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Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
Post by Ichabod Afof on Nov 22, 2017 18:41:13 GMT -7
He had lost them.
He had lost them.
Solana's creations had been in the tunnels when he had left to the Vanros estate that morning, but by the time he had returned from the Rothchild manor they were gone.
There were traces of them left behind, and whole parts of some. The tunnels were heavily trapped, and the vampire fledglings were still far too monstrous and blood-starved to worry over traps. He found four of them dead, a gruesome trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. One had been pierced head to toe with arrows, another two immolated in flame, and the fourth was crushed in a falling portcullis. Dead, dead, dead, dead. And the others... Gone. Possibly dead.
Mother would not stop yelling, cursing, screaming in his mind as he attempted to trace their movements. He couldn't blame her, no matter how weak it made him feel. These were just as important, if not more important, than Vanros and Rothchild. They were to help him break Veira's seal, a seal that Mother did not think he could destroy any other way. There were still six alive. If he found them, he could make more when Solana returned.
But he needed to find them, and quickly.
He broke back into the cold winter night carrying a lantern, exiting through a tunnel that would lead him to the center of Dimant. It was the square he had first encountered Ophelia, the square where he and Solana had caused chaos. He hadn't been there since, but it was where the messy trail had lead him.
The night was eerily silent this late, particularly due to the snowstorm that had brewed while he was below. If Ichabod could have felt cold, he certainly would have been shivering, instead he just felt the discomfort of wind whipping his face and the annoyance of snow covering up the trail that might have been.
He recalled Solana then, her warnings to him before she left to Aissic -- "If you remember one thing, remember this: they’re dangerous when they’re bored." Ironic how the night he had lapsed on this instruction was the night Dirys would appear like the land of arctic chill, less ironic how he had simply not cared up until now: the moment the fledglings were loose. Hell, he had been to Muerte and back since. Perhaps he had decided she was exaggerating. Perhaps today was the spindliest straw breaking the strongest of spines.
Damn, he felt like an idiot. It wouldn't have been hard to keep them in line, his blood did it well enough. He had stopped caring, and he had every excuse, though none mattered. He was too focused on Mother's seal, and how close they were coming to breaking it. He was too focused on gently manipulating Claudius Rothchild without becoming succumbed by him. He was too focused on learning about Zota Vanros' expedition to the jewel shore.
If this proved one thing, it was this: Ichabod was not a man of many tasks. Which would make it all the less fortunate that tonight, in these cold and empty streets, he would next encounter Ophelia Rothchild.
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Nov 23, 2017 10:23:03 GMT -7
It had been a long enough time since she had lost Ichabod to Claudius that Ophelia should have given up on her thoughts of him, and yet, she had just obsessed even more, which may have had something to do with the way he was so often around her home. They would sit by the fire and talk for hours, and Claudius would insist Ichabod remain over night, and Ichabod would always refuse, and Ophelia would always listen to them all. A part of her liked to imagine that Ichabod refused to stay with Claudius because he wanted her instead, but she knew it was an extremely silly thought, if he had wanted her... Well, he wouldn't have been avoiding her so much, he would meet her gaze across the meal table when he joined them for dinner, or would see her across the snowy court when Claudius walked with the bard outside.
Claudius called him by another name, not Ichabod, and perhaps that was why Ophelia had become so obsessed that there was something still between them. She did not allow herself to think that he had lied to her, and instead believed he was lying to Claudius. Perhaps it was because on some instinct, she knew he was lying about SOMETHING and his name was certainly one of them, no matter who it was he had lied to between them.
This instinct was what had drawn her to follow him, not just tonight, but over the last several nights. He would leave in the dead of night, long after Ophelia was already expected to be in her bed, she would climb out her window, it was on the main floor, so the climb was hardly 6 feet, and attempt to track him. The first night, she didn't get out of the window in time, and he was long gone, and the second night she only managed to get to the edge of the grounds before he turned a corner and was gone. It was 2 nights ago that she finally managed to get far enough to see where he went, and it was a surprise, honestly, because he entered some tunnels she had not known were there. She followed him in the first night, but when she almost got caught under a falling portcullis trap she knew it was not safe.
