My name is LYSTE VELVETDASHER.
Formerly, I was a member of Prince Yvetl's "entourage"
which is a pretty way of saying "kill squad".
If you, my Master, are reading this I ask of you: Make better use of my abilities.
[ AFFILIATED WITH FSL ]
The instinct was there again. To maim, burn, kill. It was lesser than in his previous life and form, less pulsing and pounding. Less.
But it needed to be sated somehow.
So here was Angron, hulking and brutal as he swung his axe again and again in this grove of trees. Two by two they were felled, axes swinging one way or the other. He was surrounded by all sorts of trees, mind focused only on the destruction of what was around him. He was paying no heed to what was nearby and failed to notice or care that the axes were swinging straight towards somebody’s very vulnerable neck.
After all, what’s a dead body to a murderer?
With no sign of a storm front brewing in the distance, he has come to the conclusion that someone - not something - must be responsible for all the ruckus in the forest. The rate at which trees crashed to the floor was far too quick to be natural.
Out of a sense of obligation to the nature that provides for them, Lyste hastens to the edge of the woods and bites back a curse. He spots the source of the noise - a massive warrior with little care for his surroundings - and marches up towards the perpetrator. He’s about to call out for the man to stop when the glint of metal catches his eye; he throws his arm up and a shield of ice snaps into existence, stopping the brunt of the swing just before his vambrace. His shield snaps in half, clatters to the ground in shards, as he swings to the side of the blow and hollers, “Why are you doing this!”
His eyes widened in surprise as he leaned in to watch closer when catching up to Lyste at the booth and whistled. He’s heard of sugar work before, but never actually stopped to look and actually watch- he’s kicking himself for that now because he never expected to look so intrinsic and cool.
Banri dipped forward as Angra pushed him down so that he could look and chuckled at the thought of such a thing being made in his image. He said something along the lines of it ‘Being amusing’ while swiping his partner’s Triplicata without any thoughts of permission.
“Oh Angra, give that back! At least ask first!” His voice grew rough in warning, while he chuckled again since moving would pretty much disturb the crowd, leaving him to his mercy.
Meaningless transgressions between friends is an experience Lyste has little with - he’s poked fun at Theron before and elicited startled laughter, but proper banter is a matter he’s only ever observed. Still, even if it’s not his to indulge in, he can’t help but smile at seeing Banri and Angra ‘get along’. He glances back towards the street vendor and wonders if there’s a spot for him to swipe his Triplicata - it’s so much easier to tip when you’ve coin.
A moment passes and another crowd-goer does exactly what the knight means to; Lyste holds back a sigh in relief as he mimics the little girl’s actions. The street vendor gives them both a pleased smile and Lyste simply averts his gaze lest his embarrassment show.
With a quiet ‘thank you’, he follows after his new friends and pulls up his map. “Hmm, I think it’s this way...”
Lyste prefers the quieter outskirts of Utopia - not quite near the barrier, but certainly away from the noise. Right now, he is seated beneath a sizable tree, its giant leaves blotting out the sun. Birdsong fills the air.
He himself is rather preoccupied with caring for his equipment.
What coin he has earned so far goes to the maintenance of his armor and weapons alike: The curved throwing blades - Vim & Vigor, his liege had called them - rest in his lap against his tabard. He runs a polishing cloth against the gleaming metal, whistling a quiet tune to himself as he works.
The AI says they’re to fight for the right to live upon this planet, this Terminal. To be perfectly honest, the thought excites him; it fills him with a shameful delight to know that his talents will be put to use. A mage-knight can only play with the water for so long before wanting to know just how swift his ice bolts are.
“There we are. Good as new.” He raises Vim towards the sky before realizing that he ought to step out from under the tree to get a better look at his blade. As he rises, he hears a twig snap in the distance and turns. “Is someone there?”
Fun facts about Lyste to help you decide if you’d like a starter or not:
He is thirty-one but is often mistaken for someone in his twenties because of his young face.
In terms of what’s easiest for him to manipulate: ultraviolet radiation > water > plants
He has pyrophobia, an irrational fear of fire. This manifests in physical symptoms such as hyperventilation and nausea.
