Lady Rivienne

I don't know why I took this, except that she just seemed so very happy.

WHY WHY WHY.

You can! Come to the Shroud, make sure not to afk! I'm imagining needing to run away from flying arrows trying to explain that I didn't double cross her. ; ; Kage.. you.. You.. pretty much just described Rivienne and Yvelont's first meeting in the Shroud. LMAO. THAT MEANS RIVIENNE IS FI PERFECTLY. ... Are you sure Yvelont isn't Michael? She is very trigger happy.. And always ready to shoot. I love Fi, too!

... I wish I could meet Rivienne. I love Fi. You can! Come to the Shroud, make sure not to afk!

I prefer smaller groups for roleplay or one on one even, more than four people and I do have a difficult time keeping up with the turns made for replies. Which is why my style isn't too good for large social gatherings, since I have a hard time trying to keep up with the constant scroll. Because of that, role-playing in the main hubs, like Quicksand, is tough. Tragedy and action based roleplay is where my writing is at its strongest. Considering that I have the "strong and dangerous" trope, when it comes to my female characters, it's comfortable for me. I like putting strife and tribulations in my stories, but I'm by no means shunning romance and fluff. Give me all the good stuff! Don't think I have a preference when it comes to pace, I suppose it depends on the situation. I easily can adjust for my partners, in truth, I'm a pretty laid back player.

Fiona, from Burn Notice!

And why gaze upon me seeking beauty, when the world around thee is surrounded by such.

-Rivi faints in the background- .. We BOTH approved of this. Nngh..

Laughed a little too hard. :love: Verad. Silver fox.

*Pre-emptively dies in anticipation* Oh gosh, Yangh. I love you.

Considering I have plenty of time, I give in. Qaeli did it, Gharen did it, might as well put me down too! I'd like to see how Rivienne turns out.

