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Rhen Vastyra, Austan Ex-Warden


NameRhen Vastyra
SpeciesHuman
ClassBarren
Age29
GenderMale (he/him/his)
PlayerGull
TimezoneMinnesota, USA UTC -6
#1

there's hope for every fallen man
The Iron Rose

Falla's gentle chill had kissed the leaves of Austanferd. While the needled conifers had held to their deep shades of emerald, the dedicuous trees had decided to flirt with the season; their leaves were now a spectrum of reds, yellows, and oranges, dancing in the breeze and transforming Austanferd's already highly-regarded beauty into an absolute dream. Those variegated colors were now on full display in the still reflections of Dvergmali Lake, nature's painting drawing crowds of Nyker citizens to the water's edge.

It had been almost an entire month since Rhen had arrived in the heavily forested region, and he now found himself carried with the crowd of sightseers. The tall Sunna man was worn by his relentless search for his abducted sister; his simple clothes hosted at least a few days' worth of dust, his wavy brown locks were unkempt and further past his forehead than he typically liked, and his cobalt-flecked silver eyes were sunken and tired. It was definitely not how Rhen preferred to present himself, but if he were to be honest... he was merely past caring.

Situating himself against a rather large oak tree's trunk, Rhen raised his gaze to observe the scene before him. Parents and children waded in the lake, their cries of happiness pleasant to his ears. Couples picnicked on the plush grass. Other individuals simply read their hand-sewn books. Across the lake, a single vityr dragon could be seen cautiously approaching the waters... all of this splendor was accented by the soft rays of the waning sun. If he weren't so desperate to complete his quest, Rhen could almost enjoy the evening as so many others were.

But alas, the picture was broken by the visage of an innocent seven-year-old girl, with unruly auburn hair, a mischievous smile, and freckles so much like his own. He had failed her, just like he believed he had failed his town. Maybe it was best for him to blend in to the masses in an unfamiliar region — maybe the stains on his soul would simply wash away in Dvergmali's mild tides.

words: 347 | tag: N/A
open for anyone to join in!
ignore the rusty writing, it's been two years :')


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Prudenzia Delaqua, Kastalian Socialite


NamePrudenzia Kasmeer Delaqua
SpeciesHuman
ClassBarren
Age21
GenderCis woman (she/her/hers)
Playervae
TimezoneCincinnati, OH UTC -4
#2

in the valley of the exodus
in the belly of a bowl of dust
Recon for an upcoming flight had gone as well as she could have hoped.  The general vicinity of Austanferd to woodlands makes the covert nature of harvesting intelligence easier.  It's that, and Pru genuinely enjoys Nyker.  It's nothing like Sunnarst -- which, therefore, removes it as a cause for sentimentality.  No, it has its own charms.  She's seeing the evidence of Falla more than ever while she's here, and whenever she takes to the Hills.  In Sunnarst, there are no trees that change the colors of their leaves, which is why it's such a sight to behold.  There's poetry to the picture, inviting scores of metaphor and a vibrant expanse of wordplay into her mind's eye.  She smiles to herself, catching a glimpse of the wild dragon across the way.  For a second, her heart races.  She can only hope that it escapes untouched.

As a matter of fact, it's only a familiar face that can pry her eyes from the elegant beast.  Although, it's rather incidental that she even sees Rhen out of the corners of her eyes.  She's so transfixed on the dragon that she nearly misses him there, back to the bark of an oak tree, brooding.  The corners of her mouth twitch slightly as she runs her tongue over the fronts of her teeth.  This suits him -- what she remembers of him, at least.  It almost feels wrong to break his silence, but she's never been one for quiet.  Pru's the type to have the first and last words of every interaction, from now and until the end of time.  Rhen would have to chance another opportunity to ruminate.

"If your parents saw you in this grisly state of dress," she chimes in, fiddling with the belt that holds her twin swords' scabbards at either of her hips.  Now that she's finished scouting the area of their flight, she has no reason for her weapons to rest on her back.  Thus, they've returned to a more lax position. "Blink twice if this is a cry for help." She feigns concern, her expression purposefully theatrical as she pretends to reach out to him, offering a steady hand to take in whatever trying times are causing him to fester in his thoughts so severely.  The dramatics don't last, however.  Pru's quick to burn the look for a stable smirk, her lips revealing the whites of her teeth.
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@Rhen Vastrya


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Rhen Vastyra, Austan Ex-Warden


NameRhen Vastyra
SpeciesHuman
ClassBarren
Age29
GenderMale (he/him/his)
PlayerGull
TimezoneMinnesota, USA UTC -6
#3

there's hope for every fallen man
The Iron Rose

A voice he had not heard in years was quick to snap Rhen out of his somber reverie, the memory of his eight-year-old sister quickly transforming into a different memory with a girl of a very similar age.

