The Unseen Storm

[unseenstrm]

-— #UNSEENSTRM: An indie high-fantasy king oc. Extensive original world lore present but highly adaptable. Medium to low activity. 21+ Only. Minors DNI whatsoever. Mutuals only. Dead Dove themes present. Tormented by Arachno, 30+

-— LINKS

( STATS ) ( RULES ) ( WORLD LORE ) ( PROMPTS ) ( TAG DROP )

✿ No minors, no personal blogs, no one under 21.

✿ If you follow first, I expect you to reach out first. Likewise, I'll reach out first if I follow first.

✿ I ship based on chemistry. Though I do LIKE shipping, Emeric is not an easy guy to ship with at all.

✿ My word lore is flexible in the sense I can transplant Emeric into whatever medieval fantasy world. His backstory and status will remain the same, I might to squeeze Astrines in as an OC nation if allowed. Otherwise, he is just a king from 'a faraway, foreign land' likely come on some business or some affair or otherwise whatever we can plot out to get our barbies to play together.

✿ Please reblog from the source.

✿ I give what I get. This goes for memes or energy in threads or plotting, etc.

✿ I prefer ask memes to get things rolling, but I am open to plotting beforehand if you have a specific idea or want.

✿ No triggers but I do not like pregnancy content, this includes A/B/O content. I will not engage with it and am likely to not follow if it is a prominent/main theme on your blog. I am not likely to tag anything outside of epilepsy risks (cw flashing), page stretching (cw long post), and nsfw (cw nsfw) by default.

✿ This is a Dead Dove blog. Expect all the usual themes you'd see in high fantasy. I'm not likely to RP it all out, but it will still likely exist in the world backdrop.

✿ GIFs are from (here). PSD coloring is (here), Central part of my icon template is (here), other elements from (here).

[unseenstrm]

this is what it feels like trying to rp in the high fantasy genre as a fuckass oc who has only ever done modern

[unseenstrm]

Emeric had long ceased his pacing, had long since come to stop near his books as if to regard them or to seek audience with their pages rather than the man that stood standing before him.

A back turned was a show up authority and of power, of confidence. A fool's gesture, Emeric thought. A meaningless show of strength that would do no king any good should someone less honorable take it as opportunity. A blade cared little for gestures or posturing and neither would protect from it.

He spared Stiles his peripheral, spared a constant glance. Ever on guard was the Unseen Storm. His face ventured up the bookcase and upwards still as if to beg the gods for some sort of guidance or mercy, perhaps to be struck down and freed for once and for all.

❝ And yet here you stand before me doing just that. Curious, no? ❞ His gaze slid languidly down and over, his head following the motion as his chin dipped back down from its inclined position. There was hardly ire in his gaze, any heat. Merely fatigue that transcended beyond the physical and the acceptance once might have found in a dying man who welcomed his waiting grave.

❝ Do you think yourself the only man to have known great loss? The first to find their way before me with tales of slaughtered kin or burned homelands? ❞ It was not what his brother would have said. Understanding, kind Dorus. Even if the bastard hadn't given a horse's ass about something, he'd at least have never let you know it. For a beat, Emeric looked ill as though he might lose his own supper.

He swallowed, jerked his head as if to shake off something, and continued. ❝ The gods mark men with tragedy like barmaids hand out ale. If you've found yourself believing your strife is for some greater purpose or that it is part of some great plan that you are to involve me in... I fear you have been sorely misled, my lord. ❞

The king faced the man fully now, regarded him not with a look toward a lesser being but some burden he wished to be freed from. ❝ So leave. Or need I spare you the battle with your indecisiveness and order it of you? ❞

[unseenstrm]

It's 4 AM which means it's safe to drop the fact Emeric is like 5'8ft. Thank you and good night.

