things about others? Like in all those tabloids you can buy for thirteen copper coins at every market corner! Do you think there is any truth to it? Or more like a one-sided bias to sell a story. If people make a decision based only what they heard about you, how would that make you feel?"

“PSH. RIGHT?!” Even at the distance of so many months passing since that particular incident, mentioning it still worked to ignite a fierce judgmental glare from the adventurer. “Well though, they haven’t heard about -me-...clearly... I’m Joan Seyforth Lionsbane, aye? That’s a name and a BRAND right there, all in one. That... good for nothing ‘reporter’ simply knew nothing... ‘lonely scholar’.... people do make decisions, based on what they hear of me, decisions that make me PROUD, for... all the right reasons, too!”

An exasperated huff escaped Joan as her glare moved sideways, fixing on a crumpled paper-ball that was nailed to a thick log of timber by several sharp meat knives.

“... ‘snooty’. bah.”

(( OOC: Referring to >> this << thing that happened, probably. Please never let Joan hear the last of it XD ))

[meadnbookpiles]

31th of the Scion, 1333 AE

Unlike Truls who came squealing into this world, Eira’s entrance was an alarmingly quiet one. Swiftly they took her away from me to untangle the cord around her neck - and here followed a stretch of time measurable only by the rapid beatings of my heart and Drae’s anxious begging, til a soft baby wail did pierce the night, and we all smiled at one another through sweat and tears, drunk with happiness & relief.

At last they brought her to me, and the hearth’s rekindled light bathed her in a rosy glow, shinning gold in her small tuft of raven black curls, sparkling in the pair of dark button eyes that blinked and squeezed as one wail after another tore out of her small chest. She was a wee thing and I was enraptured by her delicate, minute beauty... was Truls ever this fragile? I hugged her to my breast and sniffed the sweet aroma that mingled with all other less pleasant, yet necessary scents that labor did involve.

Thus arrived Eira Penelope Lionsbane, Phoenix born.

Penelope for Draegoren’s deceased mother, a noble and gentle soul that I warmly remember from those far childhood years of scraped knees and unruly scuffles. Wild and strange as I was she still seemingly found something there to adore and cherish. 

Eira - for a name heard in a Norn’s Legend, proudly shared in Vanjir’s on my first Scion camping there. I should have forgotten it, yet like a melody, the sound of it ever lingered in the back of my mind, occasionally summoned forth by a star igniting in the darkness over a far lonely trail, or the unexpected sight of mountain blooms, peaking out as the snow recede by Zephyr’s end. When Eira was born, I remembered it again.

((OOC: I’m BACK! How is it I suddenly have time? Well, as it turns out I am joining the growing global crowd of people who lost their job. Apart for that however life’s been good, I’ve been making progress with my writing and indie game development. Still, something is always missing when I am not RPing. I missed ya’ll majorly, can’t wait to catch up! ))

[meadnbookpiles]

Beautiful writer, creative soul, and you give me RP envy with how badass Joan is.

(( WHO WROTE THIS?!

I am unworthy.

Though I will say that when I read this back back then all these months ago it lifted my heart. Thank you friend <3 ))

[meadnbookpiles]

What paranormal creature are you most like?

My Result: Angel(89%)

You're not necessarily a "heavenly" angel, but if you prefer to think that, you can. You are incredibly kind, and some have probably said that your kindness will kill you. You help as many people as you can and are often stressed and upset because you can't help everyone. You have deep empathy for others and are always worried about your friend's and family's well-being.

Additional Results:

Angel (89%)

Mermaid (83%)

"Twilight" Vampire (81%)

"Classic" Werewolf (77%)

"Twilight" Werewolf (76%)

Classic Vampire (74%)

Demon (60%)

Visit: What paranormal creature are you most like?

Tagged by: @mandelthesly​ & @luxelen​ Thank you! <3

Tagging: Whoever want to do the thing!

[meadnbookpiles]

fight : my muse stops your muse from getting into a physical fight with someone else. - For Mandel

Stray raven strands tumbled into her line of sight - her scarlet tinged, line of sight, rather, as it contained the smug expression of one particular infuriating Asura. Of course that likewise self pleased sentiment visibly echoed on the faces of his Priory colleagues standing right behind him. 

There were insults… and there were -insults-. She would NOT stand for this, not this, that excursion cost her too dearly for such remarks to be overlooked. Dully she noted how her form was already sinking into a familiar state of offense, they made her leave her glaive outside of the posh Rurikton establishment - yet it was not as if she needed a tool to unleash that much righteous wrath.

“Now now…” Came the irritatingly calm drawl of her old friend. Mandel blocked her mid swing, effectively poofing into the warpath in a burst of his ever abominable purple butterflies. “No need to escalate to such theatrics is there? We are all patient and scholarly… isn’t that so?”

“T-they -trample- my research! How dare you…”

“Ah. ‘Research’. Cute. Perhaps you better be trying to publish your ‘research’ on that paper you sent that love letter too…  not that I read any of those Human tabloids, of cour-” 

“IT WAS NOT A LOVE LETTER OI!” Joan thundered “ IT WAS NOT FOR ME!!!” And with that she unceremoniously attempted shoving past Mandel’s form so to flail at the snooty, presumptuous being. Yet the Mesmer stood his ground between them, thus she turned her glare onto him. “LEMME AT HIM!”

@mandelthesly

(( OOC: This took eons but I’M BACK! ^.^ ))

[meadnbookpiles]

‘Baby Truls.’