Mini Event your red eye sees no blame
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Mercenary
Age: 22 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 10
AUNI - Regular - Luxere
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#15
KIADA
i etch my own face
upon my wicked flesh
She hears Amalia capture the group's attention, and she listens as her motherly figure poised Rory and Ronin to lead their group. Her icy gaze wanders toward the men and to those that support the decision, and pride swells in her chest for Amalia. At least, until it comes barreling down all again and they’re back at square one. Wessex doesn’t agree, and brings up important points; and Remi, in his defense also brings up important points. It’s almost going back and forth before Kiada steps forward, Auni‘s ears perking up as she moves. “What is it you’re suggesting?” She asks to Wessex briefly, before her eyes scan the gathering momentarily.

We need leaders for the resistance, then when overthrown we can put the most qualified on the throne?” She asks with a predatory tilt to her head. “Someone to take the fall while we’re figuring it out so our best players aren’t whisked away in the middle of the night? Not necessarily to lead in the end but someone to handle the fallout during the inbetween so Rory and Ronin remain safe until we can place them?” Because that is what Kiada understands from Wessex’s suggestion. That someone needs to be there to take the fall for the resistance if it doesn’t work, and if it does then they can place someone there? It’s almost a throw away position, but important for protection. She can’t fault the idea of it.

Her head shifts toward Remi (not knowing he’s blind) and looks back to Wessex with a light shrug. “Is that the suggestion?” She calmly asks. She’s not here to fight these people, in fact she thinks the Ascended woman’s reasoning is sound. But she wants to be sure she gets it right.
i am my own devastating god
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
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#16
WESSEX
Well. The Ascended had intended to keep her mouth shut a while longer, but with the other girl’s question, she finds herself on the spot. The face is familiar, pretty, too - but she can’t put a name to it. If she’s here, she must be either friend or family to Amalia and her group.

Meeting the girl’s clear gaze with her own, she sighs softly and tilts her head to one side. “More or less. Minus the throne part at the end. Fuck kings and queens. Seems to me that war leaders - ” and make no mistake about it, this would likely be a war of sorts, “ - may not be the best peace leaders. And vice versa. So, yeah, if we’re talking about the long game, then don’t give the high and mighty bitch up in her house a reason to screw our plans up.” She shrugs. Zaraih should know that trying to kill Ronin wouldn’t go over very well with the general population - but she could probably make his life very difficult. Same with Rory. That's not to say they wouldn't be good support to the leader. They just... can't know more than their own bits and pieces.

That's how an underground Resistance works, right? Nobody knows everything, no more than their part in their machine, so if they're caught, they can't bring the whole operation down. Ideally the leader of the Resistance wouldn’t have to take the fall for anything or anyone. But they don’t live in an ideal world. In the end, Wessex is technically expendable. No one would accept her as a legitimate ruler. She has no blood left. Few would miss her.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
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if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night
Remi Taliesin
Alchemist ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 21 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ISLA - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#17
bring back the water
Colour flushed across the alchemist's cheeks as he instinctively shook his head. "No, I—" He wasn't a mage, and certainly not the most powerful. He was a commoner who had somehow stumbled into magic that he definitely wasn't entitled to. "That is not what I meant." Remi concluded, both looking and sounding bashful and embarrassed.

Remi didn't shy away from the accusation of his relationship with Ronin; the pair had lived together for months now, were raising a baby together. They were close, and not just because of recent events, either. "She has gotten a hold of me. Something...I am working on. That Ronin is helping me with." The alchemist admitted, shame thickening his accent as his blind gaze lowered to the ground. "But there is nothing she could ever do to make me hurt him. Or any of you. As for Aoife...Merciless though Zariah might be calling herself, she can be kind. She has children of her own. I cannot see her ever stooping that low." Quickly Remi glanced towards Ronin to try and gauge whether or not he agreed with the sentiment, having known Zariah longer than the alchemist had.
let the ships roll in

Coding base by Sky!
Speaks with an Italian accent. Looks visibly blind. Healed!


Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Let me know if you want to kill him and we can chat.
Leatherworker
Age: 28 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8
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#18
RORY
It was one of those "you'll never believe the day I had" evenings that day when Jigano came back to the farm, describing the events by the Notice Board and its proclamation. And in all honesty, Rory hadn't wanted to believe it, but what choice did he have? It was happening, whether he wanted it to or not, and something had to be done about it, whether he wanted to or not.