The next night, she waited near the tunnel entrance, and followed more closely behind him, so curious about who he really was and where he was really going. He would turn off the traps, which let her follow behind before he turned them back on. How he didn't notice he was hard to say, because although she used her illusions to hide, she was rarely any good at copying the walls behind her. It was dark, she supposed, and as she masked the sounds of her steps she figured that must have been good enough. She lost him that night, too, behind a quick and darkened corner, but at least she knew now how to disarm some of the traps to get back home.
After that, she had decided to go during the evening, when he first arrived at their home, explaining to the servant that she could no longer bear to listen to her husband with the strange bard each night, and so she would take a walk through the cold streets. One would follow her, certainly, but she had proven time and time again her loyalty to Claudius, so they often had little to fear. As she entered the tunnels that night, she wondered if the spy that followed her would die in one of the traps, and was horrified by the thought, reconsidering going in at all, but then she felt a small wink of righteousness at the idea, and continued on. It would serve them right for following her, for not permitting her even the smallest amount of privacy.
She had been right about them dying, it turned out, she heard the call for help and her heart rose up her throat in panic, she let go of the righteous vengeance she felt and turned to go and save him... But that was when she saw them, or rather, the shadows of them. More shadows than she could count passed by a tunnel behind her, towards the sound of the spy crying out (it was Rosen, wasn't it?), and then she heard a far worse cry, a scream that chilled her blood, and didn't die out, and she was afraid, and so she ran.
She ran through the tunnels, trying to remember the traps but soon finding herself completely lost in the darkness and her fear, she was certain she was going to die, but then she found it, a door at the end of one of the tunnels, just beyond the pit she had nearly fallen into, a door that felt cold to the touch and told her that the safe streets were just beyond it, and so she pushed on it with all her might, and it budged enough to let her slip out behind a market stall and... And she was near the fountain. The place she had first met Ichabod, or whoever he was, and she immediately wondered if he had been watching her. She came here almost every day to see him again, but she hadn't, but if he had been watching from here?
She decided then that she stay at the fountain that night, no matter the snow and the cold and the dark, no matter the things in the tunnels that had frightened her, tonight she had decided she would stay and see if he came. Even as a snowstorm brewed and the streets emptied entirely, she stayed, just huddled under a market stall with her wools and furs and scarves piled around her head to keep warm. She stayed, and decided that she would die by snowstorm before she gave up on the ideas that Ichabod had filled her with...
And then she saw him, emerging from the same place she had many hours ago, and her heart began to soar, thinking he had done this for her, but then he did not stop at the fountain, he went off some other direction. Was he not looking for her? Then what in the world was he doing? And why wasn't he looking for her? He had made it seem he was forlorn with her, and he had told that story of the bird in the cage and given her that note about the same and even though he had ignored her at her home with Claudius it was only because he could not show her with him around, and, and, and... She was angry!
"Ichabod!" She screamed, her voice was definitely tinged in fury, stomping through the snow towards his lantern, not giving a care for the way snow filled her boots on each step, "Ichabod! Stop!"
Post by Ichabod Afof on Nov 23, 2017 12:36:11 GMT -7
He stopped as he heard the voice break through the ambience of wind and the light hum from his lantern, and held in a sigh. Of course. He didn’t have time for Ophelia Rothchild now, particularly not as he assumed she would act, and so why would she not suddenly appear? It was only the dark of night, during a snowstorm, when she was the type to be locked up in her room against her will. How would she not be here? He could have laughed at the situation.
Still, as important as Veira’s seal was, as important as finding the fledglings was, he could not lose both seals in one night. Which meant, he needed to use this as an opportunity to further massage the Rothchilds into position. He softened his features, and turned around to see the girl stomping through the snow towards him; he reached out a hand to meet her arm as she bumbled in front of him, and shook his head in confusion. "Madame Rothchild… What in the world… Where are your keepers?"
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Nov 28, 2017 11:24:06 GMT -7
She must have been either extremely touch-starved or extremely cold, or both, because when his fingers touched her heavily clothed arm she felt a chill run through her body and a heat pool in her stomach. He seemed concerned, truly concerned, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was following him out here in the darkness or if it was because he cared about her or if it was because he cared about Claudius. She could not let the connection he was building make her forget about how he had been toying with her.
