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Kiran

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Posts posted by Kiran


  1. Vogel | Morning | Marketplace

     

    Vogel felt his heart sink as he was dragged back into hell. He tugged lightly against Ciel's arm, but quickly saw that the effort was futile. Letting his shoulders droop, he drew his wings tightly against his back in resignation. What had he done to deserve this?

     

    "The pleasure is all mine," he responded dryly. Honestly, the only part that surprised him about Ciel's speech was that he had had time for breaking three ribs among his many other exploits (which he had delighted in telling him about). It was nice to know how the baker had gotten that hole in her roof, at least. That had been a mystery that Vogel had never found time to ask about.

     

    Hector was someone that he had heard about, though they had only met briefly. He could only hope that she would choose to help him. She was good at helping people, right? Vogel glanced towards her, trying his best "please rescue me" face. He was out of practice, unfortunately, and was pretty sure that he only managed "terrified". It'd have to do.

     

    "Pale? Surely not. Why would I be pale? It's not like you're going to get me arrested - again - or anything like that." He gave a nervous chuckle and tried to pull away again, hoping that Ciel's grip had maybe loosened. It had not.

     

    "Nice to meet you again, Hector. Now I should really..." be getting home soon. Had he left the window open? He had, hadn't he? Lovely. Grimalkin always escaped for a day or two when she was angry, and she'd really be angry if he was arrested before feeding her.

     

    "Good to see you again, but I really must get going, you understand? I'm very, ah, busy. What with all of the, uh, reading and note taking I need to do. Very important. Goodbye."

     

    He gave an internal sigh. It was going to be a long day.


  2. Vogel | Morning | Marketplace

    It'd been two weeks since the last time he had left his house, and Grimalkin had started to get quite displeased with him.

     

    It hadn't been so bad. The food had lasted until two days ago, though he had grown tired of canned beans towards the end of it. The paper had run short, and he'd been left scrabbling around the house for a clean corner or an empty page margin. Still, it had been the disappearance of the last of the cat food, two hours ago, that had finally forced him to leave. He'd managed to endure nearly an hour of Grimalkin's staring, but eventually he couldn't stand the her sad eyes or the irregular pawing at his face.

     

    He allowed himself a light smile as he pulled the towel away from his face to examine it. Grimalkin is so adorable, isn't she? he thought. The once white towel had a small spot of red on it, but the bleeding had probably stopped. Good; his arm had been starting to get tired.

     

    Being momentarily distracted by the thoughts about his cat, Vogel missed where he was going. Later, he would blame the lack of food for his fatal error.

     

    In any case, Vogel made a quite yelp of surprise, half-flared his wings out, and took a step backwards in reaction to walking right into someone's back. "Oh, sorry-"

     

    Oh gods, it was him.

     

    It wasn't difficult to recognize the man that stood before him. His dark eye and silver hair were quite distinctive, and that was without how he'd had plenty of time to memorize the man's beautiful face while spending the night in a jail cell with him.

     

    Ciel.

     

    Abruptly, he spun on one heel and began walking in the opposite direction. Nope, nope, he wasn't dealing with that. Not after the last time. Vogel hadn't noticed it before, but it seemed as though the area was louder than the normal din of the marketplace. That wasn't a surprise, if he was nearby, and was all the more reason to leave.

     

    He didn't get more than a few steps before he stopped again. The closest path to the cat food (and the best paper in town) was in the other direction. Hm. Quite the dilemma, it seemed.


  3. Ah, however I neglected to say this before. There's no scientists on Avi. They use a magic and science combination that is alchemy, however alchemists are extremely rare, and very difficult for magic was lost to the avi peoples five hundred years prior after the Great War split the once unified people. He may study the mathematical and physical part of alchemy, however things will not work properly or would backfire without the use of magic.

    I'm not quite sure understand what you're saying, sorry. When you say that there's no scientists, why would that be the case? Science is simply trying to find out how things work through experimentation, and would be necessary for the technology shown (like forging metal tools and armor).

     

    Regardless, I don't envision him having much to do with alchemy or magic. I was thinking more mathematics, physics, anatomy, maybe some heredity- stuff focused around the variation and function of wings.

     

    Anyway, here's my sheet; it's mostly just the old one with some slight edits.

