Welcome one, and I welcome you all to the tale of a world called Thespia.
Here is the odyssey of one that clings to this world with no face of their own! In a place where magic is fundamental to all of creation, all who live wear their lives upon their face, where a fire might wish to be the cooking fire of an inn!
The Faceless overcame the tyrant lord of Bikel, Stephan Grant, son of Mikael Grant. Thus, while wearing the face of the vengeful spirit "The Reaper of Aurel" otherwise known as Dramir, a story in the world of Thespia comes to an end as a hero arrives to deliver the accursed Guisi from their fates of enslavement and labor.
Yet despite this success, a shadow of doubt looms upon the horizon as the Reaper claimed victory from Lord Grant whilst in his Arche's true form, a secret kept by the Guisi at all costs for fear of true persecution at the hands of other Thespians.
Yet the curtain has closed upon that story and a sibling pair grow restless as they hear the whispers of the Guisi elders and their intent to make the Reaper disappear to ensure that there are no loose ends.
"We will not see our work undone."
If you have questions...
And a log of the quest!
And The Faceless!
The adventurer's guild at night scarecly quiets even into the late evening and night with adventurers drinking and recounting tales of their adventures. Some, you hear through the walls within your own slumber and the tales make your bed all the warmer.
While some may be the mild infestation of rude rats and others the plights of the bashful dormouse, other adventurer's regale other patrons with great beasts they've conquered in distant lands or ladies they've saved and asked for no reward but their gentle smile.
To these stories you find yourself swimming within your own dreams, that world of white with stained glass features hiding away the history of your own memories.
While Belinda does not seem to be in the mood to share quite yet, you do notice something strange...
The windows you've unlocked for Dramir remain within this world. Instead of slipping off into the oblivion of the white expanse, they've remained, as though through your unwillingness to part, they've chosen to stay.
Touching the surface of the stained glass recounting the tale of the Owl's Shadow, you even briefly revisit Dramir's memory as though it were your own, caught up in your own tangles of fate... What could this mean?
However, the windows to Dramir's sealed memories have drifted away beyond your reach...
You notice the windows of your own life making themselves known.
>[The Story of Thespia.]
>[The People of Black Stains and Silver Eyes...]
>[The Archer, Judicia and her gambit with Luna...]
>[I do not want to touch one at this time...]
Reaching out, you touch a stained glass that bears only blacks and whites, a sillhouette of a thespian with silver eyes that seem to look through you, and black stains that run down each side of the face.
Something seems to call you to this one... You had silver eyes... even as Dramir, right?
“I remember... when I was a young child... I took the first steps to finding my Arche, as many others before. Children do not need to follow the Arche of their parents, Thespia made it clear as such so long ago my mother told me.
They told me that the person that I was meant to be would come naturally, and then my face would change. With every decision, every action, every experience. The person that I am meant to be would be determined by my will and my fate.
Walking the gardens, I heard the voices of the flowers. When I told my mother, she joyously told me that I would be Araflour, not unlike her.
Yet then, I heard the voices of the tools call out to me as I helped my father with his shop. He looked me in the eye and smiled. He said, "Son, you could also be Danhor like I."
Yet I did not feel the call to duty like he, nor did I feel the kindness to all things like my mother. I would look in the mirror, and my face showed neither trace of being Araflour or Danhor.
Other children my age had already gotten the first marks of their Arche, yet the only change to my face had been silver eyes. Yet still I heard the voices of the things around me.
I was intelligent, in the academy my parents eventually sent me to for higher learning, I met the ingenious Drezhar and the studious Stella. They each told me that my Arche would come. The Drezhar told me that should I love money and power, I should lean their way. The Stella told me that should I thirst for knowledge and understanding, I should lean their way.
Yet still, the only difference I had from an Archeless child were my serene silver eyes.
I met others: The proud Hylon that made every claim that they were the best of the best. The strict Makoh that prized discipline and combat. Even the bastard Hee-Joki that care only if life is entertaining.
My face did not change.
In my twenty-fifth year of life, I received a letter from my mother. Father had taken ill. I rushed to his side from lands beyond their horizon. Years of work as a blacksmith, the charcoal over many years had blackened his lungs, it sought his demise, an end to his work.
I held his hand as they chewed through the last fibers of his life, and I knew then what I was... As my silver eyes wept tears that stained my cheeks black.
Mother was taken aback... I did not return to my studies at the academy.
