Everything was wrong about Zephyr.
Not one thing was right.
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Empathy
Null-0 listened to their voices closely, but he could little muster the same passion, the same enthusiasm and fervor that those of flesh and blood could.
There was no reason to.
All the squabbles, the conflict, the strife, it was all so petty. Trifling matters that he couldn't help but feel indifferent to.
There was no reason to.
All the squabbles, the conflict, the strife, it was all so petty. Trifling matters that he couldn't help but feel indifferent to.
Sunday, November 13, 2016
BOP 6: Marshmellows
It was unbeknownst to me before this Time that there is a marshmallow plant from which the modern derivative took from. A plant by the scientific name of Althaea officinalis, that even more amusingly enough, was utilized for its medicinal properties.
Ancient Egyptians would use the mucilaginous extracts from the root as a remedy for sore throats, though the plant had long been used in the making of confections.
Would that I could obtain a specimen myself to grow. It is noted in text that A. officinalis was used as a staple food in Times of hardship when crops failed, and was quite palatable when the roots were fried with onions and butter.
Though the whole plant is edible, there is a different use for various parts of the plant. The pith seems to be used in making confections, the roots as its own dish, flower and young leaves a salad, and the whole plant itself in herbal medicine.
Ancient Egyptians would use the mucilaginous extracts from the root as a remedy for sore throats, though the plant had long been used in the making of confections.
Would that I could obtain a specimen myself to grow. It is noted in text that A. officinalis was used as a staple food in Times of hardship when crops failed, and was quite palatable when the roots were fried with onions and butter.
Though the whole plant is edible, there is a different use for various parts of the plant. The pith seems to be used in making confections, the roots as its own dish, flower and young leaves a salad, and the whole plant itself in herbal medicine.
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Hearts Entertwined
Null-0 examined the ring closely, but made no move to take it from his outstretched hand, "This is the seal for your pearl?"
The Ophidian nodded, "In my blood is a mix of several draconics, most prominently among them, Quetzalcoatl, Ouroboros, Loong, and Amphisbaena. The pearl is the remnant of the Oriental blood."
With a wave of his hand, the ring seemed to come alive, the serpentine dragons slithered past one another and released the gems from their mouths.
From the brilliant jewels that seemed as if liquid, did they form a large solid pearl. And as quickly as they were, did they once again become mere rubies that the golden dragons each caught in their awaiting jaws.
His company seemed suitably entertained, after all the sight of a dragon's pearl was a rare treat. Such precious stones were the source of a great many Ophidian's power and few risked revealing the shells that played host, lest they be lost to others.
That and the Amphisbaena's ring which so zealously guarded it, was a relic bequest upon him by his line. It responded only to his draconic blood and none other.
"To think that your strength is contained not within the body but in a separate shell. An oddity for it to be of biological rather than alchemical origin."
"It is the same with your kind is it not? Your aether must be grounded somewhere. Something to anchor the self from Limbo, just as those of flesh are contained within their mortal bodies."
For a moment he worried that perhaps his question probed too far into the information so closely guarded by the Numen.
Eyeing him silently silently from where he lay on the bracket shroom, Null-0 carefully weighed the other before the scales of his judgement. Then, ever so slowly, nodded, eyes still never leaving him.
It was uncomfortable, but he bore with it for he knew that the demigod was likely peering through Time, weighing his character.
"An astute observation." He didn't elaborate, and Muspell didn't push him to.
The conversation was surprisingly casual, considering that the topic was such scant and sensitive knowledge that until now, had been privy only to their own kind.
As if sensing his thoughts, the Numen spoke up again, "There was never a need to become involved with worldly creatures. It would only have complicated matters."
"Of course." The ophidian nodded slowly, it was sound justification. A small smile spread across his face then, "And yet you entertain me now, sating a curiosity that your kind believes should best left alone, or better yet nonexistent."
"The marked incident in which Numens were scripted into lore, was a solemn one. Those worn fables you so coveted led many who sought to transcend Time astray, to waste away pursuing shadows they could not even discern." Null's eyes slipped shut, "Indeed, we are 'anchored' as you so eloquently put it."
"Where is your host?"
This Time he knew he had tread too far into the comfort zone.