     

    Username: Backup77

    Name: Vogel Avem

    Age: 24

    Gender: Male

    Ground or Sky: Ground

    Class/occupation: Scientist (Physics, some biology)

    Dark Wing supporter: He’d prefer to focus on his work, but he’d rather they win over the alternative.

    Appearance: Vogel has straight, messy black hair that reaches slightly past his ears. His eyes are a deep brown, and switch between flickering around and staring off into space. His skin is light brown. He has a lithe build, and is 5’8”. It’s common for him to forget to wash splashes of ink off of his face or leave notes and doodles across his arms and hands.

    Personality: Vogel shows an intent focus towards things that he is interested in, but is otherwise scatterbrained and disorganized. He frequently forgets to eat because he’s too busy researching. While he might not be completely apathetic to the world around him, it can seem that way when his only response to learning about a war is to worry about his books getting damaged. He often stares off into space mid-conversation, fidgeting with his feathers.

    Wing appearance: Vogel’s wings are short and rounded, and his wingspan is fifteen feet. The feathers are white, with black edges, like a Sebright chicken’s. Out of habit, he keeps they carefully cleaned.

    History: Vogel was born and educated as a skyling. He was particularly interested in everything about wings- how they developed, why there were so many different kinds, how Avians could fly when all mathematical models suggested that doing so should be impossible. Though the bright patterns on his wings gave him time, when he was seventeen he realized that he wasn’t safe in the sky. Without so much as a note, he packed up all of his books and equipment (as well as some stuff that wasn’t his) and jumped.

    As he couldn’t fly properly and was weighed down, he hit the ground hard. Fortunately, he managed to avoid breaking any bones. There on the ground, he managed to find spare work as a scribe, and continued his research when he could.

    Skills: Mathematics, physics, anatomy (wings, shoulder joints, upper torso), and wing genetics.

    War or peace: Conflicted. War would be a disturbance, but an interesting one.


  4. Thanks guys, I appreciate you offering to sacrifice your characters. Glad it didn't have to come to that, I wouldn't have wanted your charries to be cut out. Thanks for letting me in, Arorara; I'll go find his sheet/edit it in a minute.


  5. Midnight let a soft growl rise in his throat. The pack needed a new Beta, that much was true, but what was Peregrine thinking? One couldn't just go around promoting the first wolf they laid eyes on! What reason was there to promote Eclipse instead of one of the Hunters? Surely, they would be better suited to such an important task. Truly, this had to be the beginning of the end of the pack. Weak leadership led to the entire pack being weakened, and that would lead to the death of them all.

     

    He lowered his head, flattened his ears, and struggled to keep his teeth concealed. Without so much as a congratulations, he turned from the scene and stalked away. Perhaps he could find his brother. Soon he found him, appearing to be following a scent. Not hearing or seeing anything too close, he bounded to catch up. "Finding something? Honestly, can you believe Peregrine? We'll all fall with this decision; she's dragging us all down into the abyss with her."


  6. Name- Midnight

    Gender- Male.

    Crush- Nah, not at the moment.

    Appearance- Midnight has a coat of pure black, and eyes of deepest red. When one stares into them, they can see the sadness buried in his very soul. Similarly to his brother, his fur always stands on end. He is slightly smaller and shorter than him, and has a long, feathery tail.

    Mate- No.

    Personality- He introverted, tending to spend long nights staring at the stars alone. Prone to spouting long monologues about the deep sorrow that fills the world, he isn't very cheerful or fun to be around. Still, he seems to have a sort of soft spot for his brother- despite frequently insulting Noon, he hardly leaves his side (excepting his nightly stargazing sessions) and is fiercely protective of him if anyone else bothers him. He claims to be motivated by 'vengeance', though no one is quite sure who exactly against or why.

    Pups- No.

    Pack- Blizzard

    Rank- Guard

    Age- 3

    Other- N/A


  7. Vogel was quite bemused by how protective the boy seemed over his guitar, but then, he of all people couldn't judge. Mostly, it was strange that the boy was complaining about the possibility of anyone taking it when he had shoved it into a stranger's hands, but oh well. People frequently justified their decisions in irrational manner.

     

    On the plus side, the boy didn't seem so convinced that he was a shady, radical murderer anymore! He hadn't admitted that he was wrong, but his reaction was close enough for it to count as a sort-of apology. Vogel was making progress with him, though he wasn't sure what for. Silently, he thought that the boy's coffee order probably cost more than his guitar had.

