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Old 05-31-2017, 12:33 AM   #24
Balmund
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Location: A snake's lair.
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Le Cimetičre des Cœurs Oublié


Balmund:


"I wouldn't do that, were I you," a voice says, from somewhere behind you, as if capable of hearing your intentions to attack the teru teru bozū if you deemed it necessary. You turn, understandably, to see where the words originate from, and find yourself looking into the face of a young woman, with grey-blue eyes and golden blonde hair. Her expression is dull and almost emotionless, save for perhaps the thinnest thread of curiosity woven into her gaze; she doesn't say anything else to you, however, instead walking past you to the continuously swelling doll. Her brown leather boots crunch on the rapidly accumulating snow, and her red wool coat -- layered over a white dress -- rides up at her calves when she reaches over her head and unties the doll from its branch. Suspending it from two fingers, she reaches out with the other hand, and gives Iskra a friendly pat on the head, apparently undeterred by her ghostly nature.

"It's rude to damage other peoples' things," she admonishes, in a weary manner. Meanwhile, the doll has sprouted arms. Two foot long, three foot; it continues to grow and warp in shape, but the young woman doesn't seem disturbed in the least. "Moreover, Yuki isn't a thing. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps all men are the same. Such terrible senses of entitlement. Such terrible cruelty. You take what you want, and then you break it. Were you going to break Yuki, too?"

The teru teru bozū has grown to a staggering four feet, a thick red sash around its waist, and you realize its eyes are no longer painted on, but actually looking at you. With arms that protrude from its own head, it reach up, and giggles into one palm. The young woman releases the string, and it disappears, thick ice crystals erupting from the former doll's head in it's wake; a fully formed Frosslass stands before you, though it makes no move to attack. Rather, it hovers next to its liberator, its laughter echoing like shattering ice.

What will you do?



"Ah, forgive me, milady. Men often commit rash and unreasonable acts in the name of self preservation. But I must insist, l came here with no ill intent." Duke sighed, feeling the chilly cloud of his own breath brush against his face by the wind, and relaxed his guard before this intriguing woman and the Frosslass beside her. While the thinly veiled threat and accusation was cause for a certain amount of tension, the way in which they conduced themselves in such a passive and unthreathening manner, coupled with Iskra's overall amiable disposition towards them, gave Duke reason enough to soften his frame and expression. Not gone unnoticed, however, where the woman's words regarding the nature of men, which Duke interpreted as less a jab towards his persona and instead more of a projection based on experience; an echo of grievances committed in the past. To cruelly take and break... but what, precisely? It was likely a sensitive subject, for sure. Thus, rather than breach the subject right away, he figured a man of his education oughta first try and cover the usual pleasantries.

"Perhaps we may start over? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Balmund. Balmund de Blackthorn. And my partner beside you is the Shuppet Iskra. May I have your name, fair lady?" The inquiry was accompanied by as warm and courteous a smile as he could muster, though behind it hid a question he had managed to hold back. Are you living, or dead? Not that it mattered much, though it could change the dynamic of this encounter. Though it might seem obvious at first glance, one simply can't be too sure while visiting gravesites nowadays...
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Last edited by Balmund; 07-10-2017 at 03:39 PM.
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