[grailquests]

sentence starters from the musical CAMELOT, by lerner & loewe

a warrior who's so calm in battle faces a woman petrified with fright?

and from now on i intend to pray to someone else instead!

shan't i be young before i'm old?

am i never to know the joys of maidenhood? the conventional, ordinary, garden variety joys of maidenhood?

how dare you insult me in this fashion. do my looks repel you?

what a dream you spin, and how easily i could be caught up in it.

i know it gives a person pause.

that's how i became king. i never knew i would be. i never wanted to be.

marriage is rather frightening, isn't it?

war? over me? how simply marvelous!

it's all gone. my magic is gone.

i can only wish for you in ignorance, like everyone else.

proposition: it's far better to be alive than dead.

and here i stand with valor untold, exceptionally brave, amazingly bold.

the soul of a knight should be a thing remarkable, his heart and his mind as pure as morning dew

had i been made the partner of eve, we'd be in eden still.

i worship you before knowing you.

oh, i beg you to forgive me. not because i deserve it, but because by forgiving me, i'll suffer more.

forgive the interruption. anyone here seen a beast with the head of a serpent, the body of a boar and the tail of a lion, baying like forty hounds?

tell me, milord, have you come to grips with humility lately?

all my life i've locked the world out. and, you know, when you lock the world out, you're locked in.

i have so much forgetting to do.

surely i may arrange for your knighthood now. unfortunately, sainthood is not in my power.

i shan't be wounded and not return it in kind.

can passion be selected?

the adage "blood is thicker than water" was invented by undeserving relatives.

it's not the earth the meek inherit, it's the dirt.

fie on goodness!

i loved you once in silence, and misery was all i knew.

oh, the insensitivity of sensitive men!

if i escape, i shall come and rescue you.

treason has been committed! the jury has ruled! let justice be done.

well, you're human after all, aren't you? human and helpless.

how did you think you could survive without being as ruthless as i?

goodbye, my love. my dearest love.

i intend to be a knight.

think back on all the tales that you remember.

battle? i've won my battle. here is my victory!

[unseenstrm]

Emeric when he has to be Mr. King vs when he gets to roam around pretending he's just some random ass guy of the court

[unseenstrm]

WHAT GHOST HAUNTS YOU?

the ghost of the damned-—

you rot with the need for something more than what you have. the ghost is built up of the feeling of stagnation. you find it staring at the ceiling with sleep - blurred vision ; this is the third night you have met its eyes in the early hours of the morning. you tear yourself apart looking for comfort, for validation, for acceptance. but it never feels quite enough. you ruin everything you touch, despite every attempt to be more than what you have always been. you would sculpt yourself as something perfect for those around you, but you are no artist. when albert camus wrote, “be silent, heart; there is no hope!” when lucille clifton wrote, “maybe i should’ve wanted less. maybe i should’ve ignored the bowl in me, begging to be filled.”

TAGGED BY: I stole it :)

TAGGING: if you see it, I am mentally tagging you.

[tooth--ache]

"My lord, if you are a thespian then you have had a great challenge indeed in court yesternight, have you not?" Howard smirked, leaning down to scrub away at the corners and splashing water carelessly to see if he'd got every spot of moss off from the wood. "All this noise and shock and awe that the closeted King might show his face at long last, owing to the arrival of us Prydein knights in your court, only to be left jilted, like a bride at the altar."

He took a deep breath, and silence settled between both of them. In that moment the air shifted, Howard momentarily not a man, but the cut basalt he was born as, part of nature, part of the leaves and trees and roots that was bound within earth.

"Ah, yes. I can smell it." Howard nodded. "We will still have good sun for one last stroll, before a three-day downpour. You have the right of it to have a walk this time, my lord, you will miss the sun this week. Not much different than back home. Probably why I settled in so comfortably," he gestured at the trough half leaning against his lap.

"I suppose I am a guest, my lord. Howard of Prydein I am. Baron of the Glyt Marshes as of the recent passing of my father, the sole heir of House Ashecroft. My manor, Ilvarden, spanning half of this city, boasting a handsome amount of two households, one of which mine, the other the forester and his children, a total of six peoples. And some six hundred fallow and muntjac deer in wilderness."

