prim and proper

tell me about the quaint customs of the unwashed masses! affiliated with citta alveare nobody, equipped with a parasol/wooden staff

[troubasour]

prinzessxn

The city has, quite obviously, taken its toll on Maribelle. She looks a little worse for wear (read: like absolute shit) what with her disheveled hair and clothing in near rags. She wanders around as though she doesn't really know where anything is, but it's obvious she's looking for something - someone - in particular; she walks with a purpose and stops to look everyone over at least thrice. When she sees Sonia, though--

"Thank the Gods! I thought I'd never see a civil human being again!"

Maribelle almost collapses. She seems to sense a fellow noblewoman in Sonia, and her mere presence makes her all but forget her struggles.

"Oh, darling, it's-- it's been so long since I've laid my eyes on a dress so wonderful and elegant! I simply cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you!"

Even though she's never met - let alone seen - Sonia before now.

[duc-de-rosanne-blog]

"Spoken with! My dear lady, I could hardly get a word in edgewise with that man on the screen. I suppose I have just as much business here as you do."

Virion’s pleasure at finding one of his companions in this gods-forsaken city was quickly replaced by dismay as a realization took hold - he still knew nothing of this place, or of how he could return home, if it was at all possible. He went on, swallowing his anxiety for the time.

"All that aside, it seems most unwise to be walking about here alone and unarmed as you are. Please, allow me to accompany you to your destination."

Perhaps the both of them together would learn something of the mysterious city - and perhaps he would learn something of her, aloof as she liked to seem.

[troubasour]

"I suppose your company would do no harm. Safety comes in numbers, does it not?" 

Did it, though? Try as they might, nothing stood between them and the fiends of the underground. They had little means of fending for themselves what with Virion's headless arrows and Maribelle's staff. She'd be no better with him in tow.

"Do be sure to stay close, Virion." For her sake. 

[plegixn-deactivated20200416]

"You mean the thug?"

[troubasour]

"He's not a thug." Even she can't say that with a straight face.

"He's simply.. mislead. I've been sure to correct him."

[roleplayaskmemes]

Dare my muse to do something, if they refuse, they have to admit an embarrassing secret about themself.

[troubasour]

doodles "my son dont have manners" on her hand

Grab a marker and write something on my muse!

Maribelle’s never been particularly fond of Plegians— not since the time she let some filthy troglodyte manhandle her across the country border. You’re treading on thin ice, Tharja(!). 

"You too seem to lack good manners. How odd."

[troubasour]

swordhandhungers replied to your post:

let no good deed go unpunished B)

"May the gods have mercy on your soul."

[troubasour]

doodles the Brand of the Exalt on Maribelle's forehead

Grab a marker and write something on my muse!

"Owain, dear, what ever are you—"

Did he just—

Oh. He did. He did just dare to mar Maribelle’s flawless face.

"You— You cad! You ill-mannered cur! You dare insult me?! I will have a strong word with your mother!”

[duc-de-rosanne-blog]

Virion could’ve fallen over in relief. Mercifully for his wardrobe, he didn’t.

"Milady Maribelle! What radiant light in this foul darkness! Whatever are you doing in this dreadful place?"

[troubasour]

"Charmed, I'm sure." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "In any case, I could ask the same of you. I presume you too have spoken with these 'scientists', have you not?"

Understandably, her tone suggested contempt-- not for Virion, but for the revered scientists of the Hive. Very few would enjoy being so insistently plucked from their home world, and Maribelle was no different. 

[troubasour]

biashacker

Something brushes past Maribelle's boot; when she looks down, she finds a rat almost the size of her hand skittering about. She shrieks at a volume most unladylike. At first, she can't bear to look at it-- but after a few peeks between her fingers, she deems it harmless enough to talk to.

"You startled me, little one." Don't ask her why she talks to rats as if they speak English. She crouches down and coaxes the beast forward with a finger. It stops just ahead of her to pick at something on the ground - crumbs, probably - and she can't help but sigh.

