Fantasy The Shadow of The Seal

[Wyll]

The Fire

Navon
Hara

Navon had only been out on the library floor for mere moments and, already, Guille seemed upset, Scarlett and Aricia were up to the usual mischief, Kygo had gone off to who knows where for Navon being too harsh yet again, and the lingering smell of tea and its particles in the air tempted a sneeze.

Absolutely not. A mental decree. To stay here for even a second longer would be to voluntarily offer his brain cells to be sacrificed to the madness that seems to have possessed the library in the short while he was in the lower levels. Kygo, who - by factors that thoroughly puzzled Navon - had somehow become his student, had taken his leave. However, Navon was certain he had seen Saphielle in the training room just moments earlier. Perhaps she was still there?

He suspected that in a spar between the two of them, she just might earnestly attempt to take his life, as some form of justice for their shared history. However, in the even that she didn't, it couldn't be denied that she was an Agent of impressive skill. One whom might humor him long enough to allow him practice something he had been working on in secret.

He spun on his heel, desperate to escape the anarchy of the library and return to the safety, the sanctity of the lower levels. He could, perhaps, see how some may call him unsociable due to such behaviours, however he took no offense to it. He was sociable enough during missions and he didn't much see the need to be socially pleasant outside of that.

He returned to the training room in the middle of Saphielle's practice. It would seen she was so rapt in her movements, that she didn't even notice him. Although, that seved him purposes quite well. He had seen her fight before; had fought by her side before, but these moments were an improvement on the last time he had seen her in a fight, and so he began his study.

His eyes captured every motion, picking up on the ripples in her musculature as she transitioned from one move to the next. With each attack, his eyes found the start and traced her weight as it moved from one side of her body to the other, tattooing the image in his mind. His hands moved to the hilts of his daggers, wrapping around them with practiced ease. However, his fingers were strangers to the daggers, for his grip was not his own, but Saphielle's. He mimicked how she held her blades, moving his hands along the hilts of his own as she did, transcribing mental memory to muscle memory.

If Saphielle's motions were a piece of music, then Navon held on to every note, disected every chord, studied every measure, until the entire piece played on repeat in his mind. He was entirely uncaring that he was staring unapologetically. After all, understanding the fighting style and pattern of one's teammates makes for more seamless work in the field, as he is better able to predict their moves. It was one of the unique things about working with Navon: he moved in tandem with you, as though he knew exactly what you were going to do before you even did it. Before you started the motion.

As she brings her practice to a close, her motions now grafted into Navon's memory, and Navon finally blinks, like the shutter of a video camera after a long take.

"You have improved." Curt and without introduction, as none would have done him any benefit. "Good." He knew no appraisal had been asked of him, but it was offered anyway. An Agent's efforts to improve should not go unrecognized, regardless of the feelings that particular Agent might have toward him. At least, that was his belief. "Your movements have been polished, and so you last longer. You are still impatient. It keeps you alert, but it narrows your vision."

Mentions: Saphielle ( Talathel ).

 

[WillOWispJJ]

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  How He's Feeling:

  
  
  
  

  Worried and guilty
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  What He's Wearing:

  
  
  
  

  Casual black robes with silver cuffs

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  Where He's At:

  
  
  
  

  Kidem- Head Library
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  Interact/Mention:

  
  
  
  

  Interact: Fennec (@roxybirdie), Keep (NPC), Eltan (NPC)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Kalin

The Refugee

Chapter 1:

“Kalin Rochet, are you calling me fat?”

Kalin’s eyes widened a bit as he cleared his throat. His tail curled into itself defensively. Watching closely as Fennec pouted and crossed his arms. “I apologize,” Kalin slowly, almost cautiously, murmured out. “I didn't mean to infer that at all. I, by no means, was not trying to ‘body shame’ you for liking my baking. I simply was trying to…tease you back in a similar manner to how you tease me.”

Kalin glanced at the direwolf next to them. Seeing the wolf’s huff, worried Kalin even more.

“If you’re going to be rude, I want them before we start.”

Kalin locked eyes with Fennec. The pool of dark chocolate brown staring back. Kalin’s eyes softened slightly as the other kept pouting, noticing no actual hurt in his eyes. “Very well. I assure you that the payment will be quick. So you better have your runic lessons prepared.”

Kalin noticed the flinch from Fennec’s form. Had he said something wrong?

“Of course. Your honesty is how we became friends in the first place. If I recall, I called it a breath of fresh air, right?”

Kalin smiled softly and looked up at the lights of the library, reminiscing on his first meeting with Fennec. “Well, yes. You did. Although, I remember that Roan was not too excited with how honest I was. In his defense, however, I was a bit harsh with my honesty. Then again, I was rather new to all this and hadn’t made any friends at the time.”

As he turned back to face Fennec, he noticed the other gripping his temple. Kalin saw the slightly trembling hands and went to lay a hand on Fennec’s arm but decided not to at the last moment. Instead, he suggested that the two go on a little walk together.

