Fantasy Broken Bloodlines [Main]

[Tapfic]

The mid day sun was uncomfortably warm, and the humidity hung in the air like a curse; but neither of these factors could deter the crowd gathering outside Arakei's castle gates.
Today was the oldest prince's thirtieth birthday, and anyone and everyone was invited to attend- though some were invited directly.

The celebration was some monumentous amalgamation of a festival and a ball. Origination from the castle and stretching itself across the city. Closer in to the castle walls people draped themselves in bright whites and pale shades of sunset, gold glinted on their necks- traditional necklaces studded with gems dangled like the rain drops they were made to represent.
Further out , children flew decorated kites, friends competed together to win prizes that they would give away, and contracted vendors handed out food and drinks to whoever was willing to bare the wait in line.

It was overall a light and pleasant chaos, like the prince's birthday celebrations generally were; though it was rare that every member of the public was invited to celebrate inside the castle. Maybe thirty was just an important number?

Well, it was; but that wasn't the reason the celebration was particularly inclusive this year.

" Lan. Slow down. You're going to get lost again," Jina's voice was flat, only bordering on the edge of annoyance. The people of Arakei were typically taller than many other nations, which made keeping track of Lan in a crowd nearly impossible once he got more than a few feet in front of her. She wished she could just. Put him on a leash or something, but that suggestion would get her her ear chewed off by both Lan and the council.

" I'm not," He was already beginning to disappear into the swarm, Jina grabbed onto his waist wrap and yanked him backwards; an action that earned her a short, undignified squeak of surprise from Lan- and a glare.
" What the shit Jina- I told you I'm not gonna get lost; incase you forgot your hair is pretty fuckin easy to spot in a crowd, " his complaints fell on deaf ears, a description that was a bit more than a metaphor with the constant chatter rendered her hearing over sensitive, and mildly annoying.

" You don't need to see me, I need to see you," The tigress didn't look at him as she spoke. In fact, she rarely made eye contact with anyone; opting instead to stare off into the distance. Lan didn't mind it though, he was used to the lack of eye contact.

" Whatever," the frown on his lips was sour, an the word was mumbled- the letters squished together; so it came out more along the lines of "whmtver".

The two didn't have time for much more bickering anyways, they had an objective beyond simply having a royal-y good time afterall; a mission personally assigned to him by the head of council.

As assassination attempts on the royal family experienced a drastic uptick in recent months; drastic measures were to be taken. It was Lan's job as the youngest and "least consequential" prince to paint himself with a target, and lead the assassin away from the others as they were moved to a more secure location. None of his family was made aware of this of course. It was a secret mission.
But first, he was to leave Arakei unnoticed; as he would not be a very effective distraction if he got killed within the week.

The whole festival was a ploy, when it was over in a few days time the foreigners who had gathered to attend would leave in droves, and Lan and Jina were to slip away with them- their departure would only be made public when he had gotten to the next kingdom over.

" Duck," Jina said behind him.

"Where-" Ducks were pretty common in Arakei- but Lan still liked to see them. They were- oh. She meant the other kind of duck. A crashing kite dove straight into Lan's face as he contemplated the intricacies of his assignment, Jina probably could have batted it away in time; but she had honestly not expected him to misunderstand.
Lan made the verbal equivalent of a key smash with his mouth, and fell on his ass.

 

[spiralingheretic]

Sweat glistened from Grimalkin’s hairline and her face was flushed as Harlow had ever seen it from the heat. Yet for some reason the princess refused to take off her heavy cloak or outer layers. When Harlow had suggested it, she’d only flashed her an annoyed look and went on about propriety and tradition and how she refused to let the other royals see her in any state of undress, and blah blah blah… Harlow had to wonder how fainting from heat stroke would be any better than showing up in slightly more casual clothing.

As it was, Harlow had taken off her jacket and wrapped it around her waist (her pack already too full from rations and all those useless tomes the princess had insisted on Harlow lugging around). Grim could send her as many annoyed glares as she wanted, but Harlow refused to be miserable and hot at the first party she had been to in years. Especially considering how hard she had worked to get them here.

Since Harlow first heard that Grimalkin had been invited to some lavish ball, she’d had to constantly badger the princess in order to get her to go. If Grim had her way, she would spend the full period of her exile secluded in the Skandian woods, making Harlow haul ass all day hunting and fishing and stuff. It was pure pride, Harlow thought. The princess was too embarrassed to let anyone else see her in her countryless, sorry state. (Harlow, of course, didn’t count.) In the end, Harlow was pretty sure that the only reason that Grim had relented was that Harlow had driven her crazy with her quote unquote “obnoxious behavior,” and she needed some quote unquote “actual civilized companionship.”

Then, of course, the princess had to even make their journey more difficult than it needed to be by refusing to go by train, citing the mode of transportation as a “depraved, common use of ancient forces.” So they hitched a ride on a trade ship going downriver, because apparently the wind and current didn’t qualify as “ancient forces.” This was fine with Harlow, as she had actually quite missed sailing. On top of that Grim, having never been on a boat before, very quickly got seasick and spent the entire time in their cabin, so Harlow was able to do as she pleased most days (when she was not bringing the princess food that she only picked at). Harlow had almost been disappointed when they reached their destination, but her enthusiasm was soon renewed when they reached the edges of the capital and the festival was already in full swing.

Currently, the two of them were making their way to the castle. Harlow’s mouth watered at the sight of hot, fresh food that, most importantly, wasn’t seal jerky, but Grim refused to stop and wait in line. Whatever, she was sure there would be plenty more where that came from at the fancy ball thing. Still, it might be nice to play (cheat at) some of the festival games and win Grimalkin some huge ridiculous prize. It would be worth it just to see the look on the other girl’s face.

Just as she was about to try for the fifth time to convince Grimalkin to stop, a large kite flown by some careless toddler crashed down, knocking some kid completely on his ass. “HA, dumb!” Harlow shouted out a laugh. She moved to go help the guy up (not entirely for selfless reasons, as he looked well-off enough and completely oblivious--- she was sure she’d find it easy to liberate the contents of his pockets.)

Grim snatched her arm. “No, I forbid--” she started, but Harlow escaped easily (lucky that her lady had such weak noodle arms). She stuck out her tongue at the princess, strode over to the fallen boy, and outstretched her hand, grinning toothily. Time to turn on the charm.

“You alright there? That was a pretty vicious kite attack. You gotta be careful with those things, out here in the wild. They’re super territorial.”

 

[AncientBird]

The street of Arakei was crowded with people. Their voice filled the air, full of joy and excitement for the celebration. Every patch in the city was full with life and color, a usual scene for such a grand occasion. However, a pair of figure could be seen slicing through the crowd in a manner that seemed out of place... Dark, gloomy and anxious.

It had been years since the last time Bartemeus felt the joy and happiness of a festival. Back when he was still young and naive, living a colorful life of a spoiled prince, picking whatever food he wanted from stalls and playing and laughing with his loved ones... All those thing was long gone. Now he is Bart the huntsman and he had come to Arakei on a mission...

Trailing close behind him was lanky foxhound, with beautiful tri color pelt and smooth coat. It trotted behind the man in a careful manner, eyes anxiously looked around and nosed sniffed the air. Both man and beast were equally on alert and didn't seem to care about the celebration that went on around them.

"Stick close, Karrax... He could be anywhere." Bart grumbled to the foxhound. He gazed back to dog and noticed its increasing anxiety. The man reached his hand to pat it on the shoulder. "Just deal with it for a bit longer, I promise we will get out of here as soon as we find that slimy bastard." Bart cooed the dog. The foxhound replied with a rapid pant, sticking its tongue out.

Suddenly, a loud horn was blown. People in the street began to make way as a brigade of soldier came through. A flag featuring a black raven, holding an arrow in its beak swirled through the air as the brigade passed by. The soldiers featured both footmen and cavalries, wearing deep navy blue suit, hand holding on to black, shiny crossbow... This was the parade from Skandia, Bart's old homeland, his past... The huntsman slinked into the crowded, lurking among the cheerful people that cheered and welcomed the arrival of their neighboring kingdom to participate in the celebration.

Bart watched quietly at the familiar sight of Skandia's parade marching by. After the soldier brigade, came a large and well decorated coach... A royal coach... Bart narrowed his eyes as he looked at the window. A young man could be seen sitting inside, his head slightly poked outside in excitement. He seemed to be very young, no more than 16 years old, yet the boy had a crown fit over his head.

That must be Tobeus... Thought Bart as he looked at the young royal in the coach... His half brother... He was merely a little baby when ill fate struck down upon Bart and his older brother... And now that both of older princes were gone, he must have been crowned the young king of Skandia. Sitting next to him in the coach was a woman, with fair skin and beautiful mahogany hair... Queen Lysandra, Tobeus's mother and Bart's stepmother... Bart's skin boiled up a bit upon seeing her sitting in the coach, looking all proud and prideful over her son. For a long time that Bart thought she was a perfect woman, the closest thing to his mother that he and his older brother lost... But beneath the loving act and fake tenderness was poison and jealousy. When Bart's father passed and his brother was to rise at the next king, she revealed her true form and had the crown prince poisoned, then blamed everything on Bart himself... She got away while Bart was to be condemned in her place.

