#ofmirrah

[samuel-of-mirrah]

The Vow

(( Ok, so this is going to be a MAJOR turning point in Sam's character. I will be now on be using the tags beforeLuca and afterLuca to dictate what Samuel you are interacting with. Oh man, this killed me x_x 

TL,DR - Sam found Lucatiel, but she didn't believe him and now he's gonna be super depressed for the next months ))

Samuel entered the cave slowly, the lit torch burning brightly as he surveyed the entrance. He ventured into this opening before, however he was more nervous than ever before. He caught word of her being here whilst exploring the Forrest, rumors of her assisting other undead through the Warf on their journey to the Bastille, only to watch the ship sail away and to await the next traveler. Stalagmites populating the entrance, the prince cautiously circled the room until he reached the familiar bonfire, sighting the familiar individual. She noticed him too, noticed how he froze upon setting sight upon her. Her voice was rough and distant, her words questioning, “What do you want, staring at me like that? You are a Mirran yourself, how could you be surprised to see another? Or…Is that the clothes of a corpse?” She sneered her question, pushing off from the walls, clearly angered by the visitor’s appearance.

Frozen by some force, not truly fear, perhaps nerves, Samuel could only release the torch from his grip, its light quickly extinguished by the cold, wet ground. His thoughts raced through the prince’s head, forgetting everything that he planned to say to the dame. “I..no.. Lucatiel… I-“

“How do you know my name? Answer me quickly, knight.” Lucatiel spoke quickly in return towards the man’s weak response. The possible Mirran seemed to recognize her, and she could faintly remember.. Curse this curse…

“My-my name is Samuel,” the prince replied, regaining some composure and determination. He was at the finish line, all he had to do was cross it. Taking another step forward, Samuel reached out towards the masked figure, “We were childhood friends. We trained together. I…I…lov-“

“Do you honestly expect me to believe your story?” Lucatiel spoke with a soft laugh, “I might have the darksign, but I would remember if I had childhood friends, and other than my brother, I had no one else. No one. Now leave before I take you as a hollow, I have no further business with you.” The dame knight stood rigid, moving neither forwards nor back.

“Wh-What..?” Samuel could feel his knees grow weak, as if an invisible weight was dropped upon his shoulders. But instead of backing down, giving up on his chance to show himself, a determination grew inside him, perhaps it was desperation to hold true to the vows he made. “No.. But I remember you, I loved you. All I wanted to do is be with you and help you any way possible. I remember you, and I remember Aslatiel, as well as the vow I ma-“

His fevered words were cut short as he felt the cutting air that surrounded the great sword’s sudden swing, narrowly missing the prince’s chest. He couldn't see past the mask he knew so well, but the dame’s anger and rage could be easily felt.

“WHO… Told you… His name…” Lucatiel spoke in a soft whisper, a dangerous tone. The glare hidden by Kremmel only tore him down more, but Samuel had to see this through. For better or for worse…

“Aslatiel, your brother. I knew him longer than I knew you. He was my best friend, my mentor. He made me vow to stay by your side, to keep you safe. Not only did I search for you for my sake, but also for the vo-“

“Did.He.Send.You.After.Me.” The dame’s voice was punctuated by short breaths, obviously trying to hold back her anger, her cold attitude now completely changed with that of pure fire and rage.

“Wh-What? No of course not!” Samuel cried out. He knew he was losing her, but he can’t turn back. Then it would have been all for naught. “No, I came on my own accord. Now please, Luca… Come with me to Majula.. You don’t have to be out here by yourself..” 

“I.. I don’t believe you, not at all,” The dame’s voice has begun to shake, now unsure of this man and her past. Her blade remained pointed in his direction. “You are some bandit of some kind, or someone trying to deceive me!”

“No, I am Samuel. I hail from Mirrah. I am to only son to the last King. I was taught to fight by Aslatiel and I fell in love with Lucatiel. I am not here to deceive you, only help. If you do not believe me, than cut me down where I stand, for this I am certain.” The prince spoke profoundly, the most decisive that he ever has been. Samuel began to once again walk towards the dame to prove point. His hands reached for the mask, he needed to see her face again, her beautiful face… “I love you, Luca-“

His soft words ended in a cry as steel met flesh, Lucatiel’s blade cutting through the leather armor. The prince merely fell to his knees, his eyes downcast, looking upon the mask of Kremmel that he held, a mask now being stained by his blood. He has failed, the vow he cannot keep. I am sorry Aslatiel…Luca… I am truly sorry…. I have…. nothing…

