resining replied to your post “resining: “Sweetcakes?” Halva asked, in a tone that sounded...”
I was obsessed with the idea of baking bread around Christmas, and to this end bought a cast iron Dutch oven. While I was looking for one, I got the idea of Halva wheedling Sabine for a $1000 enameled cast iron cooking set for their second wedding anniversary. I can share the story with you if you want to read it, but it's very clunky for the first two-thirds, hence it never getting posted. X''D
uh yeah i want to read this, it involves baking in any way
I promised to write this as a gift for @resining months ago, but I’m really slow and I still don’t think this story is write and, as implied by the ‘part 1′ in the title there’s still a fair bit of stuff I’m gonna add to this, but I don’t want to fuss over this part any longer so I’ll just post this bit and wow this is a really long sentence and I should probably be quiet.
ANYWAYS, this is a crossover story between some of @resining‘s OCs and my own. It’s a bit of a mess, but Kol, Dovrun and Bogdan are pretty cool characters and I wanted to work with them. Ehh.
The Tattered Raiment was a quiet, unassuming inn located in the quiet, unassuming village of Nostre. It was quite unlike anywhere that Kol was used to, which only made the place more charming to him. An unfamiliar oldness clung to the place - quite unrelated to the history which permeated the very foundation of his home in Pranvere, Nostre had a well-worn feel to it, like a pair of boots taken hiking one too many times, or the dog-eared pages of a book too good to read just once. It had a way of making you feel at home no matter where you came from. This was something of a relief to Kol at present, as any semblance of comfort was a welcome distraction from the constant bickering between Dovrun and Bogdan which had plagued their journey thus far.
Even now, as they huddled around a rickety wooden table and finished off the last of their supper, the two brothers seemed incapable of stopping their incessant banter. It was beginning to give Kol a headache.
"Oh, you sweet little lamb," he heard Dovrun laugh, tossing his arm around his younger brother's shoulders. "Are you really that naive? Please don't tell me you've never contemplated such things -"
"'Contemplated'?" Bogdan snorted. He tried to shrug his brother from him, but to no avail. Kol could see the fury in Bogdan's eyes as Dovrun began to sway them back and forth in time to the bard's bawdy songs. "Brother, this is not a philosophical debate. This is just a sick mind fostering sick thoughts."
"What's so sick about it? It's a perfectly natural reaction," said Dovrun. "We're all young, full of passion. There's no reason to shy away from such thoughts. You mean to say you truly haven't ever thought like that?"
"That's no concern of yours, but -"
"Ohoho, now we're learning something. Kol, it looks like our little brother isn't quite as innocent as we'd first thought."
"Mm," said Kol. He was trying his best not to listen, but Dovrun only seemed to get louder as his goblet grew emptier.
"That was not an admission, brother," Bogdan seethed. "And if you would only let me finish -"
"Oh, yes, of course. I apologise," said Dovrun. "Please, do share with us the sick thoughts from your own sick mind. You've made it quite clear that my brand of filth doesn't satisfy you."
"Dovrun, so help me, I will hit you so hard -"
"Stop teasing him, Dovrun," Kol sighed, his head in his hands. "And Bogdan - please try not to kill your brother. It's tempting sometimes, I know, but I doubt the town guard would look on such actions favourably."
In truth, this did little to settle either of them, but at least it quietened them both just long enough for relative order to be returned to their bickering. It was like looking after children - although at least Kol's own were better behaved than these two. He had no idea how his mother and father had managed.
"What I was TRYING to say, before you started interrupting me," said Bogdan, "was that even if I did have such vile thoughts come into my head, I at least have the humility and decency not to declare it to the public."
"I see," said Dovrun, nodding sagely. "You keep your perversions closeted. Commendable, but one day you'll come to learn that honesty is the best policy - not to mention considerably more fun in this circumstance."
"You're impossible."
"And you're about as damp and dismal as moat water tonight." Dovrun's lip curled. He quenched the sourness with another swig of wine before turning his attentions to Kol. "As has our commander-in-chief. I fear the responsibility of our terribly important diplomatic mission is weighing too heavily on his mind - he's scarce said a word since we arrived."
'Oh joy,' thought Kol. Despite his best efforts, they were dragging him into their bickering regardless. He cleared his throat and tried to hide behind his tankard.
"To be fair, you haven't given anyone much room to speak," said Bogdan. "Wine loosens your tongue far too much - and besides, it IS a big responsibility as you say. Leave him be."
'Yes,' thought Kol, 'please leave me be.'
Dovrun scoffed. "An innocent flower AND wet behind the ears," he said, ruffling Bogdan's hair. "Tell him, Kol. Tell him of the 'grand importance' of our mission."
