#toa open

[taguelbunnyboy]

Taguel Behind Schedule

Yarne was not liking Garreg Mach. How could he? Threats of death were everywhere. Extinction looked like a more common risk here than it did even in the age of fighting against Grima. And that terrified the Taguel. So... what do you do when death is around every corner, and you are the last chance for your people to live?

You run.

Yarne had hid a lot during his time in the Shepherds. He had run away from battles, from allies, from enemies... a lot. But, he knew he couldn't exactly leave the monastery... then where would he go? He knew nothing about how Fódlan was geographically. So, Yarne had to think of how to run, without... actually running away. That was turning out to be harder than expected.

The monastery had a ton of hidey-holes. unused halls, halls reserved for the clergy, entire abandoned wings of the monastery, there was a lot there. Yarne even found a dark, and he means dark, section underground. But that looked like it poised even more trouble, so he left it be. At the end of his searching, he decided that... his room was best. He heard rumors that another student with similar worries of attack was allowed to just hide away in her room, so, Yarne figured, why couldn't he just do the same?

Yarne decided on his plan. He would hide in his room. He would stay out of everyone's way. He would attend the lectures he needed to, and gleam the rest from his textbooks. Now to learn how to read Fódlan's written language... oh Naga, this plan was flawed.

But, for the most part, it went relatively well. Stockpiling food was hard, but not impossible. Learning Fódlanese is harder than he thought it would be, but not impossible. But, as a taguel, staying in a "manspawn's den", as his mother would have put it, put Yarne into even more of an antsy mood. So, gulping down, Yarne decided that a late night walk could cool his nerves, trying to pick the safest paths in the late night paths of Garreg Mach, and hopefully not run into anyone... 

[magisolsmiles]

Open starter - anyone welcome!

Ewan was walking through the halls of the academy, taking in all the new sights around him. From the stone walls to the wooden spires connecting to a chandelier hanging high above from the ceiling, they were all new and exciting. Compared to both the humble houses in the mountain village or the streets of Jehanna, the monastery was luxurious and beautiful in a way he only got the chance to appreciate once: during the coronation of the twin lords of Renais. To think he would be spending days in these halls… he was truly lucky.

The only problem now was that in his admiration of his surroundings… he’s gotten hopelessly lost. The winding halls all looked similar, to the point where the red haired boy couldn’t tell on which floor he even was.

“Aw geez, I can’t believe I got lost… and on my first day here too.” he mumbled to himself, clutching his tome tightly. He still had a bag slung over his other shoulder with his personal belongings in them. He was trying to find the dormitories, but had little luck in doing so.

[rockroselazuli]

new experiences - new nerves

toa open, lapis arriving for her first day

Garreg Mach was a bit terrifying. Well, maybe more than just a bit.

Its towering spires and high ceilings made Lapis feel so terribly small, as though she would be trampled upon like an ant if she wasn't careful. All around her were unfamiliar faces. Rich faces, she assumed. Faces with status or money or fame or any number of things Lapis herself has never been within reach of.

Anxiety was taking quite a toll on her. Between blurred vision, nausea, and a touch of dizziness, she didn't have the best grasp on her surroundings. This was a whole new country with whole new societal expectations. For all she knew, the lie version of herself she built up back in Brodia Castle was useless. She had to start from scratch.

Lapis frowned as she looked down at her little map of the grounds. "Golden Deer classroom..." she muttered to herself, tracing a path with her index finger. "I'm here in the Entrance Hall... the classroom is over -- AH!" BUMP.

She ran into something -- or someone, she wasn't sure -- and was now on the floor of this fancy building, reaching for the map she dropped and attracting way too much attention.

"I'm sorry --! I'm so sorry... aaa..." Her face was completely red. Every part of her wished she could just melt through the floor and disappear.

[serraic]

A birthday, you know, is a very precious thing. It doesn’t come every day, of course. And though you may believe otherwise at first glance, it’s not something everyone so innately has.

Let me explain. For all the years of her life, Serra’s “birthday” was the first day of the year, just like all the rest of the orphans in the abbey. There were no celebrations to be had. She would simply be known, henceforth from the first of the year, as a year older. There was no fanfare, no excitement, no mere mention.

In fact, she’d only learned about birthdays when she was around nine years of age, and overheard townschildren plan exactly about theirs. Voracious as ever, she’d approached them and asked them what they were talking about. Of course, she’d only been mocked for her ignorance, but through their teases, she learned: it was a celebration that children with a family had, to celebrate them getting older.

“When’s my birthday, Sister Agatha?” she’d asked one day while walking back from morning prayer.