Within a fortnight, others with silver eyes and black stains came for me. I knew that I should go with them. Holding mother's hand as I said goodbye, I told her that I was proud to be her son, that I tried to return all the kindness that she had shown me to other, and that I had a duty to fulfill.
I cried as much as she did, and told her that I would visit.
The others of Silver eyes let me have my time, and then I left to learn what this Arche meant... The meaning that I'd learned from my entire life.”
Slowly, you disconnect from that memory as it ends... Even still, the name of your first Arche eludes you... Yet. It meant something. It meant something very important at one time...
Still, you do not know who you became, or why you were in that miserable hole. You awaken with your body tingling, almost paralyzed as you try to absorb what you learned.
Slowly, you twitch your fingers, and then move to rise slowly, carefully.
Belinda seems a bit drowsy as well, less bubbly this morning as you wince at through your combined eyes, “Impostor... That memory, what was that?”
“My... origin, I think.” You say aloud, though only in a whisper. You pince your eyes shut between your fingers and brush off the lingering sands of slumber.
“Who... are you?”
“I... don't know.” You say begrudgingly.
A knock is heard through the door, you're not quite sure who it could be... Odette?
>[Answer the door.]
>[Ignore it, and put your makeup on.]
>[Ask who it is...]
Stretching out upon the bed not unlike a feline, you make an audible groan(more of a moan?) before slipping out of bed. Another series of quick knocks, you can sense apprehension in the pattern. You pull out a chair from the desk in the room and open up a small purse that the siblings had given you as you sit to paint your face properly with a small mirror as reference.
“Who is it?” You say aloud just as the knocks start again. Crisp, yet not mean as you're in the middle of smoothing a subtle cream along the crease of your nostrils to enhance your natural radiance.
There's a slight pause from beyond before you hear a man clearing his throat, “I thought that I might greet you this morne, my lady.”
“I don't believe I've made your acquaintance.” You say briskly before powdering your face gently with a small brush.
“Nay, yet you've made mine, Lady Beli.” The man is a little more chipper and suave than you'd like him to be, “After seeing your radiance last eve, I could scarcely sleep without seeing your enchanting eyes wander into my dreams.
You line your lips carefully before replying, “You... must be that gentleman with the lute. Am I correct?” next, you blend the powder foundation together and apply red to your lips...
“Ah, I see I've left an impression! My lady, if I could ask you to grace me by attending breakfast in my private booth downstairs.” He says, all the smarmier. It makes you giggle a little, he thinks he's got moxie.
>[Humor him, go to breakfast.]
>[Tell him that you're doing breakfast with your companion.]
>[Give him silence as a response.]
>[Invite him into your bedroom...]
>[Invite him into your bedroom...]
You are silent for a moment from your end as you run a comb through your hair to straighten out any tangles, then gracefully bring it up into an elegant bun held together by the Namour-styled comb. Bringing the mirror away, you're pleased with the results of your work.
“Just a moment~” you say with a teasing resonance in your voice as you put away your makeup kit and stand up from the desk, a hand flirting against the back of the chair as you consider... how shall you tease this oh so thirsty man...
With a bit of a tug and a shift, you loosen your Dancer's brassiere, letting it hang limply, tempting a bit more to sight, and absconding from your cloak to cover the rest of your garb. You slide the key into the knob, hearing an illicit, “Oh, my...” from the keyhole.
The door cracks open, and you stand there, leaning against the frame, showing off all of your feminine curves. “Hello there stranger.” You say with a pout of your lips, “You were looking... for me?” You say, pointing a single nail back at your own face.
The Namour bard flushes, pinching his nose to hold back the blood that starts dripping from his nostrils despite. His eyes travel from your head, slowly down all the way to your toes, and all the way back up again, slowing at your hips and bust, only to finally end at your perverse smile.
“Oh, this boy is too easy!” Belinda snickers within.
You groan a little in a response, but can't help to find yourself strangely curious.
With a crook of your finger, you hook the bard under the buttons of his tunic, slowly pulling him closer even as the buttons relinquishes its grip with a bashful acceptance. “Sol-speed, master bard. Your luck hath blossomed this morne.” the tiny voices of the buttons cheer on their unknowing master
“I'm not used to hearing so much company... I almost feel bad for what I'm about to do to him...” Belinda says with a wistful tone.
“What are yo- WE going to do anyway?”
“You'll see~” Belinda whispers with laughter in her voice.
“My Lady, you are simply enchanting...” The bard whispers, as he slides a hand across your cheek, through your hair, and finally stopping behind your ear. His palm is warm, fingers rough from countless hours of practice.