Sighing, Kol lowered his drink and resigned himself to the discussion. Dovrun seemed determined to pull him into their argument, and through experience, he knew that his brother's stubborn determination was not so easily defeated. It would be better for everyone if he simply got the matter over with.
"Fine. I'll explain. Bogdan," he said, turning to the youngest of his present siblings. "Father has no doubt told you of the nature of our mission."
"That's right," said Bogdan, his brow furrowed. "What of it?"
"Please, if you could just indulge me a moment... Just give me a brief summary of what our father has told you," he replied.
The slightest flicker of confusion crossed his brother's serious express. "All right," he said. "We have been charged with a message to deliver to the baron of Dyrav Nebe, an outpost at the edge of our governed lands..." His voice trailed away as Dovrun snickered. "I don't see why I need to recount our instructions. We all know what we need to do, don't we?"
"Yes, we do," said Kol. "But I'd like to hear it from you again. Please continue. And ignore Dovrun."
"Believe me, I try," Bogdan muttered.
"As do we all," Kol smirked.
"I have half a mind to be insulted," said Dovrun, grinning broadly. "I expect such jabs from Boggy, but you? I thought you liked me," he feigned wiping a tear from his eye. "You have wounded me, dear brother."
"Come now, you know what I meant," Kol chuckled. "Now please, do us all a favour and shut up so, ah, 'Boggy' can continue."
Bogdan glowered at them both. It was hard to keep back the laughter, but somehow Kol managed it. "I hate you both," Bogdan muttered behind a half-smile.
"We love you too, flower," said Dovrun. "Now, go on. I promise I'll be quiet while you tell us your story."
Grumbling, 'Boggy' continued. "Once we have delivered the message to the Dyravian baron, we are to survey the status of our guardposts and guardsmen on the border. Father outlined a few more details, but you wanted a summary. I tried to be brief," he said.
"So, tell me," Kol said patiently. "What about this mission seems important to you?"
Bogdan's jaw slackened just a fraction as he processed the question. His ears turned a delicate shade of pink. "W-well..." he said, "It concerns the security of our lands. There's nothing more important than our security, surely."
"True, true," Dovrun nodded. "And as we are all aware, our eastern border is by far our most vulnerable. After all, what lies beyond our Dyrav Nebe is truly horrifying. But... on a completely unrelated note, brother, I feel an urge to ask you. How's your geography?"
"What?"
"Your geography skills. I simply wondered if you could tell me... Have you ever seen a place called Dyrav Nebe on any of the maps back home?"
The pinkish tinge dappling Bogdan's ears had begun to spread across his cheeks. "... Not... Not that I recall, no. You're supposed to be our navigator anyway, why are you asking me?"
"Because if Father had spent less time filling your head with delusions of grandeur and more time telling you where we're actually going," said Dovrun, "you would know that Dyrav Nebe is a tiny, tiny village placed on our eastern border, neighbouring Ezragul."
Bogdan was turning cerise. "Oh," he said. Kol couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. Their father had been unfair to play on the boy's fascination with the heroism and romance of old stories and bardsong, though Kol supposed the truth would not have been quite so palatable.
Bogdan was no fool. It was common knowledge in Pranvere, even to the lowliest of serfs, that Ezragul was a firm trading partner with a long history of alliance with their domain. It was unlikely that Dyrav Nebe - or any of the eastern border, for that matter - would be in any danger in the forseeable future. The outpost was a remnant left behind from centuries before, little more than a monument to Pranvere's history, its purpose ornamental.
"So," Bogdan continued, his expression tangled in a mess of confusion, embarrassment and rage, "why are we going there, then? We're not messengers. And why did they need three of us? Did mother and father just want us out of their hair? Why all this trickery?"
"Because they knew you wouldn't come if they told you what they actually wanted of you," Dovrun beamed, sinking behind his goblet in mirth.
A look of horror flashed in Bogdan's eyes.
"What our dear brother is tactlessly trying to say," said Kol wearily, "is that... Oh, where do I begin?"
"Give it to him plain, Kol," said Dovrun. "Tell him that Father knows as well as we do that Boggy's as self-important as they come, and knew that if we told him that we're going to drop him off at military camp for mandatory training, he'd probably just sulk and be difficult about it."
"Military training?!"
Kol sighed. His brother's lack of tact was reaching legendary proportions today. "Yes, Bogdan," he said. "Dyrav Nebe's been a training ground for cadets for years now. We've all been sent there: Dovrun and myself went there when we were your age, as did our father before us - it's our duty as nobles of the realm to serve our country, and part of that unfortunately involves learning how to run a spear through a man's ribcage and going on a ten mile hike every morning for three months."
