tigris ereme [masc. sing., third decl. vocative] o, desert tiger
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@tigrisereme
tigris ereme [masc. sing., third decl. vocative] o, desert tiger
fin.
ooc; tl;dr - I can’t maintain an RP blog and also do my newfangled program, so I’m taking a break indefinitely.
Interested parties can let me know if you’d like to continue/start up any threads when I get an indie up and running after I settle some more (or possibly by some other means of private RP!).
Bootleg DDR
dreamyarcher:
Same enemies, same beat, same slightly off timing. It was reassuring in a strange way. Easier to keep up, easier to shoot. Easier to lose herself in the thoughts that weren’t hers jumping to her brain every time she aimed another arrow.
Injured, but survived the conflict. Would survive until the next turn she assured her mount with a pat to its neck. Didn’t notice the strange dragon woman that suddenly appeared. A short dance, dread in the gut, and the enemy was raising their lance again-
The attack hadn’t even hit her, it had been an ally standing next to her, but the splash damage from the attack had struck her in the side and left her wounded. Gritted teeth, she raised her head just in time to see another enemy charging towards her with sword raised-
Familiar faces but on the wrong side. She didn’t understand, and they didn’t seem to care when she called out to them. A flash of blue, familiar, until she turned and saw Setsuna facing her, bow raised, arrow pointed towards her. The arrow didn’t stop even with the scream that ripped from her throat-
Fanfare again, and the strange musical battle was over. The two strangers seemed happy and started forward, somewhere deeper in the cave. Setsuna didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Feet glued in place and strange bow heavy in her hands, she stared forward blankly.
Onward and forward. Gerik could feel the moisture in the air against his cheek; the deeper they went, the more it felt like they were heading towards... lake or spring or something buried deep underground and--
There were only three sets of footsteps, and Gerik could see two of their companions ahead of him, so that mean... He turned around. Setsuna hadn’t moved a step. Turning, he jogged back to where they had been moments earlier, his own footprints joining those of their attackers in the sand. No glowing squares met him this time when he returned to the site.
“Hey,” he frowned, crouching in front of her. “Hey, are you okay? We don’t have to keep going. Anyone else could do our jobs right now... Literally.”
gxdsmistake:
Managing onto his feet at the help of the stranger, several deep breath passed as Kishuna recovered from the panic. All the while his eyes were trained on the mutt who had now already retreated for the time being. That said, he seemed to find himself in a different predicament altogether. Turning to his unlikely hero, Kishuna gave a small but respectful bow before speaking,
“Thank you.” The ‘predicament’ took the form of the rather tough looking man before him. He seemed confident but with the strength to back it up. The kind of guy he had been avoiding in his travels. Still, it was apparent the stranger had just saved him from a wound or two. Something he could ill afford.
“They’re not much of a me… person,” The morph attempted an awkward smile, “Animals that is.” At the mention of the animal he couldn’t help but give one more cautious look to where the dog had been.
Any mercenary worth his salt trusted his intuition--that split second strafe to the side away from an incoming blow, that nagging feeling in the pit of one’s stomach when presented with a rotten contract--and as the traveller peeled away, Gerik couldn’t help but pause and watch him.
He was in a good position. Gerik was larger. Armed. Skilled and trained. Even if they turned out to be a mage, the chief was on home-ground with allies around him, and yet...
Maybe he should have trusted the dog. Animals were supposed to be good at judging people, weren’t they?
“Yeah,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, squinting slightly at the stranger. A man, cloaked in read. Not much else to discern. “I can see that. Most people tend to stay out of the back alleys at night, you know? So. Where are you off to? Can’t say I’ve seen you around these parts.”
reckon // ismaire
jehannasands:
It was astounding how someone she felt so close to was so completely and wholly her opposite in nature. Where she closed herself off he was an open book. Be it their roles in each others lives or the drastic difference in the way they made on with their existences, there was no denying that in a strange and twisted sense they were two sides of a warped coin.
He was her outlet and she was his gravity.