She’d been hit upside the head. “Foolish child, asking foolish questions. Of course we don’t know! You were dropped on our doorstep as a baby.”

“When?”

“When? When? It’s not enough that we feed and clothe you, we have to remember every minute detail about you, too? You’re clearly not grateful enough to Saint Elimine for what she’s given you. Go back and do your prayers over again.”

So, Serra thought, half-skipping back to the chapel, she didn’t have a birthday that anyone knew about. (After all, Sister Agatha was the nicest of all the nuns, and the one most prone to remember such silly little things.) ... Well, her parents knew, she was sure. Wherever they were, they celebrated it every year, and their hearts ached that they could not be with her. But until then, she had no day of her own, to set her apart, just like the other children did.

Serra was never one that could stand not having what everyone else had.

So, not content to suffer, she’d picked a day at random — that very day, in fact. Back then, it was a small secret, fostered in her heart and kept close, something to silently celebrate. But since she left the abbey and started her life, she’d done everything she could to make sure people around her knew of her day of birth.

Here in Fódlan, it’d be known as Verdant Rain Moon the 2nd.

This year on her birthday, though, she’d been too ill to do anything. She’d watched the day come and go from her infirmary bed, and now it was nearly the end of Verdant Rain Moon, and no one had celebrated her birthday at all. Not a candy, not a nice word, nothing.

So here she sits, in the courtyard of the monastery, sulking. She’s just about in the dourest mood possible. Not even the beautiful day can cheer her up.

[foxfirekit]

Fox in the Snow

toa open starter

It was cold, it was white, and it was soft. Three things that Kinu enjoyed. Though to be fair, the young kitsune enjoyed many things. Her attention could be grabbed by something one minute and then another in the next. Right now though she was chasing snowflakes in her fox form, her paws kicking up even more flakes of snow. Yipping laughter echoed around the trees of the forest the kitsune was playing in.

Snow and blue fox fire danced around Kinu as she played and she was enjoying every moment. Growing bored of chasing snow, Kinu crouched down and started to burrow into the snow. Pushing it aside and tracking a path forward. She seemed to wander aimlessly until she discovered something... or rather, someone to play with. Continuing her burrowing, Kinu "snuck up" on this someone with a grin on her snout. Once she was close enough, she jumped out of the snow, showering her target with white powder.

"Boo!" she exclaimed in her transformed voice, before she started rolling in the snow laughing. "Got you~!"

[melusinezephyr]

One of Us is Lonely, One of Us is Only Waiting for a Call [Open]

open starter!

Surely, it couldn't be too suspicious for a teacher of the academy to roam the halls late at night, various books within her hands, when no one else around. Forgive her for not sleeping, but she can hardly sleep a wink when there is far too much to do. She must do what she can, do what she could to bring Lord Sombron to this place. For what was she supposed to do without him? Live out her own desires? Ridiculous. There was so place for such things, she was Lord Sombron's servant first, before even herself.

Though, if a wayward student or fellow faculty member spotted the books she was holding, it was not the fact that she was out so late that would alarm them, but rather the topics at hand. She supposes that she could play it off as simple research, that a curious student had asked for advice about such things. She scoffs quietly to herself, that would never work out well for her in the end. That very well may make them only more suspicious. For what kind of student of the academy would be studying intricate dark magic rituals?

She startles at the sound of footsteps, quickly pulling the books to her chest to hide what they are. She couldn't have anyone figuring out quite yet what her true intentions here at the academy were.

"Oh, dear, what are you doing up so late? I had assume I was the only one, I'm such a curious woman, after all! But it wouldn't do most people any good to wander the halls near the library so... late at night." She smiles, hoping that was enough to throw anyone off her trail. And even if it wasn't, she would happily admit her true allegiance, not to that of the mousey man and his comrades, but rather to Lord Sombron. She would hide as long as she could, while doing her "anything for Lord Sombron" in the shadows. A truly loyal servant she was. Perhaps this time, if she managed to bring about his return he could finally grant her that selfish dream.