"It's awful," Dovrun teased. "And don't expect any favouritism whilst you're there - if your drill sergeant is anything like the one that was there when I was in training, he'll have you licking his boots clean before the first week's through."
To both Kol's and Dovrun's surprise, however, Bogdan's initial shock was giving way not to apprehension or disgust as they had expected it to - and as their own reactions had been when it had been their time to visit Dyrav Nebe. Instead, he looked... thrilled?
"A soldier," he said, mainly to himself. His body almost visibly swelled with pride at the thought of it. Now that Kol thought about it, training to become a soldier fed in perfectly to his little brother's delusions of grandeur. "I see."
Dovrun could see that look in his brother's eyes too. "Oh dear," he scoffed. "Just you wait, Boggy. You'll see what you have to go through soon enough."
Bodgan huffed. "Must you always be so negative about everything?" he said. "I'm sure it can't be as bad as you make it out to be. I'm still struggling to understand why this was all kept a secret from me."
"Simple," said Dovrun. "If we had told you about it any earlier, you'd have enough time to realise just how awful it's going to be for you."
Their little brother pouted, clearly gearing up for yet another argument.
Kol had had about enough for one day. "Right then," he said, easing himself up to his feet. He put his hands down on the table and exhaled sharply. "I think I'll head to bed. I've got a long day of putting up with you two whining ahead of me."
"You have us all worked out," Dovrun laughed. "Fine then. Don't wait up for me."
"Don't worry," said Kol. "I'm not planning on it. See you two in the morning."
He made his way through the maze of tables towards the door leading to the rooms upstairs. Thankfully, they had already paid for their beds for the night - his tiredness was fast overcoming him, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps his brothers would have stopped bickering by the morning, though it was probably foolish to wish for such a miracle.
A small hand gripped his arm as he passed. Kol turned and was greeted by a broad, confident smile and a handshake that caught him off guard. A slightly built elven man held tightly onto his hand. "Kol, is it?" The delicate little man in front of him said cheerily. "So nice to finally meet you, I'm a huge fan."
Kol wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. He'd met people who knew of him, of course - as nobility, it was only to be expected - but he'd never been approached like this before. "A... fan?"
"Yes, of course," said the elf. "Big fan. Huge. The hugest, I may even go so far to say. Is 'hugest' even a word? I doubt it. Never mind. All that matters is that I am a very, very big fan, and I am completely and utterly humbled in your presence." He said all of this very fast, as though the words were unable to pour out of his mouth fast enough for his liking.
Something didn't feel right about this. With effort, Kol retrieved his hand and massaged a little blood flow back into his fingers. "I'm sorry, ah..."
"Ah. Yes. A name." The elf took a step closer to him, still beaming. "Sorry. I get ahead of myself. Don't worry, I definitely, _definitely_ have a name. And that name," he paused, "that name," he said, taking a deep breath, "is definitely... Legolas. Yes. Legolas. That is absolutely my name."
"Are you sure about that?" Kol peered at the elf. Something really was off. His hands instinctively sought out his coin purse. It was still there, for now. He thought it best to try and keep it that way. "Anyway - my apologies, ah - 'Legolas', but I am weary this night. I'm in no fit state for conversation, I fear. Maybe another time..."
"Nononononono!" The elf grasped at his hand again, but he wrenched it away before the little man could get a firm grip. The sudden desperation in their eyes was startling, and put Kol's nerves on edge. "Please," the elf coughed, blinking away his sudden outburst and masking it again with the same unwavering smile. "I mean, uhh... I've waited so long to see you, I can't possibly go another moment without engaging you in a deep, meaningful, and above all very long conversation."
"Look," Kol sighed. "I'm not in the mood for this. I've tried to be polite, but perhaps I should be a little more plain so as not to confuse matters. I don't want to talk to you. And if you continue to hassle me, I'll have no choice but to -"
"Have me thrown out? Have me arrested?" The elf's eyes lit up. "I mean, that would be awful. But of course, if things come to that, then I suppose I'll just have to comply with your wishes and be sent away like the fiendish ne'er-do-well that I am."
"Look, just... Leave me alone, please," said Kol, exasperated and confused by the elf.
"Making a new friend, are we?" From across the inn, Dovrun raised his goblet and smiled. He ambled over slowly, Bogdan in tow as they came over to see what all the fuss was about. Dovrun squinted at the elf as he approached. "Hmm. Do I know you?"