She was cruel enough to reveal it to Bart specifically the night before he was to be hanged. Even though the prince could miraculously escape, he did so with no proof to cleanse his name and the hope to bring Lysandra to justice was dimmed to nonexistence. The worst thing was that Bart had to live every seconds of his life knowing this fact but couldn't do anything about it.

"Come Karrax... We have seen enough." Bart spoke to his hound and slipped away from the scene, heading over to the less crowded area, away from the marching parade and a painful reminder of the past. The foxhound followed suit with no hesitation, longing to be away from the tight space it had to endure all day.

 

[blue-jay]

AMENTI MA'MOREM: SCHOLAR PRINCESS OF KISUMU
Amenti's feet hurt, but she couldn't complain. They should've hurt a lot more, all things considered. The walk from the railway station to the castle wasn't too long, but it was long enough for someone wearing the footwear of Kisumese noblewomen to have trouble. Amenti had never truly been forced to reckon with how impractical the heeled shoes, black with golden detailing, were until today, but she had no other shoes to wear. So, she pressed on down the streets and ignored the throbbing. I suppose it could be worse, she thought. It's good that I caught the train that I did. Making this trip on horseback would've been tedious, and a ship would've been costly.

The "trip" in question had started a few days ago and had spanned many miles. After Amenti had first been moved out of the Kisumese capital with her two bodyguards, they moved close to the Kisumu-Arakei border as the Royal Guard Commander suggested. Amenti's evacuation occurred before those of her older brothers, as the most serious threats of assassination were directed towards her. It made sense when she thought about: the Scholar Princess, effortlessly stately and well-spoken, represented most perfectly the repose and the access to a true Kisumese education that those of Na and Shi descent were denied. Amenti had even thought once that she would want to assassinate herself too if she was a common person.

Amenti and her bodyguards, both of Shi names but very loyal to the crown, had stayed near the border in a cabin for many days. Amenti had taken many books in her luggage and the Royal Guard Commander had made the bodyguards bring along many of her books as well, so Amenti was well-occupied with reading and writing. However, word reached them that the Kisumese Investigation Unit was raiding the towns and quarters of commonfolk to find and kill revolutionaries. It was likely that non-revolutionaries were being caught in the chaos. Amenti saw the anxiety in the eyes of her bodyguards and figured easily that they were homesick and worried about their families. When Amenti found one guard crying in her bed one night, she split her currency reserves three ways and paid her bodyguards to go home the next morning. She didn't tell them why, but simply handed over the coins and gave the command. Thus, the Scholar Princess was traveling alone, unbeknownst to her family or the Royal Guard.

One day, she had received an invitation to a ball in Arakei for a birthday. She couldn't say that she was crazy about birthday parties, but she knew that it would be safer for her in Arakei now that she was alone. Less people would recognize her and less people would want to kill her. For Kisumese citizens, her life or death was personal. Not the case for the people of Arakei. So, she crossed the border and got a ride on a train to the capital of Arakei. Amenti quite enjoyed the train: practical, cheap, and relatively quiet for her travel reading. Luckily, there were no Kisumese citizens in her railcar and no one recognized her as the Scholar Princess (Amenti had made few public appearances outside of the Kisumese capital and none outside of Kisumu.) However, she was recognizable easily as a Kisumese noblewoman in general. People gawked at her flowy black gown, dark skin, and haphazard collection of gold jewelry that stood in contrast to the meaningfully arranged pieces of Arakei. A child riding the train with his mom even asked her to teach him some Kisumese words. Amenti tried to say no, but when the little boy gave her pleading eyes, she acquiesced.

And now she was here in Arakei. Amenti had no idea what the future awaited. I can't return to Kisumu because a considerable amount of people want to kill me. My family thinks I'm with my bodyguards on the border when I've actually paid them to leave me and traveled into Arakei. I have a fraction of my luggage since I've had to carry things by myself. And it's likely only a matter of time before someone recognizes me and kidnaps me. Amenti sighed and pressed on through the streets, watching a kite collide with a boy's face. She took it as an omen. As a tattooed woman walked over to help him, Amenti said to herself in a monotone voice: "I'm never going home, am I?"

 

[Nephalem]

As the thirtieth birthday of the Prince of Arakei commenced, the streets of Arakei's capital city became flooded with citizens and foreigners of all ages and social classes. Today, the capital city of Arakei halted day-to-day business and transformed into a zestful and exuberant display of celebration. The air hummed with energy and anticipation as couples, groups, and families began their day-long exploration through the festival. Some rushed towards the castle, eager to get within the opened gates and hopefully into the castle, while others enjoyed simpler activities, such as flying kites on the flittering breeze or participating in a game of ring toss with friends.

The tantalizing scent of seared and seasoned vegetables, roasted and salted meats, and spiced bread wafted towards Idoria as she made her way through the street, slowly heading towards the castle. She had arrived in Arakei a few days earlier, fleeing from persecution by her own kingdom. It was her first time leaving Idriosil, and while she had always yearned to travel all of Oscetel, she never imagined her first outing would be due to such cruel and undeserving circumstances. She remembered receiving a royal invitation to the festival shortly before she was forced to flee. Has she never stepped out of line, she would've been carried here in a carriage, dressed in fine, billowing silks and gleaming jewels. She would've spent the entirety of her time in the castle, making small talk and side-stepping around politically charged discussions.

Perhaps there truly was a silver lining to every mistake. Out on the streets, Idoria was able to experience Arakei life first-hand. She could travel wherever, whenever, and had no stone walls boxing her in. She could smile, speak and drink with seamstresses, bakers, and dock-workers alike. Even the sweat that stuck stray strands of hair to her forehead was welcomed, as there was no unspoken competition of flawlessness amongst other royals.

However, afraid of being too down-dressed, Idoria decided to ditch her usual scuffed pants and blouse to dress in casual-formal attire. She wore a white, off-shoulder, bell-sleeved blouse with a minimal amount of gold trim around the neckline and sleeves. A golden sash tied around her mid-stomach hid the beginning of her skirt, which fell short of her ankles. It was a highly pigmented shade of jade green. A long slit on the right side revealed a pair of soft white pants beneath the skirt, decorated with the same gold embroidery as the blouse. She wanted to fit in with the fashion of Arakei, choosing some of the lightest colors she had in the fibrous, tightly woven bag she carried with her. Her shoes were beige and flat, a common form of footwear worn in Idriosil and made to be flexible and tough.

Idoria moved slowly up the street, stopping to browse at nearly every vendor and food cart. She caught several sidelong glances stolen her way, she assumed from individuals fascinated by her violet eyes and unfamiliar features. She couldn't blame their interest. Idrosilians are a hidden people, with the majority of the population never getting to experience international travel in their lifetime.

She stopped at a particular stand to observe how native cuisine was made. The cooks dodged around each other, some holding sizzling pans and others tending slowly rotating carcasses above an open flame that jumped and twisted with each gust of wind. She had never seen so many dead animals in her life, and with such a plethora of species? In Idriosil, meals usually consisted of only plant-based material. When meat was consumed, it could only be sourced from a few specific species.

Instead, Idoria opted for a dish of spiced vegetables, which in comparison to Idriosilian meals Idoria found somewhat disappointing. Despite this, Idoria was starved and wanted nothing more than to revel in the soft, tender flesh of seared veggies. She attempted to eat while stationary but quit after every bite was punctuated with a shove from a traffic-filled crowd. She attempted to walk while eating but ended up running into several individuals after they stopped abruptly before her. Defeated, she held the dish close to her chest as she ventured through the throng, searching for a corner she could tuck herself into to eat. Like the moon to the tide, an incoming royal party drew up the droves into a curious assemblage, giving Idoria just enough time to scamper to a relatively isolated area.

A sullen-looking man, dressed in a dark heavy coat and a worn hat adorned with a feather broke away from the crowd shortly after her, accompanied by a hound. His plotted course seemed to move right past her, so in a friendly attempt to soften his harsh expression and brighten his day, Idoria plucked a piece of roasted zucchini out of her dish and held it out to him. "Veggie?"

Not a moment after, Idoria's mental battle began. 'Is this weird? What if this is weird, or considered offensive here? Oh Idria, what have I done?'

 

[Kabboom]

Ozai

The young lord of Clan Masakuro dwelled on his circumstances as his boat neared Arakei's ports. Far from home, an exiled man, alone. Not exactly stellar conditions. He even left the place in a hurry, too - only the clothes and weapons on him, plus a small pouch of local Torikage coins. Maybe that's why the owner of this ship didn't know Ozai was onboard. Whatever the case, free food is free food: Ozai's plans were just to attend this meeting, sneak away with as much food and money as he can, and then focus on perhaps making powerful friends or regrouping with exiled relatives to get back to Torikage.

With a plan in mind, it didn't take long for him to slip away unnoticed in port. Navigating through the shipping district, catching the eye of every single worker there, the young Masakuro lord was completely taken aback by the new and exotic culture here. So many vibrant festivals, so many people from so many different places! He figured it was natural - after all, this was a festival, and he was among the people invited from far away.