Yet somehow even with the tools to mend a fractured foundation laid out before them the man she sent to Frelia that day felt so far away from where she was standing. As time marched forward Ismaire first took notice of the worry wrapped around Gerik’s wrists. Then the silence she let stretch on for too long between them.
She moved to one side and held the door open for him because it was the only thing she could think to do with any amount of certainty. His breaching the subject was a start, but there was still so much more that needed to be said. From both of them.
“Let us speak of this inside.” There was no domineering pressure added to the way she spoke, no typical reign of power. Not yet. Only a sobering note to hint at the gravity of the situation.
Seconds slipped from between them like grains of sand. First one, then another, slowly but surely until they aggregated into something undeniably tangible in its silence. The apology was already on his tongue, on the cusp on tumbling out with resignation when she moved.
The deep greens of her skirts shifted in the his periphery, and Gerik glanced at her, looked back at the empty hall, then back at the then-empty door way.
“Of course.”
It was a fine line that they walked then. Little seemed to have changed since that night, but the subtle dissonance lingered. Gerik kept his hands close to his body lest he left another mark where he hadn’t intended. The door shut behind them.
He couldn’t remember when was the last time he felt so unsteady here. Should he speak? Should he wait? Gerik stood in the open space. She had yet to truly acknowledge anything he had said. And so he waited, following her movement around the room.
Serpent’s Eye [Julius & Gerik]
disgracedvessel:
Mild surprise loosened the assuming look on Julius’ face and for a short moment - a moment that might have gone unnoticed were he any less garrulous ordinarily - he had no words, no smart quips to tease the mercenary. He wondered two things: how this filthy man had any friends at all (when he himself - a prince - had none), and why someone would give away such a fine gift without service in return. But the questions and self-reflection were pushed quickly aside by another idea, one that brightened his face and glinted in his crimson eyes.
“So you can have these whenever you want?” he asked, making no effort to conceal his enthusiasm. With remnant of the fruit packed rodent-like into one cheek, he grinned as if a deal had already been made. There were perks to hanging around this mercenary after all.
Perks that just kept revealing themselves. Julius hardly paused to consider the new offer. He had planned to stay whether Gerik offered or not.
“As far below me as it would be to sleep on a mat in such a―“ ‘Hovel’ nearly made it to his lips once more, but by some miracle, another synonym had a stronger pull. “―place, I would prefer it to trekking back to town. I’ve had a lifetime’s fill of deserts…”
It was too optimistic, he knew, to hope that the scraping and scratching of the moving parts of Julius’ mind were pushing him toward some epiphany in the silence... And when he opened his mouth again, Gerik could only made a warm noise of amusement. Yeah, he fucking thought so. That was probably going to be a work in progress. A long work in progress.
“Whenever they feel inclined--you can’t just take advantage of a friend’s generosity whenever you want, you know?”
(He probably didn’t.)
Gerik supposed his friend could cut him a good deal either way, bringing the treat down to something more in his price range, and maybe if he did a favour or two--wait, why was he already planning this out? Shit, maybe the kid was getting into his head...
“A lifetime’s fill? That’s weird, seeing as you’re voluntarily staying longer in a desert...” What’s a ‘lifetime’ to him anyway? Couldn’t be more than a decade and a half, Gerik guessed. Not that long at all. Folding the rag neatly into a square, Gerik gestured to his bed (large and low to the ground, sheets made immaculately, corners crisp and tucked). “You can take the bed.”
In all likelihood, the statement didn’t need to be made; Gerik doubted the thought of anything else hadn’t even occurred to the kid. He’ll make do on the piles of cushions on the floor; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done so, and with his luck, Gerik’s certain Julius was the sort to kick in his sleep...
ooc; wow moving & first week of classes kicked my ass. I really should have semi-hiatused but hind-sight is 20-20. ANYWAY replies to come.
Bootleg DDR
dreamyarcher:
Setsuna stiffened as the pegasus knight went crashing into Gerik next to her. She turned, expecting him to be gone, a crumpled mess behind them, but he still stood next to her, looking…fine as far as she could tell. Her teeth clicked as she shut her jaw. She was glad to see he was fine. She didn’t understand what was happening. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Feet marching underneath her. Some stranger, on their feet and yet somehow too close, a sword swung and somehow it hit her, piercing through the side, down again.