[aimlessarchery]

Armed to the Teeth — Open [Riding +1]

Python has spent over a year on this new continent now. Its twelve-month calendar was strange to adjust to at first, but he's beginning to approximate some patterns on his second go around. The Wyvern Moon, despite its name, sits closer to the Valentian season of Pegastym than the cold of Wyrmstym. The breeze carries a sharper chill, but not enough so to carry snow or ice. Some of the trees still bear fruits—bright green apples and the spiced ciders made from them sell for cheap down at the marketplace. The gentle breeze stirs the grasses of the pastures and tousles the fur of the most recent additions to Garreg Mach's stables, many of them stretched out to enjoy the afternoon sun. Python thinks they have the right idea. He has little room to stretch on his seat atop the fence that encloses the new arrivals, but the warmth of the air and the relative quiet make it a lovely place to relax. Two of the younger wolves wrestle in the grass, snorting and snapping their jaws in play-acted violence. Python watches from a distance, a pocketknife in one hand and an apple in the other. The blade cuts easily into the flesh of the fruit, and he hums in satisfaction at the tart flavor on his tongue. The roughhousing wolves switch to a game of chase. The pair rush toward the fence, tongues lolling, and Python has just enough wherewithal to grip onto his perch right before it rattles violently under the weight of a giant wolf's body barreling into its side—apple and knife both tumbling down in the scuffle. "Hey, watch it!" His protests go ignored. One of the wolves sniffs gingerly at the apple. "Aw, no, don't—" —And takes it into its mouth. He sighs as the beast trots off happily with its new treat, then spits it back out again to lie down and hold it between its massive paws. So much for finishing that snack. His gaze fall back to the ground below him with a sigh. He meets a pair of canine eyes. The second wolf has found a prize of its own—his knife, held between a set of sharp teeth. "Oh...no." He reaches a hand in; the wolf ducks its head in the opposite direction. Its tail wags in lazy circles as it lowers into a play bow stance. The wolf has a knife. The wolf has his fucking knife. He twists around to look toward the outside of the fence, locking eyes with the nearest passerby. "Hey. I don't mean to alarm you but we've got uh, a situation over here."

[viridescent-lance]

for the honor of the planning committee (ethereal ball open)

[ Make a Request ] - to your overseers to provide you with your favorite snacks and directions to the nearest bathroom put into place some of the careful plans that Garreg Mach employees spent weeks preparing!

Forsyth paces back and forth, shaking his head. The unique invitations! The handmade decorations! The trade routes they'd secured to ensure the delivery of various goods on time, and the layouts they'd painstakingly optimized for both ballside fun and ease of teardown...all for naught, right now.

He had taken great pride in his role on the planning committee, and these "elementals" had not merely wrought havoc and shrank the entire monastery population, but hijacked the Ethereal Ball itself! They hadn't even considered consulting the committee, and Forsyth's patron, the "Water" elemental, just isn't listening.

"At the very least, could we utilize the photography booth? We spent a fair amount of time, energy, and resources to have it present!" Forsyth did not expect to spend his night (the first of what may be an extended stay in these beings' dollhouse) arguing with a being composed of aquatic energy, but here he stands, speaking up into the sky to a voice he knows is listening. "You could shrink it and integrate it quite nicely near the dressing room in the main hall; there is a fairly unused room there that could be perfect!"

"I do not understand...we did everything we could for these mortals to have the time of their lives. We even took the pressure off you! The rodents care for the chores, while you can have fun! There is no need to worry, little one. Would you like some more sweets?"

A cookie manifests into Forsyth's hand, yet again. Brown sugar and chocolate chip, a favorite of his. He bites into it, chewing with frustration as he fixes the sky with a glare that says he will not be bribed, but he also will not waste food.

"It feels as if you are not understanding what I mean, with all due respect." Forsyth swipes crumbs from his lip; he may seem ridiculous, but at the very least Water has been listening to his grievances, even if they don't seem to quite recognize him as anything other than a particularly intelligent pet. He's made progress. Probably. "I'm not saying you did a poor job, far from it, but it is downright rude to take possession of this night without a care for those who planned it!"

"Hmmm...well, if you say it thus. Perhaps I can consult with my siblings about incorporating this 'photographic' device you so desire, if you need it so much."

Oh? A glimmer of understanding, perhaps? Forsyth nods. He is used to having to negotiate; a deft combination of politeness and directness is vital in such situations.

Clive is usually the one who takes the lead, as Forsyth has been told that while he means well, his vigor can come across poorly in ways he did not intend. He has improved greatly in the last few years, but he knows it is a place he has much to grow in. But tonight, he is seeing those efforts come to fruition! ...maybe.

"Oh! It would be unfair not to ask your companions their opinions. I want only the best for you!" Water peers back once again, their glowing eyes fixated on a spot behind Forsyth. ...has someone else been privy to this exchange? Forsyth's bravado falters; has he truly handled this to the best of his ability? There were word choices and shortness of temper on his behalf that could have easily sabotaged this exchange, now that he thinks of it. "Come now, little one. What would you have us do to improve this experience?"

Another cookie, frosted this time, finds its way into Forsyth's grasp. Water seems to have noticed his distress. He scarfs it down quickly, shaking his head to let it be known that he does not condone their actions.