Ozai moved through the crowd as inconspicuously as he can, draped in foreign threads and armed with swords. Finally coming to a halt after a lot of pointless walking, he sneezed from the slightly damp air here, scrunching his facial details in the act. As he recovered, he glanced around to see that some people have moved further away from him as they passed, unsurprisingly - as they cleared, however, he saw a well-dressed woman offering a zucchini to a hound-handler. Most peculiar, although they might just be a noblewoman and her retainer out for a stroll in the streets. A noblewoman who might have good ties.

"Hello there! Er... How is the night?" Ozai approached them with confused confidence, certain that he'd make friends but unsure of the land's customs.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Ariiasq never thought they'd even so much as think this, but they hated traveling. Granted, hated was a strong word not entirely apt for the situation, seeing as their short-term memory was probably just oversaturated with endless (appearing so, at least) traveling, making it seem uninteresting due to their lack of experience in doing so efficiently and interestingly. Point was, though, if they had to walk, fly, swim, or ride another mile, they were quite sure their muscles would shred themselves (hyperbole).

But that—none of that—even held a fucking match to how insanely loud festivals were (amplification via unjust comparison). The scents were worse, somehow, and for a moment they'd thought to debate how masochistic Arakei were (lie).

In any case, as of the moment, one of the fifteen Heirs of K'Savr was in absolute agony. Not that they looked it—or were even being looked at, at the moment, considering they were curled up on one of the roofs—seriously, who builds these kinds of things—of the castle, taking long, deep breaths to clear their brain and force their heart to slow. Thankfully, they'd caught the attack before they could spiral, but for now, they needed something to focus on.

They opted to crane their head up, eyes landing easily on the stars (comfort in the familiar). They were all the same, since Arakei wasn't far enough away for any incredible difference, but it was almost like Arakei was a few weeks off, the sky holding that odd slant that it tended to during the cooler months of K'Savr. If they unfocused their eyes, the black and white reminded them of their sister's fur, which, while not an entirely comforting thought, was familiar unlike the biting cool of the wind. They knew it wasn't cold by normal standards—but it was to them.

They closed their eyes against the contrast.

In for five, hold for seven, out for ten. Repeat.

Ten breaths later, they opened their eyes again and stood.

Their back was stiff with the ache of keeping their wings and tail under control for so long. Why any Cursed existed outside of K'Savr was a mystery to them; this hurt (lie)... they were doing a lot of that, recently. Lying to themself. Unhealthy coping mechanism though it was, it helped their processing of things.

With a soft snort to themself, Ariiasq dropped down, following the trail of slanted, slippery roofs, their feet barely tapping on the tiles.

Not the most covert, but it'd do.

----

Meanwhile, down nearer to the inside of the castle, a pale man glided through the halls, head held unnecessarily high and eyes half-lidded to match what could only be described as a "noble scowl".

His strides were long, but he landed light, inch-tall heels clicking against the polished floor with a sound he didn't actually register. A dress as sharp as the cold of his gaze flowed around him, deep blue in color with his signature cyan stars woven into the light fabric. The markings around his face denoted him a Kresh noble, though (shamefully) his station was not denoted.

At this point, though, he was too ashamed to mark unlisted. He was... was a prince... as much as that meant.

In any case, he was only at the party for one reason. Make sure no one dies and identify the hunters that may be following him. Nothing more. The urge to ruffle his currently-nonexistent feathers rose up his back, almost in response to the thought. He couldn't afford to be amicable. He couldn't afford to make connections. Not at the moment, at least.

So, he walked his way through the halls of the castle, mentally tagging the people he thought seemed at risk.

Through the halls, passing by the pinnacle of the party, and down the street, towering over those around him and regarding everything with a chilled demeanor to the extent that some of the crowd stumbled out of his way as he walked past.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Crowds had never been something Gray was fond of. They were all jostling and elbows pushing from every direction, sending him tripping and stumbling between the chaotic flow of people—an experience made no better by the discordant murmurs and shouts overlaying it. He had always hated that (who in their right mind would enjoy it?)... but then there was the matter of more recent fears. The prickling sensation he kept feeling in the back of his mind; the one that swore that there was someone watching them. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. In a crowd, when dozens of faces he scarcely caught a glimpse of closed in at all sides, it surrounded him—grating at his brain just as much as the shrill shrieks of children were beginning to grate on his ears.

Peter, as usual, was seemingly oblivious to his worries. He dipped in and out of streams of people so quickly that it was hard to keep track of him among the endless sea of heads (a good number of which had hair in a similar enough cut and color to Peter's to be mistaken for him). Perhaps that was one of the few benefits of crowds—it would be harder for anyone to spot them. Not that it was doing him any favors now; Gray would much rather being able to keep an eye on him.

In fact, he'd prefer not being here at all, but that wasn't much of an option. This was their best chance to meet back up with a... friend of his—Antonius—without raising suspicions. His chest ached at the thought; it had been nearly a year since they'd last seen eachother... He couldn't get carried away, though. Gray had plenty of time to think over how they'd parted and there was no doubt in his mind that it wouldn't—couldn't—end well if he let things go to far.

But Gray had mentally treaded that path a thousand times already and he needed to find Ant before any of it mattered, and that meant he needed to find Peter first (it was impossible to keep an eye out for Antonius when he had to constantly flick his gaze between the kid and the strangers surrounding them). So he turned to the short head of black hair he'd been snatching glances at while he scanned the rest of the crowd and... "Peter?"

It wasn't Peter.

He lost Peter.

No, no—it'd do him no good to panic. All around him, people were laughing and cheering; this was a party. And an Arakian party, at that. Gray remembered going over their crime rates a while back when considering the best route for a shipment to them—his hands twitched absently at the thought, as if he were turning the pages of the file again—and this was one of the safest places he'd ever heard of.

But it wasn't petty crime he was worried about.

"Peter!" Gray shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. He couldn't tell if it was the sudden pounding of his heart in his ears or the ceaseless cacophony of the crowd that drowned it out—making it nearly impossible to hear his own voice. "Peter!"