Silvery wisps of hair framed skeptical eyes that were even now setting him on a scale, "Do you understand the weight of what you ask for?"
"I do."
"Heh." It was a humorless laugh, and the puppet of flesh turned to stare back at the heavens above them, "Does it so please you to partake of the forbidden fruit? Knowledge is naught without wisdom."
To ask for the thing which was possessed of the Numen's aether was, in essence, asking for their utmost trust, to reveal and put bare all that they were and surrendering their very life and making prone their seemingly omnipotent nature.
Muspell scootched closer to the other so that they were shoulder to shoulder, "As could be said the same of all I've asked of you."
"Curiosity is a dangerous thing, and from it is borne great feats, for better, and worse." Null-0 mused. With a sigh he carried on, "Yet you desire nothing but knowledge itself. The pursuit of knowledge is both borne of great wisdom---and foolishness. Temptation is beyond you except for that boundless thirst that even the uncovered sea, vast as it is, could not quench."
He hummed an acknowledgement and the Numen pushed himself up. Muspell followed suit.
Reaching out, the space distorted around the celestial's hand and Muspell watched mesmerized as he summoned forth his shell, but a single grain among infinite timelines, dimensions, and splits--
--and startled at a touch on his shoulder. The Ophidian jerked and stared in astonishment at the hand behind him as it tapped him again.
The Keeper of Time reached up to touch the small silver and gold rings adorning his friend's ears.
"You--you mean to say that this whole Time--" Muspell's eyes flew up, hands going up to the accessories, "I've been wearing them?"
Neiro nodded, "Only one of them hosts my aether, but yes, you have been."
"But you gave these to me a several full lunar turns ago!"
The Ophidian nodded, "In my blood is a mix of several draconics, most prominently among them, Quetzalcoatl, Ouroboros, Loong, and Amphisbaena. The pearl is the remnant of the Oriental blood."
With a wave of his hand, the ring seemed to come alive, the serpentine dragons slithered past one another and released the gems from their mouths.
From the brilliant jewels that seemed as if liquid, did they form a large solid pearl. And as quickly as they were, did they once again become mere rubies that the golden dragons each caught in their awaiting jaws.
His company seemed suitably entertained, after all the sight of a dragon's pearl was a rare treat. Such precious stones were the source of a great many Ophidian's power and few risked revealing the shells that played host, lest they be lost to others.
That and the Amphisbaena's ring which so zealously guarded it, was a relic bequest upon him by his line. It responded only to his draconic blood and none other.
"To think that your strength is contained not within the body but in a separate shell. An oddity for it to be of biological rather than alchemical origin."
"It is the same with your kind is it not? Your aether must be grounded somewhere. Something to anchor the self from Limbo, just as those of flesh are contained within their mortal bodies."
For a moment he worried that perhaps his question probed too far into the information so closely guarded by the Numen.
Eyeing him silently silently from where he lay on the bracket shroom, Null-0 carefully weighed the other before the scales of his judgement. Then, ever so slowly, nodded, eyes still never leaving him.
It was uncomfortable, but he bore with it for he knew that the demigod was likely peering through Time, weighing his character.
"An astute observation." He didn't elaborate, and Muspell didn't push him to.
The conversation was surprisingly casual, considering that the topic was such scant and sensitive knowledge that until now, had been privy only to their own kind.
As if sensing his thoughts, the Numen spoke up again, "There was never a need to become involved with worldly creatures. It would only have complicated matters."
"Of course." The ophidian nodded slowly, it was sound justification. A small smile spread across his face then, "And yet you entertain me now, sating a curiosity that your kind believes should best left alone, or better yet nonexistent."
"The marked incident in which Numens were scripted into lore, was a solemn one. Those worn fables you so coveted led many who sought to transcend Time astray, to waste away pursuing shadows they could not even discern." Null's eyes slipped shut, "Indeed, we are 'anchored' as you so eloquently put it."
"Where is your host?"
This Time he knew he had tread too far into the comfort zone.
Silvery wisps of hair framed skeptical eyes that were even now setting him on a scale, "Do you understand the weight of what you ask for?"
"I do."
