Discover Top Posts Tagged with #guerra open

* the greedy lamb

Zheng had seen the world change in the blink of an eye. It was not the work of magic, nor the messianic intervention of miracles. It was the work of man, driven by the will of man, whose relentless struggle against himself had transformed him into the new babe of the next era. And the cost of this new life came with life itself, with prayers and miseries unanswered, with virtuous desires sacrificed for an experiment of dreams. The countless pages of history written in blood of generations past were flipping before his eyes as he surveyed the city of Rome from its highest castle. In this permeating peace, Zheng could only imagine the copious sacrifices made to build this kind of world.

An entire jug, Zheng decided. Tonight, he was going to drink an entire jug of liquor for all the lives that had been offered to create the Rome of today. It deserved much more, but Zheng would have to make up in quality instead. There was no holding back. He summoned a ceramic jar of the finest brewed liquor left in his mausoleum and brought out a set for drinking. He filled one cup and left it by his side, its transparent surface aglow from the moon, and raised his own, mirroring the same effect.

"Accept this unworthy gift, o people of Rome! This old man who cannot even name himself is brazen and insolent, having come here to endanger the land and people you've fought to protect for a mighty, selfish wish! My sympathy would be words no different than a pretender's; I am bare before your judgment. However! Be the witness to this oath alongside my shameless greed: I will not lay a hand on the innocents. None, without exception, will be allowed to defile the noble sacrifice you've laid for the carnage in your time. No man or spirit - not even the Grail I seek - will make me bend over and accept anything other than this!"

He raised the cup higher and, for a moment, froze in the position. His hair whipped from the breeze in the high altitude, but the more the wind tried to chill him, the more his resolve seemed to grow and take root. Zheng took the liquor to his lips and slowly drank in his baptism.

#the greedy lamb #ic #guerra open #[LEZ DRINK]

Wish upon a coin and throw them down a well.

Keep this wish a secret, don't ever tell.

...and its bound to come true, huh?

Cheria felt a sigh escape her lips as she looked down at the quarter on her palm. The idea used to be romantic to her. How a simple fountain or well could grant you one wish. Now here she was, at a war where she was given the same privilege, in exchange for getting rid of all those who stood in her way.

I guess...things don't really come that easily do they?

Frustration bubbles up from within her, and she throws the coin as hard as she can, sending it in the direction of the Trevi Fountain.

She may have been thinking too much, or perhaps she was not able to control her strength that well. For what happens after is that the coin is sent hurtling past the fountain, the crowd of people gathered around it, and finally, hits the brick wall of a nearby church. Despite it being a mere coin, it had embedded itself deeply in the same way a powerful bullet could have done. Then again, not even bullets could accomplish that feat.

Startled, the pinkette awkwardly coughs, her face roughly turning the same color as her hair. She just hoped that no one was able to notice that superhuman display of strength...

#the birth of railgun cheria #guerra open

o1 . emotive pianist

Cheria turned her attention to the piano in front of her, lightly fingering the edges of the expensive looking instrument. She couldn't believe that such an exquisite piano could be played by anyone for free. The houserules of the hotels of this world were quite different from where she came from.

She looked around, before shyly sliding into the seat and setting her foot against the pedal by the furthest left. Her fingers settle onto the black and ivory keys, a sigh escaping her lips as she gently presses a finger against the middle C.

-and just like that, the melody starts to form. Pressure makes the mood and timbre rise and fall, sweeping the beautiful melody through the quiet hall of the hotel. The music sheet displayed before her was of a foreign tune, entitled: Waltz Op. 70 No. 2 in F minor, a piece created by a gentleman they call Chopin.

Even with the thoughts of the war burdening her, the gentle melody takes her away. Her heart gets lighter with each key she presses, and a smile graces her features for the first time since she arrived in Rome.

"Oh..."

From her peripheral vision, Cheria could see a crowd forming from behind her, enthralled by her performance. She felt her cheek heat up in embarrassment, but went on concentrating on performing the song properly for her audience all the same.

Huh...? Wait...this feeling...

While it was true that a group of people watching her play made her feel uneasy, another unexplained feeling creeps up her very being as she feels a certain someone's gaze on her among the crowd. Cheria looks over her shoulder, but there was so many people that had gathered that it made it hard for her to pinpoint who it was.