There was no answer.

~~~

Peter had long since wandered too far to hear. Even if he could, the chances of him actually listening were slim. Very slim.

It wasn't that he wanted to worry his dad—Gods knew he was stressed enough as it was (he was always stressed these days)—but anyone would get tired of an anxious parent constantly hovering over them like a mother waveskimmer rounding up her chicks. He knew why Dad was stressed. It made sense. But what was the point of surviving if you didn't live? Meandering across the country side as they had been and jumping at their own shadows for weeks on end with only the tiniest lick of civilization here and there scattered across the journey wasn't living.

This? A thousand laughs and cheers and shrieks that all blended into one constant, excited murmuring that served as a backdrop to the world of delicious smells wafting from market stalls and kites—some brightly colored, some so intricate that looking at them too long made his eyes hurt, some clearly hand-crafted and holding the charm that was the first creation of any amateur—scattered across the blue sky. This was living. And Peter would be enjoying his fair share of it.

But first things first: A bit of pocket change.

He didn't really need it—not yet, anyway—but a bit of coin never hurt to have around. And he knew Dad's plans after the party. Pack up again, buy some supplies, and keep wandering until... well, he wasn't quite sure when it'd end. Dad wasn't either. Whatever the case, they needed money for food-rations, and Dad didn't have the luxury of being able to eat the scorpions they kept running across like he did, so—Peter thought—it was only fair that he pitched in.

It took a moment to find a suitable target—an older man wearing an ornate, unstained white robe (that sort of thing was what Dad said showed high status in Arakei when they were travelling here) who looked like he wouldn't be missing the cash. Peter trailed casually behind him, keeping his gaze flickering between the passing food stalls (it never paid to seem too focused, after all) and the loose-fitting fabric of the man's clothing that brushed slightly against the ground as he walked. Then it was just a simple matter of locating a pocket which seemed like it had to have some weight in it judging by the way it tugged at the rest of the robe, 'accidentally' nudging someone in his direction so they bumped into him, and slipping a hand in to grab some coins in the distraction of the ensuing argument.

Peter disappeared into the surrounding crowd with a smile and a fistful of money. Festivals—he loved them for a reason.

The problem with crowds, though, was that the whole 'bumping into people' thing went both ways... especially if you were silently trying to gauge how many coins you'd just stolen by how heavy the weight now in your pocket was while simultaneously eyeing up the food stalls to see if there was one you were willing to wait in line for. He was barely even six feet from the scene of the crime (which, thankfully, still put a good number of people between him and the still-arguing strangers) when he walked face first into a blue dress worn by the tallest person Peter had ever seen.

"Holy shit," He blurted as his head turned to look up at the guy (he had to have at least two feet on him). "I— uh, I mean: Sorry, sir! I was just... looking for my dad and I didn't see you there."

 

[blue-jay]

ZURI SHI'KORIR: PRIESTESS OF AJANI
Zuri stepped excitedly and clumsily through the festival like a toddler, a large smile on her face. Zuri had come here for a specific reason, but it was impossible to not get swept up in the celebrations. The decorations, the lights, the food--the priestess could barely contain her excitement. Zuri had never been outside of Kisumu. Arakei was like a different world to her--a world full of all new experiences. She had heard some people murmuring about a birthday in the royal family, and pieced together that she had been lucky enough to travel into Arakei on such a fun day. Thank Ajani! Her tracking efforts indicated that the Scholar Princess would be here and she was determined to find her... eventually. But, for now, Zuri was taking in the sights.

A few people glanced at her, surprised to see a Kisumese priestess, dressed in her white robe, far from home. A few children stopped and asked her questions. Zuri answered happily, explaining the general idea of Kisama to the curious kids with a smile on her face. A few people lost interest upon realizing that she was a peasant, but Zuri barely noticed and didn't care a bit. She stopped at several vendors, trying out all sorts of foreign snacks. Zuri made a few of the vendor workers smile by singing quick praises of their culinary work before moving to the next vendor. Zuri didn't mind the crowd--the streets of the Kisumese peasant districts rivaled the bustling streets of Arakei on a mild day. Zuri quite liked all of the activity.

After several minutes of buying snacks and trinkets from market stalls, Zuri reached into her bag pocket to gauge her spending. Anxiety rose in her chest when her fingers touched the bottom of the pocket with no obstruction. Did I just... impulsively spend all my money? Zuri flushed slightly and looked around, almost as if searching for someone to ask for help. She began walking through the crowd, her excitement now a bit muted. This wasn't ideal, but she wouldn't let it get her down. It's ok. I'm ok! Surely, there's a way to fix this. After a few minutes of looking around and brainstorming, she spotted a street dancer collecting change in a hat and got an idea. Aha! I can play my atenteben! I've been practicing recently, and I'm sure the people of Arakei would love to hear some Kisumese flute tunes! Zuri smiled, satisfied with this solution, and set off to find a clearing in the crowd to set up her performance.

Zuri was feeling around for her flute in her bag when she bumped into someone. Zuri clumsily fell over in a heap, but sprung back up almost immediately and bowed to the person apologetically. "Please, forgive me! I was trying to find something in my bag, and I wasn't paying complete attention." She looked up at the person to find it was a tall, pale man. She had trouble discerning his age; he had a youthful face but was peppered with grey hairs. Upon seeing his grave expression, Zuri leaned back slightly and began to fiddle nervously with a golden ring in her hair. "Are you... ok?" The concern in her voice was genuine, but a bit confused: had her bumping into him affected him so deeply? She looked closer. Wait, no... Is he looking for something? Perhaps a specific market stall for a snack! I can help him a lot if that's the case! Zuri's nerves were assuaged by this thought.

 

[AncientBird]

Walking further away from the parade. Bart began to feel better, quickly recovering from the emotion that just earlier overwhelmed him... After all, he had been bearing its weight for all these years, what's the difference if a little more is shoved at him? Karrax seemed to feel better as well once they got to take a breather from all the crowd and loud noise.

Suddenly, the hound sensed something and looked straight past Bart, their body tensed up. Bart noticed the beast's behavior and turned around, just for him to find a young woman standing in front of him. She seemed to be a woman with quite a status, judging from how she dressed, definitely not a normal peasant. However, before Bart could ask her to state her business, the woman handed him something.

"Veggie?" Said the woman. Bart looked at her then the item in her hand, a big pieces of roasted zucchini, still steaming with the sense of charcoal.

Karrax approached. They didn't growl but the raising hackle of the hound seemed to indicate that they were quite agitated by the sudden approach of the young woman. Bart turned to his beast immediately. "Calm down, it's just food..." He spoke in a low and soothing voice. The hound took a step back but still watching the woman intensely.

Turning back to her, Bart was hesitant. So many time that his quarry or rival mercenary tried to trick him into taking poison, to cripple him from his task. However, if this was a genuine act of kindness, then he wouldn't want to upset this woman either.

Bart looked into her eyes and then back at the zucchini before him and then reaching out to receive it. Once the vegetable was in his grasp, he tipped his hat as a sight of gratitude. "Thank you, miss." Bart spoke plainly. He was about to put the zucchini in a small sack for closer inspection and possibly consumption later when Karrax barged in to inspect the vegetable. With a single sniff, their tail began to wag excitedly. "Really? You want this?" Bart asked the hound... It could be a sight that this was safe to eat after all, but then again... Karrax is a terrible poison indicator... Nothing ever has worked on them so far.

"We have task to do..." Bart spoke but it didn't stop the beast from their continuous begging. "Fine, have a piece." Said the weary huntsman as he ripped a small chuck of the zucchini and dropped it in the hound's maw. Karrax quickly ran off with the food and headed into a small alley nearby, disappeared into the shadow.

After looking cautiously of where the hound went, the huntsman turned back toward the woman. "Hope you don't mind, miss... In case you didn't mean for it to be shared with my beast." Said Bart, with his usual calming voice.

Suddenly, another person approached the two. A young man dressed in foreign attire, the traditional kind that wasn't familiar to Bart. He was armed with a sword, so Bart watched him carefully... Perhaps he was with the woman, her companion? Her guard?

"Hello there! Er... How is the night?" And unexpected word from the new arrival, which didn't seem to direct at Bart or the young woman specifically. Thus, the huntsman just watched in silence.

Featuring: Nephalem Kabboom

 

[Nephalem]

Idoria's eyes crinkled happily as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. While her composure remained friendly and sure, a soft sigh of relief escaped her. She had been waiting with bated breath for the hunter's reply, fearful she had offended him. Not only had Idoria realized her offer could have been perceived as some culturally offensive display, but perhaps offerings were seen as belittling or condescending? She had also realized that the man she was offering her fine fleshed flora to didn't appear to be the most approachable individual, nor someone Idoria deemed as wanting conversation. He seemed courteous, but faintly aloof.

She hoped, however, that this would be a case of the "looks can be deceiving" trope, and fortunately, it seemed as if it was.

The man's canine traveling partner approached, hackles raised and fearsome. Idoria was impressed by its protectiveness over its bipedal companion. Its aggressive demeanor changed immediately, from that of a confrontational guardian to a wide-eyed, drooling puppy. The man's soft discussion with his companion warmed Idoria's heart. Their bond was unlike common hunter-hound relationships. Those were built upon domination and submission, where the man held complete power over their canine 'property'. Had a common hunter witness their hound acting out, punishment would be dished out swiftly. While it was too soon to completely write off their relationship, Idoria felt as if their companionship was built on a solid foundation of mutual respect.

"Not at all!" Idoria chimed, waving away the man's apology. "I intended on offering some to your companion, but it seems they prefer to enjoy their meals in privacy. It's honestly for the best, had they stayed there is a strong possibility I would have offered them the entirety of my platter," she tittered.

A hasty bite of food, her mouth shielded by her right hand as she attempted to uphold a fraction of her manners, was all she managed before a new member joined them.

It was a young man, adorned in a clothing style unfamiliar to Idoria. Idoria's curiosity was an insatiable beast, and the unfamiliar was a new meal she would eagerly devour. With it came new stories of memories and experiences, unique ways of life she could have never imagined. She had always been desperate in her pursuit for knowledge. Perhaps it stemmed from a life-time in spent in a cage. Even a palace felt small after the halls had been walked for the millionth time.

Despite this, Idoria couldn't help but find herself somewhat putoff by the stranger. The young man had approached them confidently, a sword holstered at his side. Had they come for her already? Her mother warned her to be on edge, her brother was sure to dig up all sorts of worms to catch her. Surely a hired mercenary wouldn't approach her in such a crowded area? Or perhaps that was apart of the plan, to disappear inconspicuously into the crowd after he had slain or drugged her.

'No' Idoria thought, damning her initial judgement. 'I'm just being paranoid. This kid sticks out like a sore thumb. If he was a hired sword, which I'm positive he isn't, he'd be foolish to make a move looking like that.'

Her mind reeled back to and centered in on a previous thought. Thinking of her brother threatened to reopen a crippling emotional wound. He had grown into an such an entitled and petulant man-child. And yet, Idoria couldn't help but love him. Her love for him had driven her to confront him that day, and her love was what caused her to be here, standing in the streets of Arakei. Idoira swore to herself that she wouldn't begin to regret what she did that day, but each passing night chipped away at her adamance.

"Greetings," Idoria smiled, giving a weak and unsure cursty. Idoria learned early on that the Idrosilian way of greeting did not carry over well into foreign countries and cultures, and she was still growing accustom to the change in mannerism. "The festival has been lovely. I was just discussing vegetables with my new friend, -" Idoria hesitated, realizing she had never introduced herself, nor had she asked for the title of her festival confrère.

"Pardon me, how could I be so rude! I am Idoria, Prin-Ahem!" Idoria coughed, choking on the panic that knotted in her throat. Was she truly going to utter her full title? What was possesing her to behave so carelessly? Had her every ounce of wit been stolen away? Swallowing her words would only make her seem more suspicious. To minimize damage, she'd have to own it. "Excuse me," Idoria wheezed, swallowing hard, as if a stray chunk of vegetable had been responsible for the interruption. "I am Idoria Prink, daughter of the Baron".

'Do they even have Barons here?' Idoria thought, partially defeated.



Interacting with Kabboom and AncientBird

 

[D1.Live]

The beautiful capital of Arakei was filled with joy and excitement in the crowds and beautiful kites in the sky. The parade was a celebration of the Prince of Arakei's thirteenth birthday. Already planning for this event Khalid came early to the celebration. Early enough that he even helped a few stands set up before the festival, earning him a few treats and a plushie of a dream fly that is rather cute. He watches the crowd gather in from on top of a rooftop he climbed up too and mainly enjoyed the sights and being as high as the clouds even though he might have to duck a few of them. He finally finds a spot that allows him to see all the dances and shows in the streets while being able to see the gate where all the neighboring royalty comes marching in waving and smiling at the people below.

Seeing all the different countries and people flood into the gates he realizes that his country even though being neighbors to the beautiful Arakei never showed up or at least in a big fancy carriage with beautiful dancers following it. Though he has a feeling some of his people are here just trying to lay low. He kind of gets excited at the thought that his brother might be here and he'll get to see him. Khalid has been in the capital of Arakei for about 3 days now and he has learnt to kind of blend in wearing rather normal clothes and no jewelry except his gold earrings resembling a sword of sorts. "Ah I should be hiding right now......back to the inn would be best" he says to himself out loud. He starts to head down to the street level when a smell he can only describe as edible heaven creeps into his nose and starts to take him over making him slowly creep farther in the crowd and out of the direction he was headed. While pushing through the crowd and muttering the occasional "excuse me" he finally reaches the smell which is a shish kabob stand with a delicious looking meat on them and purchases a bundle of 8 which is far more than what he needs. "That might've been too much but I still have enough money to last me awhi-oof excuse me" he says while bumping into a dark-skinned lady who seemed to be rather glooming in the mast crowd he looked down at her and noticed that she looked kind of like a noble but not from this land.