"Sir Tristain and Sir Amiel had thought my being in the stables a shameful show of Prydein's pick of knights, but I was never taught to rise late and idle. It makes me restless. I offered to clean the workhorse stables today, tomorrow I will show the garden hands how we work our hedges beautifully and with respect to the natures." He laid the trough down, and as it hit the floor before him, it shuddered deeply, revealing the true weight that Howard had handled so carelessly.

"Lowly raised as I am, a farmhand in my own manor, I do still find last night's banquet a poorer show of Astrine's hospitality," he chuckled, denoting that it was said rather in good jest than a slight, "though I could not blame His Majesty for it. What a horrible bard, and a worse roast. If only he knew that his presence would have caused an interesting entertainment behind the curtains!"

[unseenstrm]

The closeted king? His brows shot up at the coined name. Truth be told, THAT one had yet to reach his ears until now. Admittedly, it wasn't the most colorful of nicknames he'd earned.

❝ Everyone acts as though there will not be a far less public meeting of the two groups come tomorrow night. It is merely the play that has been offended, not the actual work that is the point of all this. Heavens forbid there not be a spectacle every time there be a visitor. ❞

Ever curious, he persisted by following up with: ❝ Even more shameful anyone thought differently, of the King, I mean. ❞ Emeric made a show of glancing about as if concerned for onlookers or prying ears and even lowered his tone just a bit.

❝ Perhaps you can be spared due to your foreign status here, but this is hardly a new occurrence and I find it laughable anyone native to these lands found themselves disappointed or shocked by his absence. His Grace dares not show his face where it is not absolutely required. We in the closer circle hardly glimpse him, one can only assume how little those outside it have. I find it curious 'closeted' is the most colorful of titles he has received after this. ❞

Titles always felt so silly to Emeric. Then again, he had always had the privilege of only ever needing the one. An oddity or not, he had been bred well and raised even better and so he stood there with patience as he took in the entirety of Howard of Prydein.

Strong and modest were the immediate notes he garnered from the man. Perhaps a bit too loose with his tongue, but this wasn't always as dreadful a trait as many painted it to be. Honesty was often preferred to class etiquette in the eyes of this particular king.

❝ Astrines rarely has visitors outside of the immediate lands. ❞ It was hardly an excuse as it was an explanation. He felt only a tinge of offense at the remark. What else could be expected when he detached himself so heavily from these matters? Things slipped when you did not bother to keep the reins pulled taught.

❝ Well, regardless. There be it nothing shameful of being modest and practical. The likes of Sir Amiel and Sir Tristain have grown too spoiled. Hardly a knight if he would fizzle out and perish in the wild and dire straits without the luxuries afforded to him on his home turf. I fear too many forget that those luxuries are to be appreciated, not wholly relied upon. ❞

[unseenstrm]

I've been hit with a sudden Sickness so I'm currently perishing in bed. :( I'll be here as soon as I can to write. In the meantime, thanks for the follows and such. ❤️❤️

[unseenstrm]

Aside from his frequent habit of playing one-sided Prince & the Pauper by sneaking off to hang about with people who won't recognize him, Emeric IS a good king in terms of the nitty gritty. Treaties, politics, etc. He is practical and reasonable. It's just literally everything else he sucks at and you'd be surprised how much lacking in charisma and dabbling in the social aspects of being a royal will besmirch the rest of the good things he does.

And it's not even genuine unrest or a brewing want to overthrow. A big reason people deal with Emeric and his weird ass is because the lands are still under a pretty good peace time and they got a small taste of seeing that nearly crumble when Em's brother was killed. This peace was only brought on by Em's grandmother during her rule, so there are still some people who remember when things were Not Peaceful.

