Fimbulvetr

Radames

Character OTS

OTS 1
OTS 2

Andante & Iracebeth

Couple OTS


Open something in the way

#1
don't fear the reaper

The days it took him to reach the outer most territories of the East were sadly uneventful. No caravans to harass, no scavengers to pick off one by one...Namira was rather bored with the outcome. It seemed as if there had been little influx of those banished as of late, and it had the older stag wondering if the Valley below had suffered some sort of plague, disaster or war. Though, he thought now gazing down at the ravine and rocky outcrops, he would have surely heard of such a thing by now. 


But the world had grown a bit too silent, hadn't it?


Namira shook the dust and dirt from his otherwise azure hide, clacking a hoof or two on a rock to knock loose any dirt that collected underneath. He was, above all else, someone who took pride in always being pristine. And being in the wastes, it was a constant chore to continually brush off dust and dirt, to remain somewhat civilized in a world where others sought to rip each other limb from limb. The thought brought the faintest smiles to his otherwise placid visage; how he would love it if they all did such, for Namira could enter in the lowly scavenger and lap up the blood in the wake of death. A chortle, a blink, and he turned his head back down to examine the never changing steppes.  


He often enjoyed the solidarity that came with being so far from the Oasis. Here, he was free to be what he was; a cut off man from a civilized world with impeccable taste in food. Of course, the denizens of the Valley hadn't necessarily agreed, lest he be living in the lap of luxury rather than rolling in mud to keep cool. It is then that a curious sight catches in his peripheral; a lonely songbird flying overhead. Azure watches as the tiny creature lands on a nearby rotted root, sticking out like an old bleached bone from the side of the steppes. Curiously, he steps just a bit closer, a hunger growing in the pit of his stomach--while, it was no equine, as he desired most a little morsel such as this would at least hold him over until Namira was able to find a more suitable source of protein. 


When at last he was hovering above the little bird, to his surprise it didn't flutter off as he expected, Namira coiled his neck and released it outwards. The audible clack of crooked teeth reverberated off the stones as a single hoof dared slip from beneath him. He caught himself, however, on the rotting root quick enough to propel his body back onto safer ground. However, much to his dismay, the bird had taken flight in his folly, and now chirped happily out of his reach in the air above the steppes below. 


Tag: @[Namira]

#2

Avarice watches from the grasses, perfectly concealed in a spot she has used many a time to wait until no others are in this particular section of the Oasis. Weeks of observation taught her when the watering hole is the least populated and she forces herself to wait, to hold the burning thirst at bay, until no one can see her. She does not wish for conversation, commiseration, or even a polite nod in greeting. No, she wants nothing more than to be alone. There is no one trustworthy in the world whom she can rely on without magic to coat her tongue and separate fact from fiction.

So she spends her days hidden away in one of the few shaded alcoves far enough from the Oasis that not many wander past. The truthsayer is not often bored with her lot in life, how can she claim to be dissatisfied when she imposed this exile upon herself? But lately, a feeling of malcontent stirs long suppressed desires to see this world burn. What has the world to offer a spirit cast adrift by the machinations of a selfish king? ”Nothing.” The word is vehemently spat into the warm air before her tongue is sealed away behind tightly pressed lips.

Her thirst slaked, she roams toward the borders, curious if there are any new faces to be aware of and consequently, avoid. She travels quickly through various, barely visible trails, until a call of alarm fills the air. Birdsong. Ghostly eyes scan the area to rest upon the dark figure of a skull-masked man. He is unfamiliar, a newcomer? No, she does not see the lost look in his eyes the newly exiled often bear until they accept the change to their fate. She watches the man cling to the edge of a rocky ledge and a smile drifts across pale lips only to vanish when he does not fall.

Ah, well, I cannot have everything, can I? Avarice huffs out an amused snort before calling out in a voice that’s the picture of apathetic bliss. ”Better luck next time.” The words left unapproved by her brain, but she merely mentally shrugs and lingers to see if he will attempt to catch another bird. His folly a surprising source of amusement for the isolated mare.


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OOC: Namira This really sucks, I'm sorry.

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Tag: @[Avarice]

#3
don't fear the reaper

Namira was someone who often didn't get company, and when he did--well, they often never left. So when the apathetic lift of a mare's voice graced his ears from not meters away, azure eyes flicked immediately to it's source. Ears alert, body relaxed, he took in her pale form in one fell (read; hungry) swoop. At first, Namira says nothing. He simply stares on at her with the same unnerving blue that decorates his bones and flesh. A flick of his tail, and the stallion steps forward; closer, closer again until he stood just enough above her to almost seem intimidating.