Maea, naive and a dreamer as she might be, would've been a preferable choice: a tolerable choice. She sought to unite, to guide, not to control, but she was nowhere to be found. His bitterness at her had turned to worry, and then to guilt: would she still be around if he had backed her? If he had helped get her fledgling government off the ground, would they not be in this mess?

But it was too late for regret, so he tried to merely look ahead as he picked Jigano up at the Atheneum. He didn't say much on the way over, which wasn't all that unusual, and offered silent greeting to both Deimos and Amalia as he stepped into the basement (not surprised to already find the former there). Still quiet he settled on the empty chair between Amalia and Jigano, spreading some jam with great consideration on a slice of delicious-smelling bread.

He remained silent in all greetings—except a mellow Hullo to Remi—and chose to give most of his attention to his slice of bread. Still, he caught the familiarity between Remi and Ronin, and he wondered slightly at it, and he thought of what he knew of both of them, and then decided that he was deeply, profoundly happy for them.

Then he admitted something to himself: he was afraid.

He was afraid because of the power Zariah seemed to think she could exert over them, and he was afraid because he didn't know how much of it was true.

Rory had never lived under a ruler. He had never lived in any society in which anyone actually could do something against you, where it was somehow allowed to intervene in someone else's life just because you thought they did wrong. He knew the blunt force trauma of bullies, but he did not understand prison and what gave anyone the right to decide that someone else was going there.

He wished he could be as vexed as Amalia. As experienced as Deimos. As bold as Wessex and Ronin. As resourceful as Remi.

But he was just afraid, slowly spreading more jam on another slice of bread as Amalia began her impassioned speech. She spoke of love and of cowardice and of deserving, and she mentioned two men whose names began with R, and he thought of that day by the Spire, when he had caught Remi sketching by it. The autumn sun had been kind, smiles easy, a time less complicated; for the first time Rory looked up, watching the pair and feeling something coil and uncoil in his gut.

Ronin was a good choice. But Rory? Everyone seemed to think so, except himself, and he remembered Ashetta snarling in his face, Edy's threat, fire whispering, licking, around her hands; he remembered the sickening surge of adrenaline and fear and how it tore through his body.

You weren't always who you thought you were, and he let out a long, slow sigh, finally taking in the rest of the room.

Wessex called him out on his scarcity since the festival and in response his wrinkled his nose; wanting the responsibility wasn't the same as perhaps needing to shoulder it, and she was right. He had had a tough time lately.

So he listened to her points, and he listened to Remi's points, and he thought about Kiada's questions and Wessex's answers and Remi's assurance that despite how Zariah had a hold on him, she could not make him hurt anyone.

And he though that he was not the answer to any of these things. His hands were twisting and turning over themselves under the table.

"I was actually thinking about enlisting," he ended up saying, avoiding Jigano's gaze (because he had not voiced these thoughts out loud before) and thinking it was relevant for the sole reason that apparently about half the room thought he could be a King and that he would somehow have to factor into the plans. "Gods knows it sounds like I need to learn how to fight anyway."

(And also because I am afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid—)

"I'm not a lot of things, and definitely no war leader. But I do believe there are those among us who have actual experience with these things," and his eyes lingered briefly on Deimos, a silent question, a gentle nudge.
as if you were on fire from within,
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
burn scars crawl up the left side of his neck and onto the lower left half of his face
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers ☆ Loreseeker's Guild
Age: 28 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 30
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
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#19
”The very fact that we’re all here and, as Amalia said, love this place and the people here, makes all of us vulnerable to the kind of blackmail you think will work on Ronin,” Jigano spoke up at last, tilting his head at Wessex with a raised brow. ”Or can you say that you would not bend to pressure if it was applied to Amalia and Rory? For some reason, Zariah does appear to have some sympathizers among the Naturals who could as easily tell her about that, as she knows or can find out about her fellow Northhaveners.”

He raised a brow at Remi’s admission that Zariah already had her claws in him, though he realized a moment too late that the reflexive reaction was useless with the alchemist’s eyes in their current state. ”For the sake of argument,” he said quietly, what if Zariah threatens Aoife? She is calling herself ‘the Merciless’ after all. I do not think we have the luxury of assuming she won’t stoop to whatever she deems necessary to get her way. It’s something we should plan for, either way.” Ronin, he hoped, could dissuade Remi from some of that naivete before it was too late and someone other than the alchemist paid a price for it.