For a long moment, the world around her melted into ebon nothingness and she was left with just the display of death, by her hands, underneath her frame. With mouth agape, the disgraceful death of her mother was a definite eye sore. Her blood covered her hands completely and sank into the leather she wore. She felt nothing at first, simply stared while pushing down on the lifeless arms and slowly standing up. Her knees shudder, threatening to let her fall over, but Rivienne mustered what little energy she had left to take a step back, a few more soon after, until she cleared space betwixt she and the fallen body of her mother. The shuffling had come to a stop around her, bodies had fallen, no longer tethered to the power woven into the dark air. Disheveled tresses were plastered to her face as beads of sweat had peppered her forehead and ran down her temples. Weary eyes turned to the bow that was taken from her, which was piled up with her satchel, turned inside out, and a broken quiver that was dormant next to it. A story of bloodshed lined the walls and painted the floor, she was certain her own was mingled with that of these heretics. Rivienne felt exhaustion clinging to her appendages, but found strength to move forward, to not turn and look at her mother again. To leave that image behind along with that of Marceloix. But, the scene will haunt her, even now, she could still see his skull tilted as if he was crying out to the heavens, or begging forgiveness. Rivienne wished not to think of it while adrenaline left her body and lethargy took its toll. What of the dragon, the one that came from the dark, the one that had been walking to them the whole time? He was there yet, stilled after Danielle had fallen, but very much active he was, watching his prey, the one that freed him, now grow weak with each step taken. She had not forgotten about it in her moment of self-awareness. Rivienne was coming to terms with what had taken place, of how her hand was the demise of a woman she loved, respected. A woman she no longer could recognize. A life shrouded in deceit, entwined by lies. It ended with a blade. But that blade was not going to stop the menace that slowly crept closer, jaws divorced as if readying a cry to blow out her eardrums. The huntress gathered her bow, at last, and swept up an arrow that spilled out of the quiver. She turned to the dragon as shadows melted away from its monumental form and it descended upon her. "Come then," she breathed out the words and gave a broken smile. If this was to be her fate, then let her die with Marceloix's bow in hand. A lover left her, a mother betrayed her, her hands were caked in blood. What she had left was pride in and had no qualms in dying, especially this day. Her brothers were waiting for her. A thought that carried her through desperate moments. She chuckled dryly, remembering that an old friend asked if she sought death, to write her story in blood. She would not deny it now. Elongated ears burned when an unfamiliar sound came from the opening of the cave, and though she had a hard time distinguishing it from friend or foe, she came to realize that what was coming toward her were not the same men that had kept her hostage. Their armor glittered in what little light fell from them. They hurried in as she glanced past her shoulder, not batting a lash at the huntress as they leap over the dead bodies and head straight to the menace before her. Their swords were withdrawn, and like the mighty soldiers they were, they began to fight back the dragon that was now giving them an onslaught that would leave a few with serious injuries, if not dead. Rivienne was dumbfounded, for these men were not sent from Haurchefant, he knew not of what was taking place here. These were Carvallain's own. Her deed was done, let these men, full of strength and power, bring down the beast. She had eradicated the source of all his problems. Or so she believed. "Glory is yours," Rivienne whispered as they marched past her and she reached to take a few arrows in her hands, along with the emptied satchel. Bitterly, she smiled and felt the tears grow hot in the basin of her eyes. The levee within had broken and emotions poured forth to swallow her thoughts whole. She bites back the desire to let out a sob, instead holding it back while pulling the leather strap, of her satchel over her shoulder. Slowly, she straightened herself up and turned to face the light at the end of the cavern. She was to greet it, to be free of here. Thwack! Air was pulled from her lungs and she staggered back from the force of the impact. Golden eyes looked forward frantically, catching sight of the two men, the detour to freedom was caused by one of their arrows. A thick arrow made its home above her breast, leaving her in a state of shock for a moment as she came to terms that she was shot. This was no mistake, for these bowmen could have easily targeted the dragon. No sound for mercy, no cry, had fallen from her lips as she tried to find ground underneath her feet. Life stirred in her arms, however, and she notched one of the arrows. They readied themselves to assault once more when noticing she had not gone down, the wretched woman still was on two legs. It was then that she cried out and lifted her bow, steadying herself as her screams encouraged her to fight back. Her parched throat ached, but it mattered not, she was slowly being numbed by the rancor spreading within. Carvallain betrayed her, too. Her arrow is ready and it takes flight as she finds strength to take aim and let it soar to the chest of one of the archers. He staggered back from the impact and dropped his weapon. But, as soon as it is released, she nearly loses footing when another arrow finds its home in her abdomen. It was then that her lips parted to give voice to the painful hiss and she struggled to draw breath. They were wearing her down more than she had been and her body could no longer take any more of the abuse. Poison had laced the arrow's head and the agent's venom was dispersing throughout her core. It was then, that Rivienne, sister to the fallen warrior Marceloix, decided that she was not to leave this world alone. Rivienne's labored breath were painful and her arm shook as she tried to take aim with the bow. Her legs parted and she swayed while struggling to fill her lungs with air. The arrow is notched, but before she could let it meet its mark, the archer is attacked from behind by another assailant. She did not see the face, for darkness had already began to welcome her into its chilly embrace with each breath. The bow slips from her fingers, and soon, the arrow follows suit. This beaten body shuffles, like the dead had been, backwards against the jagged wall where she was once held. Soon, her legs find that they no longer can hold her upright, and she slides down, unceremoniously, to the ground. Fingers sought the arrows, brushing at the shaft lightly but she could not take a grip. She could no longer feel it. Seated there, as her life slips from her, Rivienne turned to the body of her mother, to the remains of her brother and watches the color red spread like a plague, until her eyelids descend and she can no longer hear the music of combat.