Before he is able to speak to the lady a random man bumps into him from behind without warning nor apology and makes him drop half of his shish kabobs. Khalid being a big person on food felt like he was about to burst from anger managed to grab the mans shoulder forcing the man to stop and look back. Khalid meets him with a glare of calm bloodlust that makes the man's whole body go into a state of tension where he's frozen in place. A few seconds later the man pulls out some money from his pocket puts it in Khalid's hands and runs off while muttering "I'm so sorry". Khalid only wanting the apology was rather embarrassed then he faced the woman again and realized she probably saw that and gives off a nervous smile. "Excuse me again, I don't really know what happened but people don't seem to respect boundaries as often". He then noticed she was carrying what it seemed like was luggage and felt a strong warm sensation come over him calming his nerves and making him give off a nice warm smile "Well since your obviously not from around here would you like some assistance? I offer you half of my current shish kabobs."

Mentioned- blue-jay (Amenti)

 

[Tapfic]

Lan struggled for a moment, untangling the kite string from around his torso with a scowl. One of the sticks holding it together snapped in his scuffle with the paper toy- fuck-shit- some kid worked really hard on this thing and Lan just went and broke it like an entire asshole.

“You alright there? That was a pretty vicious kite attack. You gotta be careful with those things, out here in the wild. They’re super territorial.”

A new voice- a short woman ( still taller than Lan ) with tan skin and brown-ish hair.
" That so, " he said flatly, nose slightly wrinkled and brow creased in annoyance. Though he did lift his arm to accept the offered hand, before any contact could be made Jina stepped between the two; gently taking Lan by the forearm and yanking him up; kite and all.

Sharp amber eyes narrowed in the direction of the newcomer, her gaze only softening when it drifted up to the top of her head. Two little animal ears ( though she wasn't sure the type ) poked out of short dark hair. Another cursed, Jina hadn't seen many since leaving K'savr. It may have caught her slightly off guard.

" ..Hello," Jina muttered in a hasty effort to be polite, though it somehow came out sounding more like a threat. She internally winced at her own tone.
" I- " she was going to try and correct herself, but before the words left her mouth she was cut off.

" oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" A woman in pale clothing dragged a child with her by the hand as she interrupted the interaction. After a few frantic apologies from both mother and child that honestly did more to make Lan highly uncomfortable than anything else- he gave back the kite, offering his own apology for the broken wing.
" Wait, let me pay for it," Lan offered, reaching into the pocket tucked under his waist wrap and producing a rather full purse.

" No no it's fine, we've already caused enough trouble-" Her eyes drifted up. Her voice quieted as she looked between the two cursed women. She must not have noticed them in her hurry.
" Ah-um- Is- Is there anything-" her voice faltered, it seemed she was attempting to find the right words.
" Do you need help, sweetie? " She bent at the knees to get closer to Lan's level before speaking. Her voice was more hushed now, though clearly still audible.

Help with...what exactly? This time Lan's brow creased in confusion rather than annoyance. Jina found her usual place just behind the prince and remained silent; though she understood. Just as in most other kingdoms, most people of Arakei viewed the cursed as dangerous- the girl was only thankful they were more subtle about it here.

The woman seemed to notice Lan's hesitance in answering and offered again.
" Do you need help... finding your parents?"

Oh. Ohhhhh that pissed him off. Apparently she hadn't recognized him as a prince despite his attire. Which made sense ; he had made so few public appearances a few citizens didn't even know the name of King Clementine's fifth son. That didn't keep the scowl that formed on his face from tugging any deeper.

" I'm twenty two," he ground out each syllable as though they had each personally pissed in his ant farm. The woman looked at him in disbelief, and finally realization.

spiralingheretic

 

[spiralingheretic]

Grimalkin cursed under her breath as Harlow so easily escaped her hold. The other woman had proven to be more hindrance than help during her exile, though Grimalkin supposed that was the point. She scrunched up her nose as she remembered the laughter in some of the courtiers eyes, the ones more critical of the throne (well, if she were honest, more critical of Grimalkin in particular). There was little doubt that the cursed servant would abandon the princess as soon as there was no one to stop her. Why Harlow hadn't, Grimalkin couldn't fathom. Perhaps she delighted too much in making Grim miserable.

Well, if Harlow expected gratitude from her, she had another thing coming. Grimalkin knew her place in this world, and even if she had been dethroned temporarily, by blood she was still the rightful authority. Despite the fact that some people refused to recognize that.

The princess was already in a miserable mood as they approached the capital. The weather in Arakei was simply atrocious and she felt slightly faint from the heat and humidity. Her hair was frizzing up and escaping from her intricate up-do. (If she had spent more time on her hairstyle this morning than usual, that was nobody's business but her own. She had no one to impress, and she certainly wasn't looking for anyone's approval. It was embarrassing enough already that she was at the mercy of Arakei's generosity.) She had to admit that there was a certain beauty to the country, but it hardly made up for the horrendous weather. Not to mention that her seasickness had kept her from her studies on her journey here. She supposed the sailors were courteous enough (not that she had spent more time than necessary in their presence), though she got the sense that they felt bad for her, which in a way was worse than if they had been rude to her.

It said something about Harlow's decorum that Grimalkin was almost willing to forgo her protection and services rather than let the servant accompany her. Almost. Ultimately she had decided that her station demanded it (and perhaps she felt a bit vulnerable on her own, not that she would admit to it). In any case, the closer the two got to the center of the capitol, the more Grimalkin was beginning to regret her decision. That regret more than doubled the moment Harlow approached the fallen boy who by his attire clearly held a high station. Not only was it incredibly impudent, but Grimalkin knew the cursed woman well enough to know that her intentions had to be far from benevolent. It was certainly not the first impression the princess had been hoping to make.

Fortunately (embarrassingly), the boy's bodyguard interfered before Harlow could land them both in further trouble. Another cursed, noted Grim, and apparently not from around these parts either. She'd noticed that even though Harlow had been garnering a lot of Looks from the local populace (which, actually, could be for many other reasons), that Aarans were a lot more relaxed than Grim's own people. In Queskal, cursed were not only seen as dangerous, but unholy abominations. It was a difficult perception to disprove, since there were very few cursed in the country who were not imprisoned or in forced service to the crown. While spending time with Harlow had altered her own opinion of the cursed from 'ungodly freaks of nature' to merely 'extremely annoying, apparently,' Grimalkin still reflexively raised her hackles whenever they came across a cursed person who was not her servant.

Grimalkin stiffened further as the mother and child rushed onto the scene, and the royal boy took out his money purse, which Harlow was eying dangerously. She wasn't that far away from the exchange, but the noise of the festival kept her from hearing exactly what was being said. The woman seemed to be rejecting the boys money before paling and looking with wide eyes at Harlow and the other cursed woman, as if just realizing they were there. She knelt in clear concern to speak to the boy in hushed tones. Anyone else watching wouldn't have noticed the effect this had on Harlow, the way her jaw clenched and her shoulders hunched only slightly, but Grimalkin had been spending far too much time with the other woman.

Just as Grimalkin was about to approach and discreetly take Harlow away while the boy was distracted, said boy exploded in indignation. "I'm twenty-two," he said. Before the mother had a chance to respond, Harlow shouted out a laugh.

"You've got to be kidding me! That's hilarious!"

Grimalkin covered her face in her hands and she knew she was growing red as a salmon filet. Gods, just kill her now, honestly. Actually no, kill Harlow. Wait no, hold on, no need. Grimalkin would do it herself.

She grasped her servant's wrist in a vice-like grip, thankful that the woman was nearly as short as she was, and turned to address the boy, no, man. (Grimalkin had to admit she too was surprised by his age, but she too also often had to deal with people thinking she was younger than she was. Not nearly to the same extent, but still...) "I deeply and profoundly apologize for Harlow's unacceptable behavior." She increased her grip, pleased to see Harlow wince. Good. Grimalkin hoped she was cutting off blood flow. "I beg that you excuse us..." she struggled momentarily for the right title, "...sir?" Probably not formal enough, according to the station his clothing suggested, but Grimalkin was certainly not giving anyone more respect than they were due.

Harlow, unfortunately, was not sufficiently cowed, and merely made an inappropriate gesture with her unrestrained hand, lip curled up like... was she laughing at her?! That would simply not do. They would be having words later, thought Grimalkin.

Tapfic

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet didn't even twitch when something all-but rammed into his waist, only pausing momentarily to contemplate if someone lost track of their pet and distantly recognizing that it sounded like a bit of a scuffle had broken out a small ways away.

"Holy shit."

That was not a sound often made by a dog.

With a slow blink that conveyed nothing but mild annoyance and a tired sense of resignation, Jet looked down. Unsettlingly blue (and undeniably Kresh) eyes landed immediately on a small—very small—child, who had apperantly been pushed into him, if the startled face was anything to go by. Jet blinked again, long and slow.

"I— uh, I mean: Sorry, sir! I was just... looking for my dad and I didn't see you there."

He perked a brow. Lost, huh? Briefly, Jet's eyes flicked away from the kid to glance around the crowd for any worried faces, which there were a concerning amount of. Logically, Jet knew he shouldn't do this, that searching a crowd for this one kid's parents would take too long and get him caught...

But with a quiet sigh to himself, he gave in to the softer part of him that whispered that he'd want someone else to do the same if either of his brothers ever got lost anywhere. He looked back to the kid (but not before shooting a cold glare to the scuffle that was getting awfully close). "What do they look like?"

His voice in common came out easy to hear above the festival, but flat and whispery, airy in a way that was hard to place and harder to replicate... almost like a phantom, honestly, which kinda fit his whole vibe. Under his voice itself was a musical accent, soft and chiming.

Idly, he noted that the kid didn't look like they were from around Arakei. Interesting.

 

[blue-jay]

AMENTI MA'MOREM: SCHOLAR PRINCESS OF KISUMU
Amenti's pessimistic brooding was interrupted when--"oof excuse me"--someone bumped into her. Amenti hadn't expected the sudden contact and it showed, but she recovered with reasonable grace and straightened her back. Slightly annoyed, she whirled around to face the person, thinking it was going to be an Aaran child. She found herself looking up at a tall, brown-skinned boy. She almost mistook him for Kisumese before examining his clothing. He definitely wasn't Kisumese, so Amenti referred to her own geography and anthropology knowledge to piece together that he must be from Ghala, a western country also covered in desert and populated by brown-skinned people. She let out a small sigh of relief when she was able to let go of the thought that he may be a Kisumese assassin. Considering that he was standing right in front of her and appeared more than capable of besting her in combat, that would've been very unfortunate.

Amenti, not forgetting her manners, prepared to excuse herself and end the interaction, but before she could a man bumped into the boy that had bumped into her, causing him to drop half of his food. However, unlike the boy from Ghala, this man showed no intentions of stopping to apologize. Amenti watched, somewhere between shocked and impressed, as the Ghalaian boy gripped the man's shoulder, getting him to turn around, and gave him a death-stare. He must be serious about his food, Amenti thought. The scared man slipped the boy some money and ran off hastily.

Amenti half-expected the boy's anger to transfer over to her, so she was surprised when he turned to her with an embarrassed smile."Excuse me again, I don't really know what happened but people don't seem to respect boundaries as often." Amenti nodded and said plainly, "No worries. I've been getting nearly run over by the crowd here, so your frustration is understandable." She then noticed him glancing at her luggage. Amenti narrowed her eyes, suspicious of his intentions, but she softened suddenly when he gave her a warm smile. He said, "Well since you're obviously not from around here would you like some assistance? I offer you half of my current shish kabobs."

Amenti blushed imperceptibly, taken aback and a little embarrassed by his sudden warmth, before shaking her head. She was going to decline his offer, but she was stopped as pain flared up her back and shoulders, almost as if her body was protesting. Amenti had done her best to ignore the strain on her thin frame throughout her journey, but now that an opportunity to relieve some of the weight presented itself, the Scholar Princess realized it was only practical to accept the help. Plus, she was getting hungry and a shish kabob sounded nice. "Well, since you're offering... Let's say I'll be indebted to you." She removed one of her two bags from her shoulder and held it out to him. It was the lighter but also the less important of the bags, holding nonessential books and her least favorite jewelry inside. Although he seemed friendly, she couldn't rule out any possibilities. In case something happened, it was best to minimize her damages. "You have my gratitude. I am Amenti Ma'Mwangi. May I have your name?" Despite it being unusual for her, Amenti found herself smiling (although only slightly) with her introduction, feeling it would be inappropriate to be stone-faced to someone so bright.

As for the fake name: "Amenti" was a common enough name among noblewomen in Kisumu that she didn't have to worry about being recognized by non-Kisumese people because of that. She could've given herself a "Na" or "Shi" prefix, but she was too identifiable as a noblewoman to attempt to pass as lower class. So she kept the "Ma" prefix, opting instead to trade "Morem" for "Mwangi," a common surname among Kisumese nobility.

Mentioned: D1.Live

 

[BittyBobcat]

Arakei, Gray decided, had far too many black-haired tan-skinned kids that looked exactly like Peter if you couldn't catch a good look at their face (and, in the crowd, that went for nearly every person he saw). He was trying to grab the attention of one when they turned and he found that—yet again—he was back without any clue as to where Peter was (other than not with him).

His eyes were more on the lines trailing away from the various food stands that dotted the street than the people immediately around him as he walked—something he realized was a mistake when a someone walked straight into him and fell into a heap on the ground. He barely had a second to process what was happening—much less apologize—before the stranger sprang to their feet and was bowing while spouting an apology of their own.

"Please, forgive me! I was trying to find something in my bag, and I wasn't paying complete attention."

Gray blinked. Apparently the 'someone' was a young woman dressed in a white robe that had him worrying for a moment that he just stumbled into Arakian royalty until he registered that she didn't exactly look Arakian. Still, Gray always was one to err on the side of caution, and it was better in any case not to make more enemies than necessary—especially considering that he wore darkly colored clothes of an Arakian peasant who, he guessed, might not be treated with any terrific amount of kindness if he was rude to a possible noble—so returning her politeness seemed the safest course of action.

"Are you... ok?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." He dropped into what he remembered of an Arakian bow (Gray, unfortunately, had never been an expert on Arakei, and his skills in etiquette only grew rustier over the course of the past year). "My apologies for running into you. I was looking for my son and must've forgotten to watch the people around me." He rose—probably a bit quicker than would be considered 'proper'—rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Speaking of which, you haven't seen a boy—about a foot shorter than me, black hair, tan skin, freckles, and a chip on his tooth—around here, have you? His name's Peter."