"Gone, somewhere in the tunnels… Dead maybe," Perhaps it was callous to be so flippant, but she didn’t care about Claudius’ hired help now, "Why have you tricked me? Why did you write me that note, and why did you kiss him, and kiss him and--" She felt tears prick her eyes and then burn down her cheeks, their warmth far too much for how icy her skin was, "Have you no heart?"
Post by Ichabod Afof on Nov 29, 2017 14:01:16 GMT -7
She was strange, Ophelia. She had followed him into tunnels, surpassed deadly traps, and all of it was done to... To confront him about her heartache? He wanted to laugh, and in fact: That's just what he did.
It was a chuckle of pure joy. A twisted joy - Ichabod was a demon, of course - but it was not menacing. He was flat-out entertained. She was a character in a child's storybook, her actions so massively out of proportion to reality. If there was a way for him to enjoy a human, this was it. And so, that was all he gave her. Laughter.
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Nov 30, 2017 11:48:44 GMT -7
He was LAUGHING at her? He had torn her heart out, stomped on it, left it laying in the dirt, and now that she had come to tell him of that pain he was laughing at it? She could not believe that at one point she had fantasized about this man and his kindness, because now all she could think of was his cruelty.
"You dare laugh at my pain?" She shouted, her anger bubbling out of her like a pot of water on the stove, sizzling onto the element, she imagined hitting him, she imagining the pain she could cause by slapping him in his stupid face. It would sting, it would burn, it would hurt him so badly that he would not be able to speak for a moment, let alone laugh.
She did not have it in her to slap him, however, which is why she was shocked when the sound happened, SLAP! A pink mark like a hand formed on his face, but she had not moved herself, her hands were still balled it fists at her side, and there was no one else around, but then she caught sight of the small wisps of orange in the air between them, the small traces of her own magic that she could see. She had made an illusion without even thinking it, sound, sight... And pain, she had caused pain.
Post by Ichabod Afof on Dec 1, 2017 9:12:44 GMT -7
When pain filled his cheek, his laughter stopped. He looked at her -- she hadn’t moved; he looked around -- they were alone. His hand had raised to his cheek without a thought, and it felt warm. He had been stone for so long that such physicality was like a fleeting touch, and yet this... This was pain. Real pain.
AN ILLUSION, his Mother supplied, INTERESTING.
Ophelia was suddenly all the more interesting, all the more useful to him and Mother now. In fact, he might even think she was more useful than her husband. If she could make him feel pain that wasn’t there, what else could she do? He put aside his concern for his children for a moment, and decided Ophelia was worth his time, after all.
His shock turned to a smile then. His hand lowered, and he stepped in towards her, snow crunching underfoot the only sound to pierce this fresh silence. He thought of what she would want him to do right now, what would be the way to win her appreciation, her loyalty for another few weeks while he continued his work? By what method could he best control her?
He reached forward, taking her cheek with his hand and slipping his fingers around her ear and into her hair. His touch was gentle, not the urgent force he often used when he touched. "Ophelia, Ophelia... I do not wish to ever hurt you. I do what I do with your husband for you, little bird. Have you not noticed it? Your leash has been lax. And he... If he can finally give in to my demands of him, do you not see how that would free you?" He paused for a moment, examining her face as if he actually cared about what it looked like, then he continued: "Am I wrong? Is that not what you desire?"
Last Edit: Dec 1, 2017 9:12:59 GMT -7 by Ichabod Afof
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Dec 4, 2017 9:57:32 GMT -7
There were two sides in Ophelia's mind who were completely united in this moment. They both told her not to trust Ichabod, they told her that he was manipulating her, manipulating Claudius, that there was something WRONG here and she needed to go home. She couldn't listen to them now, though, not with his hand finally on her - for the FIRST TIME - and the way his eyes wandered across her face, the way he actually looked at her, it made her heart flutter, her stomach do somersaults, and lungs feel shallow. He was a beautiful man, Ichabod, and he smelled of fresh soil even in the snow, a reminder of warmer times. He was beautiful, and his eyes were bright green like a verdant forest in Liesdro, not here in the midst of industrial hell. He was the most beautiful thing she had seen since her days of school, and his hand felt so connected to her cheek that she pressed it into him and closed her eyes and let her heart pound with the thoughts of this being her real life. Of a man giving her a touch like this where she could respond to it... But this life existed only here, only in the darkness.
