THE‎ ‎ KEEP.

siegfried‎ ‎ ‎ eaton ‎ ‎ / ‎ ‎ jack‎ ‎ ‎ ashworth ‎ + ‎ ‎ theo jakobs ‎

[storybroke]

PRIVATE AND DEPENDENT WITHIN THE ROLEPLAY GROUP : ENCHANTED FALLS ... this blog will be written by georgie, she / her, soon to be twenty-seven ! and is home to three characters, as listed below.

SEIGFRIED EATON, prince seigfried of swan lake ! thirty-six years old and repairman at shining armour repairs, distinctly resembling rahul kohli.

seigfried, more commonly known as seig by friends and coworkers, is a cursed occupant of enchanted falls. previously in a relationship with dia coscoroba, seig is now single but far from ready to mingle. instead, seig spends most days buried in work, burying old scars from his previous life even deeper than the curse had. seig has a weakness for the art at the gallery in town, he can also be found there on occasion as well. his hobbies include archery, hunting, and metal work.

SPOTIFY. PINTEREST. BIOGRAPHY.

JACK ASHWORTH, the protagonist of jack & the bean stalk, twenty three years old and clerk at fairest of them all flowers, distinctly resembling lorenzo zurzolo.

jack, known only by those considered family as jackie or jackie boy, is a cursed occupant of enchanted falls. attending college courses online during his off time from his job at the flower shop, jack finds himself over worked and swamped most days. yet he still makes time for his mother, whom he still lives with in enchanted falls. a bitter woman, jack and his mother do not get along, hence his avoidance of home. jack can often be found at the movie theater. his hobbies include, films, music, & greenery.

SPOTIFY. PINTEREST. BIOGRAPHY.

THEO JAKOBS, one of two protagonists of the black cauldron, twenty-five years old and server at princess and the pie diner, distinctly resembling tom holland.

theo jakobs, known to friends as teddy, is a cursed occupant of enchanted falls. with a longing for a connection that he cannot recall with the equally as cursed vivi, theo spends most of his day working tables at the town's diner where he works as a server. because of this, he can be considered a familiar face though when not at work, theo takes care of his dog: gurgi. his hobbies include, fencing, animal care, & writing.

SPOTIFY. PINTEREST. BIOGRAPHY.

[grimmtale]

her head is buried down in her work as theo approaches with herself none-the-wiser until he speaks up ;     an open shakespearian novel propped open in the middle of its story on one side of her and sheets yet to be filled with music notes spread out on the other.     it had become an odd dream of hers,  to write her very own melody inspired by the words of those great authors she had often heard her father read to her as a young girl  —  and now with her feet planted faintly back upon earth,  corinne can at least try to study as she grieves.

hearing an only-vaguely familiar voice,  she glances upwards with those ever-melancholic looking doe eyes,  the smile upon her lips to greet him not quite radiating as it was could.     “  oh,  hello…   theo,  right?  ”     hinting towards the counter with a quick glimpse in that direction,  she’s silently asking if her association is correct.     shying away from the world had isolated her more than she had expected.     but she offers an awkward laugh nonetheless with a gentle nod of her head,  reaching for the turning-cold cup of tea sat before her.     “  yes — i thought i should perhaps just order a few things at once,  just so i can snack as i work and not keep disturbing the staff all morning… would you care to join me?  ”

[storybroke]

LIKE  SEA  FOAM  CLINGING  TO  THE  ROLLING  LIP  OF  AN  OCEAN'S  WAVE,  sadness  seems  to  hold  a  firm  place  in  corinne's  eyes  just  the  same.   large  and  round,  he  supposes  there's  no  such  thing  as  hiding  much  with  eyes  like  those,  at  least  not  to  someone  who  could  recognize  her  particular  brand  of  suffering  as  something  similar  (albeit  far  more  fresh)  to  his  own.  mourners  could  see  each  other  in  crowds,  he  surmises  that  over  time  there  was  something  different  about  a  person  who  had  lost  someone  too  soon.  a  heaviness.  a  scar.  something  formed  deep  down  to  the  marrow  of  the  bone  with  a  grasp  that  refused  to  ransom  it's  hold.  her  clearly  cold  coffee,  an  afterthought  that  fills  theo  in  the  next  moment;  she'd  been  here  a  while  then.

