Site Wide Event Capturing the Sun


Age: 6 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#1
Will o' wisps move with the grace of starlight through the trees of the Greatwood. Masters of illusion magic the most of them, the fae have turned the canopy above into a veritable universe of stars. They shoot, they sparkle, they twirl and dance, and below, are the fae. Like ethereal creatures of the night, many have painted their faces with bright colours or to look like the moon. There is much laughter and frivolity, and though they are wary of the outsiders, tonight is a night of joy. They have heard of all that has been done on the part of those within the barrier to take part in their culture and rituals, and tonight at least, all may come as children of the woods before Safrin's skies (just don't tell Delah).

The trees sway with magic and mystery, boughs skimming the ground, moving to gently swat at the flying fae, baskets are held, laughter is heard, and all around, gifts are slowly being revealed and placed in the care of loved ones, friends, and even complete strangers.



The second portion is a nightly festival!

In order to receive credit for the second part of this seasonal event you must:

1. Post twice in this thread
2. Exchange your gift with someone else (in this thread, or a new one) (label it {SE})
3. Post in the rising sun ME, located here. For timeline purposes, there will be blankets layed out, and at the end of the night Safrin will appear.

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Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#2
Whispers and rumors, murmurs and will-o-wisps, these were the things that had led the lorekeeper back into the Woods once more, his gift wrapped in cloth and his hair brushed to a river of silken silver down his back, reflecting the moon from its tresses. Two had been pulled aside and braided with a pair of white raven feathers that had been painted in light and dark blues, then brushed with glittering silver dust and sealed in place against wet and weather.

For this celebration he wore white, as he had when performing at Bastien's Masquerade, half a year or more ago. The cut of the tunic was simple but elegant, the fabric lightweight and this time with little under it as he sought relief from the heat rather than protection from the cold. The pants were looser as well, more flowing before they tucked into the tops of his boots. Though he had debated long and hard, he had left his sword behind, the celebration no place for a weapon. He brought only himself, a fragment of the moon brought down to earth, and his gift for whoever would accept it.

Well. Gifts, plural, but those more private tokens might wait until after the party was over, depending on who else arrived.

He stood out among the diminutive fey like a beacon, tall and pale and wingless as he moved into the midst, smiling and bowing and light on his feet as he danced with those who would allow him to twirl through a few steps before he moved on again. His flute hung in a case at his hip, and he considered joining the musicians later, as he so often did. For now, though, he was content to mingle and dance and laugh, waiting for the chance to offer his gift.

And, perhaps, to be offered one in return!
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 14 - Strg: 58 - Dext: 70 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (Ice Breath)
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#3
everything has its wonders
Ronin didn't feel much like celebrating in truth, after the events of the last few days. But after everything, to be given an opportunity to stand with the forest folk without suspicion or resentment muddying the waters between them, it would be foolish to turn it down.

So the hunter appeared, dressed in whatever he had pulled on that morning (a loose linen shirt whose sleeves he had rolled to the elbows and a pair of tan trousers), a woven basket under his arm with a selection of baked goods to exchange with someone.

He'd tried the tasty morsels, and given that he'd received Amalia's help initially, he was very happy with them. Even if he couldn't be quite so happy in general. Offering a smile to Jigano as he spotted him, Ronin inclined his head in greeting.
even darkness and silence


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Ianto Dea Arduinna
Merchant

Age: 30 | Height: 6'0 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 15 - Luck: 10 - Int:
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#4
Ianto
More than any in attendance, Ianto was pretty certain that he would win the battle of I don't want to be here right now. The fox did not usually walk to blend in, but tonight was different. The collar was turned up on his coat and apart from his basket, he carried nothing with him. His initial plan for a gift had promptly and thoroughly changed. Now his basket held a simple trinket, but he hoped it would make a fine gift to someone. (And unlike before, he no longer had anyone particular in mind).

It was a simple wooden bracelet, woven expertly from a small and delicate branch of a Wicker Woman to keep its shape. Interspersed around it were deep amber jewels - sap, in reality, solidified and arranged just so. As long as the wearer didn't go around licking it, they ought to be alright. Probably.


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Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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#5
Ronin had told him to stay at home and rest. Isla too. The difference was that Isla was quite completely in his mind and knew that the alchemist wouldn't be able to rest without doing this first. And so, after a lengthy argument about it all, she'd agreed on the condition that he at least change the bandages over his eyes. However her lack of hands and his lack of sight made the whole ordeal quite horrifying, and after the bandages had been changed, the roses of blood over Remi's eyes were about as bright as they had been before any how.