The elf looked from Dovrun to Kol, then back again. He ran a hand nervously across his mouth. "N-no, probably not," he said. "I'm not exactly well-known around these parts. I mean, that is to say," he puffed out his chest, "I'm not a well-renowned celebrity such as yourself and Kol here. And..." - he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Bogdan - "... your little friend there."
Bogdan was clearly not impressed. Dovrun, however, looked absolutely tickled. "I like him," he said. "Can we keep him?"
The elf's eyes lit up at his words. "What, is that legitimately an option here? Because that would be fabulous, honestly."
"Please don't give him ideas, Dovrun," Kol sighed. He turned to 'Legolas', still trying to work out exactly what was going on in the elf's head. He had expected the presence of his brothers to scare off a thief, so perhaps the elf's intentions were genuine - or at very least not posing a threat to them. Regardless, the situation was still making him uncomfortable. That almost unshakable smile was hiding something, Kol was sure of it, and he wasn't convinced he wanted to know what that something might be.
"I don't know," said Dovrun. "There's always room for one more. He hasn't hurt you, has he, brother?"
"Well... no, but..."
"We are not picking up strangers," Bogdan interrupted. "Especially not this one."
"You're just bitter because he didn't know you," said Dovrun.
"You're mistaken, brother," said Bogdan haughtily. "I'm not so vain as expect my notoriety to precede me, unlike yourself."
Dovrun scoffed, ruffling his little brother's hair. "I can tell when you're jealous, Boggy. You're not fooling anyone."
As the pair descended once again into their argument, Kol quietly observed his unwanted companion. The elf was watching his brothers merrily, seemingly unfazed by their ability to turn any situation into a chance to sling mud at one another. The blank smile was still plastered across his face. For just a fraction of a moment, Kol saw the elf's eyes flicker across the inn, his expression straining a little as he did so.
Something in Kol's mind clicked. He looked over his shoulder at the tables behind him, and from among the crowd, he caught two pairs of eyes looking in their direction. His heart sank as he turned back around. "I think we're in trouble," he muttered to his brothers.
Dovrun cocked his head. He held a hand up in an attempt to silence Bogdan, who was in the middle of berating him. "Sorry, what was that?"
"We're being watched," Kol told them. He nodded at the elf, whose eyes were growing wider as he spoke. He clamped a hand down on their unwelcome guest's shoulder "Either that, or they're watching him."
"You see?" Bogdan didn't miss a beat, still glaring at Dovrun. "And that's why you shouldn't invite random strangers to join us!"
The elf's hand clapped Bogdan's arm, still wearing his same forced smile. "Please shut up," he hissed through his teeth. "They'll hear you."
"And why should that bother us? It looks like you're the one in trouble," said Dovrun.
The elf turned slowly to face him, his lips pursing, his eyebrows raising dangerously. "Well, I suppose I can forgive you for thinking that," he said.
Bogdan glared at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
The elf's smile returned, this time looking a little more genuine than it had before. "Well, you see, I've run into a bit of a disagreement with those two gentlemen over there - no doubt big brother Kol has spied them," he told them softly. "It's only a minor financial issue, nothing I would consider serious, though I'm not sure they agree with me, on account of the multiple death threats and failed attempts on my life. But, um... yes. Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to be bored by all the details."
The brothers looked at each other. It didn't look like Kol was alone in his confusion. "So," he puzzled aloud, "what does this have to do with us?"
"Ah, well, there's the thing," said the elf. "This is my last chance to settle the issue, but unfortunately there's a bit of a problem with me paying those nice men back the money I... acquired. That is to say, I neither can pay them back, nor do I want to. So naturally I told them that I was going to meet a business partner here who could settle matters with them." He beamed at them.
Whilst Bogdan looked as though he was resisting the urge to strangle the elf, Dovrun suppressed a chuckle. "You mean you want us to pay your debts for you? Well played, sir," he said. "I like your style."
"Are you mad?" Bogdan hissed. "I don't care what you think of it, we are not paying for this man's foolishness. This is blackmail! We should have the guard take him in, or at least leave him at the mercy of his associates..."
"Calm down, brother," said Kol. "No one said we were going to pay his debts for him."
As he spoke, however, he could hear the whine of wood on stone as the two men rose from their seats. Heavy, angry footsteps thundered from behind him.
"You know, they probably weren't expecting payment anyway," said the elf. "On account that I've pulled the same scam on them about three times now."
Dovrun snorted. "Kol, I think I'm in love. This elf is priceless - are you sure we can't keep him?"