You hold his other hand in yours and rhythmically pull him further within your bedroom with enticing sways of your entire body entrancing this hopeless fool.
He pulls you closer for a kiss, yet you dismiss that privilege with a single finger over his lips...
You.. feel something...
“I was born to a family of few means, within the Undercity of Septic. My father and mother were Drezhar, and embraced their Arche with infamous greed.
As a lad, I taugh myself to read, ingenuity runs in the family after all, and I read tales of Namour adventurers, how they lived free from possessions, of greed, and wanted only for the romance of their lives to blossom forth into a grand adventure. I read stories of Celes Pranse, the city of twin lakes, and longed for waters grander and brighter than the falls of the Aqueducts.
My longing soon appeared upon my face and my parents knew. My father laughed at me, told me that I should stop dreaming and focus on money. Yet, with the Arche Namour already in my heart, the flames of destiny could not be smothered. I used my wits and with a bit of luck I found my way out of the undercity to the grounds above.
With bright eyes, I found the adventurer's guild and began my journey...
The way she moves, it makes me so... Those silver eyes of her, they're simply stunning, and that dusky skin, not unlike the Namour that hail from the twin lakes... This is destiny, I know it!”
You wince and break contact, suddenly drawing back as he suddenly advances his lips forward. In your confusion you reflexively turn his face with a swift guide of his hand and let his weight carry through as he falls onto your bed and you mount him.
“What-” Beli starts.
Before you realize it, the idiot's giggling upon the bed while your arm's ready for a firm strike, flames dancing around your fingers. You snuff them before he opens his eyes, as you feel his hands grasp around your flanks, “Willful aren't you my lady? Shall we kiss on your terms then?”
>[“I'm sorry, I really must be going, my companion is waiting for me.”]
>[“You... were a Drezhar?”]
>[“Come with me to Celes Pranse.”]
You stare at him for a moment, lips slightly parted as his eyes trace every glossy contour of him. Your hand resting over his heart, you can feel the pace quicken in anticipation.
“What... was that?” Beli whispers within, pondering at what that... experience you felt had been.
Reaching out to his cheek, your fingers quiver just before making contact with his skin. Nothing this time. A fluke perhaps?
“It's happened before,” You say, “With Odette, I saw when she and her family were enslaved.
“That is such a curious ability... I've never felt anything like it.”
The bard, whom you still do not know the name of pushes up against you, expectantly. His action snaps you away from the thoughts of your internal dialogue. “My body is ready for you my lady... Take me.” He says with a lustful look.
Your lips break into a smile, honestly this boy is kind of cute, so eager too. Lowering yourself, you hover mere inches before his face, “I think I might enjoy you, what is your name mi Namour? From where do you hail?”
His face twists into a frown for a moment before his “ready” expression returns, “Why, I am a noble bard of the high roads. Monsieur Biz- err.. Marq, Biz Marq, my lady.”
“And from whence did you receive my name?” You say with a knowing stare that you'd never given him the privilege of knowing.
“The walls sung out your name,”
“You lie.” You say with a playful tone, “I listen to the walls, and they've not spoken my name. Try once more.”
“Your name appeared in my dreams.”
“True, that's more believable, though I simply don't think you're being honest with me.”
“What if... I said a stranger heard the plight of my heart and whispered unto me your name?”
“The most believable story of the bunch.”
“What if I said it were all three?”
“Then I'd think you were a fool. One, for making up not one, but three lies to a lady. And Two, for not claiming them all from the start.”
Biz grins like the fool he is, “The more you talk, the more I want my lips against yours.”
You inch closer, so that he can taste the warmth of your breath, “Mother told me not to kiss fools.”
“Yet fools are the ones that find love.”
You grin besides yourself, “You claim love, knowing me for only such a short time?”
“Why not? T'is only the start of eternity.” he whispers that sweet nothing as he's drunk on your breath.
The word, “eternity” sinks into your soul like a rock upon a frozen lake. “You know nothing of that word, boy.”
“Bo-” he starts with a confused expression, yet you grab his cheeks, pushing his lips together as you quickly take a breath and kiss him deeply, passionately as you let a heatless flame invade his lungs, snatching his breath away. As he falls unconscious, you rise from his limp body, red color staining his limps, and search his pockets for coin.
“What are you doing?” You ask Belinda, surprised by her sudden turn to theft.