     

    Vogel nodded. Being a student at twenty-two was normal, right? He grinned as he answered the question that followed. Someone other than a classmate was interested in his studies? "Marine biology, technically, but practically a huge portion of it's been shifted to sapient sea life recently. Especially with a coastal city like here- you wouldn't believe all of the breakthroughs we've been making."

     

    He stared at a bird in the distance. "Like, I wonder if this is how it feels, to discover a new island filled with unknown animals? But it's all right there, and always has been. Humans, they just didn't realize it until now. It's like, everyone living here is a part of history, you feel?"

     

    Too late, he realized that he had talked a bit more then intended when he had to stop to catch his breath. "Ah, sorry about that," he said, turning his gaze downwards.

     

    "Don't worry about it; I think nothing's broken. Unless the ink... hopefully nothing's broken. It looked fine, anyway. It doesn't matter; how did you do that? It was amazing- your power? Wait, your guitar- tell me about it later, yeah?"

     

    Villads left, and Vogel addressed the silent boy. "To the coffee shop, then?" He hoped the boy actually wanted coffee- truth be told, he hadn't been paying as much attention to him. Villads had been a more pressing concern, what with the thievery and accusations and ridiculous coffee orders.


  8. "What'd you expect? You shoved it into my hands and ran off with my backpack!" Clearly, the boy hadn't thought things through. He seemed to care far more about the guitar than the bag. Perhaps it had been some kind of reaction to the disorientation of being awoken on a park bench with cold water to the face? It would explain some things, though Vogel preferred being punched.

     

    He honestly didn't understand what the man was talking about. Which radicals? As far as he knew, there were several different radical groups, like the "harmony with nature" and the "kill them all" ones. "No! I'm not a radical, I think, I actually don't know what you mean and a definition would be really nice. There's nothing shady, as so far as I am aware." He wondered if claiming to be an orphan who lost all of their birth records in a tragic, cliche fire counted as 'shady'. Oh well. The boy didn't need to know that.

     

    "It's... just an ordinary rock?" He cringed and looked away. "Yeah, sorry, that one was bad. Forget I said anything about heirlooms. I panicked?" As the implication of 'selling you' sunk in, his eyes widened. He forced them to relax; it was just a normal figure of speech. The man had no way of knowing, and the thievery was just a coincidence.

     

    "You tell me; you're the one that took them. Yes, I'm a student, I'm, ah, twenty-two," he was pretty sure that was what the official documents said now- as long as he hadn't had a birthday recently. "What? No, how would I be able to afford wine cellar if I'm a student, or have time to read, uh, he's some kind of philosopher, right? How old are you? I'm Vogel, by the way, if this is going to be some kind of introduction."

     

    Taking a breath, he paused to give the other boy some attention. He looked somewhat confused and frightened, and was doing something with his hands. Oh, it was probably a sign language, given that he hadn't heard the boy speak. More evidence that he should have taken that class. "Sorry, I can't- I should have some paper in my bag, if that'll help. Ah. No writing utensils, though." He didn't really need pens, and not having any worked pretty well to keep people from asking to borrow them. "Sorry about that."

     

    Vogel felt his eyes glazing over as the boy listed his coffee order. He didn't even realize some of those qualifiers existed, and he wasn't a stranger to coffee. "Ah. Would you mind repeating that?"

     

    He shrieked slightly as his bag was thrown over his head and across the crosswalk. Barely waiting for a car to pass, he rushed across the street. As soon as he reached it, he pulled open the zipper and thrust his hand underneath the books. He sighed in relief. It was completely irrational, he knew. There would have been no chance for it to even be opened since he'd last had it. Still, it was reassuring to be holding his bag again. Holding it too his chest instead of putting it on, he stood up and walked back across the street far more carefully than he had. "Okay. Thanks, I suppose. You get your guitar, and us three will meet in that Starbucks there, yeah? Oh!" He pulled a thick notebook out of his bag, flipped to a page that wasn't covered in diagrams of respiratory systems, and held it out to the second boy. "In case you manage to find a pen, if you want it?"