Setsuna forced a deep breath as she pulled up this stupid not-hers bow. She didn’t like any of this.
The stream of enemy soldiers bouncing towards them slowed to a crawl. Soon the last one was down and there was silence. The sound of fanfare echoed in her head, but the two strangers just groaned next to her. They mumbled something about a broken streak and s rank and Setsuna didn’t understand any of it until one of them said “repeat”.
Her eyes widened. “What-” There was a strange flash. Setsuna felt something like a jerk in her chest and suddenly the squares were glowing again. There as a moment of silence, and then music, and the first soldier came bobbing down towards them again. Setsuna’s stared. “…What?”
‘Just 1 more for a perfect score!’
Ouch.
Gerik frowned, feeling the eyes and word practically gouge into him as they progressed through the cavern. “Look,” he grumbled, kicking a rock aside as they paused. At least Setsuna wasn’t mad at him. (Actually, she wasn’t looking too great, now that he thought about it...) “I said I was sorry--”
But the apology didn’t matter the first time, and it didn’t seem to matter the second time either as everything froze in the room. The wind was knocked from his stomach as the world pulled him back into place, throwing him back onto the glowing square. “--the fuck?”
Enemies on the horizon. They were familiar. First one. Then another one, then two in rapid succession, a knight-- They did this before. Gerik stared at Setsuna, sharing her bewildered expression. “Hey, maybe I’m going insane here, but I swear we did this already.”
Pegasus knight in three, two, one--
This time, Gerik was ready.
tigrisereme liked for a starter
Cautiously, Kishuna placed a hand forward, hoping by some miracle it would assist him in warding off the growling mutt before him. His plan to dodge any issues by walking one of the side paths of the city certainly hadn’t work as intended. Animals already disliked him, so having walked into the strays territory must have set him off.
Out of fear Kishuna began to back up, only to result in ramming his foot against a loose stone on the poorly patched path. Having nearly tripped, panic began to set in. He pivoted on his heel and made a reckless retreat for the exit of the alleyway. However, when he had reached the intersection onto the main road, a rather bulky stranger had made an appearance just in time for Kishuna to barrel into them.
As the swell of the moon cresting over the city, Gerik’s shadow was the only one that stretched down the stone-paved road that stretched through the market district. The merchants have long since emptied their carts, and the civilians hurrying home with their haggled goods; the only movements now came from patrolling guards and the stray dogs that scavenged for scraps and scuffled over territory once most humans had scattered.
It should have been an uneventful walk home... but it wasn’t.
A flash of red in his periphery had Gerik’s hand reaching for his blade, but the strange came at an odd angle, and the frantic scrambling suggested that the encounter hadn’t been intentional. The mercenary caught the stranger instead, just in time to see the scraggly dog nipping at the edges of the robes, ears pinned back and growling.
“Whoa there...” Cautiously, Gerik moved himself between the traveller and the hound. With the other out of sight, the animal seemed to calm slightly, pausing in its unease to sniff at Gerik’s boot before giving a sharp whine and starting to back off. “Not much of a dog person, huh?”
what follows
@aimless--archer said: 10. Gerik & Python deal with the aftermath of a bandit-ravaged village.
Maybe it was bad intel.
They had been waiting just one, maybe two villages over. It was where they were meant to be. The contract stated it after all: the village suspected an attack from bandits and hired their blades in defense... But the supposed attack never came. Gerik paced the perimeters of the village walls night after night, and the roads remained as quiet as when they had arrived.
It wasn’t until the third night, when smoke and the tell-tale glimmer of fire had been sighted on the horizon that Gerik realized what had happened.
Or maybe the bandits caught wind of their arrival ad descended upon easier prey. Or maybe--
Whatever it was, they made off, and by the time Gerik and his men arrived on site, they were greeted by the husk of a once thriving community. The carnage was fresh, the walls freshly razed, the doors on houses only recently broken down... The blood in the streets was still damp.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself as the survivors started to rise out of the ash and dust. It was too late to ward off the attackers; all that was left was to recover.
path // roy
@younglion-swordsman said: #8. Gerik and Roy get split off from the rest of the party.