"My dear, don't you know it is unwise for one such as yourself to wander the wastes alone?" A lilt in his voice suggested at his once noble upbringing, punctuated by some sort of accent but not overbearingly so. "There are unsavory creatures and men who would do anything for flesh as pristine as yours." And then he smiled, perhaps a little too wide, with the jagged edge of his teeth wanting desperately to poke out from beneath khol and alabaster kissers.

His smile did not fade, even as Namira turned and side-stepped the mare as if to walk on past her. Instead, he stopped at her side and stared on at the wastes with the occasional glance back to the pale lady of the sand. "Ah, but you are a grown woman. An exiled woman. No man or creature could ever take you or break you--that is what you are thinking, no?" the hiss of air as he inhaled to chortle broke the thick silence of the hot air. "Come, I will take you back to the Oasis. You should not linger here lest the sand and heat burn you into ash."

Namira was a man who loved to toy and prod. From an early age he had desired to understand how everything worked. The machinations of life and society to the body itself and even death; there was no satiating his desire for knowledge. And so, knowing good and well how unwise it was to offer a stranger shelter and passage back to the safe haven, he did so with out a second thought. How would she react? Would she blindly accept help? Well, if she did he certainly would kill and devour her before they ever reached the Oasis. Nothing as incompetent as that should be allowed to walk the earth, and of course, the lack there of nutrition within Namira's stomach was only an afterthought. And, should she chose to reject his offer, perhaps he could stay and pick her mind about why such a lovely thing as herself had been driven to world's end.


Avarice

Tag: @[Namira]

#4

She watches with impassive eyes, a slow blink periodically to keep the ever swirling particles of sand away from them but otherwise unwavering in their observations. His appearance upon first glance is unremarkable, not the first skulled beast to have wandered the world, and she is both disappointed and amused. Her impressions do not change until his cultured voice rains down on her waiting ears. She is surprised, not often finding such well-spoken beasts among the wildlings that roam the Wastes. The emotion is caged like all the rest though she permits a fraction of a smile to curl one side of greyed lips at his attempt to peer down at her.

His words draw out a particular aspect of her life better left in the ruinous lands she fled and that twitching lip twists back into a flat line. She is not angry or annoyed by his patronizing speech, she would have to care for it to matter. No, Avarice simply tilts her head to one side and responds in kind. ”Ah, but that is where you come in, is it not?” He waltzes casually by as though to leave but she feels his icy gaze crawling along her skin. She fully expects an ‘offer of aid’ and is not left dissatisfied as the requisite words reach her.

Avarice turns her head back to look at the viper staring back at her, a flicker of humor drifting across silvery features. She shakes out the feathered piece adorning her head, a chuff of breath betraying her merriment at his predictable attempt. ”I quite like it here.” Her voice is nearly a purr and ghostly eyes dip the length of his form once before return to stare. A beat of silence and she finds herself facing the same direction as the dark stranger. It has been too long since I last played this game. Her thoughts do not dance on her face, practice making perfect in that regard.

Shifting her stance, the truthsayer narrows the gap between them enough to feel the radiant heat of the other. She lifts her gaze to the horizon with a tiny upward curl gracing jeweled features and speaks again, ”Are you amenable to a tour, instead? You seem rather familiar with this section.” Avarice keeps her voice soft, working to instill a measure of need the men of her species often find enjoyable while her lengthy tail gently sweeps the back of his legs just once.. She cares little whether it works on this man or not, but the temptation to play a long forgotten game far too great to ignore.


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OOC: Namira

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Tag: @[Avarice]

#5
don't fear the reaper

To his pleasant surprise, she was no fool. The apathetic gaze that met his told him whatever life she lived prior was enough to numb her to the world around her. No damsel, but no fighter. And then her wits shone bright like the sun against a flock of birds.  

"Smart girl" he mused, and though his stomach rumbled with the denial of her flesh Namira was courtly and a gentleman above all else. The beast that held itself hostage by his will was not to be brought about in the presence of one he was growing fond of. "You would be surprised, mon petit oiseau, at how many a poor soul was far too naive for the wastes. Lost, alone, stranded....they all come here with the same look in their eye. You should know, that today you have avoided death by using that brilliant mind of yours." He couldn't help but smile again, letting azure meet the pale macabre of her own visage. With a playful chortle, he tugged at the black feathers in her hair as if to remind her still, that he could at any moment squeeze the very life from her veins between powerful jaws and rugged teeth.  