"Heh." It was a humorless laugh, and the puppet of flesh turned to stare back at the heavens above them, "Does it so please you to partake of the forbidden fruit? Knowledge is naught without wisdom."
To ask for the thing which was possessed of the Numen's aether was, in essence, asking for their utmost trust, to reveal and put bare all that they were and surrendering their very life and making prone their seemingly omnipotent nature.
Muspell scootched closer to the other so that they were shoulder to shoulder, "As could be said the same of all I've asked of you."
"Curiosity is a dangerous thing, and from it is borne great feats, for better, and worse." Null-0 mused. With a sigh he carried on, "Yet you desire nothing but knowledge itself. The pursuit of knowledge is both borne of great wisdom---and foolishness. Temptation is beyond you except for that boundless thirst that even the uncovered sea, vast as it is, could not quench."
He hummed an acknowledgement and the Numen pushed himself up. Muspell followed suit.
Reaching out, the space distorted around the celestial's hand and Muspell watched mesmerized as he summoned forth his shell, but a single grain among infinite timelines, dimensions, and splits--
--and startled at a touch on his shoulder. The Ophidian jerked and stared in astonishment at the hand behind him as it tapped him again.
The Keeper of Time reached up to touch the small silver and gold rings adorning his friend's ears.
"You--you mean to say that this whole Time--" Muspell's eyes flew up, hands going up to the accessories, "I've been wearing them?"
Neiro nodded, "Only one of them hosts my aether, but yes, you have been."
"But you gave these to me a several full lunar turns ago!"
"That I did." came the same monotone, but it was notably softer this Time, barely above a murmur.
What strange expressions, and intonation. Never had the Numen seen Muspell display such unmasked zeal. And so he watches carefully, that he wouldn't miss the slightest in the Seed's idiosyncracies.
Now the Ophidian just stared, seemingly at a loss. But even that was entertaining, "When you gave them to me and told me to take care of them--"
"--I would put my Life in your hands, yes." the Numen nodded, before turning back to the stars above, as if they were but passing Time.
A moment longer did he spend staring, his heart swelling with warmth before engulfing the other in a tight hug, "You fool!"
"You would deem me a fool?"
Rather than foolishness, it was a mixture of apathy and utter boredom. An eternity and more, it was for this that the Numens would perish. Not that they perished willingly, but there was simply no reason not to. It was what would come to pass in the Continuum, and none of them saw reason fit to swim upstream, let alone change the river's path.
"The trust you place in me! Responsibilities such as these should not be so easily given, and unbeknownst no less!" he shook his head, scolding the other, "But still, thank you. That you would even think of putting so much faith in me---I'm flattered."
But he would spice it up a little. Though it was of no import to himself it seemed to matter a great deal to the Yggdrasill, and it served to entertain them both.
"It didn't please you?"
"It did." Muspell pulled away to take in the other's countenance, the same flat unreadable mask, "But it is still folly."
The Numen seemed oddly pleased, "Be that as it may, I would play the fool."
They were silent a while on their perch, simply gazing up at the stars.
"Do not think for a moment that my trust is so easily won over." Null hummed, "That being said, one such as yourself, would make a fine guardian. Even among Ophidians few are possessed of your gift. Whether it is folly or otherwise lies greatly with the character. "
"Then I would let it be within my abilities as far from foolishness as could be."
And he would.
He held Muspell's body, clutched protectively towards his own form. The Seraph across from them cackling with his prize, blood dripping freely from his hand.
"Null--" came a low and hoarse voice which cracked near the end. Forcing himself away from the sight, he stared down at the now bloodied and empty sockets of the Ophidian. It was a wretched sight, and one that his core trembled at in rage and indignation.
"I'm here, Muspell."
"Forget Loki, we must abscond. There's one last thing I would wish done."
Null jaw clenched, but a hand tugged insistently on his sleeve, barely mustering above a pained whisper, "Now, Null, the Heart's Song has been sung, I've not Time left!"
Tearing his eyes away from the fallen Seraph, he whisked the both of them back into the familiar hollow of the Ophidian's cove.
He laid Muspell on the floor, making to leave in search for some draught that would ease his suffering, but the Yggddrasill grasped him by the sleeve once more, "Don't leave."
"... your eyes."