“When I'm not dancing, I lure lustful fools like him to my bed for the promise of a nice evening. He's not dead, and he'll come to in a few hours with his hair ruffled and body a little sore thinking he'd had a nice time.
>[“We are not stealing.”]
>[“Romance, even in theivery, hm?”]
>[“As you like, I care not.”]
>[“Is this because he irritated you?”]
Flashbacks to Overhuman.
Have some of the inspiration for your bard.
ah right, she was talking about not actually sleeping with anyone unless she liked them.
And yet she's been stealing from lustful young boys for HUNDREDS OF YEARS.
what part of this was lighthearted, again?
It's my hardest theme. I so often segue to drama and grimm.
“Romance even in thievery, hm? Tell me, did that last bit irritate you?”
Belinda puts on a fake smile, “I've no idea what you're talking about, and alas, thieves are quite romantic, no? Open road, dashing bandits and the like?”
“Is that what you've learned in your long life?”
Belinda frowns, stopping rather suddenly to reflect, “No, I've learned much more than this.”
Belinda moves to keep filching his pockets, yet you lock her fingers. Moving back, she looks at your hands with a pouting frown, “Oh, so it's like that then? Fine. We'll leave him some change.”
“He's a sweet guy, and in the moment he feels more like a Namour than you.”
“You really think that?” Belinda shrugs as you unlock her fingers and she pilfers about half of his coin, leaving the bard the rest. “I suppose, though we've got places to go, places to be, and we've not got the time to dance for money before our departure.”
“Fair enough, let's just leave this foul business behind.”
“Agreed” She says as you stand, taking your cloak and meager possessions upon your person. Leaning over his Biz's unconscious body, you ruffle his hair and give him another peck upon the neck, and one more on the cheek.
Departing from your quarters, you drop the key off at the front desk, informing the clerk that there's someone to “clean up.” They stare at you confused for a moment, until you give them a seductive smile and then they catch your drift.
Odette's waiting for your down on the floor, already working through some flatcakes and maplesap. She looks up to you as you approach and gives you a little smile, showing off her dagger-like teeth, “Good morning Beli, how are you this morning.”
“Breaking hearts and stealing kisses.” You say without thinking, and then wince hard as soon as the words escape your mouth.
Odette's fork hangs limply in her grasp, dropping a bite of her flatcakes back to the plate. “What?”
“Nothing!” You say, dismissing it with a smile, “Say, that looks absolutely mouthwatering, may I have some?”
Odette only barely manages to say, “Yes,” before your hand is upon hers, guiding the fork along with a scrumptious morsel into your mouth. You savor the fluffy sweetness and moist butteriness of the flatcake.
“I could've ordered you your own dish...” She says, looking down at her fork, slightly perturbed.
“Yours tastes better...” You say meekly, and suddenly flushing after what you realize Beli is making you say.
Odette averts her eyes and faces away, a sudden blush appearing on her cheeks, “I don't even know how to deal with you anymore.”
>[“You could look at me... You could kiss me already.”]
>[“I don't even know how to deal with me right now...”]
>[“I-I've just got a lot of unresolved feelings right now, okay?”]
>[“Odette... When I touched you before, I... I saw things.]
>>[“I don't even know how to deal with me right now...”]
>["But in the interest of steering this to something I CAN deal with...."
>>[“Odette... When I touched you before, I... I saw things.]
“Honestly, I don't even know how to deal with me right now...” You say as you pinch the bridge of your nose and furrow your brow. The touch you experienced with that bard crosses your mind, and you look to Odette, who's faced you again, examining your own troubled expression.
“Speaking of which, in the interest of steering this to something I can handle...” You shift your mouth a little as you think of how to address this, “Odette, some time ago, when you were sleeping, I touched you.”
“Not- not in a weird way. I-” You fold your arms and try to think, “I was curious about your teeth, see I'd forgotten about the Arches and I thought they were, well, interesting.”
Odette stares at you, silently putting more food in her mouth as she listens.
“I... I saw things when I to- when I made contact with you. It was like I experienced an episode in your life or something.”
Odette stops eating, taking this matter rather seriously, “And what did you see?”
Leaning over to keep your volume down, you avert your eyes for a moment as you remember, then stare into hers, “I saw you being taken. By the Danhor.”
Odette drops her fork, her hand suddenly shaking, as she brings her other to help soothe herself. “You. You saw that, hm?” She rests her brow against her hands.
“I'm sorry.” You find yourself apologizing without thinking.
