SION ASTAL. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunderings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pawnstorm2016-02-13 10:37 am
sunderings) wrote in pawnstorm2016-02-13 10:37 am
[open] 'cause, baby, you're a firework
Who: Sion Astal & You!
When: February 10th - 13th.
Where: Hero Hall, Caissa Orphanage, Kabe Market.
What: Fireworks and job opportunities (building snowmen & gathering lost items).
Rating: PG...! For now.
February 10th ⇰ The Roof of Hero Hall | Fireworks!
[ Sion stands atop the ledge of the roof in the dark, the fireworks of First Bloom visible even here, at a distance, the explosions of color raining down against the stars. The display is a beautiful one, though as it progresses, Sion's expression twists, contorts. It might be glimpsed, in profile, as the light of the fireworks reflect upon his face, that while he is surely smiling, it seems as though he is crying as well, even if no tears fall.
He remembers: a night in the rain, the clash of two only ever intended for each other, and the words no matter how far you sink into darkness, how hard it becomes to escape dark places... I won't ever give up on you, Sion Astal!.
(And to think, that such a thing had come to pass in the wake of the new hope to be found in fireworks, in their blooming bursts and thundering crescendos.) ]
Should you not be enjoying the festivities below? [ —he is aware, in that moment, of a second presence upon the roof, though Fiole is the one to investigate first, flapping about and singing to the newcomer in greeting. And the expression Sion once wore... disappeared in an instant, as though it never existed at all. Instead, he is smiling, and from the very depths of his heart, it is warm. ] It is the last night of First Bloom, so I would urge you to not become absorbed in melancholy as I have, and quickly go.
[ Who knows, after all? Gloom may very well be contagious. ]
February 12th ⇰ Caissa Orphanage | Build a Snowman!
[ Ah, how quickly it had escalated.
Had his own ambition lead him here, to the cusp of his own demise? Or had it been weakness, some unnamed flaw in him, which lead him to be so easily moved by the children's own high spirits when they'd cried: taller, Mr. Sion, it has to reach higher!.
In the end, perhaps, how he'd gotten to this point mattered so very little when the thought of how to progress further came to mind. Before him: a snowman (a monstrous, behemoth of a snowman) so great in size that while it stands, two-thirds completed, there is no way for a single man to hoist the structure's head (and it is a boulder of snow, compacted by the manyjam hands of children) onto the second tier.
For this task, the strength of another someone will most certainly be required, and Sion wastes no time in recruiting anyone in uniform: ]
You there, Hero! Please lend us your aid, we've quite nearly finished here.
February 13th ⇰ Kabe Market | Lost Items!
[ Thieves. The band of them (and they are rascals, the entirety of the lot!) had taken to scavenging the whole of Caissa for items which had been deemed lost, stolen first by the likes of the festival's honored guests (monkeys, smartly dressed for what they truly were: pickpockets at best!), only to be 'liberated' by their hands, the small treasures (a gilded pocket watch, engraved with words of wisdom; a cameo necklace, depicting a mother and son) brought to a central location where they might be appraised, then divided amongst all present.
Or rather, they would have been, if not for the interference of one (1), Sion Astal. For the better portion of the day, he'd tracked the motley crew, surveying the operation from afar as they amassed their spoils, awaiting the opportune moment to appear: the instant when the trio disappeared into the depths of an alleyway, convening there.
It is a trap, one which Sion had hoped the thieves might lay, for as the afternoon dwindled, and as evening bled into a brisk winter's night, he'd given them hints (deliberate glimpses of a shadow, the echo of disembodied footfalls) of his pursuit, toying with them until they'd conveniently sequestered themselves away (there is, after all, no great need to make a scene).
Amusing to him, that they meant to confront him; that they imagined they might emerge victorious from...!
A fight which he doesn't intend to start.
Sion makes his entrance, with Fiole upon his shoulder and Guiding Light at his side, and suddenly the alleyway is bright, for the Hero King of Roland is no looming specter or shade, but a beacon which can be neither gazed upon or ignored. ]
Return to me the items which you've taken, and I will see them delivered to their rightful owners. [ But wait, there's more? ] And for the effort you've put forth into recovering the articles, I will grant you a Hero's reward.
[ Two of three thieves give pause, hesitant but considering (a reward?), but the third will absolutely not have the offer, and in the blink of an eye, the man lunges forward with a knife, leaving Sion in imminent peril...!
But Sion doesn't move, he doesn't lift a hand to reach for his sword.
Perhaps he is aware of another party who lingers, yet, at the mouth of the alleyway, and is curious to find if they will play a part. But more likely, he is certain in his own ability to contend with this scenario.
Still, though, there is the question: what action will you take, if any at all? ]
When: February 10th - 13th.
Where: Hero Hall, Caissa Orphanage, Kabe Market.
What: Fireworks and job opportunities (building snowmen & gathering lost items).
Rating: PG...! For now.
February 10th ⇰ The Roof of Hero Hall | Fireworks!
[ Sion stands atop the ledge of the roof in the dark, the fireworks of First Bloom visible even here, at a distance, the explosions of color raining down against the stars. The display is a beautiful one, though as it progresses, Sion's expression twists, contorts. It might be glimpsed, in profile, as the light of the fireworks reflect upon his face, that while he is surely smiling, it seems as though he is crying as well, even if no tears fall.
He remembers: a night in the rain, the clash of two only ever intended for each other, and the words no matter how far you sink into darkness, how hard it becomes to escape dark places... I won't ever give up on you, Sion Astal!.