  9. Vogel nearly smashed into the boy when he suddenly stopped. As it was, he almost fell over forwards with the force of his momentum. It took him a moment to turn the boy's question over in his head- he'd been so focused on the bag. "Gui-? The bench! I wasn't going to risk dropping it!" Besides, it had been awkward to carry. What, did he think he was just going to drag it around?

     

    "What!? No! I just." He paused. Well, the boy wasn't entirely wrong. "I mean, most of that isn't true. I don't have a shrine. Probably? How is-" He broke off mid-sentence, thinking and biting his lower lip. Being creepy actually did make sense as a power- perhaps as some sort of emotional aura? Not important.

     

    "Look, please, I really need that bag back. The library fees will be nasty, I've got notes, uh, and I think some precious family heirlooms of great personal significance but little value to a stranger." Next time he had the chance, he'd have to work on a better explanation. Really, it would have sounded much better without the last bit.

     

    His phone vibrated as a reminder and he glanced down, swiping his thumb in a pattern to unlock it. "Sorry," he mumbled belatedly. His face lit up as he read the message, worries about his backpack momentarily forgotten. Grinning, he looked back at the boy. "They captured a mermaid, and preliminary analysis indicates that it's lower half is some kind of undiscovered deep-sea oarfish! My class gets to partake in the study!" As soon as he finished speaking, he bit his tongue. It probably wasn't the best thing to blurt out right after being accused of being a shrine-building murderer. It was just that the opportunities that they'd have from this would be incredible- more mermaid physiology, a new species, chemical analysis, maybe even swimming physics among other stuff.

     

    "Okay, uh, how about I buy you coffee and lunch, and you give my bag back? If you want my notes I'll copy them for you, it's just quite important that I have them back at all. And, uh," he turned to address the newcomer. "I'll buy you coffee too, just don't tell Research Team Echo that we're getting the oarfish. Don't tell the anyone else either, actually. Think of it like a bribe for your silence, I guess?"


  10. I'm sorry, perhaps I didn't explain what I was saying about the gills well enough. What I meant was, for gills to work properly there needs to be and inflow opening and an outflow opening. In fish, this would be the mouth and the gill slits. Gills inside a nose would be much more inefficient, because the water would have to enter and exit from the same point.


  11. Aroara, may I ask for some size clarification, like a length or weight? I don't know what kind of ship is meant by his description, and Arkhesis sounds quite large already. I'm also having trouble understanding how he could have a set of gills in his nose. Gills require water to flow in one direction, unlike lungs. Sorry for the nitpicking, I'm just having trouble visualizing the physics of everything (not that the physics need to make perfect sense, given the magic and all).


  12. That went surprisingly well, if he was honest. The last time he had squirted someone in the face he'd nearly been punched.

     

    Oh, did the boy think he'd been trying to start a fight? To be fair, it wasn't an entirely unreasonable reaction, but really, there was no need for that. "Uh, no, not really. I'm Vo-" He blinked and stared down at the guitar that had suddenly appeared in his hands.

     

    His backpack was gone.

     

    Slowly, he placed the guitar on the bench and took a step back before sprinting in the direction that he had seen the man flee. As he ran, he reached up to his ink bottle necklace out of habit and felt curses scrawl themselves under his sleeves. His thoughts seemed to be stuck on 'screaming'- he'd never been so careless as to allow his bag to get stolen. What if the boy got away with it? [i[Why[/i] had he stolen it in the first place? He didn't even know him! Fortunately, Vogel was faster, as he wasn't weighed down by anything. Unless the man took a corner and managed to lose him, he'd be able to catch up soon enough. Hopefully. It wasn't much of a comfort.


  13. Vogel shifted the straps of his backpack and raised a hand to block the sun. It was painfully bright outside. On the upside, he knew that it wasn't the middle of the night and he shouldn't go back to sleep. Twelve-hour clocks could be so unclear sometimes. He suppressed a yawn and continued walking. He could have just gotten coffee from the machine in his dorm, but the café near the park made much better muffins than he could. There was almost two hours before classes or work started, anyway.

     

    His phone buzzed in his pocket, playing the cheery ping that signified an announcement related to any research on sea creatures. His heart jumped in anticipation, and he searched around for a place to sit while checking his phone. The nearest bench was occupied. The man had clearly been recently unconscious, as Vogel was fairly sure that no one found such a position a comfortable way to sit. His hair was pink, his eyes were green, and he was holding a seashell.

