Hialao is the nucleus, a modern, sunny and hospitable seaside realm; Wildewall is steeped in tradition, good for those with archaic roots and a taste for wilderness; Elestis is the fantasy land of ever-tumbling magic and whimsical imagination; Parse whirs like the massive digital machine that it is, advanced and technological.
Barrows is the breeding ground of chaos, with refrains of grunge and anachronistic crime; Tethya is the small but glorious underwater world reminiscent of Victorian times; and those who don't feel at home in any of these places, or simply like to wander, are known as Drifters.
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PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Aug 9 2016, 03:54 AM
The acolyte looked up from her work on the soil, having been interrupted right as she had plunged her shovel into the ground with surprising strength. She was young, no longer a child yet not quite a woman, with slender shoulders that carried the burden of thick, nondescript woolen robes weighing like carpets down her arms. The bottom of her robes were faded with dirt and her toes were coated in dust. But under the strict gaze of the sun, her skin glowed pale and clean like a smooth pearl, her eyes shining in bright amber even in the glaring day.
With slender fingers and cut nails, she pulled strands of her silky black hair behind her ear, scoping the foreigner in deep violet cloak with unhidden wonder. She spotted a distance away that he came with a horse, mounted by thick books. A scholar? What he had come to Azula for?
“Oh, no, you didn’t bother me at all,” she said off-handedly, a reflex to be friendly, looking thoughtfully from the horse and then to the man. Without the sugary rendition of Yang though – Azula having been distracted by the scholar’s sudden appearance – it had sounded almost sarcastic. She looked at him, uncertainty and doubt shaped around her eyes. “But I know a Yang. You’re looking at her. Is there…something you need…?”
It would not be unlike of the cursed matron to command Yang another task while she was already busy with one, and to be assigned to a stranger would not be the first time either. Time and time again, Azula had showed Wildewall’s woeful state to the volunteers of other dimensions in heightened acting, pleading for their intervention to “alleviate the suffering of her friends” and singing to them about their bottomless kindness for “becoming a light to Wildewall.” Wildewall was a ceaseless charity case. The outsiders who came to Wildewall had stopped being tourists a long time ago.
But something about this encounter was telling Azula that this was different. She could not discern much from the man with one look, except that he had a fancy living and had taken a beating from his journey. What did he want from her?
AZULA I | ROBIN
[OOC] rip that template. it was so young....
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Sep 25 2016, 12:20 AM
Though the priestess quickly stated that his questions were no bother, Robin had initially felt a sting of guilt as he watched her divorce herself from what must have been a weary system of labor. The woman before him received a tactician’s initial appraisal, an involuntary screening that went through Robin’s mind upon any first meeting. The priestess was young and she was beautiful, a beauty like the light glinting off the edge of a knife in multicolored fractals. Even so, her youth had not been a shield; that much resonated in her voice and her chosen occupation. And in spite of her beauty, the girl had not shied away from labor or meager provisions, as was apparent in her unabashed display of the plain robes and the dirt that adorned them. All in all, the tactician sensed no threat, which was saying much considering his judgment of priesthood.
Robin was wary still, if only a bit, even as the surface kindness of her words and assurances smoothed over some bit of the man’s fluster. Still, it took the tactician long second to realize that the girl he spoke to was, indeed, the one he was looking for. When the revelation did dawn on him, his apprehension seemed to vanish and he smiled, a warm expression that highlighted a spot of mud from the road smeared upon his chin.
“Ah, so my luck is not so bad after all. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yang. You can call me Robin,” he said, extending a hand to shake, his long sleeve only falling half out of the way of his palm. A hand offered was a cherished gift, in Robin’s mind. A hand had been offered to him once, in a field not so dissimilar from this one, and that moment had directed his life for years to come. Though Robin wished for none of the gravity Chrom’s gesture had had, he found the situation pleasantly ironic. Perhaps this truly was a chance for him to pay forward the great kindness that Chrom had once done him.
The man coughed again, still having yet to clear the dust from his throat, before continuing in a slightly hoarse and quietly embarrassed tone. “As for my business, it may sound somewhat-“ he paused for a moment, searching for the right word. “-strange. Perhaps better spoken of in a different place.” Robin was only too keenly aware that he was standing amongst a field of hardworking acolytes, distracting one from contributing to what was likely one of the temple’s many good works. He felt quite foolish to consider speaking of lost memories in muddy farmland.
Robin shifted his weight, rubbing his shock of snowy hair absentmindedly as he sought to remedy the social hole he had dug himself into. “Is there any way that I can help you with your work here? You seem short of hands, and I promise that I am much more familiar with this sort of labor than I might seem.”
ROBIN II | @AZULA
[OOC] I’ve moved on to yet another stolen template, rip old beauty
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Apr 11 2017, 06:34 AM