He drew breath to speak again, but Rory’s quiet voice silenced him more effectively than any other retort or argument might have, and he sat in stunned silence as the hunter… did not deny the nomination, but certainly did not embrace it. Silently, the bard reached out to twine his fingers through Rory ’s, squeezing his partner’s hand lightly while he scrambled to reorganize his thoughts.

”We have been giving Zariah great credit for being smart enough to see resistance coming,” he said at last, giving a grudging nod of respect to Wessex for making that point. ”We certainly can’t hang all our plans on her being stupid, at least. And this wouldn’t be my first rebellion…” he followed Rory’s gaze, quirking a brow at Deimos with a wry hint of a smile. ”It sounds like what we need is someone to be the lightning rod, to be the public face of the resistance…and to protect its true leaders from coming to light, at least for a little while. If Zariah is going to be looking for someone to cause trouble… we should give her what she wants, somewhere to focus her attention. A distraction.” His smile widened and turned sharper as he acknowledged the little chat he had with Deimos while they had been practicing. ”And someone to drop words in other ears, as well. I’d wager there are plenty of people who want as little to do with this new yoke as we do. Rather more than those few who support her, in fact. But, as I said earlier, no one is unbreakable.” He nodded wry acknowledgment to Amalia , and squeezed Rory’s hand again. ”So if someone does take on this role… he can’t stay here or know the rest of plans being laid. We find a way to communicate plans in a way that isn’t face to face, and he does his damnedest to stay out of the tyrant’s hands as long as possible while drawing as much of her attention as he can.”

His crooked smile left little doubt as to who he meant, but he waited to see what others had to offer – to poke holes in his idea, make it stronger, or vote against it – before he officially volunteered.
Only simple tables without images or background colors when threading, please. It's much appreciated!
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#20
DEIMOS
Ever the listener, he waited, watched, and listened for the rebuttals, for the scales to tip in either direction, biding his time while the rest contributed and committed to their pieces. The face of the rebellion came up more often than not (and several eyes happened to turn his way; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed, but he chided, grated against), sent his mind churning. “I have another proposal,” he proffered into the crowd, once dialogue had skewered its way and meandered around; naught truly happening but tenuous names extended and then never truly accepted. Perhaps they would endeavor an alternative. “Successful rebellions are the quiet ones. The means and measures one’s opponent never sees coming.” The Plague whispered in his ear, hate, discord, and discontent a foreboding, ominous secret buried and burrowed in the cavernous reaches of his mind; never a word spilled, never a word uttered, from the depths of his furtive mouth. “They strike when they are ready. It takes time and cunning.” When they’d explored their options, when they’d gathered supplies, when they’d figured out what they were going to do, how they were going to act. “Instead of one or two individuals leading the charge, why not have smaller groups designated with tasks?” His brow furrowed, a glacial throne and crown creeping its way down his spine: all the luster, all the avenues, all the paces and pages they’d worked through. Schemes and ruses, duplicities and measures, strength, futility, and fortitude, a might sculpted and ground into the earth for singular purposes. “One can be in charge of spies, information, or spreading the word. One can be in charge of training those who wish to fight, and so on.” The warrior’s eyes glanced up, leaning back in his chair now, looking over each individual. It might not even be a worthwhile thought or choice for any of them – and if it wasn’t a route they wanted to explore, that was fine too. But he didn’t want a singular individual targeted; he didn’t want anyone targeted, called out and butchered for their cause.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
Ronin Taliesin
the Fallen Star
Guildmaster ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 24
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (ice breath)
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#21
everything has its wonders
There was a lot of talk and very little being said. No sooner had he heard his own name pass from Amalia's lips when a clamour of further voices chipped in with their opinions. Seconded this and war and peace that; his daughter was hypothetically threatened (and his fists clenched hard at the nonchalance with which it was discussed); he was lauded as leader - loved, charismatic and all manner of other buzzwords that left a funny taste in his mouth - and not a moment later swept aside as some delicate king-to-be that needed to kept safe and out of the way.

And it kept going - spies, dissent, secrets, and Ronin pinched at the bridge of his nose and took a long, deep breath in. He recalled a time, once, when he had almost become General of the Storm. He couldn't even remember if he'd wanted it - the responsibilities of the army had already settled on his shoulders like an iron mantle, and it had left him bitter and burning the candle at both ends.

