SION ASTAL. (
sunderings) wrote in
pawnstorm2016-10-02 07:46 pm
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[CLOPEN] through the light that illuminates everything
Who: Sion Astal & You!
When: 10/3 - 10/8.
Where: Gammon & Caissa!
What: Kingly failure on the job, singing, and domestic affairs (oh my).
Rating: PG?!
October 3rd - 4th ⇰ Cochrane, Gammon | Photo Tour (Job/Open!)
[ He flies on high, La Vista's wings of light ablaze at his back, a camera in his hands as he photographs Gammon's natural treasures from a bird's-eye view, sailing effortlessly over the Emerald Lakes until....! There is murmurous protest from La Vista itself, and though it is far from the first time he's received complaint from his Hero's weaponry (it seems the curse of Kings, to be subject to tantrums of the weapons which they wield), this surely marks the very first instance when he hasn't been able to quell them...!
And so: he plummets, wings of light dispersing into a thousand filament-fine strands of aetherous nothingness as he falls, silvered hair streaking behind him.
Apologies, Hero, if you were enjoying a lake-side picnic directly below, this scenario may end in one of three ways: broken bones (yours, if Sion should land atop you—thank goodness he can heal!!), an expert catch, or the King's own show of grace (a wind spell, with which to break his fall, and accidentally blow your picnic away?!). ]
October 5th - 8th ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | M-m-manaplay?! (Open!)
[ Mana streams may catch the errant Hero's eye, should they find themselves wandering Caissa's coastal district in survey of the autumnal flush of color. The farmland nearest the coast is a patchwork of deep golds (barley, bending in the wind), brighter yellows (sunflowers, resilient of seasonal cold), and orange (marigold and an array of harvest gourds), all hues encompassed by mana-threads gathered not by the windmills, their sails catching mana from the ocean breeze, but by a King's song—an incantation which holds him still, amid the flowing, perpetual motion of farmland and field. Above the sussurating wind and distant sound of sea, his voice rises, and the world resonates with his melody—
(I see a spark of life shining; I hear a young minstrel sing. A beautiful roaring scream of joy and sorrow, so extreme. There is a love in me raging, a joyous magical feeling!)
—and the mana streams dance, coalescing into a magic which gathers the zest of fallen, dead vegetation and sees it flourishing within the bounds of the spell, and all those Heroes within its healing circle rejuvenated. For this is the power of King's rank magic: drawing upon mana from nature to revitalize allies...!
...even if acting as a channel, a living, breathing, conduit, should be more taxing than Sion had initially realized. His song cutting short, he falters—swaying—but catches himself (with grace), turning the motion instead into a pivot with which to face present company!
Why, of course he noticed you. ]
Shall I sing another song for you?
October ??? ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | CLOSED TO ALICE
[ He draws.
Inked quill taken to parchment, the Hero King's thoughts are elsewhere, far from the seaside cottage he shares with his Lady (his Lady who has been curiously absent for the vast majority of the day—wherever it is that her adventures have carried her, he knows that there will be a story to tell when she returns home, safe and sound!), adrift in a landscape which has come to life beneath his fingertips, illustrated with a cartographer's accuracy and an artist's flowing script.
He draws, and he thinks of how, nearly eight months ago to the date, he'd stood upon the edge of the Southern Country of Ali with all his Empire's might at his back, poised and at the ready to take the territories of the Republic of Belis. His campaign to see the world of Menoris united by love, all countries come together beneath a great flood of renewal, his kingdom's banner of white and blue...
Would he return to it? The vision which he'd glimpsed, burned into his mind's eye (as his own men had been, by his own hand; his own order), had it truly come to pass realms away from here?
Golden eyes narrowed, sharpened to gleaming knives in a fit of what could only be described as King's fit (of brooding), he does not sense his Lady's presence until Alice is close, beside him at the table, and there is the softest, sweetest sound--...
A kitten's mewl???
(If his eyes go wide, round as saucers in childish surprise, at least no one but Alice will glimpse the sight...!) ]
When: 10/3 - 10/8.
Where: Gammon & Caissa!
What: Kingly failure on the job, singing, and domestic affairs (oh my).
Rating: PG?!
October 3rd - 4th ⇰ Cochrane, Gammon | Photo Tour (Job/Open!)