He ??? will talk to anyone and see the good in people who aren’t outright villainous! Bring all your anti-social & acerbic muses, he will be their friend.
Uncapped for now! (Also, if I liked your RP ad recently, feel free to like this if you’d prefer that I write a starter. Msg me so I know to unlike your rp ad and save you a slot!)
There’s been enough weird things in this new world that Emma shouldn’t be so intrigued by a guy talking to himself and playing with flowers. But then there’s a swirling light that begins at his hand and moves to center towards a flower, filling it with something beautiful for a split moment before he moves and it’s gone.
“Hey, can you move?” In an instant, Emma’s crouching down right by the man and pushing at his side unceremoniously in an attempt to roll him back over. “There was a glowing flower right there and I think you’re on top of it.”
Her request is not only to sate her own curiosity; she knows for a fact that Norman and Ray would be really interested in getting to see something so obviously wondrous and magical. They could all benefit from a dose of something inhuman that wasn’t expressly out to kill and eat them. Norman at least would smile, even if it was only because she thought to bring it to them in the first place.
But that’s all assuming she could get her hands on it at all. So she shoves at his side again with all the stubbornness she can muster. “Mister? You’re crushing it.”
At the sound of a young girl’s voice, he lifts his head and tries to find its source. Whose interest could he have caught this time?
It takes a moment for him to process why she’s nudging him. When at last her words sink in, he offers her an apologetic smile and rolls over as she’d like. Before she can fret her little head any longer, he cups the crushed flower between his hands and closes his eyes in focus. Tuning into its frequency, he mends the flower once more and chuckles.
He rests upon his elbow and twirls the flower by the stem. Idly, he raises his arm and tucks the flower in her hair.
“The flower was glowing because of me, in case you were about to ask.”
Not to say that it was every really boring, not in Utopia, but the sight of the many children and the one adult running rampant within the park brought a catlike smile to the white haired boy’s lips as he leans back into the bench he was seated on.
“…My money’s on the Southern Army.”
Lyste approaches the bench, and Ryuubei speaks lazily, as if talking to himself. He juts his chin, tilts his head, looking towards a large tree just south of the bench–
A group of young girls are huddled in a circle, staring and pointing over at the other children running around. The tallest of the group leads a whispered discussion of strategy among them all, gesturing to a pile of colourful objects in the middle of them all.
Finally, the boy’s attention turns to the newcomer, who had been playing with the children only minutes prior.
“What say you, brave Sir Velvetdasher? Will your liege’s army’s hold up against a barrage of water balloons…?”
A man who plays along - Lyste beams at the show of enthusiasm and lets out a hearty laugh, looking less like a knight and more like a fellow simply after a good time. Before he has a chance to answer, a cry of laughter rings out through the park: The balloons have been launched. Water splashes everywhere, some of it reaching as far as their bench even.
Lyste shakes his head and answers his new friend, “I suspect that it is only a matter of time before we must announce a tactical retreat. Wouldn’t you agree, Sir...?”
Banri’s eyes snapped to Lyste when his hand made contact with his shoulder before looking down at the map. The mention of booster packs and card sets immediately caught his attention and nodded with a growing grin.
“Oh course not! This is the perfect place for-” He coughed at his over-excitement and tried to calm down a bit. “I mean what are we waiting for? Who knows what time it closes for the day?”
He quickly put his own Triplicata away and kept his hands in his pockets, waiting to begin their journey there (and desperately ignore Angra’s pricking, smug look).
The streets of Utopia are everything he expects them to be: Bustling, crowded, brimming with life - everything is so loud and busy that he has to consciously draw his attention away from the crowds. Had he no destination in mind, he’d simply look to and fro, content to wander aimlessly while strangers passed him by. But seeing as how he has both Banri and Angra to keep him company, Lyste continues to remind himself that they’re trying to reach the store.
His focus lasts for all of five seconds before he’s enraptured by a street vendor.