     

    It was worth a shot. At the very least, it would get the man to move and free up some space on the bench.

     

    Approaching the man, he pulled out his water pistol, took aim, and fired at the man's face. When he didn't grow scales, Vogel shrugged and began to take off his backpack in preparation for sitting down.


  14. Eron's gonna get some action! I'd first like him to encounter Cyrille while walking down the street though. Someone else with a great motivation. biggrin.gif

     

    I do wonder, does Cyrille know who Eron is? It'd be pretty funny to have her being all hype for meeting one of the best knights in the king's army. xd.png

    Well, right now she's at the library for her interaction with Nadia and Elis; not sure how long that'll take. It might be awhile before she's walking along the street again, but if you can find a way for them to meet I don't mind.

     

    I suppose she could know of him or have met him (depends how large the army is, I guess?), but I don't think she'd be all hype, sorry. Hard to say without writing the interaction, but it's more likely she'd go with a dramatic "Good day to you, esteemed knight!".


  15. Mid Morning, Vogel's House

    It wasn't much of an explanation, but there was no point in taking a risk. It wasn't the most scandalous information, but if the other villagers found out that he had been a skyling... no. He'd be out of business, at the very least. It wasn't like he relied on being a scribe, but the money would run out sooner or later if he didn't replenish it. That was the best-case scenario, and he really didn't want to move.

     

    Vogel gave a short laugh. "If you've been following me, as you've said, you know I can't go to the authorities." He stretched a wing out and began running his fingers over a section, not taking his eyes off the man. The habitual movements were calming, though not as much as he would have liked.

     

    "So? What do you want from me? I doubt you'd go to that much trouble for a few trinkets." Was he working for someone? Looking for information? Kidnapping him for some Dark Wing plot? It could be anything, really. "Would my thief be so kind as to tell me his name?" He didn't attempt to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, nor did he much expect to be told an answer. Still, it was a chance at being able to call the man something other than 'the intruder'.

     

     

    Early Noon, Library

    Cyrille nodded. "'Tis truly a sight, seeing it rise up over the eastern hills. Why, did you see way the clouds were died purple this morning? I doubt I shall ever grow tired of it."

     

    "What, me? Of course! Don't you know, I make it a part of my routine to slay a dracon each morning. The most knightly of actions, really." She paused as Elis spoke, before switching back to a more serious voice. "Indeed. I do hope our visit pleases her."

     

    "I could say similar things about you, friend- it has always amazed me, how you can express such things through music or project a scene onto paper. I have tried, yet never had the time or talent. It seems as though we all have different skills, no?" She gave a few flaps of her wings, careful not to send too much wind towards Elis. After a second of hovering an inch or so above the ground, she touched back down. "If a talk is what you wish for, I am always glad to help. How has your father's research been going now, by the way?"

     

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     

    After some time, they reached the library. The building was impressively large, with tall windows. "Nadia!" Cyrille said as she threw open the oaken doors. "It has been such a long time, friend. How have you been these past days?"


  16. Mid Morning; Ienlynn Residence

     

    "Oh, not so long. Perhaps an hour or two." It had been enough time to take care of Cloudchaser, don her armor, run a few rapier drills, and arrive at a slow pace, anyway. She wasn't one to pay much attention to the time, when the sun did so well. "I do hope I didn't disturb your rest." It was doubtful, but better to apologize now than not.

     

    Cyrille grinned. "Ah, but where would be the fun in that?" She took her friend's hand in hers, then swept her other one out dramatically as she took a step forward. "Come, my lady! May Himar light our footsteps as we partake in this grand endeavor!" She laughed and started to walk, keeping pace with Elis.

     

    "A fine idea. Nadia will be there, will she not?" She couldn't deny that Nadia could be, ah, a little self-centered at times. Still, she considered her a friend, and the library was always nice. Even if Nadia wasn't the person to expect much sympathy from, the atmosphere of the building and the available books made it a delight.

     

    "You, a knight? I'll admit I can't very well picture it, but the imagination leaves much to be desired, does it not? I find it to be a worthy pursuit, though I have to admit I'm biased," she said, chuckling lightly. "It pains me to hear of your boredom, friend- what may be done to remedy that?"


  17. Early Morning, Vogels' House

    Passed out on the ground? He had a bed, and it wasn't like he didn't use it. Just because- well. "Twice," he muttered under he breath. It hadn't even been recent.