“Fresh air sounds promising. Where to?”

Kalin gave a sad smile as he also started to pack up his things. “How about we go into the town? Just walk around the plaza or market for a bit?” Kalin looked down and noticed the, still, trembling hands of his friend. Yes, friend. With a soft look, Kalin gently moved his tail to rub Fennec’s back.

Kalin stood and offered a hand to Fennec to help him up. As they walked down the stairs, Kalin conversed jokingly and calmly with Fennec. He noticed the tense state and tried his hardest to help calm him.

As they descended to the first floor, Kalin noticed Keep and Eltan entering the Library. “Wonderful, Keep and Eltan are here. Perhaps we should go say hello to them.” Kalin smiled and led Fennec over to the two.

“Greetings, Keep. Greetings, Eltan. How are you two doing today?” Kalin gave a small smile. His tail is still gently rubbing Fennec’s back to sooth his friend. “Oh, Keep. I noticed that none of my recommended books were available today. Is that something I can expect to see tomorrow or the next? Or is that something I should inquire about with Bookie?”

Keep gave Kalin a slight nod as he greeted him back, "Greetings, Kalin."

Eltan smiled brightly and waved excitedly as he, practically, bounced up and down on his heels. "Hi, Kalin! Oh! I'm doing great! I've just been reading this new book. It's called The Lion's Scar! And I've been exploring around Kidem! Did you know-"

"I believe that is enough for now, Eltan. We have more important matters to discuss anyways. Kalin, if you are wondering about your recommendations, I would recommend talking to Bookie. Come along now, Eltan." Keep motioned for Eltan to continue following him.

With one last wave, Eltan followed behind Keep as Kalin continued his walk with Fennec.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Talathel]

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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  Alarmed, Startled, and Annoyed
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what she's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  Must you ask?

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  Training Room
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Navon ( Wyll )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Saphielle

The Insider

So focused on her work, Saphielle barely could feel the eyes on her figure as she moved like water, flowing from one form to the next almost seamlessly. The form-fitting top she wore moved alongside her hips as she carefully drew back, her eyes opening to meet Navon's as he watched her practice. The sound of his voice reaching her pointed ears sent Saphielle on alert, a flash of silver whipping through the air as her short sword flashed to point directly at Navon, tri-colored orbs narrowing and darkening in annoyance.

"Navon. What are you doing here?"

Her voice could literally freeze the very air - sounding like icicles were forming straight off her words as she kept her balance and posture wary. Her eyes studied the other assassin and the way he was watching her. Her skirt swirled lightly before slowly settling down, muscles ready to attack should Navon even try to approach her at that time.

Copper and auburn air fell across her face, strands gently brushing high cheekbones as she raised an eyebrow at the one other agent who had shared some of her history. As he complimented her, she could feel a bit of heat in her cheeks, a blush forming gently as she snorted delicately. Getting a compliment from Navon was rare, especially given the duo often didn't interact unless on missions, which she would prefer. She carefully relaxed her stance just barely, getting ready to put her swords back into their respective sheaths that settled on each hip. Of course, though, Navon couldn't just leave the compliment and instead had to answer with some type of negative feedback as well. Almost as soon as his mouth opened, Saph was narrowing her eyes and her magic flared dangerously, hair floating a bit as she glared at Navon.

"Well, excuuuse me for not being perfect!"

Her tone oozed with sass and exasperation as she glared at Navon, her grip on her swords tightening as she shifted her weight. Her muscles ached, legs shaking just enough but the ex-princess tried to hide the weakness, knowing Navon would gladly take advantage of it while in the training room. Why was it that everyone expected perfection?! She wasn't the heir anymore - she refused to be queen, she didn't want it - she had never wanted it. A small pout crawled over her lips as she lowered her dangerous weapons, allowing her magic to continue to fluctuate

"I'm nowhere as impatient as you are Navon!"

She couldn't resist giving in to the temptation of teasing and giving Navon a hard time - because why not?! The elven princess was slightly amused and gently sheathed her long sword, keeping her short one out just to be safe. She definitely was having just a smidge of fun - though she had a feeling she may be poking the proverbial bear in this case... oh well.

Eona left Mumbasa after playing in the fountain, raising her large head to sniff the air before trotting towards the training room, claws clicking across the floor before the wolf paused as she noted Navon bugging her mistress. Now, Eona was usually calm around other agents - but there was one agent she would forever be wary of, and that...was the one annoying her mistress. The arctic wolf slowly crept to her mistress's side, ivory canines glinting as a low growl rumbled in her chest, fur rising to make the canine look larger than she usually was. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she gave a cold snarl.

♡coded by uxie

 

[lyn.]

”W

hat about the floor being made of a thick glass or glass like material with water underneath? You could easily slide the floor sheet with a handle to open it for you to come in and out? Or would that be too complicated…?”