~~~

Peter shot a glance at the argument behind him that only seemed to be getting closer before turning to face the ridiculously tall man in front of him. His gaze flicked across the expensive-looking dress—Peter didn't know a lot about dresses (or clothes in general, really), but it was covered in stars and blue so, by his guess, it had it be expensive—and travelled upward until it hit his weirdly bright eyes and dark makeup (that was makeup, right?).

Whatever the case, the guy was rich. So he was probably a noble or duke or whatever they called it wherever he came from. And, if this person had any knowledge of Arakian fashion, then he would guess that Peter was—in Dad's words—dressed to blend in (which really translated to 'pretty much the exact opposite of nobility'—not that Peter minded; the clothes were comfortable).

Peter had met a rare few nobles that treated non-royals any better than dirt. He expected some curt, biting comment—maybe a necessary escape, if things got particularly hairy.

"What do they look like?"

That was neither. Granted, that wasn't bad (it was definitely better than the alternatives), but he was planning on having more free time and the concerned probably-royal wasn't helping that. Still, he didn't seem like an ass, and the whole 'probably royal' thing made Peter the slightest bit more inclined to not get caught lying. Besides, he sounded cool. And Peter was always a sucker for listening to a cool voice (if only to mimic it later).

"Somewhere around... this tall," he held his hand flat a foot off his head, "Pale as hell, black hair but going grey, and like he hasn't slept properly in a month." His hand fell back down, fingers absentmindedly grabbing ahold of the bead on his necklace and running across the wooden grooves. "Oh, and he's got a necklace sorta like this. The bead looks different, but it's got the same wood."

