#weavermasked

[tomepact]

“ have you forgotten your station, sir ikkon? ” he yanks himself away from the knight, but finally being forced to turn around and face his own guard. there is no more place to run, except to dimension door away. but that will be more cowardice than loras is willing to show. so he turns and stares back into the other elf's accusatory face. “ then allow me to remind you why we are here. you are a knight and i am your charge, but this is not what we want – you want to be the first knight of avalir, and i a member of the septarion. that's what we want from each other. that's all we want from each other. anything else is just ... ”

he inhales, searches for his words, feeling himself struggling, fighting to pull away. like a wayward adventurer running out of an enchanted forest. away and away from every lingering touches like grasping vines, playful glances the dazzling starlight; from the too close distance, baited breath, and a gambled kiss. it was all –

“ – a distraction . ” loras lets out that breath, and knows he has been betrayed. he trains his heart to be unfaithful, to those around him, and in this moment to himself most of all. a numbness washes over loras' face. he cocks his head as if to pull back any lingering emotions he couldn't tuck away in time. “ ... it's been a fine and refreshing trip, given the circumstances. and i have you to thank for it. but that's just what it is. a trip. ... now it's time to go home. ”

there is speechless anger simmering under ikkon's gaze when loras twists away from him. he has backed the wizard into a corner -- they were of a height with each other, but loras couldn't hope to contest ikkon in a feat of strength.

a distraction. the words turn the anger into a fury roiling under his skin. just a distraction, those weeks of wandering together, of stolen evenings of just the two of them.

his mind pulls at the thought of loras with laughter caught in his teeth and there is a tension that grinds ikkon's teeth.

" might i remind you that this position as sentinel was in lieu of becoming first knight? that you and i have known for far longer than either would be willing to admit that the title i so desperately wished for will never be mine? it was your word that told me becoming your sentinel would replace this far off dream. "

ikkon scoffs as he says it, steps back just an inch or so from being in loras's space, and waves his hand out to the city beyond. how foolish was he to believe in any of this.

there's the briefest flash of hurt across his face before it's swallowed once more by rage.

" i know those around you are loathe to tell as such to your face, but you're a coward, loras. no wonder you hide behind your masks and dangle such things in front of those who would offer you something genuine -- only for you to slap it from their hands and call it a distraction. "

[saintsdawn-archive]

time does strange things to a man that forces it against its nature. it wears him down by being a wild stallion or a bucking bull trying to throw its rider off the course. he clings on tight with white knuckles, knowing if he lets go he will fly off the handle with break neck speed and never put himself back again. “ i think ... i am tired ... ” he watches her wearily from his throne. his face shrouded in shadow by a hand holding his forehead. “ you can stay in the tower if you like ... there are more empty rooms than there are people ... ” he giggles, a little maniacally, before reigning himself back with a sharp inhale.

“ is it still there? ” all of a sudden, his expression changes, overtaken by something that puts the light back into his eyes. but it is an eerie light. he sits up and leans toward florence, “ do you still have it? the necklace? ... the bird ... ? do you still remember? ... – do you remember ... DO YOU REMEMBER ME ?! ”

he suddenly lunges. arm stretches longer than it feels like it should. fingers shrivel into a skeletal claw as his face rapidly changes in a flash of double-vision, like he is momentarily replaced by another version of himself – a shrunken, decrepit, rotting mummified corpse —

They want him dead.

A justified desire; time’s flow is disrupted here, in desperate need of fixing, and they’ve sent her.And isn’t it ironic? They burden the former knight with the task. Except they’ve misjudged her stubborn loyalty. Centuries later, it holds strong.

“ I’ll find my way. ” Through or out of the tower, she doesn’t say. There’s a flinch at the laughter. “ Loras – ”

Do you still have it? The necklace? She does. The bird is beneath layers. It came with the cleric on the Eve of the Replenishment.

Briefly, a hand touches where the bird rests. It might have been brought into the open, but then he lunges ( changes and it joins the armful of haunting images ). Florence retreats with quick, unbalanced steps that threaten to introduce her to the ground. Instinct cries for light – blinding, protective – but Florence denies it the chance.

“ Loras ! ”

First, the sharp and commanding voice of a champion. And then it changes. “ I still have it. I’m never without it. ” This is softer. While she speaks, she pulls the necklace up and out. “ And I remember you. ”

[celestialdetected-moved]

@weavermasked continued from here

They'd been dancing around each other for months now. Arawn wasn't used to being shy in relationships, but the situation Loras and he had found themselves in was a delicate one; Arawn hadn't wanted to make advances while Loras was stuck under his roof, never wanted to make him feel like he had to do anything for a warm place to sleep.

But now they were here, running into the unknown together.

But now they were here and Loras was taking off his mask, just because Arawn asked. He hadn't been sure what was under it; burns he'd assumed. Or perhaps the wearing of a mask was a cultural practice a thousand years dead, fallen with Avalir.

