watch well

POSTED: Mon Apr 16, 2018 6:18 pm

She rolled the pieces of red twine between her fingers and wondered why the silver man had them at all. They were an interesting piece of history – leftover from when they had all first met after being assigned to one another by their commander. They had all been so young then, so eager to taste battle and put their training to the test.

Etoile flexed her hands; back then she had had ten fingers.

The red marks had been what had identified them to one another. She remembered the way the red rope had matched Ferdinands long hair. He had been deep and red like fire, and almost immediately she had fallen in love with him.

She pocketed the twine and sighed deeply, the tips of her finger grazing the golden coin that she had stolen from Brocade. It was a small item that brought with it many heavy questions; questions that she was not yet prepared to ask of Brocade Valentine. She knew that The Five had touched his family, come for them in this place of thistles and thorns.

She had carefully taken note of the members of his family in the Thistle Kingdom: Cleome, Lace, Weaver, and Calla.

Hyacinth had gone to the Outpost, or so he said – and Etoile couldn’t help but think that this was an intelligent thing. This, this was a place where terrible things happened.

One of the knives from her bandolier ended up in her hands and she spun it absently, her expression carefully cool.

The weapons were special, a set that had been gifted to her from one of her many brothers. The Montgomery clan had an affinity for sharp and deadly things, and so it had only been natural that upon her first birthday she had been gifted the vicious looking set. She knife she held was called Folly - a far fetched name for something so small and seemingly insignificant when compared to the larger knife that hung from her waist.

"Garde bien." Watch well.

She grinned and suddenly flicked her wrist, watching the knife fly to notch itself easily into the bark of a nearby tree.

Want to come play with Etoile ? :)

User avatar

POSTED: Tue Apr 17, 2018 12:15 pm

Dance in the light of a lesson learned

The ghosts of what had been did not seem to touch Jacq.

Etoile carried the burden of red hair, a red heart, and a flame that would not die. Brocade reminded him of a drowning man, the guilt of it all was enough to not make him stand so tall. They had teased him for his gypsy heart, but Jacquard found that his station seemed easier than the others. They were falling into one another, and he found that far-fetched. But the Valentine had loved her before, and perhaps, c'est la vie, such is life. But it needled at him, and he wondered if it would be best to say something. He was a man who knew how to handle things with fists and a quick wit, but this was a tangled web. If he had been faced with the Gordian knot, he would have sliced it without hesitation. It was better to live, to laugh, and to love, and to move on then all the trappings of pain and scorn.

Soft french caught his ears, and the unmistakable whistle thud of a knife finding its way home.

He raised one dark hand in greeting as he approached Etoile, an easy, lazy grin spreading across his features. His heart felt heavy with his concerns but he did not know the right path yet. Brocade had abandoned him, but he was still terribly fond of the imbécile, and he found himself wondering of the old proverb - hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. "Hello, Etoile. Where is your paramour?" He faked a theatrical look around, as if unable to believe they would be separated. Soon, he would bring himself to act on his suspicions, he promised himself. He was a man who liked to keep his word, yet he knew deep down he might very well be lying to himself. It was better to love both of them the best he could, and let them sort out the mess between them.

[WC — 329]
The Associate (NPC)
User avatar

POSTED: Wed Apr 18, 2018 1:26 am

The humming sound the metal made when the knife struck wood made Etoile's heart sing. Her fingers rippled over the other knives, each one named and carefully tucked away in its sheath. The others had soft names: Fleuri, Doux, and Clair. Arbour had been amused when he had explained the names to her - an older brother always eager to put his sister in her place. She had challenged him regularly, and soon threw the knives better than he ever could.

Etoile rose to collect the weapon, her nostrils twitching as she recognized the scent which lingered on the incoming breeze.

Jacquard had been there for everything - and despite what they had seen in their time together he seemed the least effected by it. When he sauntered into the little clearing he was smiling that trademark grin of his, his dark lips pulled back to expose a row of shiny teeth. Etoile glared at him, flexing her arm as she pulled the weapon free. <"Shut up Jacquard,"> She snarled, snapping her jaws as she buried the knife into its leather safety. She rolled her shoulders and glared at him pointedly.

There was something deep within her that goaded her to stand up to men, to stand her ground ferociously no matter the cost.

She flexed her four fingered hand and resisted the urge to punch the Frenchman's broad shoulder, instead burying the clenched fists deeply into her pockets. Despite his familiarity she could feel the sense of rage simmering deep inside... though it began to dissipate like steam.

Etoile felt herself rumbling beneath the pristine blue of his eyes, <"What are you doing out here?">


User avatar

Dead Topics