There was only one thing she was sure of however, and that the person in question who was giving her this queer feeling is involved in the impeding war about to taint the whole of Rome a scarlet red.

#guerra open

House Warming Gift

In a quieter, but not too distant corner of Rome, a warehouse burned.

While on a smokey smolder externally, inside the blaze was considerably more fierce. It was something to keep the 'authorities' a little further behind, but she was hoping the her burst of prana would be what really drew in her target audience.

She stood leaning against one of the diminishing number of beams not infested with flames. Surrounded by dancing heat and looking down from beneath her hood, she caught a glimpse of the mark the Holy Grail had bestowed upon her. She smiled, and then she threw her head back with laughter.

Had that hag seen this coming? Hah! The lost one, well what I'd give to see her face now, that's almost worth a wish itself.

A ravaged support fell from the ceiling not too far from her, an eruption of embers flying into the air to drift down like fireflies.

So much for her sisters too, good riddance to all of them. Her brother would be all she'd miss, that poor soul...

But the past was the past, and who could even think about looking back with what lay before her. The Servants! She wanted to meet every one of them! And how dreadful she simply couldn't summon one now. But in her own way, that's what she was attempting here. Someone would notice the fire, someone would notice her. She almost didn't care who, just by being here, they'd be right in their own way.

Her soul burned with excitement, and the building seemed to shudder in response. What was that? Something sharp... Someone was out there.

Quelana traced a finger through the air playfully, beckoning past the blazing room. Fine and glowing text danced across the floor on the street outside:

-Come inside-

#guerra open #how could you refuse

* the goat song from the gardens of maecenas

No one quite knew what to marvel at the single-story structure that sat over an inclination at the crossing of the Via Merulana and Via Leopardi. The hotels, apartments, and diners coated in their modern city-look and pastel colors stole away the gazes of tourists from the unsuspecting historical setting that had been left alone like a dead light bulb in a glittery chain of Christmas lights. It wasn't until the touring group's pause and the guide's microphone voice would they realize that there was business to see in the area. Even Rome's citizens who had been passing through the street for half their lives would be surprised at the overheard piece of information.

Extending from the Gardens of Maercenas was its "banquet hall," sometimes referred to as the auditorium (erroneously so, according to some historians) where the ancient intellectuals used to gather to (maybe) read aloud with praise and reverence the literary works of their national poets. The tourists try to grasp the history quite literally: running their hands on its bland, bricked walls to compensate for the lack of windows to peek through and for the fact that entrance was only through prior appointment. The fossilized beauty inside were left to their imagination, often abandoned in exchange of the panoramic grandeur that lied elsewhere - everywhere else in Rome.

Those that sought to visit the inside were driven by the knowledge that hid in the shadows. It wasn't anymore impressive as it were outside. The remains of the half-sunken auditorium was not preserved and had seemingly de-aged back to its under construction form. The spiraling, rising stone benches were crumbling and the walls were dirtied and splotched. There were five niches across the topmost walls where faded frescoes of garden landscapes have disappeared into ugly window stains. Still, many enthusiasts continue to discuss in the auditorium and in their midst, a ghost was regaled by their stories.

Perhaps he had an unrefined taste, but he let it blow him away regardless. For a man that had lived for three hundred years to find artifacts that were far older than him made Blue feel young and naive; fresh to relearn the world and the innumerable lives that have established civilizations and cultures in many, many years.

He realized that there were more places of interest for him beyond this graveyard of the past, but that would mean using more of his mana, or going out in his own two feet. He knew there were other more like him out there and that his time here in Rome in an age way before his was not for sight-seeing. It was no dream either, but it wasn't as if he couldn't choose and turn it into one. There was always the path of inaction.

When someone had entered the auditorium, Blue assumed the caretaker had returned from his lunch. Sometimes, the caretaker would bring his five-year-old daughter and Blue would amuse her into chasing a small spot of light that the caretaker thought was a blue butterfly. They say children were sensitive to the paranormal, but it didn't seem like the child had any idea of his presence either.

He turned to the archway, opening his mouth to greet them even though they would not hear, just as they and the ordinary humans would never see him in his astral projection. Another pair of eyes looked back at him - directly right back at him - and Blue's red eyes widened.