     

    Okay, it was good that the thief wasn't infected with parasites (heaven knew he didn't want anything spread to him; one experience with feather rot had been enough), but he didn't have to sound so offended about it. It was the first thing to look for with atypical feather loss, and he'd been just trying to help. The man's wings weren't completely healthy, clearly, but the crooked way he held them looked to be more the result of a bone defect or old injury.

     

    It took him an embarrassingly long time to notice. His eyes widened. "How did you know?" he hissed, glancing from side to side. His cover story, of being the son of a jewelry seller from a far off village, wasn't exactly perfect. Still, few questions had been asked, and he hadn't thought that anyone realized where he was actually from. Some of the books could have given it away, but the thief hadn't even touched A Repository of Wing Types and their Geographical Locations, vol. II. There wasn't a chance that he knew what to look for, with that.

     

    "Oh." He blinked. "I supposed I realized that." He wasn't entirely sure where to go from there. What was the etiquette when one caught a thief in their house?


  18. Early Morning; Vogel's House

     

    Vogel glanced at the clock and nearly swore. He'd meant to get some sleep the night before, really. Everything went slower when he was tired, and he was liable to make mistakes. It wasn't like there was any rush, either. There had been one time, when the tendon samples would've gone bad if he hadn't taken the measurements in time (the last time he bought preservatives from that supplier).

     

    In any case, there wasn't a point in losing focus just because the sun was rising. He'd snuff out the candles and make a quick breakfast, when he had to. At that moment, he was in the state of mind where everything just seemed to flow so perfectly. Like, a river or something. Or, like the thoughts crystallized into place. Ice?

     

    Well, that had been it, anyway. It was a tendency of his, for his brain to get dragged off by poorly thought out similes when he was so tired. One moment he was jotting down notes fast enough to splash ink onto his hand, and the next he was struggling to get his scale to work. Somehow, the number was changing by a fraction of a gram. It was enough to mess with his conclusions, especially if the scale was broken.

     

    It took him fifteen minutes to remember that he was using his spare scale, and that he had left his good one in the library.

     

    He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, then stood up to retrieve it. He had to step around a pile of books to get to the library, but it was like that in most of his house. Stacks of papers covered every surface, save for some frequently-cleared counter tops. The library was a bit neater, at least. He called it that, but it probably held less paper than the rest of his house. It was where he kept all of the good books, on proper bookshelves instead of chairs and tables.

     

    Still, it took him longer than expected to find it. He was sure-

     

    He stared into the man's eyes, unblinking.

     

    "Why aren't you asleep!?"

     

    Vogel nearly screamed, but it came out as more of a shriek. "I- what!? Did you just break into my house- of course I'm not- why aren't you asleep!?" The question didn't make sense, he knew, but he was too tired and shocked to care.

     

    His eyes tracked the feathers as they floated downwards, momentarily distracted from the thief. "Oh, huh, do you normally molt at this time of year? It's pretty early, unless your wings aren't the standard aves type- have you checked for mites? Could be plenty of other parasites and diseases, but-" No. There was an intruder in his house. "I mean- hey! What are you doing here!?"

     

     

    Early Morning; Ienlynn Residence, Outside

     

    Cyrille finished off a flourish of practice swings before sheathing her rapier. It was a good way to start the day. The overly fancy techniques took focus to pull off, provided valuable practice and were light exercise. Most importantly, they were enjoyable.

     

    Deciding that it was late enough to avoid disturbing Elisvan, she knocked lightly on the door. It was a routine thing, simply to let her know that she had arrived. There was no rush, and indeed, if Elisvan deigned to sleep another hour she wouldn't mind. It was her job to protect her and keep her company, and pestering the girl would accomplish neither end.

     

    When the door did open, Cyrille bowed lightly and smiled. "You look gorgeous as always, Lady Elisvan. What is it that you wish to accomplish upon this fine morning?" The formality wasn't necessary. Their families weren't that far apart in status, and her father would be embarrassed by her lowering herself in such a way, but it was fun. Besides, she liked Elis. Why not show her some respect?


  19. They both look good! Accepted. I believe we have enough characters now. May need more dark wing supporters.

     

    Is Vogel a dark wing supporter and how does he support them? (Money chemicals gun powder?)