"Give the responsibility to someone else. I don't want it." His voice rang out as a surprise even to himself, and he glanced around the group with sharp blue eyes. "As several of you have kindly pointed out, I have a priority that matters to me more than this rebellion - so thank you for reminding me. If you need anything, let me know. If you want training, that I can do. But I won't be your leader."

Taking another deep breath and feeling suddenly and inexplicably angry with the proceedings, Ronin turned on his heel and left back up the stairs.

{EXIT RONIN}
even darkness and silence


Coding base by Sky!
Remi Taliesin
Alchemist ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 21 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
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#22
bring back the water
With a softly frustrated sigh, the alchemist shook his head, pale eyes looking in Jigano's direction. "We can imagine all sorts of scenarios, but both Ronin and I have known Zariah for years. If that does not count for something then I am not sure what the point of experience is." He said, feeling Ronin shifting next to him and wanting simply to collapse against his friend.

Though he was no strategist, even Remi wondered at the logic of the bard's suggestion. Still he remained silent, nodding gently with Deimos' own offering of secrecy and preparation.

However as Ronin finally reached his boiling point, the alchemist's face softly crumpled in an expression of love and grief. Never one to glare or scoff, still as he closed his eyes in a measured effort to keep himself calm, frustration directed towards the bard bubbled up behind his closed lids.

Opening his eyes, cheeks high with colour, Remi simply turned his gaze toward Amalia. The leopardess shone with a faint light in his strange new-found gaze, and trying to offer her a smile, Remi swallowed. "Perhaps we might at least try talking to her. For all her mercilessness, Zariah listens to reason. She did not promote herself simply for the power. She has many faults, but she does, in a misguided way, believe she is helping. It might well be worth trying to steer her, than launching an outright attack. At least at first."

So saying though, the alchemist merely shrugged his shoulders with defeat. Sending a pulse of affection and apology towards Amalia, Remi gave an awkward nod to the rest of the group before blundering and unevenly making his way towards the stairs. Taking them carefully as any blind man might, Remi emerged into the night air, and after Ronin.

{Remi out.}
let the ships roll in

Coding base by Sky!
Speaks with an Italian accent. Looks visibly blind. Healed!


Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Let me know if you want to kill him and we can chat.
Leatherworker
Age: 28 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8
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#23
RORY
What if, what if, what if: one of Rory's hands was on the tabletop now, swirling in little circles, painting patterns in dust that wasn't there. What if Zariah took a child hostage? Would it endear her to anyone, if word got out? What if she did it in secret, what if she got Ronin to backstab them all, what if, and Rory felt that too-often-kicked wolf in his soul breathe a horrid answer: so what?

It was not a lack of concern for Aoife, or Ronin, or any of those in the room: it was frustration at all these hypothetical scenarios being laid out like branching paths, when life would perhaps not walk any of them.

And technically, if Zariah was into threatening kids, she could strong-arm Ronin into anything even if he left their little rebellion. It was like they were discussing the fine print of a larger whole that was obviously broken, an elephant in the room that no one chose to comment on, and Rory's eyebrows drew together even as his hand squeezed Jigano's in return. Again he felt himself stand in the vexed crowd as Roana announced her assault on the Spire, and again he felt himself surprisingly frustrated that the crowd didn't surge into fire of its own accord.

At least Deimos tried to move them forward, away from the downward spiral of trying to patch up holes that hadn't even been poked yet: Rory's finger kept tracing the wood grains, his mind dancing along the edges of something dangerous that had no name, no shape, because it hadn't existed yet in him.

So Ronin leaving came like a blow that was both unexpected and .. not. Rory watched, his eyes dry and dark, his heart fleet and wicked. He did not think that Ronin was afraid (at least, not for himself) but he knew what it felt like to have something to lose. Something that couldn't choose. In silence, he watched as Remi left too, with words of wisdom that Rory was not sure how to apply. Talk to her, and.. what? Ask her to step down? Tell her what a major ass she was?

But this thing was falling apart and now that it was it bothered him.

His heart was trembling because the monster he knew had been taken from him and could never be returned, so his choice was Zariah or to make a monster of his own.

"Look," he began, quiet and heavy, "the nature of this thing we're discussing makes it unsafe. There's always risks and it's impossible to safeguard against every eventuality. If we wanted to be safe, we'd keep our heads down and do as Zariah says, and not sit in this basement and plot rebellion. At some point we just have to agree that we'll be taking risks that might cost us our lives or loved ones, and either accept that, or don't—like Ronin. But we can't just keep going in circles of 'what if Zariah finds out...' because that's not going to help us right now."