“No.” She shakes her hands, then rests them against the table, straightening her back, “It just means that's one less story that needs to be told. I'd rather not remember that foul business. I can't wait to leave this place so that it all feels a lifetime away.” She pushes her plate towards you, “I've lost my appetite, eat so we can leave.” Odette stands and walks over to the bar, ordering a pint to drink the memory away.
“Yeowch.” Belinda whispers. “So we've been peeking into other's memories without their knowledge... Very, very strange.”
“We have a quest to do, no? Let's stop playing and get on with it.” You say as you reach down, eating the rest of Odette's flatcakes.
Suddenly, they don't taste as sweet.
The two of you meet outside the guild hall, Odette a little tipsy as you carefully support her. The clerk told you that your quest is a few days out along the western road. The contact is south of a town known as Pruden, a Hylon dominated place by a lesser house and welcoming of most Arches. Thankfully, as adventurers you at least have some degree of credentials, yet you won't need to enter the place, just find it and go south until you hit the village that the contact stays in.
You've got the coin to pay for an outbound ride in the back of cart, or you could try to charm your way into a carriage headed that way... or you could walk. Longer and more dangerous, but hey, at least it's free.
>[Charm your way into a nice ride.]
>[Pay some farmer a few coins for a bumpy ride.]
>[Walk, long and leisurely suits you just fine.]
Anything else you'd like to do before leaving?
You opt to walk with a rather buzzed Odette at your side. Though there may be vandals that seek to take advantage of a pair of beautiful women traveling alone, you with your dusky skin and youthful body, and Odette's milky, aged like a fine draft... You're more than certain that you can handle anything that comes your way.
As the two of you walk, you keep your ears alert for passing gossip. Likely your decrees have been heard by the people already...
“A republic? The Free Marches? It's a strange thing to talk about. Why should we rule ourselves when the Hylon do a well-enough job of it?”
“Well, after that fiasco with the lord, a lot of good people died... Like my son Jeremiah. Oh, he never liked treating those Guisi the way that he was told. An Adventurer's heart that lad had.”
“Aye, and curse the reaper! Taking them away from our lives and passing this nonsense!”
You frown as a man spits out your old name. You can almost feel Dramir's old face twisting into a frown at hearing that.
You overhear a man arguing with his wife in their home... The distant smell of a chamberpot fills the air, you watch your step.
“What the hell's this? No one's permitted to pee stand'n? What's he fancy us all ladies?”
“Ain't no trouble o' mine. Maybe th' reaper's tryna instruct men like yee not t' piss all o'er the pot 'fore we need t' squat down onit. Right good thing I think.”
“Hm, I'll piss all o'er it af'r I'm done.”
“Aye, you sour puss, I pray by Sol you fall upon it.”
Beli snickers within you at that conversation. “Reaper, hero to the housewives of Bikel. That's one for the history books!”
You sneer, “Please, no. Dramir would roll over in his grave before he let that get written down.”
Before you leave the town, you overhear some guards, ones that often rotate with the ones of the manor, “That Reaper... I still can't believe he nominated that girl of his for this republic he's ordered.”
“Mira, the Reaper's daughter, leader of the republic. Can you imagine if she won?”
“Strange girl that... thing is. Never 'fore have I seen a Faeli with skin as dark or horns as long as the reaper's three. I don't see it happening... But without a Hylon here, I'm not sure what we should really be doing...”
“Let's just stand guard as usual, it's what we do, right?”
“Aye...” One of the guards notices you as you approach, Odette supported over one of your shoulders. “Leaving for the road ladies? Careful out there, the wilds are not so policed until Pruden, be mindful of your surr... is she drunk?”
Odette raises a hand, “I'm fine... Jus... jus let me be.”
The guards regard the two of you warily, “We really must be on our way,” You say as you reach into a satchel and pull out the contract, “Got a request to complete... as adventurers.”
“Crazy you lot, don't get yourselves slaughtered out there, weigh poorly upon my conscience.” The guards let the two of you pass, and you swear you recognize one of them from the other night, when you confronted them as the Reaper.
“Switched to dayshift, eh?” You suddenly blurt out.
“Aye, after coming face to face with the Reaper in the black of night, I...” The guard stiffens, “I am working days now, yes.”
You and Odette leave the town of Bikel with only each other as company... Yet who knows what will catch up to them?