"Oi." A coarse voice seemed to fill the room as the two men approached. "'Aruwyn. Yer mates got our money for us yet?" Kol could hear swords being drawn, and the calm chatter of the inn fell eerily silent. He didn't want to turn around. "Or d'we 'ave to persuade 'em?"
"On the plus side," the elf mumbled, "I couldn't help but overhear that two of you good fellows are military trained. And you're looking to follow in their footsteps too, I hear," he said, smiling weakly at Bogdan. "Think of this as a little training exercise."
Not really following on from this post, but still part of the same project. Blame resining.
This is more of a character discussion than the last snippet, which was my attempt at being much more plot-driven.
Erm.
The Lady-Child pursed her lips at him. "I could have you executed for disagreeing with me," she said. "You are not in your homeland any more. Here, you are less than a person, and more importantly, you belong to me."
Kain wiped his mouth as he rose to his feet. He looked down and saw blood smeared across the back of his hand. "That's quite an arm you've got there," he muttered darkly. "You're tougher than you look."
"It rather helps that you lowered your guard. Nothing hurts greater than having a woman strike you down, especially when you're such a big, strong soldier," he sneered. She raised a finger to his lips and dabbed away a little of the blood.
"A woman can fight as well as any man," said Kain. He grit his teeth as Dia snickered at him. She rubbed the last remnants of his blood between his fingers. "'Tis only a surprise that such a soft brat could be such a brute."
"Oho! You think me soft?"
Kain gave a rare smile. "You don't take offence at being called a brat?"
"Why should I take offence at that?" Dia laughed. "If I called you a muscle-brained idiot, would you take offence? There is no point in denying who we are. But soft? You truly think me soft?"
He did not look at her. He could feel him smiling at her, her eyes searching out his own. "What is a noble who purchases slaves and lounges in the midday sun if not soft?"
"Aha," said the Lady-child. "How very literal of you. You see, Kain? You truly are a muscle-brained idiot. You look at a person and you see the body, the actions, the scene. Like a child watching a show of puppets, you see the fools dancing, but you do not watch the strings. If you see me soft, perhaps I should take you to see the manticores caged in the courtyard so you can tickle their underbellies."
"You think me naive," said Kain.
"I think you delightful," she corrected him. "Dumb as a rock, but a beautiful treasure in my collection."
He shook his head. "I am yours in coin alone. I am not your treasure. You have my service because you had my price."
"But of course," said Dia. "You are your own man, with your own thoughts and feelings. I cannot rule your spirit any more than my mother can rule my tongue. But I do have your service. And for now, that is all I desire."
"That is a relief," said Kain, "for service is all you shall receive."
A little while ago, I was reminded by resining of a couple of my older characters. I started working with them again, and it’s starting to grow into a fairly decent idea. I haven’t done a whole bunch of work on it, and it’s completely unfinished, but I thought I’d post a couple of my rough ideas here just to get them out of my head.
(Also resining keeps hinting that maybe I should post some writing stuff, so here it is).
I’m posting this largely out of context, just because trying to give satisfactory explanations for where these characters have come from would probably take me months, if not years.
The hot midday sun beat down upon the dusty training yard. Dia wiped a thin film of sweat from her forehead and took a goblet from the table beside her. The black grapewine cooled her throat, though she knew that the pleasant feeling it provided would not last long in this prickly heat. Even in the shadow of the canopy that had been erected for them, she was sweltering. Her parents and her family's attendants seemed to be suffering just as much - she could see the sweat beading on her mother's face and dripping off the end of his nose as he talked with their host, and her father was currently lying motionless on the chaise longue that had been brought out into the yard for them.
The had received a request to visit the military encampment a fortnight before. General Mantra had informed them that, with Ahranya's recent victory against the neighbouring nation of Borokov, they had acquired a wealth of slaves - too many, in fact, for the usual stockades to hold.
After careful deliberation amongst the military officials, the Borokovian prisoners had been divided by skill and usefulness: the civilians now dwelt in the stockades to be claimed by the dignitaries of Ahranya as they saw fit, whereas the soldiers that had been captured had been sent here, to stay in the barracks of an Ahranyan army troop while military operations were drawn to a close back in Borokov. However, this only solved the problem momentarily - they had called upon the Scarlessas to discuss a more permanent solution.
Of course, very little of this concerned Dia. She preferred to keep abreast of political developments, which was the reason why she had agreed to come with her parents on this visit - but at present, her input in such an argument was almost negligible. So, instead, she had to sit and wait and sweat herself to death while her parents went around in circles in their discussion with General Mantra.
"Tedious," she muttered under her breath. Her throat was already growing dry again. She took another sip of wine and stared idly across the yard at the slaves working in a fenced-off area.
