#honourateventide

[faerie-apples]

A memory associated with a certain location.

Ryugo vividly remembers the day that Kirisame declared that they were going to be best friend from then on. It was a courtyard in the southern marketplace where all the kids would round up to play. The other kids laughed at him saying “That’s not how you make friends!”, but Ryugo and Kiri have been friends ever since only being separated for reasons out of their own control.

[pettankoprincess]

honourateventide replied to your post: oK I gotta stop cause there are so many old pics...

I feel that. A lot of friendship lost since HW.

Yeah there are only like two people that I met from the beginning that I’m still friends with (not including new friends obviously)

[voidlordfebreze]

honourateventide

Did you mean: Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca? ;D

👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

[sylvan-rain]

honourateventide replied to your post:One of those days where I really consider just...

Don’t. You have fantastic talent and you display it in such a raw form. It’s unique and in your face. Keep pursuing.

Thank you. That really means a lot. I see so many other talented artists and I think “they’re so much better” or “I should lower my prices”. I wish I could figure out working with digital but I just can’t seem to get it down, and I really love working traditionally. I just feel like I need to be better.

[honourateventide]

"What star shall guide thee forth, for the desolate land, riddled with decay, awaits. What warmth is sought? For already the sun hast been chased away, and in her passing darkness lays."

“Alack, the rustic summers of mine youth, their throats slit by winter’s cruel scythe. The red behemoth brought with him eternal cold. Egad! Many a monument left in its devastation, they clepe to the fore, of harvest bountiful and prouder days. I stand, athwart to mine life spent in ruth. I shall seek out thee, summer and return thee to whence you came.”

[honourateventide]

"Child of winter, oh how the summer hast fled thee, and long did she travel that the snow shall not reach her. She prays that breath finds thy lungs easily as of late, that no longer does the frost kiss thy lips and torment the flesh. Son of Ishgard, I pray that no ill fell unto thee. I know that mine name would not grace thy lips, for thou hast called me by another, but I remember thee."

Cobblestone walls were lit dimly by a collection of teacup candles, their solemn performance cut short by an assault of short breaths. Galaihaurat shot up in his bed, a modestly sized cot dwarfed in appearance by tattered bedding, bedding once made splendor. A cold sweat encompassed Galaihaurat, limbs trembling in quiet anticipation for the worst. Anxiety overruled cognition, but one thought kept him from delirium: Her eyes… but forests of amber hiding sunlight.

One Week Ago

“She rescued you, Galaihaurat. Returned you to the loving arms of faith and hearth out of the goodness of her heart, let that be thanks enough that Her Fury deemed necessary to send such a benevolent spirit,” Rochefogne exclaimed. Galaihaurat, against the better wishes of his father and weakened from the ravaging of dragon’s nail and wintry winds made demands to leave the Holy See once again in search of his benefactor.

“Is this how the Oraguille repay debts, father? Tuck’d coattails and a nest at the hearth? Nay! Forsooth, I value the romance, peradventure, of finding one, my protector? But to think me rescued by maiden forlorn, fain’d to lay mine eyes upon her! A short life in the saddle father, not long by the fire! Her passing of perfection to redeem my failing ways… A gift of Her Fury…” his voice resonated throughout the room, his excitement tearing through the muffling of hoarse vocal cords, “I fear no breathing fiend, this will empower’d in mine breast, may Our Lady lend me sight of my savior soon!”

[honourateventide]

Leading Men - RP Profile

O’ giveth my faith, my youth, my sword, choice of mine heart’s desire.

Galaihaurat de Oraguille, noble firstborn under House Haillenarte.

Thirty-five years old.

Male

Six fulms, six ilms.

Wildwood Elezen

Fencer, wordsmith, hopeless romantic.

A Waxing Poetic

Standing tall, with poise and posture second to none, Galaihaurat measures a standard six fulms, six ilms. His physical appearance is that of a fair elezen: greyed hair falls upon blanched skin, touched by naught but the low light that resonates off Alabathia's Spine.

Rather androgynous, his jaw carries with it the strength of his forefathers in its setting, but his mothers lent it their softness in its curvature. His ears fan out moderately from their temple, to which their points curve ever so slightly. His cheekbones pronounce themselves at an angle, granting his jowls just shading. His eyes carry a similar trait akin to the rest of his appearance, grey irises surround moderate pupils, a sea of iron amidst white skies. Cold and cunning, his gaze warrants not a welcoming demeanor.

Glory Make Proud

Born amidst gil and bread, blessed with claims deeply rooted in the succor of the clergy, Galaihaurat was fortunate in his upbringing. Privileged when forbidden to many of the Holy See, no expense was spared in the tailoring of the young master. Raised amongst peers such as Vhalken Sven Leingod, Alistaire Dietrich and his sister, Tinaviel Oraguille, the Oraguille household was no stranger to racial diversity, even during its waning isolationist years.

Enamored with his education to a near pompous point, Galaihaurat fancied himself a silver tongue and equally crafted turn of blade. After studies came time amongst the family Master of Arms as a squire; his future preordained, Galaihaurat would become a Temple Knight.

A Knight Errant

As age came so too did reprehensibility, the Dread Wyrm’s devastation laid low the once respectable house of Oraguille, now rubble and compost. A knight forlorn stalks Coerthas, his grasp to glory receding before his eyes, so does he wander, striking claim for the ‘good of Holy See’, only by many to be seen as a ghost. His honour set at eventide, against the breast of his fallen family.

The bestie @ladyrivienne inspired me to write up a profile and share it!

[honourateventide]

Perhaps he could feel it, the sudden emptiness of a twin soul. The whispers of his name upon lips that fell pallid while the light in her eyes faded. A smile still lingered on her face, one of a promise to forever watch over the soul that was redeemed through means of light and wisdom. Every step would be accompanied even in shadows, a warmth at his palm while a hand once more held to his. A last wish that forever shall her strength be given to the knight by the will of the Crystal. "Brother..."

Galaihaurat struggled upon the maiden’s steed, the soft kwehs reeling him in and out of consciousness. Eyelids fluttered to gain sight of Rivienne, to which he begged of another, “Shanarah… I’m sorry.”