====================

The blunt sound of two wooden swords clashing against each other rang through the clearing behind the Vastyra house, vibrations reverberating up his gangly teenage arms. He quickly slid his sword down the fullers of Fidelius’ weapon, skipping over the pommel and resting the point of his sword against his friend’s chest. He knew they were unmatched, but he needed any serious practice he could get; he was leaving to aid in the War in only a few short months, while Fidelius would not be joining for four more years. The only reason Rhen was leaving at the age of sixteen instead of the standard eighteen was because of the years serving Tilverki’s local battalion. His gaze met Fidelius’ as the boy one year his junior yielded for a third time.

Pru’s ecstatic cry came immediately after, her dark visage and bouncing curls coming into their view. “My turn!” she exclaimed, dark eyes dancing in delight as she wielded the dual swords that her father had made for her in an attempt to calm the storm that was her unending energy. Rhen’s lips quirked at the girl’s excitement, even as Fidelius groaned at his sister’s presence. He couldn’t help but enjoy the girl’s enthusiasm, even if she would be hopelessly out-skilled. Rhen lowered himself into the fighting position his father had taught him once more, then beckoned to the quivering girl. ”Give it your all, Pru.”


====================

Rhen raised his cobalt-flecked eyes, meeting the deep chocolate ones of his unexpected visitor. His gaze shuttered momentarily as he processed her words. "My parents are dead," he greeted gently, knowing that the news would sour their reunion but acknowledging that she deserved to know. After all, their families had been comrades for far longer than they had been drawing breath in this world.

Closing his eyes to collect himself, he straightened from the tree, steeling himself from the pain that statement always brought him and attempting to lighten the air around him. A courteous once-over lent his chiseled cheeks a rosy tint; the awkward little girl he remembered was no longer a girl, but a woman.  While he could appreciate the way the waning sun seemed to be radiating from beneath her ebony skin, he couldn’t deny how uncomfortable the realization made him feel. A huff of laughter escaped his mouth, and for the first time in months, his stunning eyes creased at the corners in happiness. Choosing to ignore Pru’s comment on his current state, he engulfed the woman in a bone-crushing hug before quickly stepping away. Respect and integrity always came first with him, and she would surely expect nothing less. "Prudenzia Delaqua,” he breathed, callused hands finding their way into his worn trousers. "I am truly happy to see you.”

words: 500 | tag: @Prudenzia Delaqua
oh I adore this interaction already!


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Prudenzia Delaqua, Kastalian Socialite


NamePrudenzia Kasmeer Delaqua
SpeciesHuman
ClassBarren
Age21
GenderCis woman (she/her/hers)
Playervae
TimezoneCincinnati, OH UTC -4
#4

in the valley of the exodus
in the belly of a bowl of dust
With recognition comes the burden of time.  Prudenzia has no way of predicting the mistake she's made.  She remembers the raid on Tilverki, recalls the guilt and anguish she'd felt knowing what her hometown had been through.  Yet, in all the fretting over her family, she had no space to consider the trials of anyone else.  Had her parents simply forgotten to tell her?  Her expression falters, a shadow crossing over her eyes.  How had Fidelius neglected to pass this information along to her?  Her chest swells for a moment, the chamber rising with a sensation that is thick and swamp-like.  She thinks she'll drown in it, but then... she recovers.  She regains her social footing as she always has.  It's what she knows best, how she was taught.

"I'm sorry," she comments softly, matching his tone with reverence.  Yet, she isn't one to dwell.  She can sense that he doesn't wish to linger, either, which is why she lets the matter fall to the wayside initially.  There will be other opportunities to broach the topic.  For the time being, she merely drinks in the sight of him -- beautiful as ever, with eyes sadder than her recollections will permit.  He's watching her; she's watching him.  It's an odd predicament, being on a relatively similar playing field with him, now.  In times past, he had always been her older brother's friend:  gorgeous, but just out of reach.  Now she's grown, and she looks back on her childhood fixation with more mature eyes.  They're older.  He's become more than simply an extension of Fidelius.  Her smile carries on, emboldened by the ferocity of Rhen's embrace.  She hugs the man back without any hesitation, chuckling along with him.  

"Prudenzia Delaqua is for acquaintances; and for my mother, when I am in trouble." This reminder is humorous in nature.  If the sparkle in her eye doesn't give it away, then her expression surely crushes any further veneer of solemnity.  She regards him warmly, responding to his confession in kind: "As am I." One of her hands reaches out to touch his arm.  The gesture is quick but affectionate, mimicking the interactions between siblings.  She may have moved out of Sunnarst, but she was raised to show love where others may simply 'tell' it.  

"So, shall I join you? Or will we walk?" she tilts her head, looking first to the ground where he'd come from and then aside to indicate the areas around them. "We have a lot of catching up to do, clearly." Hesitation stalls her tongue, but she pushes forward. "A nice place to start would be how your family is doing since the... attack on Tilverki.  To think, my brother did not even bother to tell me about--" She stops short with an inconclusive thought, given that the latter is spoken in lieu of demanding, 'Why didn't you tell me?  Why didn't you write?'  Two Vastyras are dead, and she wasn't there to honor their lives or send flowers.  It's heart-wrenching, devastating even. "I would have come home." They're empty words at this point, yet she feels compelled to make them known.
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@Rhen Vastyra






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