 

[Tapfic]

Lan's righteous frustration was swiftly redirected from the woman in pale clothing, to the one cackling like a god damned asshole.

" Wh- Shut up, you're short too! " his face flushed red in equal parts anger and embarrassment as lifted an accusatory finger, and pointed at the aforementioned short asshole. His mouth was already open, the breath of a long winded rant on the tip of his tongue; before yet another woman entered the scene. Small and blonde and ..dressed for winter?? In this heat?

She grabbed onto the cursed woman's wrist, and it honestly kind of reminded Lan of someone yanking at the leash of a disobedient dog... or... opossum? Is that what those ears were?

"I deeply and profoundly apologize for Harlow's unacceptable behavior." Truth be told, Lan was now more worried about weather or not she was about to pass out from heat stroke than anything. The concern , like most of his thoughts, showed clearly on his expression; though he didn't bring it up quite yet.

"I beg that you excuse us..." she hesitated a moment before settling on "sir ?"

Lan thought about dropping the issue, mostly because being referred to as sir did put a little band aid on his wounded pride; and he was trying not to get so worked up over the little things all the time...
He would drop it; after just a few words,

" Like you did anything in the first place," his voice had quieted considerably, though it was still etched with annoyance. It was meant as a comfort, a " don't worry you didn't do anything " sort of deal, but Lan didn't care if it came off that way.

" Anyway; even if you weren't a fuckin shrimp too, " he shifted his gaze, back to glaring at " Harlow " as he spoke .
" What kind of cavernous asshole laughs at random goddamn strangers they met literally two miserable seconds ago? It's not even funny and I don't even look that young! It's the fuckin hair; it fuckin- makes it harder for people to see, look- " he gestured as he spoke; before moving both hands to lift back the chestnut hair that fell in front of his eyes.

" It's the hair right? " he asked turning to the woman who had started the whole mess, she had clasped both hands over her kid's ears sometime during Lan's lecture. She didn't seem to well prepared to be put on the spot like that, simply nodding a quick "yes" and disappearing back into the crowd with her kid and the kite as soon as Lan was no longer paying attention to her.

Jina stood over the group, listening quietly as Lan prattled on. Truthfully she was glad the guy was such a motor mouth, it made it a lot easier to avoid talking to new people...

" Not to mention it's impolite as fuck," Oh, Lan was still going.

Jina had stopped listening at " shrimp ", instead focusing on the one he was speaking to.

It wasn't the rarest sight ever, seeing another cursed in Arakei; but they did tend to gravitate further from the cites- where the need for workers out weighed the citizen's distrust and they could find jobs doing physical labor. Jina hadn't really spoken to another of the cursed since she... left.

And she was not going to start now. Absolutely not.
But... She could piece together bits of information from what she observed. An absent habit that came from constantly looking out for any threats that may surface.

The shorter woman was wearing thick, expensive clothes despite the heat. Had they been lower quality in fabric and stitching, Jina may have assumed it was her only set; but if that had been the case she could have simply sold them and purchased something more fitting. Not to mention the jewelry.
She was prideful, obviously. Nobility? But her companion didn't seem to respect her all too much going by the rude gesture. More explanations presented themselves the more she stared down at the two.

" Here, a lesson in manners, free of charge! Typically you fuckin introduce yourself to people before revealing your status as an entire bent-dick-bastard , watch," Lan turned to the displaced ice-queen and bowed slightly. He would have offered a handshake, as he always found the bow to be a bit... wimpy (?) but the former had been banned after a particularly close assassination attempt a few months ago.
His demeanor changed despite his distaste, suddenly much more ..noble-ish.
" I'm Lan, " he offered only his first name, because he wasn't a fan of his last ( and also he was not supposed to be calling attention to his place as a prince quite yet )
" and you? "

spiralingheretic

 

[spiralingheretic]

Harlow snorted. Wow this one was easy to rile up. Almost too easy-- it took the fun out of it a little bit. (It was her primary source of entertainment lately, figuring out how to wind up nobility--- well, one noble in particular.) She took some comfort, at least, in the flabbergasted expression on Grimalkin's face at the man's outburst. Clearly she had expected something different from her fellow noble. Which, Harlow wasn't stupid, she could tell he held some kind of status, but at the moment he was swearing like a member of her old crew. (As for his cursed companion, well, Harlow could feel her eyes scrutinize them and it made her itchy, uncomfortable.) It really was impressive how long this guy could go on for-- she'd give him that, but really, Harlow was getting a little bored. She'd kind of tuned him out after she realized her chances of pick-pocketing him changed from slim to none. Though not used to being censured using such language, Harlow was more than used to being yelled at by rich assholes.

"blah blah shrimp.. blah blah blah hair... blah bent-dick bastard..." (Well, she'd give him points for creativity.)

Then he turned and bowed at Grim, which very clearly filled her lady with delight. It was incredibly amusing to watch the princess' face go from sour to a slight smile, which for her might as well be beaming. It dimmed a bit when the man, Lan, only introduced himself my his first name. Anyone else might not notice, but Harlow could tell by the look in her eyes that her mind was going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to proceed: how much information to give in return, what level of decorum to show this man of unknown status, whether it was worth it to continue this conversation at all.

All of this, and in the span of mere moments. After only a slight pause, Grim stiffly bowed in return, because for all the princess' intellect, she was socially awkward as fuck. "Grimalkin Carrier, pleased to make your acquaintance."

Harlow was surprised that was all the introduction she gave. No, "crown princess" this or "sole heir to the throne" that. Grim loooved to lord her status over Harlow. She guessed it was for the best that her lady was being discreet (perhaps she was finally developing some common sense). On their travels they'd heard about unrest in the southern countries: assassination attempts, rebellions... Harlow thought it was funny-- if she hadn't been saddled with the princess, she'd probably be right in the middle of it, or at least taking advantage of the chaos to get into some mischief of her own. As it was, she wouldn't be surprised if they ran into some trouble here. With so many royal guests it would be inevitable that someone would take advantage of the situation. Harlow had to admit she was somewhat bitter that someone wasn't her.

She took advantage of Grim's movement to take her arm back, rubbing at the place where the princess had grasped it. Actually it didn't hurt much at all, but it would give Harlow something to whine about later.

 

[blue-jay]

ZURI SHI'KORIR: PRIESTESS OF AJANI
"Yeah, I'm alright." Zuri watched with relief as the man returned her bow. Arakei was a whole new world for Zuri. The last thing she wanted to do was upset the people after just having set foot in the capital city. She was also relieved that an aspect of Kisumese pleasantry (bowing for deference or apology) transferred over effectively. The culture shock had been comprised of pleasant surprises so far, and it would've been a shame for it to turn sour due to her accidentally being rude.

"My apologies for running into you. I was looking for my son and must've forgotten to watch the people around me." The man rose. "Speaking of which, you haven't seen a boy—about a foot shorter than me, black hair, tan skin, freckles, and a chip on his tooth—around here, have you? His name's Peter."

Zuri's expression shifted from a bright smile to earnest concern. She looked in a circle around her, almost as if the boy would appear to her immediately by luck, before setting her eyes back on the man. She scanned over him, attempting to ascertain his heart. Priests of Ajani were trained to detect ill intent as part of their initiation process. The legitimacy of this practice was often questioned, specifically by non-Kisumese people, but Zuri believed in it wholeheartedly. She noted his dark robes, which she had come to figure out indicated lower class in Arakei, but didn't give it any real mind.

After sensing no malignity, Zuri gave the man a smile and professed, "Ajani must have delivered me to you in your time of need! As his servant, it is my duty to assist you." She held her hand to her heart as she spoke, holding the crescent moon pendant that hung from her neck. She then turned back to the crowd and continued her search. It was a little difficult since Zuri wasn't very tall (she took little hops as she looked around), but she soon discovered that there were many tan, dark-haired little boys running around.

Trying to keep her voice light, she continued, "Erm... Do you have an idea what direction he may have gone in? Maybe we could walk and shout his name." The mention of names caused Zuri's eyes to widen in realization. "Oh wait, I almost forgot! I'm Zuri Shi'Korir. What's your name?" Putting a finger to her chin and looking up in thought, she added: "If we ask around using Peter's full name, that may help the search, especially if he has a less common surname."

 

[Kabboom]

Ozai

Ah, so they have barons here! That was some consolation to Ozai; his readings mentioned other forms of social hierarchies in the rest of the world, and the word 'baron' rung a bell in his head. Perhaps something akin to Lord maybe? It was a very good idea to approach this one in particular. Prideful of his righteous (but coincidental) decision, Ozai stuck out his chest ever so slightly with a smile on his face. The hound-handler accompanying her, who had just fed the zucchini to his dearest companion, seemed to be barely acquainted with the woman; it was rather likely that they were also strangers who bumped into each other - of course, Ozai could be wrong, but he would never personally hold that opinion.

Idoria Prink introduced herself and her intent. It is only fitting that a lord from Torikage would offer the same. One hand clutching the scabbard of his sword as the other curled up into a fist on his chest, Ozai bowed slightly as he spoke. "I am pleased to hear that. I am Lord Ozai Masakuro, of Torikage. I hope I can accompany you for the night, Miss Prink." Raising his head, he tried his best to sound dignified - he found it rather hard to pretend as if he didn't get chased off his homeland by assassins. "I am new here, and I would love to make some friends."