Aricia tilted her head as she considered the idea. It wasn’t bad, per se, and there’s nothing wrong with a bit of accessibility. There was a time where she’d voiced her own ideas at the dinner table. The Western Institute was large, but old and lacking in its own convenience. It seemed they expected you to use your own magic to account for the buildings' faults. A ridiculous notion that Aricia made known. Of course, her mother had only smiled and changed the subject, ignoring everything her daughter had to say at every turn. No doubt her only acknowledgment of Aricia’s complaints were when she told them to her father.

Still, was putting water in a library such a good idea? Anything could happen. A simple crack of the glass and most of the books in here would be ruined. It was impractical in many ways, and suggesting the idea would probably only end in a few upset pillars, more specifically Bookie.

Aricia bit her tongue as she took the broom from Scarlett’s hands, following the girl's instructions and ignoring the blow to her own ego at how stupid she felt. Not only did she not know how to use a broom, she likely looked ridiculous at attempting it. Only Scarlett could make her do such ridiculous things for all the agents to see.

Of course, she made her frustrations known. A huff and a puff there as dust repeatedly got stuck on her skirts. She could picture the confusion on her maid's face from the mess left on her clothes. If questions were to arise, she would need a decent excuse. Or she could clean it up herself, nahh.

Oh lord, she was bored again. Why was Guille scary again? Maybe leaving for food is worth the risk.

”That dress only brings you closer to perfect swimming form! I can teach you. A bit of guidance and you’ll be swimming in no time.”

Aricia stopped sweeping to lean on the broom, accepting the distraction with ease. She bit back a laugh and she thought up a response. Îstoire seemed very passionate, indeed, about getting Aricia in the water. She’d be caught dead doing that, of course, but she wouldn’t hesitate to entertain a friend.

“Not my corsets, friend. This fabric would do nothing but weigh me down.” A pause- “Tell you what, you find me a corset suitable for water, and I’ll gladly take your swimming lessons.” She lied. “And of course I’d sign your petition. Convincing Bookie, however… might be a mission not even I could manage.”

She twirled the broom's end in her fingers, mind lost from the task at hand. Or perhaps she was just avoiding it entirely.

“You would have to hide the idea from Navon, he’d be the first to point out all the faults. I can promise you that. And while we’re on the topic of reconstruction, this place could use a lot more lights. The hallways are almost as miserable as the ones at the manor.”

"A bird flew by, saw what I'd done..."

Aricia Belwick

location:

Kidem, Head Library

outfit:

interactions:

CrimsonInk CloudySkyLoftyMoon mentioned:Navon, Bookie

 

[hery]

The Sun

Cresley Hogsweed

̳C̳̳h̳̳a̳̳p̳̳t̳̳e̳̳r̳ ̳1̳: ̳K̳̳i̳̳d̳̳e̳̳m̳


INTERACTION: Else
LOCATION: Kidem Alley
OUTFIT: Everyday
MENTIONS: @Mypilot

Cresley's pace slowed ever so slightly, his attention darting between the puddles beneath their feet and the alley stretching ahead. The walls glistened with a damp sheen, a grimy mix of rainwater and years of neglect. The air hung thick, a musty blend of mildew and the subtle tang of rust.

At Else's pointed question, the hobbit's expression shifted. "Not worried, no," he answered, the rough edge of his Abasi dialect merging with the smooth cadence of a hobbit's accent.

Cress' eyes flicked toward the source of the muffled voices, lingering for a moment on the shadow of a slammed door before returning to Else. "Not everyone who's careless is the antagonist, and not everyone who gives away the story's ending means to cause harm." His words were measured, the practiced tone of someone trained in offhand metaphors.

Cress had tangled with traitors before, his hands bound and calloused by the work of hauling rogue Seal agents to justice. Each betrayal carried its own lesson—chief among them, that loyalty, like bone, tends to snap under the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Cress had been the one to apply it.

He exhaled through his nose, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth. "Whatever the case, Chapter 2 was abysmal, wasn't it?" There was a warmth in his eyes meant for Else—Cress really did think highly of the Lorekeep. They were someone who would never compromise the integrity of the mission, no matter the cost.

Surrounded by deadly people—changeling spies, master assassins, and spellcasters with tempers hotter than a forge—Cress felt oddly at ease. It was like sitting in a room full of venomous snakes: unnerving to some, but to him, just another day at the Seal.

As they approached the far end of the alley, where the light broke through and spilled across the uneven ground, he cast a sidelong glance at Else. He paused in thought, mulling over his words. "You know, you're a rare one, elf," Cress whispered low, "You could be anything—a duke, a dragon, a hobbit. And yet, you choose... this?" He waved a hand over Else’s more mundane form. "The most beige, pedestrian guise possible."

His laughter rang out, bouncing off the narrow walls and startling a rat mid-scurry, the sound too lively for the alley's gloom. The volume of his voice dropped again. "Don’t you suppose trying to blend in makes you look like there's something to hide?"

coded by reveriee.