So off they set, alchemist atop the unicorn who served as his eyes and his legs.

Though Remi had been an okay-rider before, without vision he suddenly found himself over compensating and bouncing all over the place. Isla had to take things slow, to project images of what she could see as they went simply to keep him properly astride her. Eventually though they did make it to the clearing though the unicorn had lots some mane around her wither where the alchemist had been gripping it for balance.

Do you see him? Remi thought to her, his heart in his throat and the pounding of blood in his ears like a drumbeat of agony in his skull. Part of him hoped the answer was no. The rest of him knew it would be yes.

I do. Isla replied gently, projecting the image of the upturned collar, the skulking gaze, the coppery hair.
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Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#6
MELITA
Melita was entirely enraptured by everything about the twilight raptures, enchanted, allured, by the graceful whims of starlight, by the will-o-wisps beguiling, swindling them aside, by the canopy of stars, emboldening her to find her way amidst the incoming festivities. She’d worn ivory, untouched by any other hue, no dirt, no debris, no canvas of blood staining or marring its sanction (a damned miracle), like the moon, like the lunar goddesses, like the breath and depths of the galaxies above, flanked and beheld with her long, flowing crimson locks. She could hear the Fae’s laughter, the spirited whims, the capricious undulations, and gave way to it, inhaled the merriment, the exultation, even if she couldn’t fully understand it; not of this world, but of too many others. She swung her basket around and around in her palm, flinthopper carcasses at the bottom, her present, her gift, along the top, flipped over and over again, almost ousted several times before they’d even arrived; a spring in her step, not savage, not sinister, not predatory or stalking, but excited, jubilant.

Fangorn followed close behind, a shadow, a guard, as they made their way beneath canopies and boughs. Any elegance maintained had been left behind somewhere in the forest, in the midst of distractions and revelry, and she hummed beneath her breath, behind her teeth, along her tongue, conjuring a tune of her mother’s, gentle in nature, but proffering a story, a legend, in its halcyon webs. She waved to Jigano and Ronin nearby, casting her little halo of light and merriment, before tiptoeing her way over roots and moss, skipping across pebbles and ferns. The youth thought she spotted Remi too, atop his beloved unicorn, made to gesture at him too, but there were bandaged across his eyes, incapable of seeing her despite even her best efforts – she furrowed a brow, pondering over how he’d managed to injure himself, and then wondered if she would advance, bother him at all.

In the end then, she managed to find a spot of her own, basket in hand, Fangorn at her side, uncertain and unsure all of a sudden, gilded eyes swinging anywhere and everywhere, wanting to belong.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
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#7
Deimos
The first inclination of the will-o-wisps appearance, out of experience, was to abstain, twist back the other way – except these were nuances of the upcoming festivities, and once again, he couldn’t find a way to ignore them. They tempted and teased, implored and encouraged, serenaded and hummed in the dusky, hollowed, hallowed bits of light, a tease, a torment, a ruse, meant to call them out to their games, to their merriment. Had Fiat Lux not been a grand escapade for him (devilry and delight, mischief and games, a beloved cycle rising from temptation and enticement), he might have cast them aside, still weary and wary of the Fae.

Instead, he pushed away the onslaughts, the phantoms of his experiences telling him to stay, to wither, to fray apart and remain in isolation, detached, eternally apart from everyone and everything. Where had it ever helped him? Not when he was the lost monarch in the north, struggling to keep everything together when he was always nonchalant, distant, defending them via bloodshed, munitions, and arms. When had it ever aided him in anything? What had it provided, other than desolation, self-annihilation?

Just try had been his cornerstone, a searing little thing in the back of his mind, sometimes a trickling brook, sometimes a thundering waterfall, sometimes the rushing waves crashing down around him.

Today, it was the promise of a gift, the sanctity of a festival, the glory of oncoming storms. He changed out of one of his many work shirts, rough around the ends, and into something newer, less stained and mottled, light, gilded fabric meant to ensure the heat of the day didn’t conform to his frame; grabbing hold of his molded basket, tucking his gift into a back pocket. Then he followed the intervals of light, eyes surveying, scrutinizing, looking over threats or ominous, forewarning overtures; but there was only the ether of celebration sparking and sizzling, the ethereal ivory masks and universe of stars. He immediately thought of Amalia, and then went back to the crowd, searching over the tops of heads, looking for her familiar frame, or that of little Jyoti, bounding through the masses along stardust and song.