"  you  know  what?  i'd  like  that  —  "   rather  than  returning  to  a  hollow  house  with  hollow  walls,  he  finds  he'd  much  prefer  the  company  of  another  human  being  over  that  of  the  bountiful  snores  gurgi  let  out  during  his  second  morning  nap.  love  the  dog  as  he  might,  saving  him  from  his  loneliness  time  after  time  again,   there  was  something  about  conversation  he'd  craved  since  he  was  small  and  had  first  lost  his  parents.  "  do  you  mind  if  i  take  a  seat  here  then?  i  don't  have  much,  shouldn't  impose  on  your  work.  "

[spider-mann]

Tom Holland about Chris Evans not being invited to do the Buzzfeed puppy interview

[noahxdnn]

Open Starter || Emerald City Art Gallery ||

Ezekiel had always had a secret love for the arts and musicals so he was fairly excited about tonight. It was a night that actually warranted him to dress more fancy than his usual gym clothes and comfy hoodies so he decided to really push the boat out. Donning a flashy orange and black coloured tuxedo and a similar coloured mask he arrived a little late. Grabbing a drink from the bar and spotting the sign up sheet for the musical at the centre of the room.

He had never thought of himself as musically, choreographically or in any way artistically gifted, but he'd always wanted to be on stage, and he'd also do anything to help out in other ways. As he put his name down on the page he turned and looked to the person stood by, not paying much attention by the looks of it.

"So are you signing up? I could definitely see you starring in a musical." He said honestly. Taking a swig of his drink, knowing the alcohol was already getting to him.

[storybroke]

WHERE  SECRET  PASSIONS  LIE,   SEIG'S  ...   well, it  lands  between  the  artfully  placed  strokes  of  paint  on  canvas.   he  could  spend  hours  staring  at  one  painting,  finding  himself  drawn  to  a  particular  one  of  a  swan  on  a  lake,  an  abnormal  amount  of  time.  the  effects  this  night  had  on  them  all  surely  brought  to  the  surface  many  memories  they  all  seemingly  passed  off  for  dreams,  but  confronted  by  that  painting  once  more  hung  above  the  sign  up  sheets,   seig  can't  help  but  feel  a  tickle  of  truth  climbing  up  the  nape  of  his  neck.

a  laugh  escapes  the  former  princes  throat,  warm  and  full,  tinged  at  it's  edges  with  the  effects  of  the  drinks  served  tonight  on  silver  platters  traversing  the  floor.  he  appreciated  the  other's  words,  truly,   he  did—   but  the  idea  of  finding  himself  on  a  stage,   like  he  was  fourteen  again  and  dragged  onto  the  stage  of  a  high  school  drama  production,   has  amusement  flourishing  in  his  lungs.  it's  been  a  long  time  since  he's  stepped  foot  into  a  theater,   and  though  he  often  fixed  props  for  the  owner,  he  would  likely  not  do  it  for  some  long  time.

"  you've  got  the  wrong  man,  i  assure  you.  "  holding  out  his  hand  in  greeting,   seigfried  knows  that  though  he  might  likely  know  the  stranger  beneath  the  mask  before  him,   tonight  they  are  just  passing  ships.  "  seig.  "  he  introduces,  the  repair  worker  as  he  is  most  commonly  known,   having  felt  such  a  welcoming  presence  deserved  to  at  least  know  his  name, defeating the purpose of the ball or not.

[patrick-stewart]

Rahul Kohli as Sheriff Hassan MIDNIGHT MASS | Book II: Psalms

[insaticte]

Propriety demands that Peter carefully averts his eyes as the other man frets with his sleeves, evenly holding his gaze as if he hasn't noticed it at all. Drawing attention to a person's nerves is rarely a productive endeavour and, in this case, the person in question is a complete stranger... or at least, Peter thinks so, he doesn't recognise the man's voice, and his mask is certainly doing its job.