The path forward... was above them.
When the ringing in his ears subsided and the clatter of pebbles showering down around them thinned out, Gerik could still hear the clashing of swords and lances somewhere above them.
“Are you alright,” a voice called from somewhere beyond the gaping hole in the ceiling... or floor, as it must have been to them.
Gerik stretched his legs out before him and cracked his knuckles. Everything seemed to be in functioning order. He picked his blade up from the dust as he stood, surveying the room around him--he hadn’t been alone. The lordling, if he recalled correctly. It always was.
“We’re fine,” he answered, his voice echoing off the stone. He winced. They had fallen a good ways down. But ruins like these were seldom built to be one-way passages. If he were still a betting man, Gerik would have guessed there’d be another way to rejoin the group. “Go on. We’ll reconvene up ahead.”
“But wh--” A clash of steel. No time to argue. “Okay, okay!”
Gerik sighed. Being separated was hardly the best thing that could have happened to them, but the rest had strength in numbers and could look after themselves. The two of them however... “Hey. Come on, let’s go. Anything broken?”
ooc; Thread count:
Waiting on me (n=2): Setsuna (bootleg DDR), Julius (serpent’s eyes)
Not in my court (n=2): Ismaire (reckon; paradigm)
Dropped >6wks? (n=1): Seth
Minor note from mun:
MOVING IN A WEEK; pack all the things. Wrap up all the work projects.
paradigm // ismaire
jehannasands:
She lowered her sword slowly so that it fell to one side of his and allowed herself the opening marks of a smile. The waver in his voice was clear as the moon that shone above their heads and illuminated their path forward. If he was hesitant she would pry the weakness open gently with just enough reason to doubt himself where it mattered.
“You won’t.”
Ismaire nodded, her eyes locked on his, signaling the start of what she hoped would be a long enough battle to work out some aggression. Immediately, power burst first from the palm of her hand to knock Gerik’s blade to one side, leaving his torso widely exposed if he was not quick enough to counteract her initial thrust.
Already Ismaire’s feet were poised to strike leaving traces where she stood in the sand though her body didn’t appear at all as though it was committed to the action quite yet.
The confidence that radiated from her easy stance seemed to chafe against him and left him distracted--almost distracted enough to miss the sharp acceleration in her steps. Almost.
Gerik’s eyes widened. She was fast; he knew she would be fast just by looking at her, but watching her move was another matter entirely. Before he could blink, she was too deep within his reach for him to counter effectively, and with a sharp beat of her blade, Gerik found himself open.
What a blunder. And so soon-- He retreated hastily, recovering his ground and drawing his blade back up. But he stared, first at his own sword, then at her with disbelief. It was a fact so evident it sounded ridiculous in his head:
She was serious.
(...Of course she was.)
He was not about to make the same mistake twice. Huffing, he lunged with a swing, hoping to catch her before she could take advantage of his slow start. Were it anyone else, perhaps his aim would have been true, but he still hesitated, pulling back too soon when he got close.
weathered // python
aimless--archer:
By the time they emerge from the cave a few hours later, Python is notably more bedraggled (if that was possible) and very damn sick of Terrors. After the Deliverance’s old hideout, it was probably hopelessly optimistic to think a creepy cave wouldn’t be full of them, but when they began to realize that they just never stopped appearing, it became clear that it would be of no use as a shelter.
At least by that point the rain had stopped. The trees and leafy ground are far too wet to even hope to build a fire, but they manage to sleep, fitfully but safely, beneath the tree canopy.
The days after that are something of a blur. The massive storm turns out to have been a blessing, because there’s fresh water everywhere, collected in puddles and the upturned leaves of the trees, and at least a few of the plants are recognizably edible. (They attempt, briefly, to catch fish in the ocean, but neither of them are fishermen, and with no actual tools for that purpose beyond their hands, that idea is quickly thrown out.) The cut on his leg is a constant annoyance, but thanks to whatever Gerik had put on it, it doesn’t fester or get infected in the heat.