The tips of his fingers were tapping against the table. "What would we even say to Zariah, though? That trying to call us 'Destined' is just offensive? That we'd rather she just let us live our lives as we pleased? And what if she says no?" He looked to Deimos again. "Better to gather and rise in the shadows, as you suggest. Would we even need a decoy? Wouldn't that just make her more prone to look, trace the smoke to the fire?"

But, perhaps the most important thing of all: "What does it even take to unseat her? Can't we just declare her a false ruler? Though I suppose we'd need our own for that..."
as if you were on fire from within,
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
burn scars crawl up the left side of his neck and onto the lower left half of his face
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Baker ☆ Loreseeker's Guild
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 10 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 27 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 28
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#24
Amalia
she was afraid of heights
For a moment, it seems that things will go right. Deimos is the first to voice his agreement, seconding her thoughts on who should leave. Jigano, too, supports her, and it is enough to elicit a warm smile of gratitude, happy to know he has her back. But then there is Wessex, and Amalia's stomach does a little flip at the woman's careful tone, not quite able to meet her eyes after what happened at the cataracts. Wise, worldly, she raises good points, issues that the girl did not think of, was too young and stupid and naive and impulsive to even stop and consider.

Then the back and forth begins, Remi and Wessex, Wessex and Kiada, not quite raised voices but certainly dissent. Of course there was - they couldn't do something like this without it - but still Amalia shrinks against it, clutching tighter at her mug, listening and trying to think of what to do. Part of her wonders if she ought to moderate, to stand up and contribute... but what to say? She has given all of her ideas, and they are not enough. She tries to catch Rory's eye, to see what he thinks of all that has happened, if he will accept the burden she has offered. It is not a weight he should have to bear, but she truly believes he is the best to bear it.

He and Ronin, the bright half-man.

And when Rory finally speaks her blood runs cold, shock freezing her in place, tensing her muscles into knots. Black eyes turn beseechingly on him - you're what?! - trying to find his motive, his reason, the thing that would compel him to cave. No, she wants to scream, to whisper, to say with glances and hands and face. No, you're not, I won't allow it-

But who is she, at the end of the day, to tell anyone what they can and cannot do?

Then Jigano speaks up, and though the girl listens, her eyes do not leave the gilded hunter, haunted and fiery and wanting to understand. Doesn't he hate this as much as her, being held beneath a thumb? Doesn't he want to fight it, to buck and evade and give it all back, to build a world that's better than tyrannical rule and vengeance? He, more than anyone, she had trusted to understand. That he doesn't is a slap to the face, a shake in her confidence, a shuddering of her worldview.

Amalia sits back in her chair, sinking into the black hole of her mind.

She should have seen this coming. What else could she have expected, really, but to have her castles crumble, her good intentions dissolve before her eyes? Jigano makes suggestions, and Deimos too, but it doesn't matter because Ronin is leaving, and Remi too, and Amalia watches through shuttered eyes, too closed off to feel the affection, the pulse of fondness from the other attuned. At least her face is stoic, calm, a mask of composure and introspection that hides her tumultuous soul. Those who know her best, perhaps, will be able to see this for what it is, to sense in her silence a fracturing frenzy, a breaking isolation and agony and doubt.

To the rest of the world, though, Amalia seems chill as fuck.

It is Rory who breaks her out of her reverie, his measured voice an anchor in the storm of her discontent. Like one just waking, Amalia blinks, turning back to face the hunter, her brother, her friend. He, more than anyone, is making sense, his reasoning clear and calm. Not that it matters- they have already shown they can accomplish nothing, or so it feels. Nevertheless, the baker begins to nod along, chewing gently on her lip and shifting her hands upon the cup. What are they supposed to do? What will it take to unseat her? Amalia had rather thought they would do the same as she: pick someone to take her place, rally behind them, and that would be that.

It all seemed so simple, only an hour before.

"It's not enough to unseat her," she murmurs, staring intently at her tea. As though there are answers to be found in the dark beverage, if only she looks deeply enough. "We need to make a better world." Sighing heavily, the girl looks older, weighed down by a cloud of anxiety which only grows denser by the day. "There's been good points made. A lot to think about. Maybe... maybe we should leave it here, for tonight, and plan to meet again in a week. And then people can present their ideas of how to proceed. And if anyone does want to lead this thing, they can speak up then. Even if it's just until we find a more permanent solution. If... if we do this, and pull it off, I think we should vote for a leader. Or have a council. So everyone feels more represented." She glances at Wessex, then quickly away.