"Then I hope you'll be understanding if I do the same," Peter replies, the tilt of his mouth encouraging as he holds out his hand for his prospective companion to take. He's not a bad dancer by any means, but he's always felt more at home on the battlefield than in the ballroom, and with the mantle of High King stripped away, he suspects people will be less forgiving of his flaws. "If it comforts you any, my last dance partner was a minotaur, and I'm pleased to report that, in spite of our best efforts, both parties made it out of the celebrations unscathed." A difficult feat, when one of you has hooves.

[storybroke]

"  A  MINOTAUR?   YOU'LL  HAVE  TO  TELL  ME  MORE.  "  DESPITE  HIS  PREVIOUS  ENCOUNTERS  WITH  MAGICAL  BEINGS,   jack's  face  begins  to  show  the  whispers  of  a  growing  smile.  his  scars  may  be  long  and  deep,  the  bean  stalk  having  never  quite  abandoned  it's  grasp  on  his  bones,   but  jack–   if  one  thing  and  one  thing  only,  was  no  coward  in  the  face  of  things  he  did  not  understand.   reaching  out  to  take  the  hand,  this  time  shedding  his  hesitance  for  something  almost  foreign,  digits  recognize  almost  immediately  that  the  other  too  held  a  sword  same  as  his  own.  it  brought  to  jack  comfort,  in  an  odd  way,   that  steel  knew  a  home  in  these  hands  as  they  did  in  his  own.   he'd  rather  be  amongst  people  the  same  as  his  new  confidant  than  he  would  others,  though  not  out  of  some  kind  of  judgement  rather  than  an  inability  to  relate.   "  i  hope  you  still  have  most  feeling  in  your  feet  after  an  endeavor  like  that,  you'll  have  to  lead  if  you  don't  mind.  "   for  where  two  feet  knew  to  dance  around  giants,  the  rusted  point  of  an  old  sword  making  homes  in  the  soft  spots  of  gargantuan  legs,  he  did  not  know  how  to  dance  when  held  by  the  hands  of  another.   though  his  king  had  taken  jack  under  his  wing,  lessons  of  various  kinds  often  offered,   they  were  equally  as  often  declined.  swaying  to  the  orchestra  was  as  much  as  jack  could  offer  on  his  own,   but  perhaps  lead  by  the  hands  of  his  masked  and  newly  minted  companion,  he  might  know  something  other  than  the  occasional  rock  back  and  fourth.

[lovegates]

𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐳𝐨𝐥𝐨 during an interview for 𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒙 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒂

[insaticte]

where: king midas’s palace when: evening with: open

The High King of Narnia rarely ventures beyond his own borders these days. Aside from the fact that there’s always something of importance that requires his attention at home, international relations are far better handled by his sister, Susan, whose genteel manners and supply of patience far exceed his own. Still, an occasion such as King Midas’s twentieth jubilee called for nothing less than the presence of all four Pevensie siblings, though where the other three have vanished off to in the hour since their arrival, Peter couldn’t say.

Left to his own devices, he quickly grows tired of standing idle (though he’s long-since learned to resist the urge to fidget), and turns to the person beside him, a warm smile visible from beneath his golden mask. “Forgive me for being forward, but would you like to dance? It turns out I’m rather unsuited to playing the wallflower, and would be extremely grateful for the diversion,” Peter admits with a chuckle.

[storybroke]

THE KINGDOM JACK IS FROM,  THOUGH NOT AS GRAND AS KING MIDAS',   was  large  nonetheless.  sitting  on  a  flat  plain  of  land  stretching  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  the  tall  stone  walls  surrounded  by  emerald  blades  of  grass  standing  at  the  height  of  a  grown  man's  waist, in  the  summer  time  looked  like  an  ocean  of  greenery  sweeping  in  waves  with  the  wind.  though it  had  been  years  now,  and  the  kingdom  had  recovered  from  the  bean  stalk's  fall-  scars  still  linger  in  the  south  of  the  enceinte  (  the  border  which  surrounds  the  kingdom  ).  where  some  had  blamed  jack  for  the  incident,  others  praised  him–  like  the  king.   he'd  only  been  a  young  boy  at  the  time  of  the  incident,  but  the  title  giant  slayer  had  yet  to  leave  him;  hence  his  invitation  here  alongside  his  king  and  queen,  their  children,  and  members  of  the  guard.  with  the  masks  keeping  their  identities  tucked  carefully  under  feathers   &  gauze,  at  least  for  the  night  the  young  man  can  escape  it,  but  his  hands?  his  hands  tell  stories  which  the  mask  cannot  hide.