During their stay at the barracks, the Borokovians had been set to perform meaningless physical tasks simply to keep them fit for whatever occupation awaited them once their fates had been decided. Dia watched as the prisoners carried stones from one end of the yard to the other. It seemed a thankless activity, and the stones they were carrying were ludicrous in size. Simply sitting around in the simmering heat was enough to make Dia break into a sweat - she could scarcely understand how some of the prisoners were still moving.
Moving! She scoffed. Moving barely covered it. One of the prisoners she could see was a young man of sixteen or seventeen, only a few years older than herself, but clearly as strong as an ox. Though the stones were easily the size of a full child and no doubt many, many times greater in weight, the young man hefted each stone as though they were no heavier than empty barrels. It was quite a sight to see, made all the more enjoyable by his taut, lean muscles and the sparing leather clothes covering his modesty...
"Dia?"
She put her hand to her mouth and spluttered. "Yes, mother?" she croaked.
"The general and I were discussing betrothals," her mother said sniffily, clearly perturbed by her daughter's unwanted outburst.
"Ah," said Dia. She had mostly recovered now, not that anyone showed any concern. "Betrothals, of course. I do hope you keep the matter quiet around father. I do not think him so open to the prospect of harems in the royal court."
Her lady mother's dark eyes burned through her like coals. "Betrothals for our children," she snapped. "Though I pity for the man who shall have to suffer your petulance."
"As do I, your grace," she said, breaking into the smallest of smiles. "My manners are quite atrocious. Do continue, and please pardon my impudence. I am but a foolish child," she added. She hoped the venom in her glare was not lost on her mother.
She need not have worried. Her mother's eyebrows raised, but she did not flinch. A smile to rival her own crossed her mother's lips. "That you are," her mother replied. "I am glad to see that you are becoming self-aware, at least. With a little time and discipline, we shall have your insolence stamped out. Indeed, this is one of the many reasons why General Mantra and I were talking of marriage betrothals. The general here has a charming son, a lieutenant, and just about your age..."
But of course. Dia tuned out her mother's voice and returned her attentions to the prisoners in the yard, nodding and smiling occasionally to maintain the illusion of good manners. Of course a betrothal was on her mother's mind, she thought miserably.
Okay, so this is in reference to this ask meme. And for the record, resining is asking me to answer all fifty questions for Fancy, an OC I’ve posted about before on this blog, but not extensively.
To help me stay sane, I’m going to post this answer in two parts. Here’s answers 1-25. Hold onto yer butts, folks.
1. How does your character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence - literal or imagined - did the father have?
I haven't given a name or very much personality to any of Fancy's family members, but I think, out of all of them, she's marginally closer to her father than she is to anyone else. He's the local hairdresser in her hometown, which means he at least does something that she shows a vague interest in, but otherwise she finds him a dull at best. She doesn't hate him, exactly - I don't think she hates anyone in her family - she just thinks that everyone from her hometown were small-minded and completely lacking in motivation. If her father influenced her in any way, I guess it was through hairdressing? She likes doing lots of cool new stuff with her hair, and she learned how to do it through watching him work. Um. This answer is a train wreck and we're only on the first question.
2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have?
Again, Fancy finds her mother kind of boring. She doesn't consider her a bad mother, and she doesn't resent her or anything - she just wishes she was a little more exciting. I'm really not sure what kind of influence Fancy's mother had on her, other than maybe she taught her how to cook? And maybe fish? I feel like I'm really sucking at answering these questions so far. Let's move on.
3. Brothers, sisters? Who do they like? Why? What do they despise about their siblings?
Fancy has a younger brother who I also haven't named. He's a respectable guy, about two or three years younger than her, and he's being trained to take over his father's hairdressing business. Of course, all of this is super boring to Fancy who thinks that her brother is an insufferably dull young man who deserves to either be teased or ignored, depending on how close she needs to be to him. Sometimes she forgets he even exists because he is too boring for her genius brain to register.
4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient?
Her parents were probably pretty reasonable. I figure they'd let her stay out pretty late, and wouldn't have much problem with her going places or doing anything she wanted, provided it wasn't stupidly dangerous or in the company of the wrong kind of people. However, Fancy no doubt thought they were very strict, but that's because doing dangerous stuff with the wrong kind of people is her idea of a good time.
5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered?
I don't know how to answer this, mainly because it's not a matter of her being sheltered by her family. Fancy's inexperience with the outside world is due to just how tiny her hometown was - it's about two streets stuck together with just enough amenities in it to function as a settlement, and it's stuck in the middle of nowhere. There's literally nothing to do there, and the only real interaction the townspeople get with outsiders is the occasional deliveries from the city, and raiders riding through the town on the way to bigger and better places. It's because of this that she starts to romanticize the world beyond the town limits, and that's pretty much the whole reason why she runs away from home as early as she does.