"I need not what I will no longer use and I care not of the pain." A pathetic smile was all the other could offer, but he took solace in the relief on the Ophidian's visage when he didn't make to leave, "Please, Null, to me."
He knelt down beside the other and a shaky hand pushed something towards him. Null accepted the surprisingly heavy and warm weight, opening his palm to find a golden glint and glitter of precious stones winking up at him.
The Amphisbaena's Ring.
His eyes widened at the sight of the relic.
Muspell smiled weakly, "As it was bequeathed to me, do I now pass it to you."
"Muspell--" Null trailed off.
Now the Ophidian just stared, seemingly at a loss. But even that was entertaining, "When you gave them to me and told me to take care of them--"
"--I would put my Life in your hands, yes." the Numen nodded, before turning back to the stars above, as if they were but passing Time.
A moment longer did he spend staring, his heart swelling with warmth before engulfing the other in a tight hug, "You fool!"
"You would deem me a fool?"
Rather than foolishness, it was a mixture of apathy and utter boredom. An eternity and more, it was for this that the Numens would perish. Not that they perished willingly, but there was simply no reason not to. It was what would come to pass in the Continuum, and none of them saw reason fit to swim upstream, let alone change the river's path.
"The trust you place in me! Responsibilities such as these should not be so easily given, and unbeknownst no less!" he shook his head, scolding the other, "But still, thank you. That you would even think of putting so much faith in me---I'm flattered."
But he would spice it up a little. Though it was of no import to himself it seemed to matter a great deal to the Yggdrasill, and it served to entertain them both.
"It didn't please you?"
"It did." Muspell pulled away to take in the other's countenance, the same flat unreadable mask, "But it is still folly."
The Numen seemed oddly pleased, "Be that as it may, I would play the fool."
They were silent a while on their perch, simply gazing up at the stars.
"Do not think for a moment that my trust is so easily won over." Null hummed, "That being said, one such as yourself, would make a fine guardian. Even among Ophidians few are possessed of your gift. Whether it is folly or otherwise lies greatly with the character. "
"Then I would let it be within my abilities as far from foolishness as could be."
And he would.
He held Muspell's body, clutched protectively towards his own form. The Seraph across from them cackling with his prize, blood dripping freely from his hand.
"Null--" came a low and hoarse voice which cracked near the end. Forcing himself away from the sight, he stared down at the now bloodied and empty sockets of the Ophidian. It was a wretched sight, and one that his core trembled at in rage and indignation.
"I'm here, Muspell."
"Forget Loki, we must abscond. There's one last thing I would wish done."
Null jaw clenched, but a hand tugged insistently on his sleeve, barely mustering above a pained whisper, "Now, Null, the Heart's Song has been sung, I've not Time left!"
Tearing his eyes away from the fallen Seraph, he whisked the both of them back into the familiar hollow of the Ophidian's cove.
He laid Muspell on the floor, making to leave in search for some draught that would ease his suffering, but the Yggddrasill grasped him by the sleeve once more, "Don't leave."
"... your eyes."
"I need not what I will no longer use and I care not of the pain." A pathetic smile was all the other could offer, but he took solace in the relief on the Ophidian's visage when he didn't make to leave, "Please, Null, to me."
He knelt down beside the other and a shaky hand pushed something towards him. Null accepted the surprisingly heavy and warm weight, opening his palm to find a golden glint and glitter of precious stones winking up at him.
The Amphisbaena's Ring.
His eyes widened at the sight of the relic.
Muspell smiled weakly, "As it was bequeathed to me, do I now pass it to you."
"Muspell--" Null trailed off.
A small laugh interrupted with abrupt coughing, breathing labored, "I know it unfair of me to so pointedly ask at this grim hour. But I beg of you, Aversatio must not be allowed to happen again. Please--don't let it come to pass. Loki plans on invoking it, he--"
"Muspell!" the rest was cut off by Null's own sharp voice.
"Was I a good friend, Neiro?"
The sudden change took the Numen off guard, "Neiro?"
"When I saw you by yourself, so lonely and cold, I couldn't help but approach. I hope--" a fit of coughs overtook him, and Null urged him to rest, but he shook his head, "Neiro, it's a fitting name is it not? Null-0, Null-zero, Neiro, I've longed to call you by that name. Would you not take it on?"