The beast saw Jigano at first, pale and stark against the outline and backdrop of the evening whims, raising the hand not clenching over his basket in a wave and salute, inclining his head towards Ronin and Ianto as he passed.
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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#8
Jigano grinned and waved at Ronin and Deimos as he swung by in a reel, half his partners hovering on flashing dragonfly wings while even those who stayed on the ground hardly seemed to touch it. As he was spun around and around again he caught sight of a familiar unicorn, and though he initially laughed and stretched a hand towards her the red-stained cloth that wrapped her rider’s eyes caught him short, the breath leaving his body in shock at Remi’s terrible wounds. He didn’t know what the young man was even doing out and moving with such injuries, but surely Isla wouldn’t have let him come if they had been as bad as they looked…

Surely…?

He excused himself from the dance before any more Fae had to dodge around him, hesitating between approaching the alchemist and staying back. They had mended much of the bridge they had initially burned down together, but it was still a fragile, rickety thing, and he wasn’t sure that the young man would want to see hi—

Bad choice of words.

No, Remi probably didn’t want to be around him right now, when he likely needed the company of good friends and sympathy. The bard found himself drifting off to the side while he tried to process this new turn of events, and his celebratory mood darkened as he tried to figure out what could have happened to the young man. Something at the Fae Village? Another curse from Ludo? Something else entirely?

He bit his lip, and then blinked in startlement when he realized Melita was nearby. She was carrying her basket and he thought he caught the glint of flinthopper legs still within. His mood rallied, and he stepped over to join her with a grin, glad of her distraction and sweeping her an elegant bow with his cloth-wrapped parcel still held in one hand. ”I’m glad you made it!” It was an honest declaration, and a bright one as he gestured to the dancers among the Fae who twirled and swirled, stomped and flew to the rhythms of the music. ”Would you do me the honor of a dance?”
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#9

Oh, to be here, beneath the moon, for once accepted among the Fae, the praises of Safrin on their lips-! Amalia can think of nothing grander. She relishes every moment of it, from the first slow refrains to the laughter and light, starlit canopies and moon-faced beings creating an ambiance of mysterious wonder. The girl, for her part, is gowned in white, a long loose dress upon her frame, her shoulders covered with a crimson scarf. Golden hair hangs wild and free, framing her delicate olive face, and her eyes are rimmed in kohl. It is as close as she comes to creating spectacle, to dressing up the features she does not love. Normally, Amalia does not bother, does not think herself capable of anything but the caricature of grace, a child wearing adult clothes.

But tonight, for once, she wants to be beautiful: for the Fae, for Safrin, for him.

She spots him easily among the crowd (always has, always will). Jyoti is the first to fly to him, swimming across unseen tides to circle around the beacon who holds her soulmate's heart. From across the clearing Amalia smiles, hoping to catch his eye. Will he notice the effort she has put in, know that it is for him? Deimos, Deimos, her mind sings silently, aching to follow her starlit calf, to fling herself upon his grace, extend the gift tucked in her basket, beneath a mountain of bread.

But there are many who she wants to visit, countless for whom she cares, and the sea of bodies between them is a veritable flood. The baker drifts among them all, stopping for a second to give a hug or smile, snacks and greetings extended to any who would deign to catch her eye. A grin for Ronin, a greeting for Ianto, a gentle kiss upon the cheek for Jigano as he goes to sweep Melita away. To each of them she offers affection, brought from her shell by a rare exuberance, the anxiety within her for once beating bright. And all the while she gravitates toward Deimos, falling ever further into his orbit, two comets set to collide in the night.

It is only when she reaches Remi that the starlit baker stills, finally distracted from the Reaper she loves. "Remi," she greets the boy aloud, hoping not to startle him, though she is sure Isla has already made him more than aware of her presence by his side. She has not seen him since that evening: much of her hopes that he is healed, but a greater part knows it cannot be true, that even if his vision returns there are scars upon scars which may never again fade.

Reaching into her now-lighter basket, the girl produces an oaty roll, offering it to the unicorn upon whom her friend rides. "Will you dance with me, Remi?" Amalia offers, extending up a gentle hand, hoping to ease him down to the ground, to be a bastion in his time of grief.