With a ladle, the man drips melted sugar onto a wax sheet in deliberate strokes. It takes the mage-knight a moment, but the vendor is clearly drawing something with the viscous mixture. People ‘ooo’ and ‘ahh’ or gasp.
Lyste stands taller than most of the people who’ve gathered to watch, but he gently nudges someone so as to make space for Banri.
The store Mind Food is long forgotten in favor of real food.
“Banri, would you like to order one? Perhaps he can make one of Angra.”
What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?
Lysias Holt.
“Lysias” means “deliverance: the action of being set free”. “Holt” simply means “a grip or hold”, but it can also mean “a wood or wooded hill”.
The name Lysias chose for himself actually came first, so while Lyste comes from Lysias in-character, on a meta level, Lysias came from Lyste … the more you know. Honestly, I wanted a regal sounding name for a knight.Holt may or may not have something to do with Brooklyn Nine-Nine.
“Lyste Velvetdasher” just sounded cool, but if you want Lyste’s reasoning for it… it’s not too different from his true name, something he “wants to reclaim” one day, but he also keeps a “list of sins” that he has committed. You and I could get into a moral debate until the sun rose about whether or not he’s actually done the wrong thing, but the point is - he himself believes he’s in the wrong.
“Velvetdasher” is a nod towards his true magic, the sort he has the strongest affinity for. Anyone who hears his name might think he’s a slayer of his own kind, ha… tragic.
Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/etc?
He is good with children and they adore him. Because he symbolizes that gallant knight archetype, kids look up to him and think he’s the coolest thing ever. He wouldn’t want children of his own, though. He doesn’t think himself responsible enough to be in charge of someone else’s life. And as kind-hearted as he is, he’s not the spoiling sort - he’ll be that “cool uncle” who comes around and somehow convinces your kids to do their chores.
Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?
He doesn’t cook. If it weren’t for Theron, all his meals would either be consumed raw or purchased… Fire is on the opposite end of the magical spectrum and it likes to lash out at him; he’s 99% convinced that flames are sentient and out to get him. (That last part is a joke. Lyste has a bad sense of humor.)
What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?
Toned and athletic, as you’d expect from a warrior. He stands at six-feet-one-inch. He doesn’t much care for his appearance beyond looking regal enough to belong in the court– which is a bit of a moot point now. Lyste doesn’t consider himself attractive; he has a young face, something that belies his age.
There’s a scar on his ear that he’s rather self-conscious about, though, and it’s noticeable the second he brushes his hair aside (there’s a notch on the top that’s a good inch long). He didn’t earn that in a glamorous battle; his brother gave him that one.
What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?
He thinks flustered people are charming and quaint. So he’ll try to get under the skin of people he likes. As for whether or not he’s funny, he’s a touch too serious, no? Unless, of course, you’re laughing at how out of place he is. Or how idealistic he comes off. In which case, he’s hilarious–
Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?
He’s heard a recording of an old musical before but the sound quality had deteriorated so much that he couldn’t make out most of the lyrics. He can appreciate a well-played instrument but he doesn’t really seek out music. Quiet melodic tunes resonate with him best. He has a tendency to hum but he’s not much of a singer.
Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?
Lysias had less of a childhood and more of training regimen - day in, day out, he was taught how to behave, lest someone find out his secret. You see, his affinity for “plague magic” makes him a pariah. His kind are generally put to death as soon as they display any talent for the stuff. But his father saw a use for him, so long as he learned to hide his truth well.
Any err on his part was reprimanded with scorn, leaving him with the impression that unless he was perfect, he didn’t deserve his father’s love.
His fondest memories were those spent with his brothers. Calisto, the eldest, only ever showed approval during their sparring matches. Emilio, though related only on his father’s side, was always kindly to Lysias.
*Other responses under the cut!
What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?
As a page, Lysias trained extensively in the sword. On occasion, he took up the lance, but he prefers the weight of a blade. Neither weapons were good for attuning his magic, however, and on the night before his death - Lord Zachariah bestowed upon his young knight-in-training a set of throwing discs. He’s not very good with them, truth be told, but he tends to use magic anyhow.
Technically, he never became a mage-knight - but everyone assumes he’s one due to the way he dresses and the potency of his spells. It just became easier to let people think he finished his training.