"With honor."
"Look at me." The Ophidian chuckled, turning his head away and averting his now blind stare away, "Though I've long seen this day coming, still I grow sentimental in my last moments, holding on so dearly to the last threads of life."
Muspell turned towards him, and Null was surprised by how accurately the empty sockets seemed to find his own, "I regret none of it."
"Live a little Neiro, there are so many more you have yet to meet, and I am but one of them."
"None of them will be you."
"Wont you grace them with your light?" he reached into his coat and plucked a small pouch out from their depths, pushing that too towards the Numen.
Even before he opened it, he knew what they were, by the familiar resonance of aether, "But the seraph--"
"--took the false ring. This is the true shell you gave me. Live on, Neiro."
"Muspell!" the rest was cut off by Null's own sharp voice.
"Was I a good friend, Neiro?"
The sudden change took the Numen off guard, "Neiro?"
"When I saw you by yourself, so lonely and cold, I couldn't help but approach. I hope--" a fit of coughs overtook him, and Null urged him to rest, but he shook his head, "Neiro, it's a fitting name is it not? Null-0, Null-zero, Neiro, I've longed to call you by that name. Would you not take it on?"
"With honor."
"Look at me." The Ophidian chuckled, turning his head away and averting his now blind stare away, "Though I've long seen this day coming, still I grow sentimental in my last moments, holding on so dearly to the last threads of life."
Muspell turned towards him, and Null was surprised by how accurately the empty sockets seemed to find his own, "I regret none of it."
"Live a little Neiro, there are so many more you have yet to meet, and I am but one of them."
"None of them will be you."
"Wont you grace them with your light?" he reached into his coat and plucked a small pouch out from their depths, pushing that too towards the Numen.
Even before he opened it, he knew what they were, by the familiar resonance of aether, "But the seraph--"
"--took the false ring. This is the true shell you gave me. Live on, Neiro."
A chuckle, and he spoke softly, warm and tender, "I'm sorry Neiro, I lied. I do wish for mine eyes, that I could glimpse my dear friend one last Time. Yet even that I would give, for every precious second gained with you by my side in these last moments."
There were no tears, not that the Ophidian had eyes to shed them. But he needn't more than Muspell's voice to know he was crying.
The Heart's Song rose in a lonesome wail.
The Ophidian smiled and leaned up one last Time, supported by the Numen's arm, and murmured, the whisper lost in the wind to all but the one he intended it for.
Clawed hands dug into the Numen's arm desperately, hoping to convey all he could not. There was still so much he wanted, and needed, to say but which never seemed the right Time for it.
And then the last of his strength was spent.
The grip on his sleeve slackened, as did the Ophidian in his arms.
Jaw clenched, Neiro gently pressed his forehead against that of the serpent's, "I'm sorry, Muspell."
He laid the Seed's body back against the floor, standing up with an unfamiliar weight he could neither identify nor remove. And somehow he didn't want to. Somehow it felt like Muspell was closer that way, yet all the farther away.
In his hands was the Amphisbaena's Ring, clutched tightly in his grasp. Already he could feel Muspell's aether dissipating.
With a heavy heart, he lifted the golden ring, the dragons glinting up at him.
Nigh all of the blood that coated his hands belonged to Muspell and were dense with his aether.
Maybe--
Drawing the incantation in the air, the blood rose and formed an encircling series of runes around the ring, and slowly the dragons uncoiled, tense as they regarded him with skepticism. They could sense his foreign aether beneath that of their master's line, and they snarled at him.
Pulling forth the gold ring within the depths of the pouch, he held them close with withheld breath before offering them up to the Amphisbaena.
For a moment he held his breath, should the dragons reject his offering, it may well destroy itself, and with it the last of Muspell's bound Aether.
With the remnants of the Ophidian's blood, the ring reluctantly accepted the offering and his shell.
Neiro watched the deep red and gold marble into milky pearl, imbuing his own aether into it. Along with it he could sense the familiar warmth of Muspell's within, pulsing softly as if it were still alive.
But no sooner had the shell fully fused, did the serpentine dragons shudder and whisk by in a flash of gold. Their sudden sharp slither as they intertwined sending out a flash, and when it was done the ring was locked as it as before, still and unmoving.