Turning to the hound-handler, Ozai managed a nominal degree of deference and respect. "Who might you be, my friend?" His mind presumed the man to be of lesser social status, exhibited through the subtle ooze of superiority in his eyes.

Nephalem AncientBird

 

[AncientBird]

Bart looked at his two companions introducing themselves. The young woman said she is a daughter of a baron, her name is Idonia Prink. Prink? For sure Bart had never heard of such a house name before… The other one, the newly arrived man introduced himself as a lord, Lord Ozai Masakuro, of Torikage. Bart had never been to Torikage before and only knew little about this island country.

The impression of these two didn’t ring some sense in Bart’s mind. Perhaps it might be his overly cautious habit that made him suspect in everything new, but normally people of such high class don’t just go around without any servants or bodyguards, talking to strangers, especially to someone like him, unless they want his service, in which they would more likely to go straight to the point… These seemed more like a chitchat.

Still, Bart kept his suspicion hidden and replied to the man who wish to know his name.

“I am Bart…” He replied plainly and tipped his hat. “Back there is Karrax…” The man nodded toward the black alley where his hound went in, still hasn’t returned. “We hunt for a living.” He finished off his introduction.

While his current name was just short to his actual one. Bart had always been confident that nobody would connect them together. For many people that night had witness Prince Bartemeaus falling half dead into the river, infested with river sharks and tiger fish…None would think he could survive from it. The change from a fair young prince into a rugged and grim looking nobody was so much even Bart sometimes couldn’t recognize himself in the mirror either… Not to mention how common the name Bart is in Skandia.

Featuring: Nephalem Kabboom

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet hummed as the kid described their dad, the dark blue malar-marks around his eyes masking the subtle changes of his expression. He raised his head. There was an advantage to being a walking tower; being able to look over an entire crowd of heads.

Almost lazily, he scanned the heads and necks of everyone who looked vaguely like how the kid described. As it turned out, there were a lot of black-haired-almost-gray people in the crowd. The description of his skin-tone helped, though, as Arkei didn't seem to have many people that were as light as described.

Picking two, Jet gestured in their vague direction with another melodic hum. "Either of those two look like your dad?" He asked, leaning down slighly so the kid could follow his gaze. All the while, he played with the hem of his sleeve, the light embroidery along tge edges irritating the skin on his wrists.

 

[Tapfic]

Lan accepted " Grimalkin Carrier's " introduction with satisfaction, nodding once to show his approval.
" See , that's how you're supposed to introduce yourself," he truly did sound like an entire dick; that fact was undeniable, but he didn't really care.

Jina's brows drew together as the little prince finished his display.
...Was she supposed to introduce herself now? Was it the other girl's turn? Was Lan going to say more?

Amber eyes darted downwards for some sort of help navigating this situation, but her companion didn't notice her distress; he had simply crossed his arms and begun to tap his foot. Was he waiting for something? Probably. Probably an introduction from the other woman, maybe an apology as well.

" Jina Everly, " She may as well break the silence before it stretched too long, though she hated to speak up.
The words were curt as usual, and held no trace of the hesitance she felt. Jina bowed at the waist twice, once to Miss.Grimalkin, and once to the other cursed woman. Lan made a face at the second bow, but didn't say anything against it.

Jina's tail swayed slightly as she lifted herself back up, and straightened suddenly as a bell sounded trough the streets.
Her eyes didn't flinch, but her hands moved to cover her ears. It was hard being a cat sometimes.

The Bell of Games had been rung twice now; once to commence the festival, and now to signal the start of the activities the oldest prince had chosen for his birthday; pie eating, and dancing. Not great things to interchange, considering the potential for nocked over pie and hurt stomachs; but the eldest son was known for his friendly nature, not his wisdom.

A crowd was already beginning to gather. Some looking to win the hefty bag of prize money from the dance, some simply wanting to participate for the fun of it, many drawn by the prospect of free pie.

...They should go, Jina thought to herself. Prince Tai would be hanging around the area; and he always made his brothers and friends participate, lest they face nagging and puppy dog eyes. The latter was a move Lan could never counter or resist, despite his insistence that he hated his siblings with a burning passion.

spiralingheretic

 

[BittyBobcat]

"Ajani must have delivered me to you in your time of need! As his servant, it is my duty to assist you."

Ajani... that name rang a bell. A god or spirit of some sort. Definitely not a member of some sort of criminal's guild or anything of the like (unless it was a code name), which was the tiniest bit comforting. Of course, the woman didn't really look like an assassin, but Gray had thought that about people only to be proven wrong enough times that he had long since learned that he could never be too careful.

"Erm... Do you have an idea what direction he may have gone in?"

Her question pulled him out of the rather grim train of thought. "Well... he knew that I was planning on meeting up with a, ah—friend at the dance, so he might be there. But if he purposely ran off, then he might be quite literally anywhere else— wow, that sounds bad." Gray paused, sputtering wordlessly for a moment before finally managing to blurt out, "I— let me explain; he's going through a bit of a rebellious phase right now and I asked him to stick close to me through the festival and he was not pleased."

"Oh wait, I almost forgot! I'm Zuri Shi'Korir. What's your name? If we ask around using Peter's full name, that may help the search, especially if he has a less common surname."

"Oh! Uh, Rilenhou." Technically it was Peter's, but he couldn't exactly spit out the name of the Ammietrian royal family and expect everything to go well. "I'm Gray Rilenhou." And it was true enough. A name was whatever people called you by, and—at this rate—more people were beginning to know him as Gray than Luca.

He sighed. It seemed his thoughts were determined to stay grim today.

"You know, aren't obligated to help, by the way," Gray said through an embarrassed chuckle. "Peter's old enough to take care of himself. I'm only worried because it's my job to worry." His hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he continued to scan the crowd regardless of his words. He'd do well to take his own advice. The kid was venomous, surely he could manage to stay safe. Right?

~~~

"Nope." Peter barely even glanced toward the two men Jet pointed out before flippantly humming his answer. "He's paler. Like if you looked at the inside of a seashell and then held it up next to his face, you wouldn't know whi—" DING!

The deep, echoing ring of a bell interrupted his not entirely inaccurate comparison.

Dad had told him earlier what it meant—an event bell or something like that; games would be held soon. He had been planning on attending. Maybe claiming he didn't mean to get separated and headed straight to where Dad said Ant would be once they ended up finding him. A well-spent evening of freedom and he wouldn't even get a lecture at the end of it (well... not a long one).

He could try it now. All he needed to do was scamper off into the crowd and there'd be almost no chance of him finding him. Even now, his back was turned and—with Peter's thought-filled hesitation slowing his pace—people were beginning to file into the gap of space left empty between them... but it would be bad to leave, wouldn't it? As far as tall whispery dude was concerned, he really was looking for his father. If he found them later then he could mention meeting Peter, and there was no way that conversation wasn't turning to 'so your kid made me look for you and then disappeared like a jackass' at some point. But the smell of free pie in the air was tantalizingly close...

In the end, Peter's decision was made for him when something cold landed on his neck.

The knife—and he knew it was a knife despite the loose sleeve that fell over it, hiding the blade from view—wasn't pressing hard (not yet, at least), but Peter had been on the wrong end of enough swords to feel his jugular pulsing beneath it. And it didn't take a genius to hear the malice drenching it's owner's voice as they spoke. "Don't make a sound."

He nodded weakly for a moment before realizing with a brief wince that it was the second dumbest way to respond to the command. What was it Gray always said to do in these situations? The lecture's he'd given felt so distant. Dream-like compared to the cold reality of the sword—no, knife (it was just a knife)—at his throat.

"Walk."

He walked.

Gray's voice played in his head. Unsheathing a weapon takes time, using an already prepared one usually takes less. Never bet on shifting to defend yourself unless you're sure it's not a 'less' case scenario. So, long story short, he was fucked. They were taking him... wherever they were taking him and they'd find out about the bounty and he'd be dead. End of story. Closure of book. Runaway prince no more. He might as well fight back now and get it over with.

And I hope you never have to use this, but if things go terribly wrong then I need you to make sure there's a way for me to know so I can find you. Leave... something. Anything noticeable. Identifying.

Oh, right. He had backup. Peter was still getting used to that.

So... drop something Gray would recognize and hope he found it before Pete met his untimely demise. That was... well it was a plan. Better than bleeding out.

Peter stepped into the knife's edge. Not hard—he was doing this in an attempt to not die, after all—but enough so that he could feel the string of his necklace snap beneath the sharp pressure. He feigned a stumble at the same time (something which earned him a hand gripping his shoulder a little to firmly to be comfortable), and the piece of jewelry slipped off entirely—landing on the paved street with a quiet clack that was hidden almost entirely by the murmurs and shouts of the surrounding crowd.

There was no doubt in Peter's mind that the bead would stay intact; dragonscale wood was sturdy. Now, his only nervous hope was that Dad would find it.