6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?
Her parents cared for her well enough, as did a lot of the other townfolk. Really, I think it was Fancy rejecting everyone else because she wanted excitement, and clearly the people she grew up with weren't going to provide that.
7. What was the economic status of their family?
Her parents were respected business owners in her hometown, but considering how small her hometown is, I'm not sure how relevant that is. They had enough money to live without complications, so I guess that's a thing?
8. How does your character feel about religion?
Religion genuinely doesn't cross Fancy's mind. She's much too interested in getting herself in trouble to contemplate something so deep.
9. What about political beliefs?
Snoresville.
10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted?
Fancy can't read, so I guess that rules out book-smart. She's no slouch though, and she catches onto concepts pretty quickly, so I'd say she was pretty clever. She learns on her feet and is pretty insightful if she can be bothered to focus on something for long enough, but she's definitely not academically minded or anything like that.
11. How do they see themselves: as smart, as intelligent, uneducated?
She sees herself as a freaking genius, at least two or three steps ahead of everyone else. Of course, she recognises that there are people out there who are better than her at certain things, and she's not ashamed to admit that she can't read and only has a basic grasp of math, but she doesn't think that detracts from her enormous brainpower and super-clever plans. She also has no sense of humility, but that's another matter entirely.
12. How does their education and intelligence – or lack thereof - reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations?
She likes making up words to express ideas or feelings she doesn't know actual terms for. Also, she's picked up a ton of really cheesy speech patterns from the crappy TV shows she watched when she was growing up. Her speech is a minefield of terrible 80s catchphrases, and I kind of love it.
13. Did they like school? Teachers? Schoolmates?
She never went to a conventional school, and was instead taught the basics of survival and given other useful information by a grumpy old man who tutored the rest of the kids in her hometown. She didn't have a problem with them, but her education really didn't hold her interest. It probably didn't help that she was quite a bit older than most of the other kids in the town that were being tutored, or that her tutor was as deaf as a post. Or that she gets bored really easily.
14. Were they involved at school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected?
I really don't think they would have had these, but even if they did, she wouldn't have been involved very heavily. She might have joined a sports team if they had one, but she probably wouldn't turn up for half the time, despite being one of the star players.
15. Did they graduate? High-School? College? Do they have a PHD? A GED?
I really don't think that applies in her situation.
16. What does your character do for a living? How do they see their profession? What do they like about it? Dislike?
Fancy is a hired gun when she can get the work, but otherwise makes her living through general criminal activity, or the occasional legitimate part-time job when she can be bothered. She likes making a life through theft and other minor crimes because, hey, who wouldn't like a world where everything was suddenly free? It's a pretty fast-paced way to live too, and that's something she'd also enjoy. As for what she wouldn't enjoy about it... She wouldn't like the fact that some people didn't like her getting stuff for free all the time. Yeah, that would probably annoy her quite a bit.
17. Did they travel? Where? Why? When?
She skipped town with a biker gang when she was seventeen and hasn't really stopped since, so I guess she's been travelling for just over ten years when the story starts. She's been lots of places (read: I haven't planned everything out yet), partly because she was looking for fun stuff that caught her attention, partly because she was working with other hired guns and work required her to go all over the country, and partly because she was branded a public nuisance and has been on the run from the government for the past couple of years. She doesn't really know how to relax, it seems.
18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember?
Are we talking "far away from home" abroad, or "in a completely different country" abroad? Because she's technically never left her home country. Anyways, on her travels, she found numerous partners (some of whom will still talk to her), a lot of friends, even more people who want to kill her, a whole bunch of velociraptors who unfortunately died when in her care, lots of weapons, a stupidly important historical document that she sold on the black market, and a doctor willing to implant illegal performance-enhancing cybernetics into her brain. She only remembers the good parts.
19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?
I feel like I'm reiterating the same point over and over here, but I think probably the biggest revelation Fancy experienced was as a young child, when she realised that a whole world lay beyond the limits of her hometown. Everything she was familiar with in life suddenly seemed really dull after that. I'm really not sure how to answer the rest of this question.
20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced?
So far, she's joined a mercenary group and has been employed by numerous agencies to find stuff/blow up stuff/generally mess up stuff, which is pretty cool, but not exactly groundbreaking in the world she's living in. I guess she has indirectly played a rather large role in causing a whole bunch of political disturbance that will probably turn into some sort of international incident, but she doesn't realise it yet. There's a chance she might never realise it. It might not even be important. I need to write more on this to tell for certain.