(And to think, that such a thing had come to pass in the wake of the new hope to be found in fireworks, in their blooming bursts and thundering crescendos.) ]
Should you not be enjoying the festivities below? [ —he is aware, in that moment, of a second presence upon the roof, though Fiole is the one to investigate first, flapping about and singing to the newcomer in greeting. And the expression Sion once wore... disappeared in an instant, as though it never existed at all. Instead, he is smiling, and from the very depths of his heart, it is warm. ] It is the last night of First Bloom, so I would urge you to not become absorbed in melancholy as I have, and quickly go.
[ Who knows, after all? Gloom may very well be contagious. ]
February 12th ⇰ Caissa Orphanage | Build a Snowman!
[ Ah, how quickly it had escalated.
Had his own ambition lead him here, to the cusp of his own demise? Or had it been weakness, some unnamed flaw in him, which lead him to be so easily moved by the children's own high spirits when they'd cried: taller, Mr. Sion, it has to reach higher!.
In the end, perhaps, how he'd gotten to this point mattered so very little when the thought of how to progress further came to mind. Before him: a snowman (a monstrous, behemoth of a snowman) so great in size that while it stands, two-thirds completed, there is no way for a single man to hoist the structure's head (and it is a boulder of snow, compacted by the many
For this task, the strength of another someone will most certainly be required, and Sion wastes no time in recruiting anyone in uniform: ]
You there, Hero! Please lend us your aid, we've quite nearly finished here.
February 13th ⇰ Kabe Market | Lost Items!
[ Thieves. The band of them (and they are rascals, the entirety of the lot!) had taken to scavenging the whole of Caissa for items which had been deemed lost, stolen first by the likes of the festival's honored guests (monkeys, smartly dressed for what they truly were: pickpockets at best!), only to be 'liberated' by their hands, the small treasures (a gilded pocket watch, engraved with words of wisdom; a cameo necklace, depicting a mother and son) brought to a central location where they might be appraised, then divided amongst all present.
Or rather, they would have been, if not for the interference of one (1), Sion Astal. For the better portion of the day, he'd tracked the motley crew, surveying the operation from afar as they amassed their spoils, awaiting the opportune moment to appear: the instant when the trio disappeared into the depths of an alleyway, convening there.
It is a trap, one which Sion had hoped the thieves might lay, for as the afternoon dwindled, and as evening bled into a brisk winter's night, he'd given them hints (deliberate glimpses of a shadow, the echo of disembodied footfalls) of his pursuit, toying with them until they'd conveniently sequestered themselves away (there is, after all, no great need to make a scene).
Amusing to him, that they meant to confront him; that they imagined they might emerge victorious from...!
A fight which he doesn't intend to start.
Sion makes his entrance, with Fiole upon his shoulder and Guiding Light at his side, and suddenly the alleyway is bright, for the Hero King of Roland is no looming specter or shade, but a beacon which can be neither gazed upon or ignored. ]
Return to me the items which you've taken, and I will see them delivered to their rightful owners. [ But wait, there's more? ] And for the effort you've put forth into recovering the articles, I will grant you a Hero's reward.
[ Two of three thieves give pause, hesitant but considering (a reward?), but the third will absolutely not have the offer, and in the blink of an eye, the man lunges forward with a knife, leaving Sion in imminent peril...!
But Sion doesn't move, he doesn't lift a hand to reach for his sword.
Perhaps he is aware of another party who lingers, yet, at the mouth of the alleyway, and is curious to find if they will play a part. But more likely, he is certain in his own ability to contend with this scenario.
Still, though, there is the question: what action will you take, if any at all? ]
no subject
Still, Sion leaves him breathless in a way he hasn't been in a long time. The faster the man moves, the more determined he is to keep up. He doesn't break away, no, sees that as admitting defeat, and simply huffs and puffs and resolves to outdo him. This was also Gilgamesh at play, and he was very, very competitive in his sport.
At a certain point he all but attaches himself to Sion's arm so he couldn't escape even if he wanted to. If Sion wanted a date for the evening, so be it. Now he was stuck with a bratty, boisterous King who'd argue with him just for the sake of it.]
You numskull! We've already had this conversation, my crown ranks highest of all...!
[But it sounds triumphant as opposed to antagonistic. Sion's confidence is catching on, and he's even grinning, too.]
no subject
[ Blazing past street-goers, vaulting over all obstacles in their path, and narrowly escaping collision no less than seven times, they are a glint, a glimmer of silver and gold in the night, destined to feed into one another's energy and spiral higher and higher, bereft of a ceiling or end...! Or rather, they surely could, if only Sion allowed for it. Truth be told, he hadn't accounted for this, for the other man to so readily glom onto his arm, matching him in both alacrity and speed as he blitzed forward, without a care. Always, it had been his intention to escort to, but not during, and Sion had been of the mind that he would be able to 'lose' Gilgamesh (and lose him easily!) in the crowd shortly after arriving at their destination.
But would he be able to manage as much now? They are quite near to First Bloom, the number of people congesting the streets has heightened, and they'll not be able to keep their present pace for much longer...! ]
We exchanged no such words, you merely blew a load of hot air. You buffoon!
[ Too conveniently, there is a tree—a tree which Sion does nothing to avoid, for all that it lies within their direct trajectory. His intent? To meet the tree head on, of course, and to swing Gilgamesh to the right, where he would shift to the left, leaving the link of their arms to break against the tree-trunk.
(And hopefully, that would be the only thing to break!)
Fact: Sion Astal loathes festivals, and despite knowing their worth, and how they did well to promote unity among all those in attendance, he would take every opportunity to avoid them altogether. His wish to escort Gilgamesh into the very center of the joyous merrymaking and cavorting about is a simple manifestation of this dislike.
Why not pair one boisterous thing with another, after all? ]