[ He flies on high, La Vista's wings of light ablaze at his back, a camera in his hands as he photographs Gammon's natural treasures from a bird's-eye view, sailing effortlessly over the Emerald Lakes until....! There is murmurous protest from La Vista itself, and though it is far from the first time he's received complaint from his Hero's weaponry (it seems the curse of Kings, to be subject to tantrums of the weapons which they wield), this surely marks the very first instance when he hasn't been able to quell them...!
And so: he plummets, wings of light dispersing into a thousand filament-fine strands of aetherous nothingness as he falls, silvered hair streaking behind him.
Apologies, Hero, if you were enjoying a lake-side picnic directly below, this scenario may end in one of three ways: broken bones (yours, if Sion should land atop you—thank goodness he can heal!!), an expert catch, or the King's own show of grace (a wind spell, with which to break his fall, and accidentally blow your picnic away?!). ]
October 5th - 8th ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | M-m-manaplay?! (Open!)
[ Mana streams may catch the errant Hero's eye, should they find themselves wandering Caissa's coastal district in survey of the autumnal flush of color. The farmland nearest the coast is a patchwork of deep golds (barley, bending in the wind), brighter yellows (sunflowers, resilient of seasonal cold), and orange (marigold and an array of harvest gourds), all hues encompassed by mana-threads gathered not by the windmills, their sails catching mana from the ocean breeze, but by a King's song—an incantation which holds him still, amid the flowing, perpetual motion of farmland and field. Above the sussurating wind and distant sound of sea, his voice rises, and the world resonates with his melody—
(I see a spark of life shining; I hear a young minstrel sing. A beautiful roaring scream of joy and sorrow, so extreme. There is a love in me raging, a joyous magical feeling!)
—and the mana streams dance, coalescing into a magic which gathers the zest of fallen, dead vegetation and sees it flourishing within the bounds of the spell, and all those Heroes within its healing circle rejuvenated. For this is the power of King's rank magic: drawing upon mana from nature to revitalize allies...!
...even if acting as a channel, a living, breathing, conduit, should be more taxing than Sion had initially realized. His song cutting short, he falters—swaying—but catches himself (with grace), turning the motion instead into a pivot with which to face present company!
Why, of course he noticed you. ]
Shall I sing another song for you?
October ??? ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | CLOSED TO ALICE
[ He draws.
Inked quill taken to parchment, the Hero King's thoughts are elsewhere, far from the seaside cottage he shares with his Lady (his Lady who has been curiously absent for the vast majority of the day—wherever it is that her adventures have carried her, he knows that there will be a story to tell when she returns home, safe and sound!), adrift in a landscape which has come to life beneath his fingertips, illustrated with a cartographer's accuracy and an artist's flowing script.
He draws, and he thinks of how, nearly eight months ago to the date, he'd stood upon the edge of the Southern Country of Ali with all his Empire's might at his back, poised and at the ready to take the territories of the Republic of Belis. His campaign to see the world of Menoris united by love, all countries come together beneath a great flood of renewal, his kingdom's banner of white and blue...
Would he return to it? The vision which he'd glimpsed, burned into his mind's eye (as his own men had been, by his own hand; his own order), had it truly come to pass realms away from here?
Golden eyes narrowed, sharpened to gleaming knives in a fit of what could only be described as King's fit (of brooding), he does not sense his Lady's presence until Alice is close, beside him at the table, and there is the softest, sweetest sound--...
A kitten's mewl???
(If his eyes go wide, round as saucers in childish surprise, at least no one but Alice will glimpse the sight...!) ]
no subject
It couldn't be a better night. ]
I would not expect a cat to ever stay in your hands or on your lap for long.
[ Not even Dinah ever really did, much to her dismay. She tries to coax him back over, drumming her fingers on the table that doesn't earn anything beyond a quizzical look from the kitten, mewling as he continued to walk away from Alice's outstretched hands. So much for that. She's distracted by Cheshire, barely noticing Sion leaning in closer. She did place a hand on his shoulder, something that he'll know is a big step. She doesn't flinch, she stills, her mind racing as his lips barely brush against her hair. A kiss?