Craning his neck upwards, Samuel saw her. After twelve years, he has seen her face once more. A face now riddled with the curse, the curse that burned and twisted her features. THIS killed him, not the swinging blade coming in for a second strike…

—————————————————————————————————————

And he awoke beside the bonfire, lying on the cold stone that made Heide’s tower. The sun has set and the star gave of its light, reflecting off the waters. The peaceful silence was broken by a single cry, the cry of a man who is now nothing. No more purpose, no more meaning. He could be a hollow, but still somehow sane. Tearing the crown, a symbol of his vow, from his head, Samuel tried to throw the bone far away, the symbol now only a painful reminder. Hearing the bone clatter against the stairs below made him cry once more, heaving sobs as he tried to help himself up and away from the bonfire. His pain and torture of this failure will haunt him, most likely will turn him hollow. As the broken prince descended the staircase, he could feel some veins turning black, creasing healthy function. Picking up the crown, one fork now splintered, Samuel shoved the item into his bag. While he must keep it, he didn't want to wear it. 

He was the king now. A lonely king with his failures as his only subjects. Damn Kremmel and damn the Gods. Has he not endured enough trials? His face red, Samuel continued the lonely path back to Majula, the town of exiles. He will truly be alone, for the rest of his life…

[holder-of-the-fort]

ofmirrah

You are certainly no knight of mine. Not with that... unique headpiece.

If you are here to end my life, then make it quick. Otherwise a hand would be appreciated. These sharp planks of wood aren't as comfortable as they look.

[feevax]

ofmirrah

Her pious position earns her the business end of a greatsword pressed under her chin. Just the tip, but what a sharp point it has, coaxing the abbess to look up and meet the visage of a god.

Lucatiel is grateful for her mask. It hides how weary she’s become.

"You must be strong to have surpassed the Squalid Queen," the dame knight says, "Prove it to me."

{     Internally, there is instantly a harsh backlash of        fear and anxiety when she is met with sharp end       of the weapon: Largely because she is aware just       how messy this could end up. Not being able to        verbally explain oneself did tend to lead to common       misunderstandings of intent.

{    Backbone went rigid as though steel had been poured      along its' straight line, and she sucked in a breath that      compressed itself tightly between her ribs. {    Scant a movement was made, besides the tremor of      fear and emotion that flickered to life in brown eyes as      she hesitantly peered up. {   Her disc chime remained still, strapped to her dominant      arm, and she was painfully slow in dropping her hands      away, prayers rapidly forgotten.  {  Mask hid appearance away but tone was articulate and     definite in it's steadfast earnest. {   Her lips parted as she remained on her knees before      the mercy of this being: and in a moment, dimples      broke upon Feeva's chin as result of unhidden sentiment. {    Indeed: T'was not that she was not a strong woman;      Perhaps she was no pioneer of strength, but she could      hold her own, so long as faith was on her side---- But      this woman did not seem as those others she had plucked      out of the darkness of their degenerated humanity. {    She remained down on her knee, with expression        frozen on apprehensive compassion. This woman        perhaps her soul was fading: Feeva could feel it---       but she wasn't faded yet. She was human as of yet. {     And no human would perish so long as Feeva could help        herself. As such she made no move. Would she die for        a stranger? It was naive, certainly, but she would.         Not while that woman still had dreams, emotions, woes        and a name, would Feeva raise her hand against her.        Not even in friendly jest. {      Apologies, but I must prove my strength of faith, milady,         ---I'll not raise a hand against you.

[through-fire-and-archives]

clumsy. (drabble)

(( okay so there was this short little thing between lucatiel and laurentius and fiddling with her braid, and it became a discussion as to how adorable it would have been if that was Laurentius' first time in bed, so to speak, and I wrote a drabble about it. This is AU as hell, but I don't care. It's cute. Lemme 'lone. ))

How long had they been travelling together? Laurentius wondered; he couldn’t quite remember. It had to have been over a month by this point, for certain—but either way, when their little shared peck of affection had flared into a confused tangle of desperate grabbing and finding the nearest comfortable patch of grass, he was still stunned.

There was the dame knight, atop him; her mask and hat were discarded and she was busily sending her armor along to follow, between breathy kisses that left them both gasping for air. Laurentius, for his part, tried not to gape in astonishment—but that was proving difficult. The more she showed him, the more beautiful he found her: silvered moonlight played in her hair, glinted in her eyes, and glimmered off the faint sheen of sweat on her bared skin.