[align=center]Red, the color of passion.. ..the color of life and death. [/align] Against her lean frame, splashes of color paint her leather bindings and vestments. Her face was smeared with the essence of the men that were impaled by the blade she twisted in her grasp. The bodies dropped in her malevolent dance of destruction and she cared little of how they came to an end, as long as they were dead. Emotion had drained from her features and she acted without a single remorseful thought; she was a shell of flesh delivering retribution. The small group, which held Avenger hostage, soon found their bodies upon the unforgiving, frigid, Earth. Blood had pooled underneath them, tainting stone and dirt with red. The bird, who was in a mode of panic, fluttered his wings high, sending cool air to whip against the Elezen's soiled face. His attempt to bring her to her senses failed, for she whistled sharply and pointed to the gaping maw of the cave, where light pierced through. Her order was not to be questioned and, though hesitant he was to leave, Avenger was given little choice in the matter. His dark eyes met the pools of gold, eyes once filled with vigor, hinted at a ravine where she stored the pain fueling her actions. "Your body.." The blade fell from her callused fingers and clattered loudly to the ground, but not enough to drown the sound of chanting that echoed throughout this boreal chamber. Her mother gathered the remaining aether from the fallen bodies, and nearly as soon as they fell to their deaths, their bodies were languidly becoming animated, like puppets, once more. She was pulling the strings. Rivienne saw, past the tall frame of the female Elezen, the skeletal remains of her sibling trembling as she stirred it to life. It was mortifying, seeing the one so dear to you, soulless. "..is meant to know suffering, many loses and few wins." Malicious words warped the air around her; everything felt darker, heavier, and noxious. Her lips part and a smile spreads slowly 'pon them. The situation was not in the least humorous, yet she found delight that she had life still, and had energy to launch herself forward. Strong legs push forth with a sprint toward the first body she had slain, now fully erect. All the while, the magic gathered from her mother, was not only managing to manipulate this corpses, but it stirred to life the very threat that Carvallain worried about. The dragon, whose sinew hung to its yet wet bones, was rising to his feet. The odor grew stronger and heavy steps resound into the air; it was coming closer all too quickly. "My songbird, dearest sister.." His voice was in the fog of her memories, whispering into her psyche. She quickly tackled down the walking dead, pushing all of her weight upon it, and reached for the dagger he had taken from her whilst unconscious. Snapping her head up, Rivienne put the dagger between her lips and took a fistful of hair, only to make sure she bashed his disfigured face, into the stone ground. This was only to give him pause, as she pushed off his back and rushed forward to the woman who had turned away from her. Beautiful hair danced whimsically behind her slender frame as she conducted her ritual. Arms were spread out, welcoming the dragon that was causing the cave itself to tremble; debris began to fall over them. It did not put a damper on the advances of the dead behind her. Her mother had little time to realize that it was all to late when her eyes met the ravenous gold depths that sought death. Strong fingers had sought her neck and dug into the flesh, digging deeply. This disrupted her concentration and she struggled to breath as Rivienne pulled her mother's body back into her frame. Eyes widened as they sought the dragon and she reached out for it as life was being choked out of her. Nails pierced the first layer of flesh, and like talons, threatening to tear her throat out. A feral snarl left Rivienne's lips as she heard her mother gasp in pain and attempt to speak to her. "Rivienne. . Juliette.." She forcefully shoved her to the ground as the bodies encircled them, even that of Marceloix, which devoid of life, rose to assault her. Danielle's body crumbled immediately from the impact as her head hit the ground hard, blurring her vision. Immediately, Rivienne was on top of her, legs straddling her chest, knees pinning down her arms and digging into them. The huntress stared down at the contorted face of torment underneath her. Blood trickled from where she punctured, the same blood that ran through Rivienne's own veins. She smelled it in the air, tasted it on her lips as she bled too. Labored breaths came from the woman and a few gasps of air, but the huntress was not going to let her find reprieve. The dagger was freed from betwixt her teeth by a free hand. Shuffling feet, loud growls and steel unsheathed, become the symphony of this closing act. Tucking her thumb underneath her jaw, she pulled back her mother's head and leaned close, biting the air between them. Exposing her neck, she placed the tip of the blade to the very center, but her mother was not giving up yet. Her eyes were widened like a mad woman, perhaps mirroring the look now worn across the hunter's visage. Blood was spat into Rivienne's face, nearly hitting her eye, as words scornfully filled her ears. Her pulse throbs at the very words. "He spoke your name..but you are no songbird.." "..but a bird of prey." Rivienne concluded as steel sinks through, tearing away at the layer of flesh, striking true when ripping into the larynx. The gruesome sound was enough to cause gooseflesh, if she was not a woman accustomed to such a sinful melody. Using both hands, she took a grip of the dagger's hilt and pushed down fully, until it impaled her completely.

For Rivienne, she doesn't reveal how musically inclined she is. She has been given the moniker 'songbird' ..but it isn't well known. Also, it would be highly unusual for her not to speak in such an ostentatious manner. But, in very rare situations, she casts aside the proper speech.

For Quarimar and.. not sure who our mystery elezen is there. :love:

don't know about anyone else but.. I know where Rivienne goes.

Okay this is fantastic and cute. I encourage this idea!

...You know, you could probably make some serious gil if you started doing commissions by editing screenshots like this. ^ Even just the sharpening of contrasts and stuff like the previous pic awhile back where the jewels in the accessories "shone"? more clearly. Hmm, wonder if people would actually want sine screenshots glamoured. I mean I wouldn't mind trying, give it a shot and all.

Blissfully taking in the gentle caress of sunbeams; a heart finds peace with the tranquility one surrounds themselves in.

I just need to get them together!

the Elezen appreciation committee applauds your submission. Wish I could get some Elezen ladies together for a glamorous screenshot edit.

Awe, yis. :love:

"I've missed you." Are you guys going to put together a "best of" album? Cause I might know a guy interested, just a friend who.. admires Elezen or something... We need more Elezen love.