it's  odd,   his  king  had  once  told  him,  that  jack  could  face  giants  but  not  people—  a  nervous  tick  of  his,   to  use  his  calloused  and  scarred  hands,   to  hold  the  cuff  of  his  sleeve  and  twist  the  pressed  fabric  within  his  grasp.  yet  as  the  stranger  before  him  speaks,   he  cannot  help  but  find  his  words  are  lost  ;  a  bit  of  bafflement  flickering  through  his  eyes  if  only  for  a  moment,  and  not  meant  as  an  insult  to  the  other's  proposition  but  rather  ...   amazement  at  the  question  in  general  as  the  wall  which  both  men  had  blended  into  for  temporary  sanctuary,  was  now  being  torn  away  from  them.   "  ....  i'd  probably  step  on  your  feet—  "  yet,   glancing  to  shifting  bodies  which  dance  to  a  carefully  chosen  ballad,  the  mask  protecting  him  from  their  eyes,  he  thinks:  why  not  ?

[storybroke]

"  OH,  HIS  NAME?  IT'S  GURGI.  "  THE  DOG  IN  QUESTION  BARKS,    as  if  to  announce  his  presence  between  theo's  feet,  tail  thumping  against  the  sidewalk  with  reckless  abandon.  it  had  already  been  two  years  with  the  dog  as  his  companion,  gurgi  having  been  found  by  theo  outside  in  the  alleyway  dumpster  of  the  princess  and  the  pie.  he  could  only  guess  how  old  the  mutt  was  now,  probably  around  three  or  four  as  he  was  no  pup  when  the  waiter  had  found  him  struggling  to  get  his  snout  out  of  a  jar.  still,  the  dog  wasn't  old  quite  yet,  spry  in  his  steps  as  he  leaps  from  beneath  theo's  feet  to  greet  the  other.  "  oh,  whoa!  hey  now,  gurgs.  sorry  about  that,  he  gets  excited.  "

OPEN   STARTER,   LOCATION:   THE   LOCAL   DOG   PARK.   TIME:   FLEXIBLE.

[meuterritorio-deactivated202310]

[fyeahrahulkohli]

Ravi first thing in the morning (｡♥‿♥｡)

[sadiahakim]

It's okay if you are not what they think you are.

Sadia Hakim

[storybroke]

"  NOT  YOUR  USUAL  TODAY,  HM?  "  staring  down  at  the  breakfast  platter  spread  before  corinne  with  mild  intrigue,  he  stands  at  her  side  in  the  isle  between  the  bustling  counters  and  seating  section  with  a  brown  paper  bag  in  hand.   it's  contents  were  fairly  habitual;  a  go  -  to  sandwich  he'd  get  on  his  breaks,   and  like  today,  on  his  days  off.   while  he  might  know  her  by  name,   only  because  of  her  signature  scrawled  onto  the  thin  paper  of  the  receipts  she'd  leave  behind,  that  was  all  he  knew  about  her.  otherwise  the  woman  was  a  mystery,  though  a  kind  one,  like a hint  of  sunlight  peering  through  the  clouds.

CLOSED STARTER ... @grimmtale : THEO & CORINNE.

[shellshocklove]

TOM HOLLAND in UNCHARTED 2022 | dir. Ruben Fleischer

[lvndersbloom]

𝐟𝐭  .   seigfried eaton   (   @storybroke   )

"   seigfried.   "   wyatt   greets   in   turn,     "   don't   you   look   rather   polished.   looking   to   impress   someone?   "   they   glance   to   their   friend's   attire   with   traces   of   amusement   and   contentment   in   both   their   eyes   and   tone.   the   pair   have   known   one   another   long   enough   for   his   friend   to   know   of   their   rather   finicky   tastes,   and   so   wyatt   is   pleased   to   see   he's   not   even   mildly   offended.   well,   perhaps   at   one   aspect.   "   no   glitter?   after   all   this   time   i   hoped   to   have   worn   off   on   you.   "