Unless he could do what he promised, convince Claudius to come out of the closet, be open, leave her, no, free her. If Ichabod could free her... Was he really doing this all for her? Was he trying to get Claudius to open her cage so that Ichabod could have her? She wanted it with all her heart, she imagined walking with him in this very square in the bright of day, hands intertwined and smiles on their faces as they spoke of simple things. She envisioning curling with him in the grass and reading poetry before making love before the sun and the trees and the gods. She wondered if Errance had indeed heard her many pleas, and Ichabod was the answer to them.
She did not care what her mind suggested about Ichabod lying to her. She cared how her everything else reacted to his touch.
"It is," She finally answered, her own hand daring to reach out and grasp the edges of his coat to pull him the smallest bit closer, "It is what I want, but not if I lose you to him. I don't want freedom as much as I want you, Ichabod."
Post by Ichabod Afof on Dec 7, 2017 15:30:46 GMT -7
DEAR ME, SHE IS PATHETIC. I COMPREHEND NOW WHY I CANNOT SENSE HER. HER MEEKNESS IS A SHIELD OF INVISIBILITY. SHE DOES NOT DESIRE WHAT I OFFER... AND YET--
She did desire what Ichabod could offer. He wanted to laugh again, to chuckle, to exalt in this most hilarious of discoveries... But while she was meek, she wasn't downright stupid. Just... Desperate. She had only met him perhaps a month ago, and she was already so attached that she would risk her hide to follow him, that she would dangle herself before his cannibalistic maw without a second thought. It was almost too easy for him. Damn, it would be too easy for him if he merely wanted a kill. The only thing that was saving Ophelia's life was the fact that she had a use. She could aid in Mother's seal, and in others, and if he could keep her on his string he was certain she would be an invaluable as Solana had. All she needed was a more dishonest hand.
"You will not lose me to him," He told her, encouragement lining his vowels with a slick, and sickeningly sweet trim. He stooped somewhat as he told her this, his other hand reaching up to cup her face on it's other side, his eyes meeting her's and attempting to look what mortals called "reassuring". "You cannot lose me to him, because I care not of him. I care about unbinding your shackles and lightening your load, I care of securing your hand outside of his-- I care..." He leaned in towards her, tip of his nose brushing her's. He considering gifting her a touch of his hunger, but she was already so hungry.
His lips were so near her's, and it took his every power to avoid disgust. It reminded him of that moment Solana stole from him, reminded him of what she wanted - what Ophelia wanted. Why were mortals so obsessed with connections such as this? He couldn't understand, and as he thought about it, teasing what this pathetic mortal wanted--
A scream. Not too distant, but not close. Blood-curdling. And then silenced. He was immediately reminded of the reason he was truly out here in the darkness. The children. He pulled away from Ophelia and turned to the direction of the sound, trying to pinpoint where the hunger might have been driven.
Last Edit: Dec 7, 2017 15:30:58 GMT -7 by Ichabod Afof
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Dec 12, 2017 9:51:15 GMT -7
Everything slowed in pace. Ichabod was saying things that were reassuring, she assumed, but she did not hear them over the pounding of her heart and the touch of his fingers. How many years had it been? How LONG had it been? More than 12. More than 12 years since she had been touched this way, with soft hands on her face and longing in the air between her and the object of her affection. She had created illusions for herself to try to recreate the touches of her youth just like this one, but feeling it now, they were nothing like reality.
Her own hands reached up and gripped into the collar of his shirt, and her eyes fell from his and down to his lips which were just moments away from her’s. A kiss was something she had imagined time and time again, something she had wanted to have after tasting it in her youth, it was one of the privileges of life stolen from her by her husband. She needed to feel it again… But then a scream stopped him where it didn’t stop her. But there was something that had changed in him. It wasn’t just a scream to him, not just a fright. "Ichabod? What’s wrong?"
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