At night, for lack of anything else to do, they talk, and Python discovers a remarkably similar story to his own- another common boy expected to take over the family trade who followed a friend into fighting and eventually war instead. Gerik is affable, easy to talk to and even flirt with a little (why not, isn’t that what people do on desert islands?), and if they ever see each other again after this shitshow, Python might even consider him a friend. That is, if they ever leave to begin with. He wonders often how long they’ll be stranded there, and recalls stories of travelers ending up marooned at sea for months or years, building crude shelters and growing massive, scraggly beards. At least, he supposes, there are worse people to be stuck with.
-
In the end, however, they only end up marooned for about five days. He learns later that the ship, though blown about and battered in the storm, had stayed afloat after all, and had made its way to the nearest island to recover. A smaller boat comes for them at midday, sails rippling in the clear sky, and the feeling of relief is so palpable that all either of them can do is laugh.
Several of Gerik’s men are aboard, along with Eren- alive, which Python had barely dared to hope for. She throws her arms around his neck and then cuffs him soundly in the ear for worrying her, and he embraces her tighter than he ever has anyone besides Forsyth or Lukas. Gerik is surrounded by his own mercenaries, and Python wonders again if they’ll ever see each other again, or if the other man will return to his own lands and swear off of Valentia forever after this disastrous first experience.
When he can peel himself away from Eren talking his ear off, he gives Gerik a little wave, leaning on the ship’s rail when the other man walks over to join him.
“Guess this is it, huh?” he says with a tired, lopsided smile. There’s a good deal he could say in farewell, but he isn’t the type, so he just teases, “Try to stick to dry land if you ever come back this way.”
Five days. One-hundred and twenty hours. Give or take a few.
Once they had left the cavern behind them--not the worst decision he had ever made by far, but not one that Gerik had been keen on revisiting either--the island was relatively quiet. The calls of unfamiliar birds and croaking amphibians in the night never failed to unsettle him, but compared to the Lagdou ruins, Gerik supposed there were worst places to be stuck. And worse company to be kept.
So he quietly joked as they huddled together at night, mustering enough warmth to sleep comfortably.
(‘Do you think you’ll grow a beard by the time they find us?’ He grated his scruff against the man’s shoulder with a laugh. ‘A full one. The sort you could make up stories about--hey, hey, I’m joking, don’t look at me like that...’)
And took the ribbing in stride as fish swam past him without care again.
(‘Honestly, I don’t know what you are expecting from a man who lives in an actual desert.’ He splashed him back, and neither of them caught anything.)
And, when they had least expected it, found himself standing on the deck of a ship beside the man, looking back at the shores they had called home no more than a handful of hours prior. "Yup. Well, not really for me, I’m just trading one stretch of sand for another really... But at least at home, it’s my stretch of sand.”
“Gotta go where the jobs take me. Sounds like something you know pretty well too.” He chuckled, dragging one hand down his jaw and... Maybe he was a bit scraggly. He was scraggly, and his shirt itched, and every inch of his skin felt like sand-- And Gerik was aware that he had the means to change that. Now.
A hand reached out, slapping Python on the shoulder and sending a shower of dirt and gods-knew-what crusts coming off his sleeve. “But that means I’ll be seeing you around again.” He headed for the safety of the cabins.
ooc; A bunch of us have expressed interest in getting more activity, so HAVE SOME FERP-ORIENTED STARTER PROMPTS.
Send a number, and which muse is X/Y.
X wakes up in the infirmary; Y is the first person they see.
X and Y encounter a creature that neither of them had seen before.
X is hit with Berserk; Y is the closest unit around.
X stumbles on Y training in the morning. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
X and Y fall through an Outrealm Gate and end up on a continent that is home to neither of them.
X finds Y visiting someone’s grave/a memorial.
Cultural differences between X and Y; X is confused by a thing Y does.
X and Y get split off from the rest of the party because of a cave-in/wall going up/floor falling out/miscellaneous FE map shenanigans.
X temporarily re-classes to Y’s base class; Y shows them the ropes.