Feel free to say Amalia stopped to say hi to/offer your character snacks!
Amalia
i've been watching your kindness keep
a lonely company - look at the fire and think of me
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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#10
Indeed Isla does let him know of Amalia's presence, once it is clear that she is coming towards him and not someone else. There are so many here in the baker's circle of friends and acquaintances, that Isla does not think to mention it until she is right behind them.

Happily Isla lips at the roll, taking it with a velvet-y soft muzzle and gentle nicker of appreciation. "She says thank-you." Remi translates with a smile, awkwardly swatting at the air until he finds the baker's hand floating in it. Swinging a leg over Isla's side but keeping hold of her mane with one hand, Remi unsteadily lands on the ground with a boyish laugh as he shakes his head.

"Only if you lead." He agrees, his smile a touch sad. Reaching behind his head he softly finds the pin holding his bandages in place. Isla has healed all that she can, and though his eyes are even lighter than before, his skin is fresh and baby-soft. Removing the bandages, Remi finds himself blinking openly rather than squinting into the dark as he should.

"Thank you again, for finding me Amalia." He says with genuine sincerity and warmth, his fingers folding around her hand.
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Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Ianto Dea Arduinna
Merchant

Age: 30 | Height: 6'0 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 15 - Luck: 10 - Int:
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#11
Ianto
It was difficult not to see Remi, and oh the irony of that statement. Ianto buried his hands deeply in his pockets, wary eyes on the alchemist as he was approached by friends and greeted by acquaintances. The merchant let out a long sigh, moving to linger by the outskirts of the festivities.

Only when, however long later it was, did he hear the alchemist's mental voice in his head, did he stir. Fuck, came the instinctive response, Ianto swallowing hard and straightening up. There was no getting out of this, though.

On reluctant feet, he approached Remi.

(Continued in There are times that walk from you)


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Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
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#12


Bastien arrived a little late to the festivities, having spent some time sorting out his two gifts. One for Rexanna, the clay model which he held carefully wrapped in several layers of fabric to cushion it, and another for Ronin, kept in a small black box. He had spent quite a few nice times with him lately and had felt it appropriate to find a gift for him...or was it an offering, if he was a Demi-God now?

He could not yet see Rexanna, so he approached Ronin. "My friend, I hope you are well...you look as if you have received a bad gift." Holding up the black box, he smiled. "Hopefully this good gift may recover any bad spirits or disappointment. I know it looks rather like the box of a wedding ring, but I swear it is not. I must know you for at least another week before I propose."

With humour sparkling in his eyes, he waited for Ronin to take the gift.
Bastien
I'm every cliche, but I simply do it best
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 14 - Strg: 58 - Dext: 70 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (Ice Breath)
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#13
everything has its wonders
Maybe Ronin had been keeping an eye on Remi surreptitously. Maybe not. You don't know. Get out.

Either way, as the alchemist stepped away to dance with Amalia, Ronin stepped up to stand with Isla so both hunter and unicorn could watch contently as he somehow managed to enjoy himself.

"Here," he said to the unicorn, taking the pastries from his basket and absently feeding them to her. "You probably deserve them more than anyone else anyways."

Grinning as she accepted them from him, the ex-captain glanced across only to see Bastien approaching. As it happened he had one pastry left - though he doubted the Ascended would enjoy it. Still, what he hadn't expected was to be offered something, Ronin grinning broadly to the other man.

"At least another week, huh? You have dashed my hopes, sir," he said playfully, accepting the box and arching a curious brow as he opened it. The ring was beautifully crafted, Ronin taking it from the box and smirking across to Bastien.

"Are you sure this isn't a proposal?" he asked, before softening. "Thank you, my friend. Truly."
even darkness and silence


Coding base by Sky!
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
Played by: lancydulac Offline
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Posts: 1,399 | Total: 8,707
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#14


"Alright, yes, you got me. It is a proposal. I have decided to leave my lovely Rexanna and elope with you, Ronin, and I shall be awfully hurt if you refuse." Bastien grinned, but dropped the sarcasm and leaned forward to pull Ronin into a hug, placing his gift for Rexanna gently down on the ground soon. "I am truly glad this Summer or--ah--Longheat brought you back to us, Ronin."

With that said he pulled back and clapped him once on the shoulder, then his smirk returned. "So I assume from your shocked face you have no gift for me? How awful. You must be so embarrassed."
Bastien
I'm every cliche, but I simply do it best


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