Poverty is pretty normal, class gaps aren't great but they're not horrible, and no one is fighting or invading. Like overall, things are GOOD. So there's no genuine hatred for Emeric as a king but people very openly will say how strange he is or how rude or snobby. Like yeah sure he's not a BAD king but he's an asshole who doesn't even show up for his own hall banquets so like??? fuck him dude ykno??

[unseenstrm]

i look to my left. i look to my right. there's only 12 of u here rn, but does anyone want some memes?

[unseenstrm]

For sake of my graphics (lol) and because it is technically in line with his character, Emeric will cut his hair from time to time. No rhyme or reason, just on a whim. I fear he has a very 'mentally ill mfer at 4am on a random weekday when left alone with scissors' vibe and will just decide at random he'd like to chop all his pretty hair off again.

[unseenstrm]

❛ my bloodline was wiped out before my eyes. i’m the last heir. ❜

Whatever the rumors might have said, whatever his queer manner of conducting himself as a king might have led one to believe-— Emeric was still but a man, a human. And as a man, he felt pity and remorse and every other nettling emotion that poked at the softest parts of him. He could empathize with loss of kin and with being the one left behind in the wake of that loss, perhaps more than most.

But this man remained confined within himself, locked away with a heart he had long since pressed deep behind protective bars. A royal could not run the risk of such fragility and vulnerability, certainly most of all not a royal such as he. It were these very attributes that his brother had shown freely that had just as freely had him slain by someone closest to him. Not he, Emeric declared like a mantra. The same would not befall him.

Instead, he regarded the man with his characteristic gaze-— one that had the talent of somehow looking perpetually melancholic and distant as well one that looked as though his last nerve was always in the process of being worn at.

❝ People aren't as thorough as they used to be, you know. Bastards and the like slip through the cracks of shoddy annihilation plots all the time now. Chin up. I'm sure you have a long-lost cousin or the like tottering away somewhere, mercifully unaware of neither you nor the rest of their slain kin. ❞

[tooth--ache]

"A knight of Prydein, he was, but at the stables he is now, ploughing through hay and last I saw him, spreading horse dung knee-deep in the pit."

"Are they all peasantlike in Prydein?"

"Just that odd one, mayhap not born into it. Ever since Avallan made a habit of selling knighthood, every little self-centred merchant prick's a knight that side of the world nowadays."

"Still wouldn't have made sense that a merchant's son would toil in filth. And the way he carries himself -- must have done it all his life, not awkward at all with tools and work horses."

The garden hands turned their heads, and hurried away upon seeing a familiar face lingering near them, crumbling crusts of their pie falling onto the ground as they bowed their heads low, lunch tucked away behind them.

✦✦✦ ─────── HAVING HAD CLEANED HIMSELF from the grime after the harder parts of stablework was finished, Howard was now dressed modestly, and most importantly somewhat clean, in washed-out linen and wool of the castle's labourers, scrubbing a trough with a hard-bristle brush and murky water in a bucket. He lifted his head up as he heard an approach, nodded instead of bowing low as a peasant would have, and continued with his work.

"I'd have asked if you're lost, my lord, but you do not look foreign at all." Howard lifted the trough with ease, and continued brushing mud away from its underside. His nonchalance, for once, were deliberate -- he was no labourer, and the greeting was that to an equal than that of a servant. There was no recognition in his gaze, however, merely chalking the other down as someone of high importance in court. "Though if you're looking for your horse, it wouldn't be in these stables. Would be on the other side, you'll hear the commotion before you see the farriers, but you'll know you're in the right place by how it doesn't reek." A smile. "Careful where you step, there's wet puddles everywhere."

@unseenstrm

[unseenstrm]

Emeric would be the first to admit that it was neither normal nor healthy the way he shut himself away like some princess in a fable. He would be the first to admit that despite the many years of it and despite how self-imposed it had been and continued to be, he wore solitude not like a second skin but like ill-fitting and awkward garments.