As for whether or not he enjoyed combat training and magecraft, well, Lysias has always been a pragmatic sort. If someone tells him to do something, he’ll do it with little complaint. He’s never really sat down and asked himself whether or not he enjoys what’s ordered of him.
What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?
He never cries. Never. He can’t.
Having to give up his past makes him sad, though. He still hopes that one day, he can go by Lysias once more. But that would mean having to come to terms with the fact that he fights under another banner now. It would mean acknowledging that Calisto is right - he is nothing more than a traitor, a dog that needs to be put down.
To be quite frank, he’s not sure how he’s managed to survive this long.
What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?
He wears iron armor to protect his limbs and extremities but otherwise it’s just padded linen and wool. The tabard that he wears over his jerkin bears an insignia that has no special meaning; Theron embroidered it to confuse anyone trying to pin down their allegiances.
Lyste doesn’t really think much of fashion- but if you were to give him a choice re: modern clothes? He wouldn’t go anywhere without a scarf. He doesn’t like his neck being exposed. Makes him feel vulnerable.
His hair makes no sense. It’s wild and untamed in the front, flying every which way and it’s this weird loose braid down below; it’s long, reaches halfway down his torso. (It’s so out of place with his knightly persona, it’s almost like it’s intentional…)
What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?
Guilty pleasure: Teasing people.
He feels awkward, being casual, but Theron rubbed off on him and now the two talk the same. Lyste still has his moments of trying to distance himself with formal language and deference but for the most part, once he starts ribbing you, it’s all downhill from there.
As for something he doesn’t feel guilty about... nope, does not compute. His entire existence is one huge guilt complex.
1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?
2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?
3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?
4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?
5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?
6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?
7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood?
8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?
9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals?
10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?
11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?
12. What is their favourite food?
13. What is their least favourite food?
14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?
15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?
16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?
17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?
18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else
19. What’s their least favourite genres?
20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?
21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?
22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?
23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?
24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?
25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?
26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?
27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?
28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?
29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective?
30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?
31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?
32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?
33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?
34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?
35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?
36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?
37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?
38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?
39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging?
40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?
41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?
42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?
43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?
44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most?
45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?
46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?
47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?
48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend?
49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?
50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?
He likes to imagine that the smile he wears upon his face is permanent, that he simply cannot exist without it, but there are times when it eludes him; he feels the wind against his face and closes his eyes. He hasn’t laid in a field like this since he was a child.
Ah, there was that one skirmish...
He snaps a dandelion between his fingertips and sap stains his hand. Lyste raises his arm and peers at the distinct halves of the weed. His grip slackens and the pieces tumble onto his chest. He exhales.
“My magic could never hurt you.”
Virescent wisps waft from his hand, warbling like bubbles that have neither concept nor understanding of home. Just like him.
The torn dandelion that rests upon his tabard glows, radiating with the same light as his magical energy - the pieces quiver until they touch one another and the flower becomes whole once again.
Lyste rolls over onto his side, crushing the weed beneath his weight. “I wonder what it must feel like...”
“I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed about getting the consolation reward for my efforts, but… when they look like this, I can hardly complain!”
He’s standing a ways away, too far to hear the words coming out of her mouth, but he sees the little doll in the palm of her hand and thinks of his Master. Would she care for one of those, and if so - how would he manage to obtain one?
The mage-knight decides to try his luck and approach the young woman, clearing his throat to announce his presence. “Excuse me, milady, I was hoping you could help me with something - that toy you have there, where might I be able to find one?”
Morrigan: What do you think happens when we die? // Apollo: Do you play any instruments?
What do you think happens when we die?
I was taught that we return to the earth. Our bodies decay and we simply cease to exist.
Though, I suppose that doesn’t quite answer your question. What do I think... I think, in an ideal world, our friends and our family mourn for us. We live on in their hearts and they carry us in their memories until they, too, pass.
Perhaps it’s a romantic notion but there’s nothing inherently wrong with that.
Do you play any instruments?