He let out a sound of amusement as he nodded for her to follow, lanky legs carrying him back to the steppes. For a long moment he was silent, letting the winds from below howl as they broke against the rugged terrain. When at last it reached uncomfortable levels for himself, Namira found his smooth, baritone voice once more. "Indeed, I frequent these parts often."  he began, looking down and out at the Valley below. "Unlike many a savage, I was not born here. No, my home lies far to the North. But I doubt someone like yourself cares for the breeding of one--a lowly exiled noble. Indeed, your own decor and speech has told me much; were you not also a woman of high regard once?"

She screamed it, in his opinion. The way she wore the head piece even here in the wastes was nothing more than a target on her back.

Avarice

Tag: @[Namira]

#6

His murmur, the commentary on her intelligence does not go unheard. An odd remark so soon after meeting, but she hazards a guess that perhaps he has not met many who are capable of speaking as an intellectual equal. A sentiment she easily relates to, though her self-imposed isolation leaves her often wondering whether the general populace has somehow caught up to the knowledge instilled by her parents. Her thoughts cut off as he continues, his next words giving her a moment’s pause. Avoided death? Cheeky man. She offers him a slight bow, her chin dropping no more than an inch in acknowledgement. ”Better men than you have failed.” Her voice remains distantly polite, softened to take the sting from her words.

The phrase in a foreign tongue is locked away to be examined and hopefully translated at another date, but she is unwilling to ask him for the words. Not when he dare tug the raven plumes adorning her skull. She raises an invisible brow in silent rebuke; she ignores the uneasy sensation caressing her spine at his own unspoken reminder. How unusual. Her mental remark laced with dry, studious humor brings a smirk to alabaster lips even as her feet automatically follow his summons. ”You appear rather convinced of your own worth.” There is no malice in her voice, merely a curiosity of sorts at the level of confidence he possesses. His next phrase tells more than she thought to hear of his origins, though she notes the lack of a name with concealed mirth.

”Does it disappoint you to know that I am of common birth then, my dear tour guide?” She quietly replies on a breathy chuckle, the winds stealing the strength from her words as they traverse the area. Pale eyes turn from their path to look up at his painted face and she tilts her head enough to almost tickle the place where his cheek meets his throat lightly with those black feathers. She remains unwilling, despite the passing of time, to delve into the subject her parentage or homeland. As they meander along, she poses another question. ”Why do you hunt the birds? I cannot imagine they taste overly nice.” She suspects the answer is not ‘merely for sport’ but is not one to shy away from questions she may not wish to know the answer to.



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OOC: Namira

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Tag: @[Avarice]

#7
don't fear the reaper

"Do you think so little of me already? I am surprised, not disappointed." he muses, noting how the brush of her plume dares to touch his cheek. Namira ignores it, just as he had with her previous advances. The pleasures of the body were not something he often thought of, or partook in. Leave it to the beasts of the wild wastes to fuck until they were exhausted. He, however, had been raised in some manner of civility. "Ah, I do not hold myself high because of my birth. I merely consider my own intelligence to be above many I have come across....perhaps, save for you. It is not always a bloodline or wealth that make someone powerful, or dangerous, or worth something."

Namira didn't consider himself wise. But he offered the notion with out much thought or regret. After all, there were plenty in the realm of nobility dumber than the rocks that made up the steppes below. It was her next question that piqued his interest; she inquired about the bird and why he had attempted to ensnare it in his grasp. Curious, he thought, as Namira considered the answer to be quite obvious. Yet again, however, perhaps where she hailed from originally had no one such as himself present....at least, to her knowledge. Many people who oft partake in such liberal or taboo natures steered clear of the prying eyes of gods and men.  

"Do you want the truth, mon petit oiseau?" He asked, brow still raised as his own visage shifted to glance upon hers. "Sometimes it is best to let the sleeping dogs lay, is it not?"


Avarice

Tag: @[Namira]

#8

She gives into the urge to chuckle outside the safe confines of her own mind, the sound light but by no means weak. It is with genuine amusement the sound pierces the air, his disregard of her more flirtatious attempts causing humor to sparkle in silver eyes. His words are not lost on her, in fact, she longs to hear what he devises to be an appropriate response. Her own is instantaneous, ”I think little of all souls.” She makes no exception just yet for this stygian man, it takes more than playful banter to endear a life to her. Again, she brushes the tips of her tail across the back of his legs as they meander down an invisible path. Tsk, this game is merely at its start.

She pauses in her steps to study him beyond the civilized facade, but he is quite skilled at hiding any skeletons and without her magic she remains unsure of truth versus lies. ”What do you view yourself as?” The question is posed without giving voice to rising suspicions and she comes alongside his steady gait again. Ghostly eyes peer over the edge of the path they walk, intrigued by this unfamiliar section; acquiring knowledge one of the truthsayer’s most beloved pastimes. Avarice watches a duo of skittering rodents leaping between rocks meant to protect them from predators on the steppes. Her brain filters through possibilities and swiftly disgards them, the silence between this stranger and her far too short to solve her own query.