X and Y deal with the aftermath of a bandit-ravaged village.
ooc; And some new ones (specify blanks):
11. X and Y casual support: poking fun at game mechanics. 12. X and Y and an unconventional use for ______. 13. Character development time: X asks Y about their ______. 14. ESCAPE MAP - X and Y are in the run from _____. 15. X stumbles on Y, but Y suffers temporary memory loss.
reckon // ismaire
jehannasands:
In the past anything of a deeper nature that threatened to rupture the carefully curated facade of the Queen’s reign was always pushed down, cleanly and indisputably into the pit of a bottle that would never see the light of day save for when it threatened to overflow with impurities. Weaknesses. Emotion.
Gerik’s oversight was no exception and as with all the rest Ismaire was sure the pain that came of it would also pass, given enough time. Meanwhile there were meetings to be held, appointments to be kept, a country to help run. Avoiding things was easy when there was no time to think, no time to dwell with so much to be done elsewhere.
So when he finally chose to knock at her door there was absolutely no expectation to see the green-haired mercenary standing on the other side of it. To be suddenly faced with the one person you were (albeit subconsciously) avoiding all of this time… Ismaire’s brow furrowed with discontent.
She held the door open but did not step to one side for him to enter, instead quietly waiting for him to state his business with a look of cold distance leveled between them.
He had half expected that she wouldn’t answer. If the silenced stretched on, maybe Gerik wouldn’t have been surprised. It was not as if he had prepared for such a turn of events, but he hadn’t prepared very much at all, especially not for the door actually creeping open, or for the continued shade of displeasure that clouded her features when she looked at him.
Whatever she had been masking away, he exuded enough for both of them. Gerik couldn’t hide it from her even if he wanted to, his face an open book with the pages marked and words underlined. The phrases were different this time around, snagging against his tongue and leaving him quiet in under her gaze.
But barred from entering, he had no choice but to speak.
“I...” He came to her unarmed. No armour had been worn, no sash of red, just himself. His wrists were pink where he had been worrying at the skin all evening. “... shouldn’t have done that.”
Slowly, a sigh left him. What was there but the bare truth from him? “I thought I knew better. I didn’t.”
Bootleg DDR
dreamyarcher:
“Something like that…though they clearly got that wrong.” Setsuna mused. Gerik had his own sword ready, so Setsuna sighed and pulled out an arrow. Everything was so strange. Did they just…fight normally? Her feet felt glued to the ground. Not that she was about to go charging in, but she felt trapped in place for some reason. How were they supposed to fight?
An enemy got close to the pink haired woman Setsund had questioned. Suddenly, there was a glow about their enemy, and the woman swung. The enemy went flying backwards, and Setsuna stared, baffled for just a moment. Well. Alright then. She supposed that was how it worked.
The enemy in front of her was getting closer. Setsuna sighed and reluctantly aimed her arrow.
Wind lashed her face harshly. The kinshi cooed softly as it followed her directions across the battlefield. Surely blinded by the elaborate headdress she wore on her shoulders, it was easy to shoot down the enemy lumbering towards their forces. She felt her lips break into a grin and took hold of the reins once more Her kinshi let out a sudden shriek right as she felt something pierce into her back-
The enemy glowed and Setsuna released the arrow. The enemy went flying back, much like the last. Setsuna stared at the spot it had been.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
None of them came at him. The soldiers in red and knights in blue approached with a remarkably consistent cadence--distance and timing; were they not trying at all?--as if they could be overtaken by sheer numbers alone.
But the pink-haired girl seemed to be completely unfazed by the steady trickle of foes, and their fourth companion (a large man in a ridiculously sheer outfit, brandishing a shovel as if it had been an axe) found it equally unremarkable... Somehow. He didn’t have much time to mull over it though.
At first, Gerik thought the pegasus rider had been diving for the girl, but at the last second, it swerved at lunged at him instead. ‘Alright, just keep calm and swing--’ Too early. Or perhaps too late? The rider--pegasus and all--barreled forward past him skidding into the back of the chamber.
Beside him, both the pink-haired girl an the axe-shovel man gave him a dirty look. Gerik stared back. What did he do? He looked away, sword raised again.