Lucatiel, on the other hand, found his obvious admiration adorable. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that was a near virginal reverence on his face, as his eyes roved over her body. Beyond the warm comfort she found in his friendly presence was something a bit deeper, a bit…hotter,she mused inwardly. Laurentius didn’t know it, but the knight had been stealing glances at him every chance she had—the fellow had the toned musculature of a survivor, and ever since that third or fourth night by the bonfire, when he’d shrugged off the upper half of his robes to use as an impromptu bedroll, she’d wondered what his scarred, bronzed skin would feel like beneath her fingers.

Now, as her hands worked those robes up over his stomach, she’d get to find out.

“Lucatiel,” he managed to say just before her mouth collided with his again; he felt clumsy, and nervous, and altogether out of his element—where should he put his hands? Should he apply heat? Should he buck his hips? But the presence of her tongue in his mouth prevented such awkward questions even if he had been brave enough to ask. The kiss drew on as her hands settled against his chest—by Gods, he was warm—and then her mouth wandered to his neck.

Her bent head, even through the haze of pleasure caused by her descent upon his throat, gave Laurentius a view of her braid, and he realized he desperately wanted to see her hair down. That was, in fact, where his hands finally went: tangling in strands of spun gold, attempting to undo the complex knots of her hair.

At first, the knight thought she’d unlocked some more aggressive side of him, the way he was tugging on her tresses—then she realized the erratic way he was pulling had little to do with establishing dominance and more to do with nervous fiddling.

She sat up, which didn’t deter his efforts; Laurentius now felt that if he failed to get her hair undone he’d look like a bloody fool (as if he didn’t already) and the entire exciting enterprise would come to a halt. Lucatiel sat atop him for nearly a full thirty seconds, letting him fiddle with her braid, before she canted her head to the side.

“Laurentius,” she breathed, “what exactly are you doing?”

“Trying…trying to get your hair down,” he returned.

“Worry about it later,” she murmured, guiding one hand away from her hair, and toward her chest. At the same time, her hips rolled downward, pressing against him and earning her a gasp of surprised pleasure—and the braid was forgotten, falling over one shoulder as she distracted him further.

                                             -------------

It wasn’t until after, when they lay together by the bonfire, sated, that Lucatiel began piecing his clumsy—but delightfully eager—performance together with that stare she’d received while she’d first straddled him.

The realization hit her with enough force to strike her eyes wide, and she turned suddenly in the pyromancer’s arms, causing him to look down and meet her astonished gaze.

“Laurentius,” she murmured, her expression somewhere between shock and amusement, “was that your first time?” 

[seinnicht]

"Why should I believe you?"

this meme prompt.

   The Last Bastille was a rather tiring place; the weight of it hung heavy on the shoulders of most she saw there, her self being no exception. Though she often took ease from the tribulation of others, it did little overall to heal her own discomfort.

   Her eyes landed on the feminine form before her and her pupils scoured the mask for minor details. Dust particles, flecks of dirt and speckles of blood. She found no unease within her when she looked at the remains, she simply blinked at their presence and allowed her train of thought to flit away.

  “Precious stranger,” She hummed lowly, “what benefit meeds me to speak to you otherwise? —— No, I never flout; I seek your assistance and I will pay you for it plentifully.”

[through-fire-and-archives]

Me: iiiii apologize profusely for basically aping your interpretation of hollowing

Lucatiel-Mun: that's fine

Lucatiel Mun: my interpretation of hollowing comes off that one guy in sen's fortress

Lucatiel-Mun: so you're aping off my aping

Lucatiel-Mun: we are literally a barrel of monkeys

[vengarl-of-forossa]

team-azure-knights, itchy-nahralma, softheartheavyhammer, ofmirrah, ask-aslatiel-of-mirrah are now following you

"My company grows evermore..."

[golden-bound]

۞

The pros and cons of having relationships with Lautrec

PROS:

They are very similar 

Makes an incredibly handsome couple

The sex is amazing

When they actually have tender moments, they are REALLY cute

Genuinely cares about each other to a certain extent, not that anyone is ever going to say anything about it

Would probably have excellent teamwork

CONS:

Maybe a bit TOO similar 

The butting of heads

and the sassing 

and the arrogance

and the fighting

and the violence

and the death threats

Possessiveness