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I'm excited to meet more of the crazy duskwight family.

R'elend rolls his shoulders under the armor, a pleasant feeling of annoyance washing over him. Twenty years of guarding the Sagolii took something. out of a man, but this bitch's wailing put a spring in his step. Bitch was asking to get the shit kicked out of her, right? Couldn't nobody fill in a complaint for for that. "I aint got shite to prove, ya great ugly whore. Not even worth telling the lads." He spits at her feet and walks forward, "Just ready to give you somethin to actually cry about." "Now git lost to some alley and drink yourself to death." He looks up from a few feet away, "Gods you're ugly, a beating 'ight actually improve things." He feels a presence behind him, and his eyes flick to the side to see a familiar face. It was that Flame, the one who had a discerning eye regarding the whore's of the city. Rare breed that, he remembered a lass who knew her whores, true soldier she was. He gives her a noncommital nod before returning to leer at the Roegadyn, no sense in jumping the giant before she even threw a punch.

What had life come to, when a man couldn't even enjoy a beer in peace. Even the Garleans would likely have the decency to let a man enjoy his cold pint after a hot shift. Yet not here. He tries to ignore the spectacle for a few minutes, but eventually something in him snaps. He drains his beer with a single angry motion, and stomps over to the woman, arms and chain clinking softly in the din of the bar. "Oy, cunt." The voice comes from behind, a low rumbled of annoyance. Its owner was a Miqo'te with a weatherbeaten face, clad in the rusty red armor of a brass blade. " 'Ow about you shut that maw of yours 'ey?" His hands rest easy at his sides, and a deep scowl darkens his features. "Trying to get a fookin drink in 'ere." His eyes look over her frame, "Don't care if you're a man, woman or morbol, I'll drag you outside and beat some sense into you if 'ats what you're after."

Likewise. Maybe we can be mod buddies Then Id have to deal with you more regularly than now? *goes to delete app* just kiddin lol. My tears, they are like a river.

It was strange, seeing the place again. Surreal even. The small manse lay huddled against the cliff face, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To her of course, it wasn’t. The house was like a ghost, a spectre. Some remnant of the past that somehow persisted into the present. She clutches her burden under one arm, and steps out into the lake, boots finding purchase on cobblestone a few inches beneath the surface. There was a dry path, of course, but this felt appropriate. A small current brushes against her, propelled by the small waterfall bordering the house. She steps back onto land, her boots leaving wet tracks as she heads to the gate. A low wall protected by a row of rusting cannon, a garden overgrown with weeds, a fish pond long since dry. Even though she expected this, some small part of her still grieved that time had taken such a toll on the place. The door is chained and locked, loops of iron binding the doors. The wooden sign nailed nearby says ‘NO ENTRY’, but the broken windows show that it was ignored by at least one person. She takes the heavy object from under her arm, a squat pair of bolt cutters. She places the sharp beak of the device over the hasp of the lock, and hesitates. Laughter, drinking. Friendly faces and warm fires. Harsh words, and harsher partings. Did she truly wish to go through such things again? Did she even deserve to? The miqo’te takes a deep breath, adjusting the carved mask that covers her face. No. She didn’t. Her muscles bulge for a moment, and the lock falls to the ground. But others, others did. She wouldn’t fail again.

I sent a PM, but I would love to have Eva participate if you don't cancel it. I just need to write a poem. Let me kidnap a muse and work on it.

Ok, I get that we're all here to have fun but... SOME THINGS ARE TOO SERIOUS TO JOKE ABOUT.

Likewise. Maybe we can be mod buddies

Aarons hair is really fluffy looking, and I want to touch it. He is one of those people I want to RP with more, but never gotten the chance. Also he is a silly person ooc.

I'm an IT consultant/engineer. Everything from building servers to programming to networking. I think Evangeline would be pretty decent at it, assuming she was magically given some knowledge of the devices in question. The part where she has to deal with people would be more complicated. I can't just throw smoke bombs at problems and run away at my job :c

Evangeline and Martialais With Sukaretto: With Klyn:

((Parts 2 and 3)) The duskwight finally loses his grip on the lance as the heavy wood of a practice blade cracks onto his knuckles. One of Chantrise’s lackies had come in from the side while she distracted him.. Evangeline had lost count of how many times they’d hit him, his dark skin cut and bleeding in places, blood dripping onto the sands. Chantrise moves in, her perfect face marred by a line of blood dripping down from her brow. She’d been first of the four to be hit as they assaulted the Duskwight, and did not seem pleased by that fact. With a growl she knocks the lance from his weakened fingers, the padded tip of her own striking him in the chest, driving the air from his lungs. He stumbles, coughing, only for the Hyur to suddenly appear and drive a wooden cestus into his jaw. The hyur was the most battered of all, his pale skin covered in bruises and cuts, but despite this his blow was powerful, almost sending the duskwight spinning around from the force. He staggers drunkenly, walking right into an overhead spinning strike from Chantrise’s lance. It smashes into his temple with a sickening crack, which echoes through the yard. The battered teenager takes a few more mindless steps, then crashes into the dust, unmoving. Chantrise and her two remaining companions stand there, chests heaving. The fourth lies unmoving in the dust, a trickle of drool coming from his comatose mouth. Chantrise walks over and kicks the duskwight, her heel sinks into the man’s abdomen, yet there is no response, not even a groan.. “He’s done. One of you grab Elantiel.” She gestures at their comatose companion. “I’m getting a bath.” Evangeline tries to be invisible as she hides behind the water barrel, watching the two boys carry their friend out of the yard. The Duskwight however, remains motionless. She waits a few minutes after they leave, then heads to scamper out of the yard. Then the duskwight groans, and Evangeline freezes. No, she has to leave. What if they come back? He hit Chantrise. She might even have a scar. No one even talks back to Chantrise, certainly no one hits her. If they knew she helped this man, she’d get it twice as bad next time. Still… Her hands clench at her breeches. That is what a coward would think, only of their own safety. She had to prove them wrong. She had to be brave. Like him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The man was lighter than he looked, and she was able to drag him out of the sun and into the shade of an alcove. Not knowing what else to do she wet a rag from the water barrel, wiping away his cuts and trickling a few cool droplets between his shattered lips. The man was a mess, his dark skin a patchwork of cuts and blossoming purple bruises. His breath was regular but ragged, could he have broken a rib? She squeezes a few more drops into his mouth, and this time, he stirred. Rolling over, he gives a few hacking coughs, spitting a mixture of spit and blood into the sand. Then he notices the dark haired woman peering down at him. “Scuse me. I’m not supposed to spit in front of a lady, am I?” He chuckles softly at this, which quickly turns into a grimace of pain as he holds his ribs. “It’s… it’s fine! How do you feel? I thought they were going to kill you! You… you didn’t have to do that you know. I didn’t need your help.” “Strange way to say ‘thank you’ miss.” He spits again, sitting up against the stone wall of the yard. “I’m not thanking you!” Evangeline says in irritation, “Now the next time they see me, they’ll attack me for that too. These false accusations of my family’s cowardice are bad enough…” She furrows her brows, “Why are you laughing?” Indeed, the battered duskwight was holding his ribs and chuckling softly, “Miss, is that why you think they do it? Because they have reasons?” He gestures to his lance, “Get that for me, will you? My father will kill me if I lose it.” She walks over to grab the thing, needing two hands to lift it. How did the Duskwight and Chantrise make it look so easy? She presses the wooden pole into his hands, “Why then? Everyone has a reason.” For some reason this man pissed her off. “How about you let me know, if you’re so smart!” “Because miss.” He braces himself on the lance, using it like a cane as he takes his feet with a groan. “You let them.” He begins to stagger out of the training yard, leaving a small trail of blood. “Problems don’t go away by wishing.” His voice is wry, “Else we’d no need to deal with the drakes.” “Have a good day miss.” He rounds the corner as Evangeline stammers speechless, not even getting his name. She sits in the yard silently for almost a bell, before taking her book and dusting it off. On the way out, she also takes one of the weighted wooden practice swords. The next morning, and for every morning thereafter, she did not skip her training.