A childish part of Alice would say that wasn't really a kiss, believing everything her romantic sister told her about princes and knights. It's still not enough for her to comment on, so Alice is left silenced, standing there with her hands folded neatly, far too stunned to even comment about it or the slight color in her cheeks. Great, fluster. She doesn't even notice Cheshire batting at her hands, at first. ]
Of course.
[ She would try her best to recover, rubbing her cheeks as he returned with the camera. Cameras. Alice draws a breath, dropping her shoulders and looks it over with even more curiosity than before. ]
Oh, goodness! It's so small.
[ It is, by far, much different than the camera her father had. Her father's camera, which was never easy to carry around. ]
There is no tripod? How does the film not become exposed? Ah, my papa's camera was much bigger. It looked so heavy!
[ She feels so young again, wheeling around the table to get a better look, scooping up the kitten as she does. She finds herself leaning into Sion, this time, if only to see the rest of the camera. Her gaze wanders back up to his face, wide-eyed and hopeful. ]
I can? I don't know how versed I am, it's been so long.
no subject
(How close the King had come, to bursting into tears, if only because he is happy beyond his ability to bear it.) ]
Of course you can. [ Why could you not? he seems to ask with a gentle cant of head, his golden eyes falling upon her (and the lingering remnants of her flush; the pink which had undoubtedly overtaken her face in the very instant he so dared to kiss her hair!) in quiet study. ] However long it has been, have faith in your ability to relearn something which you love.
[ It is palpable to him, her exuberance; her joy. Whether she should be aware of it or not, from such close proximity (she is leaning into him, against him, as though she meant to cling to his side), mana bonds have formed, blooming between them with a little latch, a link of energy and emotion. And Sion... finds himself setting the camera down atop the table with one hand, the other finding its way to rest gently atop Alice's shoulder, mirroring her gesture from before. ]
If the instrument is rather small in comparison to others, I am afraid I would not know. In my realm, we'd no such technology, though I do know that the Kingdom of Gammon boasts advancements which surpass even that of Blanc's.
[ Such as television, and if Alice hasn't yet experienced the charming play of video broadcasted not through the carriers, but through another network entirely then...! They are overdue for a date—an excursion to the Heroe's dormitories for the sole purpose of raiding the vending machines and lounging about while watching programmed shows.
The future is now, thanks to science.]Rather than employ a tripod, I took to the air in search of landmarks which to photograph, though... [ Curious himself, he glances down at Alice, hoping to catch her eyes. ] ...I am certain there is merit to using one, as well.
Your father was a photographer?
no subject
Ah, well. Slightly defeated, she allows Cheshire to make a jump from her hands and go back to the table, flopping as he does. It feels strange to stand to someone this close when Alice demands a ridiculous amount of space. Though out of her curiosity, she stands there and takes it and, surprisingly, she doesn't flinch from Sion's hand. She stands there listening, more concerned about cameras and pictures than a hand on her shoulder or Sion standing so close to her.
It's a step, even if Alice will eventually recoil to the other side of the table. However long it has been, have faith in your ability to relearn something which you love. There are so many things she wants to relearn and see to make up for the years that she lost, to fill the void of failure and having nothing to show at the age of twenty. ]
Neither does my world. How convenient it must be to have something small camera to where it's light enough to take it to such heights.
[ It would take a very long time for film to develop; she remembers how her family was forced to stay so still for their portrait and how difficult it was for Alice to sit still. Her curiosity is a suitable distraction, Alice still more passionate about new things and anything that her family loved than her apprehension of touch. There was still so many things to discover and learn, clearly. ]
Ah, he may have thought himself to be, but my father was a teacher. Photography was merely a hobby of his. [ If memory serves right, his friend, a writer, had gotten him into it. Mister Dodgson always had brought these things to her father. ]
He always had all these photography things in our foyer and it made our house smell terrible, sometimes. Mama and Lizzie weren't very happy with him.
[ Alice pauses, if only because it feels so odd to speak so openly of her home and family. The pain never goes away, it dulls. It doesn't hold her down like it used to, Alice bounces back, still bright-eyed and curious, she turns back to Sion, away from the pain. ]
I certainly hope you're being careful taking to the air. Tripod or not, you should still be exercising caution.
digs a grave for himself, whoops
A hum upon his lips, he smiles, silvered lashes hooding over gold as she marvels over modern convenience, and tells him of her father, sister, and mother; of memories (fond ones) and cloying, chemical smells which had been a source of humor in her childhood. But then, comfortable as she'd been, she bounces back, turning to him (and away from his touch) as she...!!!