#guerra open #the goat song from the gardens of maecenas #ic

♕ prima voce [Open/Intro]

♕ To claim she had never been to Rome would be a lie, she had been to many countries, cities, on a more business occasion. While this could likely constitute as business there was a grain of pleasure in this trip with arriving a month before the intended start date of her business. Her departure happened rather quickly, leaving most of her multi-million dollar business decisions and advising to her subordinates and investors who she was confident in, however it never ceased to light up her phone with notifications that she would casually glance at. Although she claimed to be so trusting, there was a part of her that couldnt relinquish all of her investment and responsibilities in her company no matter where on the map she was.

Glancing up, she took note of their proximity to the hotel in which she would be staying for the duration of her stay. The St. Regis Rome, a five star hotel that compounded a total of 14000.00 euros a night for her living arrangements. It hardly seemed like it made a dent in her budget, and the heiress thought nothing of paying the almost $560,000 U.S. dollars it would take to simply stay there for the month before the war even began. After all, it was only money.

With a soft sigh, she would lock her phone, placing it in her designer tote before she would dawn her sunglasses upon the private town cars stop. A brief exchange with the driver and the bellhop of the hotel, instructing them to take her things to her suite, while she intended to exchange some more currency.

As she set off, her eyes were alert of the people around her, taking note of them from behind the shield of her sunglasses, remaining on guard now that she was here in Rome. ♕

#thread; ♕ prima voce #guerra open #[hello hello!]

rain rain go away

the day is still young, young enough that the sun should be shining brightly in the sky, warming the hearts of those traversing the streets of rome. but today, it has been forcibly hidden away by thick, dark rainclouds, threatening to release their burden upon the wary populace at any moment.

it would be safe to guess that anyone with half a mind would be carrying an umbrella, not wanting to get caught in the definite downpour that is to come.

and yet, not everyone has that luck, as miranda is quick to discover once the rain finally starts to fall. she shuffles nervously, clutching the handle of her open umbrella tightly and watching as person after person passed by, not sparing her or anyone around them a second glance. which is why, she's the first to notice the girl, wet clothes hanging off her small frame and an absolute miserable look on her face.

hesitating for only a moment, she pushes her way through the crowd, coming to a stop next to the girl and holding her umbrella so that it covers the girl instead of herself.

" um, e-excuse me? if you want, you can have this - my umbrella, " she says, smiling what she hopes is an encouraging and not creepy smile down at the girl, who merely looks at miranda for a moment before nodding once and grabbing the umbrella. she says a quick thank you, flashing miranda a grateful smile, before disappearing into the crowd.

and leaving miranda alone, under the pouring rain, without an umbrella of her own.

she's drenched in seconds.

stumbling, she makes her way through the crowd, frazzled apologies leaving her lips, before she comes to a stop in front of a cozy, yet crowded, cafe. seeing no other option, she ducks in, standing in the doorway nervously for a moment, before heading over to a table with only one other person sitting at it.

hyperaware of how much a mess she must look, her clothes dripping wet and her hair sticking stubbornly to her face, she asks, " may i sit here? "

#guerra open #miranda pls don't give people your things #this is kinda a mess i'm sorry #rain rain go away

The Same Game (Intro/Open)

"So, it wasn't a lie."

No false promises, no illusions. He was back, just not entirely. Manifested he looked down at his gauntleted hands, they looked and felt real enough, but he was not truly alive. Not at the moment, anyway.

But that could change, he could be alive, and so much more. More than he had ever dreamed, even when he glimpsed into that box and his whole world changed.

The time was different, but he knew what he needed to. They tried to hide magic now, and the world wore a mask of peace. But these mages, they were not so different from the Summoners, calling in champions to do their battles.

At least these ones will take to the field, that'll be interesting.

He clenched his fists and looked to the calm sky, soon it would look down upon a bloody slaughter, Zed almost couldn't wait. What kind of champions will these Servants be? Marksman, Casters, Assassins; he had cut the life from a wide variety within the League.

But in order to defeat them, his spectral manifestation would need to be sustained. He had long since become his own master, but a prana supply was a necessity. What kind of Master would he meet? They needed to be ruthless. A weakling would not suffice, they needed the drive to win, and with Zed's particular set of skills, they had to be willing to put victory first.

And almost on cue he felt a pull, a tingle. Someone was close, and they were not one of these cattle.