No, but I’ve always envied those who could. I used to listen to my younger brother on the harp. He has a way with the arts was always ill-suited for war.
My, wasn’t he formal? Addressing a perfect stranger as if he was an honored guest. It tickled Cáel’s heart. He couldn’t help but to smile. This fellow came from the old ways, it seemed, and was proud of it.
Keep reading
A reckless idiom tumbled out of the stranger’s mouth, as blasé as the man himself. He hadn’t a clue how to react to that, his mind still clinging to old habits - thus his body made the decision for him and tricked his smile into faltering. No more than a second passed before he caught on to the game his mouth was playing on him and he schooled his expression back into what he hoped was a pleasant sight.
(The curve of his lips was certainly amicable, perhaps even a touch beyond the stringent boundaries of professional. ‘Friendly’ was the word most used.)
There was a pause before the man introduced himself, a small detail that Lyste couldn’t help but notice. But he was too kind to remark upon the gaffe. Every man had his reasons and his secrets. He would not pry after a stranger’s affairs.
Playing the good knight was somewhat less satisfying, however, when he lacked a partner to accentuate his patience. Ah well, he had no enemies here.
Lyste’s smile widened at Cáel’s inquiry. And there it was, a chuckle. He knew no other way to swallow and temper his geniality. “I hadn’t any plans other than to practice.”
Were it not for years of discipline, he’d look a rogue before his next words, “You’ve given me reason to stay a while longer. Cáel.” Lest there was a misunderstanding, he added with a cant of his head, “I’ve been meaning to find allies in this city. Compeers, if you prefer.”
He righted himself as he calmly laid his intentions upon the table. “I would sleep better at night knowing there were people I could trust in this world.”
The city’s night life almost reminds him of New Mombasa. At least, what he imagined the place to be like before the Covenant showed up. Mostly quiet, but still teeming with life. A perfectly normal metropolis.
That was probably why he felt on-edge. From the start, nothing seemed quite right about this place. Maybe it was because he was summoned so irregularly. Maybe it was because he was used to being able to immediately identify the current threat.
There wasn’t anything he could say or do, as of yet. He lacked an actual Master–just some A.I. knockoff. Not even a smart A.I. , just the typical “dumb” ones that were usually only designed for a few simple tasks. He’d almost have preferred Vergil if he didn’t have any other choice, but no such luck. He would probably have to bide his time and wait until a proper Master woke up to be assigned to him.
Although the random chance involved in him getting a good Master for him made him even more unsure.
Well, once again, he couldn’t particularly do much. Just keep wandering around the city and sticking around until he found someone he could work with.
He’d been spending the last few days doing reconnaissance. Figuring out the layout of the city. He wouldn’t be a particularly good Assassin if he didn’t know all the good hidey-holes the place had to offer, would he?
He was mostly done, walking around some dark corner on the outskirts of Utopia, when he’d heard something. Whether it was a tree branch snapping, a very loud footstep, whatever–someone else was nearby in a place where typically no one went.
There wasn’t any hesitation. His SMG was in his hands and pointed right in the direction of the disturbance. That may have been “jumping the gun” both literally and metaphorically, but he couldn’t be too careful. He didn’t exactly have the luxury of trusting strangers at first glance.
To be a mage-knight, one had to have a certain level of fearlessness. The dark was no obstacle for a man who could weave wonders. Thus, where others would avoid the seedy underbelly of the city, he found himself wandering out of a need to know.
Maybe it was foolish to be so distant from one’s Master, but he was confident in his ability to vanish without a trace if need be. Escaping from a confrontation wasn’t all that difficult if you knew how to catch someone off-guard.
Speaking of which...
He threw up his arm and a shield of ice materialized before his gauntlet, lest the stranger across from him had a twitchy trigger finger. When no shots rang out against the cold air, he lowered his guard but an inch and peered over the rim.
Ah. He should have worn a helm himself, now that he thought about it. But clunky headgear only created blind spots, something a mage could ill afford.
He stared at his own reflection in the stranger’s visor and marveled over that. “I do apologize for startling you. Would you be amenable to a ceasefire?”