Oh. There are times when Sion does well and truly wonder if his Lady does not possess some secret, uncanny sixth sense he so happens to be unaware of. ]
If I were not careful, would I have been able to capture so many photographs? [ A slight huff, a (theatrical) puff of his cheeks. No, he'll most certainly not be saying that he'd crashed down onto the unsuspecting masses from on high during his tour of Gammon—she would only scold him for being careless. ] Next time, I shall take you with me.
[ —declared, with a decisive nod of head! ]
There is nothing more breathtaking than viewing the landscape below from on high.
[ Though...
Now that Cheshire has made his second daring escape of the day, Alice's hands are now free—not for Sion to take into his own, but for the camera in its decorative black and gold to be pressed gently into her hold. ]
But before then, would you like to photograph Cheshire's first day at home? [ ...as the little kitten starts to bat at the corners of curled parchment, threatening to crease them forever!! Oh no. Sion is quick to scoop the kitten up again—this time, the action is bereft of hesitance—rescuing his hand-drafted maps. And this time, Cheshire will not be so lucky as to make a third escaping act! Strategically, Sion shifts way from the table, leaving no viable escape routes readily at hand...! ]
We will need to find a proper source of lighting, though. [ ...Sion you are a source of ambient lighting... ]
the beat down is coming
It felt so strange to be this happy and to smile this much. ]
Then when will you go next?
[ She couldn't say now there were many adult things to do, more housework and light laundry. Already, Alice was compiling a list in her head to see and do, things that even her father would dream of. How good it felt to follow in his footsteps and then some. Her attention goes back to Cheshire, alongside a slight feeling of guilt after letting the poor kitten wander around the table out of his own boredom, nearly laughing at his antics.
Proper source of lighting... right. Alice may as well be beaming, bouncing from excitement as she stands there perfectly still, her shoulders still slightly rigid as they always are. ]
Really?
[ Her father would tell her she was too young to touch the camera. This is exciting. ]
Ah, by the window? [ She would say in his hands- oh, hell, she may just say it. She nudges him, a little playful. ]
Or you, Sion, you may as well be as you hold him.
no subject
With several days gone by since his first excursion to the Emerald Lakes, he is certain that the seasonal colors have only flourished, and how happy Alice would be, dressed in layers for the cold, her hands clasped before her as she surveyed the world before her as the little Queen who soared heavens higher above her stature, untethered and unbound as a storm, and knowing not how she made a King's heart soar.
Oh.
Had he been swept up in a daydream?
Chesire mewls, wriggling within his grasp, prompting Sion to hold the kitten closer to his chest, resulting in...! A series of small, plaintive sounds from Cheshire—captive, now, and unable to escape!—as Alice nudges against him in a way which inspires a shake of his head, a laugh: ]
He seems not to want to be held by anyone. [ Even if Sion should be aglow (a touch brighter, now) with a soft flush of gold, swept up and away in the moment. ] To the window, then.
I'll not let Cheshire escape, and I would be honored, my Lady, if you were to join me with the camera.
[ And so: the next few moments find Cheshire upon the cushions banking the large bay window in the sitting room, sunlight streaming through the glass in a way which makes the formerly very energetic kitten somehow languid as four little paws take to batting at the tassel of a pillow. ]
...this should do quite nicely, shouldn't it?
no subject
[ It's clear to Alice he hasn't been around cats as much as she has. All of her fond memories of spending time with her cats are coming back. Not once does Alice step in to free the kitten that protests being held in Sion's hands. It's great to see the both of them together, even if Cheshire doesn't seem to be happy being in one spot for long. Either way, Alice is glad for Sion being distracted with happier things. She glances down at the kitten preoccupying himself with the tassel and then back to Sion with a bit of a surprised look. ]
Me? Join you with the camera?
[ She hardly looks like she's picture perfect, with her hair and clothes. Alice already starting to fidget with her apron. ]
I hardly look picture ready, you know.
[ Yet, Alice shuffles around Sion, if only just to lean down to play with the kitten with the tassel. ]
It's sufficient enough lighting, yes.
[ Flatly, she adds, playfully. ]
If you don't drown out the picture with light.