((Thanks to Martiallais for the Idea)) Seven years before the Calamity “Coward!” The insult was followed shortly by a glob of spit, the boy’s pockmarked face leering at her cruelly. It hits her cheek, glistening, and she wipes it off before it can fall down to damage the delicate vellum of the book. Just ignore them. Don’t give them what they want. They’ll get tired. They’ll go away. You’ve been through this before. Do as Leopold told you, endure. “See? I told you she wouldn’t do anything!” the voice that joins in is shrill and haughty. The kind of voice that could only come from a woman of impeccable breeding. Evangeline takes a peek out of the corner of her eye, seeing of course, the arch-mistress of her torment, Chantrise Dzemael. The woman’s fiery red hair frames a perfect face, skin a soft caramel. “It runs in the blood you know. Cowardice.” Evangeline closes the book, her hands clenching as the blood rises to her head. NO! She shouts at herself, forcing herself to keep breathing, to look away. Don’t give them what they want. Don’t play their game! The three boys snicker at that comment as Chantrise continues, “Tis no suprise, their father never served in the knights, nor their mother.” She sighs deeply, “Is it any wonder their union produced two snivelling…” “My brother is not a coward!” Evangeline wonders for a moment who spoke, then realized with growing horror that it was her. Her voice was soft, but carried clearly to all present. She clenches her fists to halt them from trembling, and meets the woman’s eyes. “What did you say, Lady Primrose?” The woman’s voice sounds calm, but has more of a dangerous edge than a honed blade. “My brother is not a coward! It’s your sister that…” Her words are cut off as Chantrise’s hand snakes out to grab a clump of Evangeline’s black hair, twisting it in a flash of pain. “What did you say? You filth?” She cries out, reaching up to try and pry Chantrise’s hand free, but the other woman was larger and stronger. While Evangeline had been shirking her exercises and training in order to read, the highborn woman had been training in sword and lance. “It’s your brother who lost his nerve when the drake landed! Your stupid cowardly…” The woman’s eyes flash with rage, the three boys edging up next to her with cruelty in their eyes. All three were sons of lords sworn under the high house, there would be no sympathy to be gained from them. “That’s not what he… your sister is a LIAR! She’s the one that…!” Evangeline interrupts the woman, her own glare matching Chantrise’s. This of course, was the wrong thing to have done, and the grip at her hair becomes crueler, forcing Evangeline painfully to her feet. “S-stop! Let me go!” Her fists grip at Chantrises without effect. “Ishgard has no place for liars, Primrose.” The woman drives a balled up fist into Evangeline stomach, causing the book to fall from her hands, and clatter to the dirty sand of the training yard. Evangeline doubles over, coughing, the movement causing her hair to go taut, and for a moment she thinks Chantrise’s hold on it will rip her scalp from her skull. “S-stop…” She pleads as tears well in her eyes, the larger woman preparing another blow. “Let me go! I’m sorry!” “From here, It is not she who appears the coward.” The voice comes from behind the group, it’s accent plainly common. The four of them turn, shocked at the presence of a commoner in a training yard for the nobility. The owner of the voice was a teenager like themselves, stripped to the waist and doing a series of exercises with a long wooden pole. It was padded on the end, and weighted. A training lance. Sweat beaded on his dark skin, and his long black hair practically dripped with it in the still air of the yard. For a moment, the yard was silent, the only noise the shuffling of feet and slicing of wind as the duskwight stranger continued his exercises, seeming to have lost interest in the group again. “What did you say, duskie?” One of the boys said almost on cue, as Chantrise glares at the interloper, Evangeline’s hair still tight in her fist. The boy was a hyur, and while he was shorter than the duskwight, muscles bulged under his training clothes. “Who let a lowborn cave dweller like yourself in here?” The Duskwight continues his exercises, seeming to view the hyur as beneath notice. This only seems to annoy the hyur more, and he steps closer, “I’ll teach you some respect, you mouthy shit!” His fist flashes out, aiming for the sensitive spot just below a man’s ribs. Somehow the Duskwight spins out of the way, his training lance flashing as he does so. The length of hardwood smacks into the man’s ankles, sending him sprawling into the ground in a flash of dust. “Perhaps you all should spend more time training, instead of… whatever that is.” He doesn’t spare the man a second glance, and instead goes back to his training, his wooden lance a whirring blur. The knocked over hyur crawls out of range before gaining his feet, checking his ankles to ensure they’d hold his weight. “Oh, you’ve done it now, duskie.” Chantrise let’s go of Evangeline hair, and the slender woman scuttles back against the wall, whimpering and rubbing at her aching scalp. The four of them pace around the training yard, picking up practice weapons of their own. The hyur slips on a pair of weighted wooden cestus, while the two male Elezen test the weight on practice blades. Chantrise herself hefts a practice lance, and they circle around the Duskwight, Evangeline temporarily forgotten in the pursuit of more satisfying prey. (part 1/3)

The rear tires on my mustang have like double the wear of the front ones :C I'm not looking forward to replacing them.

DO IT.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. How many corners have u drifted.

Wrong coast. how do you know because im looking at u across the office in your dream p sure this is ur doofus head

Wrong coast. how do you know because im looking at u across the office

Wrong coast.

Ugh, you would. If it helps, I don't care enough to do that repeatable quest 20 times to cement my vote as "really important" or whatever. I just did it three times - two for clogs, one for the vote. I DO.

Well, they're described as prepubescent. So they're supposed to be little cutesy idol girls. Seeing a child roe would be funny though.

Ugh, you would.

Discussion on why Masha is the best songbird, and why the other two are pieces of trash.

Don't murder me Marti! I vow to repent and change my ways! (Well at least for everything after Tam-tara?) I regret nothing.

I do like how they do a pretty good job using the various dialects of English to show different social groups and backgrounds. The maid chick in 3.2 was a good example, same with Hilda. They don't use the same accent as the upper crust noble types. I don't remember that as much in 2.0