There were no tears, not that the Ophidian had eyes to shed them. But he needn't more than Muspell's voice to know he was crying.
The Heart's Song rose in a lonesome wail.
The Ophidian smiled and leaned up one last Time, supported by the Numen's arm, and murmured, the whisper lost in the wind to all but the one he intended it for.
Clawed hands dug into the Numen's arm desperately, hoping to convey all he could not. There was still so much he wanted, and needed, to say but which never seemed the right Time for it.
And then the last of his strength was spent.
The grip on his sleeve slackened, as did the Ophidian in his arms.
Jaw clenched, Neiro gently pressed his forehead against that of the serpent's, "I'm sorry, Muspell."
He laid the Seed's body back against the floor, standing up with an unfamiliar weight he could neither identify nor remove. And somehow he didn't want to. Somehow it felt like Muspell was closer that way, yet all the farther away.
In his hands was the Amphisbaena's Ring, clutched tightly in his grasp. Already he could feel Muspell's aether dissipating.
With a heavy heart, he lifted the golden ring, the dragons glinting up at him.
Nigh all of the blood that coated his hands belonged to Muspell and were dense with his aether.
Maybe--
Drawing the incantation in the air, the blood rose and formed an encircling series of runes around the ring, and slowly the dragons uncoiled, tense as they regarded him with skepticism. They could sense his foreign aether beneath that of their master's line, and they snarled at him.
Pulling forth the gold ring within the depths of the pouch, he held them close with withheld breath before offering them up to the Amphisbaena.
For a moment he held his breath, should the dragons reject his offering, it may well destroy itself, and with it the last of Muspell's bound Aether.
With the remnants of the Ophidian's blood, the ring reluctantly accepted the offering and his shell.
Neiro watched the deep red and gold marble into milky pearl, imbuing his own aether into it. Along with it he could sense the familiar warmth of Muspell's within, pulsing softly as if it were still alive.
But no sooner had the shell fully fused, did the serpentine dragons shudder and whisk by in a flash of gold. Their sudden sharp slither as they intertwined sending out a flash, and when it was done the ring was locked as it as before, still and unmoving.
But it had suceeded. And within came a soft pulse of their mingling aether, sealed away from the outside world and out of mortal reach, to remain existent in its own pocket of existence.
Neiro clutched the golden ring to his breast, in it was a familiar and faint, but nonetheless existent presence of Muspell's aether contained for as long as the ring itself would be. One that was already becoming nostalgic.
Neiro clutched the golden ring to his breast, in it was a familiar and faint, but nonetheless existent presence of Muspell's aether contained for as long as the ring itself would be. One that was already becoming nostalgic.
The puppet placed the oddly warm ring carefully into the pouch and pocketed it, kneeling beside Muspell once more.
He took in the serene face, a stark contrast with the blood and gore that he had so suffered, before bowing his head low in reverence and speaking softly, "Just as your Life is now mine, is mine now your's."
For however long his existence stretched, would he guard the both of them and do what he had failed to do that day.
And should he fail him again--
Your Life is mine as mine is now your's.
--he would perish and meet his dear friend over the stars.
This would be his promise, their Life forged into one, that he would be ever bound to protect.
He took in the serene face, a stark contrast with the blood and gore that he had so suffered, before bowing his head low in reverence and speaking softly, "Just as your Life is now mine, is mine now your's."
For however long his existence stretched, would he guard the both of them and do what he had failed to do that day.
And should he fail him again--
Your Life is mine as mine is now your's.
This would be his promise, their Life forged into one, that he would be ever bound to protect.
Friday, November 11, 2016
Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Sweet Tooth
Neiro hummed softly as he trudged through the fresh snow. Reaching deep into a pocket on his quilted coat he pulled out a small drawstring pouch, the white sticks and confectionery visible through the organza fabric.
Truth be told he didn't particularly like sweets. They were pleasing to the palate, yet it wasn't the flavor that drew him to the sweets.
He chuckled to himself.
If the others heard, they would surely balk, or wave it off as a jest. Unlike what his friends believed though, Neiro didn't have a penchant for sweets.