[storybroke]

seigfried  had  to  admit  that  compared  to  most  days,  tonight  his  mind  was  awash  with  violent  waves  of  both  nostalgia  &  a  bitter  longing  both  of  which  he  didn't  understand—  nor  could  he  identify  the  source  of.  seeing  a  familiar  face  put  some  of  those  feelings  to  rest,  easing  the  startling  storm  in  his  head;  the  more  wyatt  spoke,   the  more  seig  could  detach  himself  from  such  feelings.  plastering  a  soft  smile  on  his  lips,   the  man  looks  down  to  the  silk  dress  shirt  he  bares  over  his  chest,   cinched  at  his  waist.   who  was  he  trying  to  impress?  well,  seigfried  supposes  there  is  only  one  answer   (  one  person  )  —  dia.  she  was  the  only  person  in  his  life  he  was  truly  hung  up  over.   something  about  their  parting,  to  put  it  nicely,  leaving  a  cold  chill  that  had  never  quite  left  seig.   "  just  trying  to  show  a  good  face  is  all  it  is.  and  you?  who's  got  you  in  a  snare,   anyone  you  haven't  told  me  about?  "

[whatstohappenallhappenedbefore]

It was odd, during her life she had probably been in this room thousands of times, and yet done like this she didn't recognise it. It was beautifully done, something she was unsure if they'd ever be able to repeat. "Wonder where they got the inspiration from. Only masquerade story I can think of, is that Edgar Allen Poe one... I hope it isn't based on that" she added with a soft laugh. "Oh, good question" one she hadn't thought that much about. All of this was just for the night, after this she'd likely never consider them again. "They are all very beautiful. Though I can't help but think some people seem to believe it makes them completely unrecognisable and they can do whatever they wish" that felt more dangerous.

[storybroke]

jack  had  to  admit  that  he  had  not  spent  much  time  reading  edgar  allen  poe,   or  much  classical  literature  (of  any  real  genre)  outside  of  what  had  been  put  on  his  summer  reading  list  for  his  online  classes.  that  being  said,  he  can  at  least  understand  the  tonality  which  was  heavily  imbued  within  the  authors  writing,   and  agree  with  the  woman's  sentiment  of  not  wishing  this  particular  masquerade  ball  to  be  a  repeat  of  any  of  edgar's  writings.  still,  the  warning  in  her  words  weighs  heavily,   edging  there  on  something  that  jack  had  not  seen  before.  anyone  could  do  what  they  wanted  here,  tonight,  in  this  place  ...  " well you don't have to worry then.  all  i've  got  planned  is  to  drink  a  little  and  quietly  make  my  escape—  this  isn't  exactly  my  kind  of  thing.  "

[praedictas-deactivated20230624]

" it's warm? that's the best you've got? " auggie practically challenges, though he wasn't quite sure as to why considering he was barely interested in starting up a conversation with anyone in the first place. the bleach blonde was more than content with their spot at the bar, nursing the same drink they'd ordered three times now in the short span of time he'd been at the shindig. he wasn't sure why he even came, other than for the booze, which he could've enjoyed from home anyway. " word of advice, no one came here for bad small talk. "

[storybroke]

there  is  something  itching  under  his  skin,   clawing  under  the  surface  as  if  trying  to  escape  a  prison  of  flesh  and  bone  ...  he  can  feel  it  climbing  up  his  ribs  like  the  rung  of  a  ladder ( a child on a bean stalk ) ;   swelling  soon  beneath  his  breast  bone.  don't  let  them  talk  down  to  you,   not  here:   a  voice  says  to  him,   unfamiliar  yet  arousing  a  nostalgic  feeling  within  him.  "  sorry,  "  the  word  which  escapes  his  lips  is  spoken  with  little  truth,  "  i  don't  think  i  remember  asking  for  your  two-bit  advice.  "   eyes  sharpen  from  beneath  the  mask  as  he  speaks,  so  much  for  trying  to  start a conversation.