Scion of Legend

My blogging hand twitches...

[swordhandhungers]

(( Hey, folks, Owain-mun here. I apologize in advance, but I'm feeling a little wiped from RPing, and I think I'm gonna be taking a break from my muses for an unknown period of time. I'm getting a bit behind on, uhh, being an adult with important things to do, so... yeah.

Sorry about the numerous threads I've left hanging. If/when I do return to these muses, I'll be sure to catch up, however!

Thanks a ton, guys, and I'll catch you all elsewhere. ))

[swordhandhungers]

On Owain’s doorstep is a gift basket waiting for him. It’s not much, but it’s still something for her cousin. In the basket are candies - peppermints, a box of chocolates, sweets from the bakery - flowers, a hand knitted scarf and two books - one about swordplay and the likes and a book about poetry. On the basket is a letter.

—-

To my dearest cousin,

     I was hoping to do more for you on Christmas, since you’ve been there for me during my dark times and my entire life in general, but I hope this will do for now. I will do my best to pay your kindness back entirely.

     You’ve been too kind to me, cousin. I still must repay you for visiting me on my, er, anniversary with the general. I was planning on spending it alone, but… your company eased the pain just a bit. So, thank you for that. I’m sorry to have burdened you.

     Your dedication and friendship is truly appreciated. Without you, I don’t think I would be here. You were my only family back in our time, and I will continue to protect you. I love you very much.

     Happy Holidays, Owain.

                                                         ❀ Lucina

-

Quietly, Owain sits on a chair in his house, turning the letter over and over in his hands. The scarf already adorns his neck, secured firmly yet comfortably. He sighs, shaking his head, with a wan smile on his face.

"Dear, dear cousin... even in your darkest days, your thoughts are still with others, more than yourself..." he muses, softly. The poor girl.

... not that he particularly minds. Lucina, after all, knows his likes almost better than he knows himself. Placing the food before him, he claps his hands together.

"Thanks for the meal."

[swordhandhungers]

(Otters holding hands)

"Hmm? … otters… holding…"

"Sweet Naga that’s adorable"

[imnotscruffy]

Send me something for my muse to Google on the internet.

[swordhandhungers]

ℒive long enough to become the villain.

"Pardon me, good sir. I'm afraid I'm a touch lost in this city... might you be able to direct me to a place where I may stay the night? I will, of course, pay you for your troubles."

The thug looks Owain up and down. Unarmored, in princely attire, and rubbing two very real-looking gold coins together in his hand. In fact, the way the man jingled when he walked had attracted the attention of just about every ne'er-do-well in the vicinity.

...

It doesn't take long for Owain to be lured into the trap. Directed along paths and roads, he eventually finds himself at the dead-end of an alley.

"... hmm. A dead end. I have to say, I am not impressed by your pathfinding skills, sir."

Faster than humanly possible, snaking around at an impossible angle, all of a sudden, Owain's sword hand is on the man's own. The man's knife, so ready to threaten Owain, is now at the throat of the hapless thief.

"I counted at least three on the way here that would have been more than sufficient for this," he whispers, softly, into the ear of the troubled man.

The man at knifepoint gurgles softly, as the hand pushes the switchblade to the man's neck, the keen edge tickling the hairs of his chin. The man is easily twice Owain's size, and yet Owain's single hand restrains him, holding him against the wall, pinning him between the stone and the blade.

"Peculiar to be on the other end of the knife, eh, rogue?" murmurs Owain, shoving casually with the knife, with the calculated precision to let the soft blade sink into the skin, but without the slice to sever, "Perhaps next time you'll--"

... the man notices Owain's expression harden, tracing his line of sight. The hand holding the knife is beginning to tremble, softly. Not with any apparent exertion of effort, but with... a hunger. And yet, Owain's face remains curiously detached, looking at the appendage as though it was a troublesome child.

"Mmm, consider yourself lucky," Owain shrugs, and slits the man's throat.

...

...

...

Drip. Drip. Drip.

And from the wound, three drops, of deep red, almost approaching black, drip onto the uncovered, trembling hand.

They make three little pools of liquid where they land... and then, very slowly, they fizzle, dissolving into the air as though under intense heat.

And, very slowly, the trembling hand goes still.

"What a pain."

[swordhandhungers]

1, 6, 8!

1. A song.

x

6. An element.

Definitely fire. Roaring to fury and cracking with heat at one moment, and then sizzling to embers the next.

8. A flower.

Answered! As it so happens, a dandelion. Because I didn't explain it well there, he's got a fancy name, he grows like a weed, and has extreme wanderlust.

[swordhandhungers]

8. A flower.

"Hmmmmmmmm."

"HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM."

"Nightshade!"

[rp-ask-box-memes-blog-blog-blog]

Weird metaphor asks (send a number to see what my muse would be if they were…)

1. A song. 2. An animal. 3. A food. 4. A location. 5. A season. 6. An element. 7. A color. 8. A flower. 9. A weapon. 10. A literary genre. 11. A weather.

[sidestuiff]

Leave 'Lived long enough to become the villain' to get a glimpse of my muse being a villain.

[swordhandhungers]

[swordhandhungers]

warning: do not shake

"Of course. How trivial!"

"..."

"... hnngh..."

"Hnnnngh...!"

"HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN"

"Impossible."

[swordhandhungers]

▽

"Don't write yourself off yet, young page. One day, perhaps, you will be as glorious a warrior as I!"

"... now, might you know how I might get this jar off my hand? There were these cookies in it, and I--"

[inboxideas]

If my character was wearing a warning label, what would it say?

[swordhandhungers]

▽

"Cousin… know that you can always count on me to help you, no matter how far away I may be. A thousand miles seems pretty far, but they’ve got planes and trains and cars. I’d walk to you if I had no other way.”

"Whenever you may need either shield or sword at your back, you need but call."

[swordhandhungers]

▽

Uh oh. It's the fuzz.

Owain looks casually left and right, as though trying to pretend that nothing was wrong... but then sighs, loudly, extending his hands towards the detective for the expected handcuffing.

"... a-alright, I'll turn myself in," he grumbles, softly, "B-But it was an honest mistake, I swear! How was I supposed to know that was a publicity stunt? That dragon looked really really real!"

Even as the words fall out of his mouth, he feels his credibility somehow slipping away.

"Ooh boy... no one can save me now..."

[swordhandhungers]

▽!

"Come on, we're going to play a game of foot-the-ball, right? We have to take our clothes off to have a good time!"

Owain has misunderstood the idea of shirts and skins. It's going to be very chilly in a few moments.

[roleplayaskmemes]

Send me a ▽ and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours.

1-100

Lyric based sentences, all from my playlist, meaning it’s incredibly varied. There’s gonna be a whole range in there, enjoy!

Read More

[swordhandhungers]

The ball's already in full swing. The music is pleasant, and the atmosphere is cheerful, while the chill of winter blows outside.

But then, slowly, slowly, eeeever so slowly...

The most stealthy of the ball-goers makes his appearance.

This ball is, of course, a trap. Owain isn't sure who has planned this trap yet, but he knows that he has to stay constantly on-guard. For now, he's been subtly moving around like a wolf among the flock, industriously scoping out the ballroom floor for potential locations for incoming enemies.

Well, that, and creeping around, pretending to be a super-spy.

Oh yeah. It must be the mask.