    Great!

     

    Sorry, I mustn't have been clear enough. He's not so much explicitly supporting them at the moment, more if they ask for information or such he'll provide it.


  20. Username: Backup77

    Name: Cyrille Lucrèce Chevalier

    Age: 19

    Gender: Genderfluid; uses she/her more often than not

    Ground or Sky: Sky

    Class/occupation: Lesser Noble | In training to become a knight

    Dark Wing supporter: No.

    Appearance: Cyrille has shockingly bright red hair, which reaches the nape of her neck while tied in a high ponytail. A few strands always fall out to frame her face. She likes to tie some of her moulted coverts into her hair. Her eyes are ice blue, and display central heterochromia. The right one has a ring of bright green around the pupil, rather than the pale blue of the left one. She stands at 5’7”, and though her limbs are long and skinny she is well-muscled. Her skin on her face, neck, and hands is lightly tanned.

    As she has trouble carrying too much weight, her armor is made to be thin and far lighter than it looks like it should be. The plates have triangular points that stick up when her joints bend, and care was taken to preserve as much mobility as possible. The armor is a polished silver color, with gold trim around every edge. A rapier with a golden filigree basket is kept at one hip, and a parrying dagger at the other.

    Personality: Cyrille is courteous, and tries to act the part of a knight in shining armor. She could be called idealistic or naive, in the way she loves the cloud cities without seeming to spare much thought for the groundlings. In truth, she does think about them (hard to prepare for war without doing so) but she doesn’t feel much about them. It’s her duty to protect the sky and Elis, so that’s what she’ll do.

    Wing appearance: At only eight feet in span, Cyrille’s wings are far shorter than most. Their ends come to sharp points. The primaries and secondaries are relatively long, and are almost translucent. Like a hummingbird’s, her wings beat fast enough to be seen as a blur, allowing fast and agile flight despite their size. The coverts are brilliantly iridescent, glittering in the light and projecting green and blue spots onto nearby surfaces.

    History: Cyrille’s father was a military general, and her mother a rich, beautiful lady. Though her father was initially disappointed to not have a son, Cyrille didn’t much mind activities traditionally seen as masculine. Being an ambitious man, he raised her much as one would a prince or princess, with tutors training her in etiquette, linguistics, sword fighting, cloud cat riding and the like. She showed an affinity for the rapier, and her agility in the air is unmatched (even if her distance flight leaves something to be desired).

    Skills: Rapier wielding, cloud cat riding, and strong knowledge on military tactics, court politics, history, and geography.

    War or peace: Peace would be lovely, if the groundlings didn’t make such a fuss.

     

    Username: Backup77

    Name: Vogel Avem

    Age: 24

    Gender: Male

    Ground or Sky: Ground

    Class/occupation: Scientist (Physics, some biology)

    Dark Wing supporter: He’d prefer to focus on his work, but he’d rather they win over the alternative.

    Appearance: Vogel’s straight, black hair is messy and unkept, and reaches slightly past his ears. His skin is light brown, and his eyes are dark brown. It’s common for him to forget to wash splashes of ink off of his face. He is 5’8”.

    Personality: Vogel is more focused on his research than anything else. While he might not be completely apathetic to the world around him, it can seem that way when his only response to learning about a war is to worry about his books getting damaged. He often stares off into space mid-conversation, fidgeting with his feathers.

    Wing appearance: Vogel’s wings are short and rounded, and his wingspan is fifteen feet. The feathers are white, with black edges, like a Sebright chicken’s. Out of habit, he keeps they carefully cleaned.

    History: Vogel was born and educated as a skyling. He was particularly interested in everything about wings- how they developed, why there were so many different kinds, how Avians could fly when all mathematical models suggested that doing so should be impossible. Though the bright patterns on his wings gave him time, when he was seventeen he realized that he wasn’t safe in the sky. Without so much as a note, he packed up all of his books and equipment (as well as some stuff that wasn’t his) and jumped.

    As he couldn’t fly properly and was weighed down, he hit the ground hard. Fortunately, he managed to avoid breaking any bones. There on the ground, he managed to find spare work as a scribe, and continued his research when he could.

    Skills: Mathematics, physics, and knowledge of wing genetics.

    War or peace: Conflicted. War would be a disturbance, but an interesting one.