Under it, Loras was old. Ancient. An elf near the end of his life. Arawn raised an eyebrow and carefully kept his face blank. He disentangled his hand from Loras, smoothing a thumb over the wrinkled skin.

So this is what you will look like as an old man. There was a pang of something as Arawn realized he'd never get to see him like this. Not really. He'd be long dead before Loras showed any sign of age.

"I'm sorry." His free hand cupped Loras unblemished cheek. "For your accident," Then to lighten the charged atmosphere between them; "We sort of match. You get yours being stupid as well?"

Arawn stretched up on tiptoe, and pressed their lips together. He had asked to kiss him after all.

[voiceofduality-archived2]

@weavermasked “ kai. come talk to me. ” it's the crimson knight's assignment to guard the weaver's mask this time. long hours of research in the deep caverns and crevices of librarium incantatum, it is only fitting for the wizard fighter of lore to take on the task. loras looks up from the large tome in front of him at his watcher, raising a brow. “ i promise time goes by faster if we talk. ”

At the sound of his voice, the knight turns around immediately to face their employer. Just now, they were taking a look at the spines of carefully organized books, quietly hoping they could take one and open it.

"Talk?" Holding a conversation while reading sounds like an impossible task, for Kai at least, who often get so absorbed in the activities they enjoy they become deaf and blind to the rest of the world around them. Then again, they had to assume the mages of Avalir were just built differently in many aspects.

"What do you want to talk about?"

[xfindingtrouble]

loras is a 6ft tall elf stalking around the whitestone

i wanted to compare Loras to all Whitestone inhabitants bcs i am insane for height comparison. i am, however, laughing at the visual in my head of Cassandra always having to look up to Loras ( literally )

[magelearncd]

@weavermasked says: “ war is a game of numbers, not magic.” ( for the firbolg! )

"Oh," Sigrid said. Her voice is surprisingly soft, coming from so large a creature. "I don't think war is a game at all."

She supposed, in a way, war could be like a game. There were teams, and objectives, and everyone wanted their own side to win. But in war, when your friends fell around you they didn't get back up. Not unless you had a cleric to spare, and in the heat of a battle there wasn't often enough time to drag one over.

Not that Sigrid hadn't tried. She had. Everytime. Or at least....she thought she had. Her memories from before aren't the most reliable. A flash of steel here, a cry of anguish there, the faintest memory of sunlight warming her fur. But she thought she remembered pressing a gem into someone's hand and protecting them so they had time to use it.

Who had it been?

"I think war's something that happens when something is broken and no one knows how to fix it." Some thing, some place, some people. "But magic never hurts. You can do a lot of good with magic."

[inabsentiiarch]

@weavermasked sent: ❛   i  haven’t  met  all  of  me  yet.   ❜ ( for the circus bodyguard lucan - ) meme

"Is there anyone who has?" The fighter muses lowly, leaning back on his seat. The circus has gone quiet for the evening, now devoid of the vibrant presence of children and curious traveller. Candy wrappers and things alike left as the only signs of them.

Golden eyes turn towards the darkening sky. Shades of oranges and yellows have now begun to turn sky night blue. Leaving room for the stars, and bringing the hint of a smile to Lucan's lips before his attention turns back to Loras.

"Look, the scary truth is you might never get to know all there is to you." There's a shrug of his shoulders. " By the time you think there's nothing else to 'meet' in you, well... there likely will be something new already." The redhead says. And then, a thought crosses his mind.

"One would think that someone like you would know as much..." He hums quietly, a smile showing up on his expression playfully. Out of all of the people Lucan had had to work for, Loras was possibly the most peculiar one. "But if it makes you feel any better, I haven't either... why are you so worried about that anyway?"

[tomepact]

rumor has it, the green knight of the prism sentinels will appear in the arena today. loras of the weaver's mask has been making unexpected moves, and this is just one of his latest. word on the street is that he will make an appearance at the match to cheer on his knight. or perhaps he is looking for a contender? either way, ambitious young fighters whisper among themselves, that whoever can best ikkon the echo knight may just get a shot at earning their own cape.

catching the rumor is the easy part -- fighters like to talk when they know the person they speak about can hear. ikkon nurses a drink quietly and considers the rumor. he hasn't attempted to mask his reentry into this season's arena fights, assuring the advisor that reported to loras that his sentinel duties shall be completed first and foremost, but that he has broken no rule by entering the competition.

loras would be there, would he? was he there because of this rumor that ikkon had bet his cape, or because he wanted to see ikkon fight? would he be there looking with interest or pride or scorn?

he sets the tankard down a little harder than he means to, breaking the whispering with a bolt of silence as he stands from his seat.

(when he finds himself in the arena, the city remembers why someone with no arcane ability to speak of could stand alongside eldritch knights of great standard. when he is victorious, he stands with his echo mirroring the stance, blades crossed in salute.

he cares nothing for the announcer when his eyes trail the stands. when he finds loras, he holds his gaze until he is called to leave the arena for the next match to begin, like a dare unspoken.)

rumor, rumor.