"Look at you.." She sniffles. "It brings a tear to the eye to see something so small continue to persevere in our cut-throat world. Such a tiny creature, and yet--"

The rat bites her finger mid-spiel and she shrieks. Again. So much for 'harmless'.

[duc-de-rosanne-blog]

Forging on without the slightest idea of where he was going, the city underwent a drastic change - the pristine glass towers were quickly replaced by smoke-belching chimneys, and Virion soon found himself having to tiptoe about puddles of some vile-looking liquid. A dull groaning of metal-on-metal grew steadily louder as he pressed on, so far fruitless in his quest to find another living soul.

Virion cursed under his breath as his foot slid into a puddle of some oily substance, staining his boot.

Perhaps it’s not too late to turn back…

Looking around, he realized he had no idea where he had come from. Each garbage pile and rubble heap looked the same as the next, and hadn’t he seen that same dead rat before?

A nervous sigh caught in his throat - the chimney-smoke lay heavy in the air all around, it seemed.

Well this is perfectly wretched.

Out of the corner of his eye, Virion spied movement - a shadow flickering in a nearby alleyway. His face blanched as he imagined the sort of person - or thing - that could be skulking about in the gloom. But where was there to run? He could only end up more lost and confused than before.

"Who goes there?" he cried, striving to keep his voice from wavering. Reaching instinctively for his bow and quiver, he found them replaced with cheap imitations - these arrows didn’t even have heads! Now truly fearful, Virion could only watch and wait as the shadow approached…

[troubasour]

Golden hair swayed in the putrid wind that flowed through the catacombs beneath the Industrial Sector. No eyes had caught Maribelle save those of the rats squeaking and skittering about. Their gaze was returned by a pair of brown eyes that betrayed fear, but also an intensity of determination; determination to find her way back home. 

While she'd slowly grown tolerant of the foul air of the underground, new smells made themselves at home in her sensitive nose as, one foot in front of the other, she made her way through the narrow tunnels. She loured. This place - the Hive - would never be her home. She'd never accept it.

'Who goes there?'

Maribelle almost had a heart attack. It seemed very dead down here, but she'd been caught. When she turned, she was greeted by the archer's loaded bow.

"Augh-- Virion?!" She finally relaxed when she recognized who he was. "Lower your weapon, you fool. It's me."

"You look a quivering mess." She did, too.

[troubasour]

gahoachma

Maribelle's not the type to judge based on people's appearances.

.. that's a lie. She is. She always does. Murmur is a special case, though. She's happened across many a beast and brigand in her travels with the Shepherds, but he leaves a different taste in her mouth. She's not sure what his looks say about him.

She eyes him with undisguised curiosity. Maybe he's just wearing a costume. 

"I am aware that Hallows' Eve is upon us, but your attire is--" Disgusting. Atrocious. Absolutely horrendous. "It's.. unusual, I'll say. Do be sure to trim those boorish claws."

[troubasour]

You guys know the drill-- either like this post and I'll write up a mini or send me an ask and we can plot something out! I'd really love to get some CR outside of Maribelle's castmates, but anyone and everyone is welcome.

[luvdeluxoxo-blog]

The priest yawned, ruffling his hair up as he stepped out of his apartment. Geez… He’d really just been bumming around, hadn’t he? Whew, if his ma were here, she’d probably reprimand him for being a layabout or something. But hey, it was pretty nice not being in a wartorn world, a guy gets a little complacent.

"Man, I haven’t talked to the others in a while… Maybe I should go make sure they’re doin’ okay." He swung his wooden staff idly, only for it to slip out of his hand and hurtle towards the back of some unsuspecting citizen’s head.

"W-woah! Watch out!" Brady froze, unsure of whether to tackle the person to save them or what.

[troubasour]

That rich poor, unsuspecting citizen happens to be his mother. What luck. His staff hits Maribelle square on the head - thud! - and she jumps, back straighter than an arrow. "Oh, in the name of all that is rich and golden--"

"What careless lout elects to strike a woman-- and a woman of my breeding, no less!" 

Uh-oh.