"Meanwhile I... I think Rory's right. We should keep our heads down. Try not to make her think we're planning anything. Talk to the people you trust and try to see who else is unhappy. Enlist as long as she doesn't try to make you actually fight the fae, because we don't want to lose any chance at goodwill we still have. And because we'll lose."
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers ☆ Loreseeker's Guild
Age: 28 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 30
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#25
Deimos’s suggestion was very different from his… but it had merit, and Jigano nodded thoughtfully at the big man’s words, taking them in and turning them over. There were still flaws, but not insurmountable ones. If they all worked together—

Ronin’s sharp refusal to participate further came as a surprise, given his previous record of command and his Guild. A silver brow arched, though more in confusion than to make a point for once. If he was so upset with the proceedings, then why had he even come? Surely whoever had invited him had known the topic of conversation for the evening?

Remi’s protests were not exactly the most convincing, given that the young man tended to believe the best in everyone… Well. Almost everyone. Hadn’t he also been friendly with the Ascended who had tried to attack Jigano on the Bridge, all those months ago? But of course he wanted to start with surrender, for that’s what it would be. Whoever went to talk to Zariah with disagreements in how she was doing things would become marked as a troublemaker, and closely watched from then on. The bard watched Remi go with a faint sigh, shaking his head in frustration as he turned his head to look at those who remained. He half-expected Wessex to speak up then, but it was Rory whose voice broke the stunned silence, capturing his attention as it always did.

And it was Rory who cut to the crux of the matter, the bard’s defense of his decoy suggestion dying on his lips at the reminder that making a target of himself would hurt others, now. He bowed his head, silent apology for his thoughtlessness, his thumb tracing the back of Rory’s hand in wordless gratitude.

Amalia spoke next, bright star that she was, raising a candle to guide them in the dark, and leading the meeting she had called with an aplomb he knew she didn’t see in herself. ”If we vote for a leader,” Jigano said gently, ”it will need to be someone willing to lead. Not just this rebellion, but whatever comes after. And there… there is where our problem lies.” His lips quirked into a wry smile as he glanced around at his friends, even including Nathaniel and Wessex in that look. ”So perhaps we should spend that intervening time trying to find someone – preferably multiple someones – who would be willing to do so. Or at least to sit in council together, representing the people of the Hollowed Grounds. It’s not really a vote if there’s only one name in the hat, after all.” If there was one thing this night had made clear, it was that no one should be nominating anyone but themselves, for it was not a responsibility to be forced into.
Only simple tables without images or background colors when threading, please. It's much appreciated!
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 610
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#26
WESSEX
In a way, this hullabaloo is of her doing, being the only one to object. And yet she feels no guilt for the proceedings, having made the point she wanted to make, pushed the buttons that needed to be pushed. One man revealed his ignorance of the worst of human nature, and the other snapped when faced with the reality of being placed on the hero’s pedestal,again. Wessex watches the two of them leave the basement with mixed feelings, but ultimately does nothing to stop them.

They’re big boys, they can make their own choices. And she has a feeling this cellar door won’t ever close to them.

So. Back to the matter at hand.

The blonde woman quietly mulls over the other’s points - what would it take to unseat her? Who would they put in her place? What’s the best course of action? Ideas form and melt in her mind, as she cherry picks from the bits of what’s been slung about that evening. What is quite evident is that no one is willing to make definitive statements and decisions other than herself and Remi and Ronin. They can’t have a wobbly leader, that won’t do - they need someone who will believe in themselves, consult, and then plot a firm course of action.

When Wessex does speak up again, it is still calm. She faces the room again with her arms crossed. “Whether we choose now or meet again, I nominate myself to lead. I’ll train, get upgrades, and take Zariah out in combat. If you’re worried about me, put a council in place, or whatever. I’m not a popular, public figure. No one knows where I stay during the day, and so far, no one’s been able to catch me at night…” She shrugs, but leaves it at that, gaze traveling to her friends and then the others at the meeting, even the man who’s been silent. “Take the time to think on it if you want. Talk to others. But know there’s a serious offer on the table.”
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
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if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night


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