21. What are your character’s manners like? What is their type of hero? Whom do they hate?
This sounds like three completely unrelated questions to me, but whatever... Fancy is largely void of manners, but she's friendly and well-meaning for the most part, so that kind of makes up for it I guess??? She doesn't believe that heroes exist in real life, but she's fond of TV show characters with snappy catchphrases and lots of sass. Does that count? And, uhhh... I find it hard to imagine her putting much effort into hating anyone. She might dislike a person, or get angry with them to the point where she'll purposely hurt or kill them, but committing herself to hating someone seems like such a waste of energy to her.
22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner?
Presently, her best friend is Dare, an ex-military dude made up by hexagonal-nuts who pilots a giant mech (Did I mention that half of Fancy's world is kinda made by Hex? Cuz it is). Fancy pestered Dare into being her friend over a couple of months, and after his instinctive hatred of her, they've worked out the kinks in their relationship and they get on pretty well. She's also friends with Chrys, who's an adorable cyborg, and Jackson, who's a super-smart scientist/cuddle-muffin. Fancy also has a strong relationship with Pleasant, a mercenary she used to work with before... stuff happened. Fancy's relationship with Pleasant is a weird one - she was originally co-workers, then friends, then lovers, and now Pleasant is out to kill her. I think that Pleasant is the closest Fancy's gotten to falling in love, but at the same time, I'm not so sure what kind of love it really is.Oh, and there's Brute. Brute's kind of a friend to her, I guess.Fancy's had her fair share of "lovers", starting with the raider she skipped her hometown with and just rolling from there. Not many of them last longer than a week or two - Pleasant's easily the longest relationship she's had so far - but that's partly down to her flighty lifestyle, and partly down to her getting bored of things really really quick. Her ideal partner would probably tick a lot of boxes that Pleasant does - they'd be both fun and patient, they would own a robot of some kind, and they'd be kinda thicccc*cough*
23. What do they want from a partner? What do they think and feel of sex?
Isn't this reiterating the end of the last question? Whatever. Fancy isn't looking for a deep psychological or emotional connection. Fancy is looking for fun, she's looking for someone badass, and she's looking for someone who's willing to put up with the massive amount of trouble they're inevitably going to land in simply by knowing her. And yeah, as I already mentioned, she would prefer something to grab onto. I think that's enough about that.Erm. Fancy is pretty fond of sex. She's very much into gratification, which sounds awful when I put it like that. Erm. I don't think she's very enthusiastic about having much of an emotional connection, and she's more likely to fall asleep than stay up and talk after sex. I... I don't know what else to say.
24. What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually?
Fancy doesn't really have enough time to engage in social groups and activities. I'm sure she's taken the odd dance class or something like that, but she's never made a commitment to anything of that nature. If she ever takes part in anything, though, she likes people to know that she’s there. Even if she’s not put in charge, it’s very hard not to hear her opinion.
25. What are their hobbies and interests?
Fancy likes watching Saturday morning cartoons, B-movies and grindhouse stuff. She's very passionate about music, quite talented at dancing, and she would love to play an instrument or learn how to sing but that takes way more patience than she could ever afford to give. She also enjoys cooking and fishing, mainly because she's had so much practice with both whilst she's been on the road. On top of this, Fancy likes socializing, meeting new friends and partners, making fun of other people, and telling everyone just how awesome she is. I'm sure I'm missing out loads of other stuff she likes doing, but those are the main things I can think of at the moment.
*gasps for air*
And that’s this part done. Stay tuned for more of this... whenever I can manage it.
jackalope: do you have any conflicting characteristics? what?
Probably lots, but everything’s flown out of my head at the minute. Uh... I’m quiet and reserved most of the time but generally won’t shut up at the worst times? I crave attention but also fear people trying to get close to me? There is probably so much more about me that’s conflicting and contradictory, but I honestly can’t think.
jersey devil: what are your least favorite sounds?
Babies crying, people scraping blackboards with their fingernails, my voice recorded and played back to me... Basically anything that’s really grating and a higher pitch than I would like.
wendigo: would you rather eat human flesh or starve to death?
I’m not sure. Depending on the particulars of this scenario, my answer to eating human flesh would range from “no way” to “I’m really not sure”. I mean, do I have to kill a person to eat them? If so, I probably wouldn’t. If there was a very important reason why I needed to survive through this? Then I might do it, but I’m still not sure. I genuinely don’t know, but I think I’m tending towards starving rather than eating a person.