Let sleeping dogs lay?

A snort almost escapes lightly flared nares. Never. The alien phrase needles at her a bit with its second use but she continues to work around the gap in her education. Avarice glances back to the painted male, peering into the icy pool she can see from her position. ”Who prefers lies over truth?” Those who speak in falsehoods are not welcome in her presence, trickery the method of aspiring fools. With a slightly furrowed brow, she draws his attention to the rodents, ”Do you also hunt their kind?” An idea is forming the more she ponders, though having never met a carnivorous version of their species she is resistant to speaking her thoughts.

Without missing another beat or waiting for his answer, the words bound into the narrow space between their faces as she leans closer. ”Show me.” Her stare is unblinking and steady, a challenge simmering, hidden within their depths.

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OOC: Namira

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Tag: @[Avarice]

#9
don't fear the reaper

Namira stood in silence after her last demand. A deadpanned expression creeping over the skull-painted visage of the once dark healer. Lapsed into nothing as they were, only the faint hot winds that brushed between them and the chirping of the birds between rocks as a theme to what he was about to do. A chortle, a faint ghostly smile, and Namira bowed his head in a dip of obedience; "As you wish,mon petit oiseau"

With unexpected strength, his maw snaps open and clamps down upon the crest of her neck. No matter their height similarities Namira had the element of surprise. Teeth rakes into messy, silver hair and blackened feathers only to drag her to the dirt as his weight pinned her in a vulnerable state. Chunks of hair and a feather stuck out of his mouth as Namira snapped his maw open again, jagged razor teeth glinting in the bright light of the sun. Like a coiled nake his neck shot out to sink them into the supple flesh of her under-neck, only to stop shy of doing just that; his breath was hot against her skin, saliva dripping onto her grey-white hide. For a long moment he stays like this, the azure orb of an eye eclipsed in a hungry glare toward Avarice. His stomach growls and rumbles at the prospect of an official meal. But alas, Namira retracts his deadly teeth and intent to kill--once more masked behind the oh-so-gentlemanly mask he wore.  

Before he straightens himself out, Namira moves to her ear; "As I stated before; you I like. But the others...the others were not so fortunate. Remember this; real monsters are not drakes or frocks or ghouls. They are people, the ones who look like you and I." Quietly, he retracts himself from her and moves toward the rocks she so vehemently pointed out harbored his next easy snack. With little effort, he snagged one between the rows of jagged mishappen teeth. With a sickening crunch, the bones turned to dust in his mouth.


Avarice --permission to powerplay given by Randa

Tag: @[Namira]

#10

She watches in muted fascination as his features morph into an impassive veneer, yet she remains unblinking. Feathered head cants to the right when his glimmer of a bow greets her waiting figure; his words a puzzle for another segment of time. Her lips part, eager to pose another question before his demonstration, but he maneuvers himself far quicker than she thought him capable. His strike reminds her of a snake hiding in the brush, waiting for an opportune moment to latch onto the unsuspecting. His clout brings the earth to meet her at an impressive speed, but not a murmur of sound escapes pale lips. She feels the weight of him driving her further into the ground while sharp points scatter onyx feathers and silk tassels. A single black adornment drifts lazily down before her eyes and the shock of the moment vanishes.

”You’ve dislodged a feather.” Her words are calm and collected despite the annoyance tempting her with curling fingers. Ghostly eyes fall on the tendrils of hair greeting their fallen decoration on the compacted path; she laughs. The sound is mocking, a sarcastic tribute to his efforts much like the methodical clap of an unamused audience. The noise cuts short when she feels the sensation of carnivorous teeth hovering above the tender flesh of her throat. ”Tsk, my dear, you’ve not finished the tour.” Avarice remains quite still, believing him capable of easily dislodging her jugular from its home. Fear is given no quarter and she rolls a silver eye down to greet his waiting orbs.

Amusement flickers briefly across her face, simmering into a bemused smile when his lips find her overlong ear. Real monsters? Her expression shuts down, the stygian man no longer quite so entertaining. She knows more of monstrous souls than one her age should ever know. He lifts away to seek out the prey she intended for his demonstration but she remains on the ground a moment more, unwilling to miss a single moment. In enthralled delight, she watches cartilage and blood briefly spray from between his ivories. Avarice gains her feet to saunter closer, she peers at his mouth and the way it grinds the bones into powder. ”My own leave much to be desired.” She bares flat teeth for a nanosecond before leaning closer to the man and inhaling the scent of death.


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OOC: Namira

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Tag: @[Avarice]