[Interlude- the prior day]
Avar and Rava stand silently in the halls of Bikel Manor as an attendant reads out the decrees of the recently vanished Reaper. As the two listen on, they exchange nervous glances with each other as they can feel the weight that every word of this decree has. It's thick, tangible, and...
“My, my brother. Our dear faceless was quite busy before their departure, no?”
“Indeed.” Avar says quietly, his somber expression nearly unchanging as always. “This however, could provide us the opportunity to cover his tracks. Should we support Mira, our nemesis will think that we are merely trying to bend the fate of this cycle as well.”
Rava smiles wide, “More wetwork for us... But then that means our dear Faceless will be in a superior position to act unnoticed.”
Avar strokes his short beard, noting that it's about time to shave down his stubble, “Yes. And with that, the Faceless, our last and greatest weapon will stay hidden all the longer. Should they be found too soon, I fear that our enemy will prepare for what's to come.”
Rava looks out upon the chamber, “There's going to be a war again brother...” Her smile belies a distant sympathy, an ancient despair, “Just like that time.”
“However this time, it will be the world against them, rather than they against us.” Avar's expression breaks into the slightest cruel smile, “Poetic justice is the strongest force in all Thespia after all. She may be conspiring with us.”
“I still hear her whisper brother...”
“As do I sister...”
“It's as she...” Rava starts, “...always says.” Avarr finishes.
>“However this time, it will be the world against them, rather than they against us.” Avar's expression breaks into the slightest cruel smile, “Poetic justice is the strongest force in all Thespia after all. She may be conspiring with us.”
Do they mean us?
A couple days out on the open road, Odette's spent yesterday sober and finally came down from her hangover. The two of you camped beside a stream so that she could get a cleansing fill of water that doesn't want to smother the mind into a hazy fog.
Having not really packed any rations, Odette's gone to hunt, leaving you to the camp beside the road when you see a carriage coming along some distance away, you can hear the rattle drawing closer... you...
>[Ignore it, let it pass without bothering.]
>[Wave it down, walking blows.]
>[Show some leg/dance as they pass.]
You ignore the carriage as it comes down the road, using the time alone to try meditating, entering that white world within yourself. You feel yourself making some introspective progress until you hear the carriage come to a stop, and the door thrown open to see an all too familiar face.
“Why, if it isn't Lady Beli! Surely fate has had our paths cross again!” The bard says joyously, you don't sense any resentment in his voice.
Opening a single eye, you see the man, most certainly it is the “boy” that Belinda had teased.
He steps down from the carriage, “Hold here good sir, I'll be awaiting you madame,” he says back to the people waiting as he comes down to you.
With a deep sigh, you rise and immediately fold your arms in a rather defensive posture that just happens to push your breasts up, “Ohh, fancy ride sir Marq. Does she come with a lord husband privy to her consort escort?”
The bard winces, and glances back briefly, “I- oh dear I hadn't thought-”
“Your head is so empty, Biz.” You say a bit more familiar with the young man, “unfortunately, I'm awaiting my companion, and yours are waiting after you.”
“No, no, say no more!” Biz throws his hands up in the air, spins around upon a heel, and bows, “I'm afraid my lady, that fate hath a different path for this fine bard, I must bid you adieu.”
The woman within the carriage giggles, and throws out a silken handkerchief, “Au revoir mi Namour. We shall see each other again!” The woman calls out. “I cannot bear this place any longer dear driver, away, take us away!”
The horse driver snaps the reigns and the carriage speeds away.
For a moment, you blink, and then you squint, looking over to the bard that's left himself behind. He turns around triumphantly and takes a heroic pose with his hands upon his hips, chest puffed out, “And with that, I am with you m'lady!”
“Where was that carriage going?”
“Why, to Pruden for a few days, then onward to Celes Pranse.”
You blink again and then feel as though you could drop to your knees at this man's stupidity, it would've saved you all that walking... And now, you have to deal with this completely innocent young man that's got his heart set upon you....
As always, comments, questions, concerns.
The Good, the Bad, the Weird!
Were the hints far too many to be enjoyable? Could it have done with fewer?
Stealing the hearts (and wallets) of young fools is probably the least dark thing out of most of my settings.
Was there something else about her that you considered dark?
>Were the hints far too many to be enjoyable?
No. I just want more information on the setting as a whole, the faceless' backstory, what the twins are up to, etc.
The hints do their job
Hm. Well that's true.
Well, the stage is slowly being set. I can guarantee that the finale is going to be epic.
I'm curious for you guys... What do you think it means that Dramir's windows persist in that "White space" of yours?