He rebelled in little way against himself and this lifestyle he'd built in the name of safety, in the name of not following in the tragic footsteps of his late brother. He was rare to appear where he did not HAVE to appear and even then he might as well have had to been dragged or coaxed out like a feral barn cat, but this? This sneaking away and roaming about the grounds among the workers and the laborers? This he did easily, did so when he could. Being king was hard and it was a nightmare he awoke to every morning; it was easy enough to shed the skin of it when and where he could.

The stables were a somewhat frequent haunt of his when he had these little escapades. They were quieter and more likely to have a scattered few people focused on their work rather than any larger crowd-— the more people, the greater risk of one of them somehow recognizing him and ruining the whole charade of being anyone but himself.

❝ Perhaps I'm a hired thespian who operates well under pressure. ❞

Emeric spoke with just a bit more spark when he went out on these ill-advised adventures in comparison to the tired, distant drawl he otherwise carried. The one he spoke in that made it seem as though speaking only a few words fatigued him, as if his tongue weighed as much as a stable of horse.

❝ Perhaps I am lost but you haven't the eyes to see through my talent of portraying the façade of the contrary. ❞

Oh, that was a novel though. Emeric as an actor. Even when he had been wrapped up in the short-lived dream of not worrying about touching the seat of a throne, he was sure he'd never had such queer dreams as running off to join a circus or an acting company.

❝ I am not seeking my horse, no. I'm merely out for a walk. The weather will grow... dreadful soon. ❞ Or so the old women with their bones that spoke of storms had been saying. The skies surely didn't look it, but he knew how quickly the winds could stir up trouble with little warning.

He regarded this stranger with some level of curiosity and some level of scrutiny. Was this the Prydein knight he'd overheard the gossipers cackling about?

❝ Not foreign, no. It has been hard to tell as of late, who is who. I've hardly been able to tell who I speak with is brother in arms or honored guest. ❞

[unseenstrm]

I do plan to (eventually) have a modern verse and a modern supernatural verse at some point. I just want to focus on my silly medieval fantasy kick rn. BUT if anyone would prefer those unwritten AU verses, come hmu and we can plot something out.

[questlines]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐌𝐀

You place me in ill company.

Fantasies of death and redemption concern me not one whit.

Tell me then, why has your lord father not sent your brother?

You will retract those words, ser!

..Else suffer what consequence?

I shall wash my honor clean in your blood!

And you would play the second? I would welcome the challenge.

He's made an open mockery of me and my homeland.

An oathbreaker of your ilk is champion to no man.

They were convenient to my purpose, nothing more.

What cause is served by sending men to die for his pleasure?

And what of those of this land who will die for your peace?

Will you stand idly by while a people lose their land?

You are no knight, villain!

Pray, think of the morrow.

What is gained by all our deaths?

I will not suffer such slander!

Has he sent his finest blades? A general fit to lead them?

Your head is a meager trophy.

The men of the fort may have use of you yet.

Is no slander beneath you?

The duel is well and settled. Begone from my sight at once.

I've no more patience to indulge your play at knighthood.

Run along home while you yet live.

'Tis a sorry truth that righteousness is a rare luxury in war.

No oath binds you, nor would my death do you any great service.

I must make a pitiable sight..

I knew.. I am a meager choice to send as aid.

I fear I put on a shameful display...

He had the truth of it, every word.. I am weak.

I serve no purpose here, save as hollow homage to an empty pact.

It would please me to know it provided you some small comfort on your journey.

I cannot hope to grow strong overnight, but I will return able to serve you.

Your pride is lost, but you've kept your head.

Such utter defeat ill leaves room for argument.

They will have my confession, and my head, should they wish it.

Even as I am, I've still some semblance of pride.

Do you think me a fool for coming back? For not running?

In truth, I hardly know my own reasons.

Better that men at arms turn and run, than stand and die.

I was sure it was the best way. The only way.

You brought doubt with you.

'Tis a strange thing, to find such hope unwelcome.

[unseenstrm]

Anyway I made this blog solely to share the existence of (modern) (knight fighting)