Nay, it was something else that drew him to the confections.
But he was content to let them assume.
Truth be told he didn't particularly like sweets. They were pleasing to the palate, yet it wasn't the flavor that drew him to the sweets.
He chuckled to himself.
Nay, it was something else that drew him to the confections.
But he was content to let them assume.
Tuesday, November 1, 2016
Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Mikhail Durant
Name: Mikhail "Mikh" Durant
Profile
Species: Barghest ("Black Dog")
Profile
Species: Barghest ("Black Dog")
- hair: charcoal, dark brown, peppered
- eyes: sanguine amber
- height: 6' 10"
Personality: Reserved and very traditionally polite (clipped, to the point in interactions), ironically comes off as impolite to those ignorant to clipped haste of the noble houses. Very loyal and steadfast with a slight paternal touch. Efficient and very familiar with having to "make do" with what he has. Somehow manages to get everything done. Dislikes leisurely Time unless it is Time spent with the household.
Dress Style: sleek, impeccable black suit, gloves, and polished shoes.
Quirks: Always carries a handkerchief and pocket watch despite having superior devices, has a hollow and husky voice and doesn't speak often and choosing to speak in low tones due to its harshness.
Background: Once carrying the proud title of House Steward for the Canterbury family, and the only bloodline he would acknowledge and remain loyal to, he now searches for the two sole descendants of which were lost to him during a long and far reaching travel per request of the previous master of the house. When he came back to the remnants of the House fallen to ruin, he vowed to find the two successors he had so lovingly cared for. What he didn't anticipate was Ken's, at best, faint recollection, and Esti's deep sown resentment for his disappearance. His travels were done at the utmost secrecy as an investigation to uncover those who would undermine House Canterbury. Unfortunately, while he was away, the perpetrators brought about an "accident" that stole the lives of the House, leaving only young Esti and a comatose Ken. He is reluctant to reveal the nature of his journey to Esti, whom he does not wish to sully with such matters. After his reappearance before Esti, he still works out of her sight to see to the undoing of those who had brought the House low.
Analysis: Mikhail is beholden to an early ancestor of the Canterbury line, of whose blood runs thick with that of the Veil, and in return, has since served, and protected, the line of Canterbury. So deep is the loyalty so known to the Black Dogs that he has continued to serve the Family long after his Master's passing.
Quirks: Always carries a handkerchief and pocket watch despite having superior devices, has a hollow and husky voice and doesn't speak often and choosing to speak in low tones due to its harshness.
Background: Once carrying the proud title of House Steward for the Canterbury family, and the only bloodline he would acknowledge and remain loyal to, he now searches for the two sole descendants of which were lost to him during a long and far reaching travel per request of the previous master of the house. When he came back to the remnants of the House fallen to ruin, he vowed to find the two successors he had so lovingly cared for. What he didn't anticipate was Ken's, at best, faint recollection, and Esti's deep sown resentment for his disappearance. His travels were done at the utmost secrecy as an investigation to uncover those who would undermine House Canterbury. Unfortunately, while he was away, the perpetrators brought about an "accident" that stole the lives of the House, leaving only young Esti and a comatose Ken. He is reluctant to reveal the nature of his journey to Esti, whom he does not wish to sully with such matters. After his reappearance before Esti, he still works out of her sight to see to the undoing of those who had brought the House low.
Analysis: Mikhail is beholden to an early ancestor of the Canterbury line, of whose blood runs thick with that of the Veil, and in return, has since served, and protected, the line of Canterbury. So deep is the loyalty so known to the Black Dogs that he has continued to serve the Family long after his Master's passing.
Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Black Dog (3 of 4)
"Hey?"
He looked up from the clock face, snapping the watch shut and pocketing it, all the while putting up a show of surprise for the small and oddly greying boy that had been with his lady not a couple turns of the hand ago, "May I help you?"
Large mismatched eyes scanned him with earnest curiosity, "Are you Mikhail?"
He looked up from the clock face, snapping the watch shut and pocketing it, all the while putting up a show of surprise for the small and oddly greying boy that had been with his lady not a couple turns of the hand ago, "May I help you?"
Large mismatched eyes scanned him with earnest curiosity, "Are you Mikhail?"
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