[H-RP/PvP] The Sunguard- The Crimson Crusade
From 'Bladed Kiss' - Sin'dorei and Sunguard Politics Go~ soon to be from Dusk Rose Tower, A Blog.
Cere’thien’s booted heels were a sharp crack upon the stone floor in the upper levels of the Spire. The assembly of politicians was still, even after the upheaval of the last decade – mostly men – though a fair number of women were a noted presence. Her layered burgundy skirts swept the floors in a feminine sound that turned the heads of at least a few in the room in annoyance and practised curiosity masking malice and ill intent. The black slashed sleeves paired with silver buttons and embroidery matched the small hat upon her curly head tilted at a daring angle.
A dress sword – the thinly bladed rapier that belonged to a previous Lady Blackwood – lay belted upon her curvy hips. It was enchanted so as to be unable to draw the weapon from its sheathe for the present time – one couldn’t do something crazed like duel in the middle of a Petioner’s Summit. She’d argued with the attendant to even be allowed to bring it inside – pointing out that the man hadn’t dared harass any of the others save those that the Magisters present simply did not like. It made her grind her teeth quite literally, and her temper had been riding a breaking point since early morning that she’d been forced to attend this stupid, and utterly pointless meeting.
No one, no one else would be forced to prove their right of lineage! This entire request of me is an outrage.
It was a lucky note than not all of those present were mages at all, but several of those were rangers and other types with rank, now garbed in courtly attire instead of armour – with various rare exceptions. In general however, Cere’thien didn’t care about what the rest were, only that she’d get what she wanted out of them. I am tired of these games. I simply want what is mine by right, regardless of the strictures of the traditions of my people.
The fiery Confessor leaned against one wall, crossing her left foot over her right while purposely flicking her skirts so that a fair deal of tattooed ankle was visible. One man swallowed at the sight – and a sharp grin that was nothing short of an expression that said – come near me, and I will stab you. Location matters not. An elegant garnet coiled in elegantly beaten silver rested between breasts proudly on display, hugged with silver lace and pressed tightly together by way of a stylish corset that surely didn’t belong here, and neither did the heavy battle enchantments on the entire ensemble.
She did not care. They bent the rules, so I will snap them in half and beat them bloody.
Her pale, silver-blonde hair rested in wild tangles to her waist, tied in a haphazard queue while strands of the silken lengths brushed her cheeks. Another elder Magister looked at her with a glare – another relic that had ever so sadly survived the previous crushing of the Sunwell. “Heavens p-pleased be t-to keep men like that out of my p-path, forever and ever,” she drawled, allowing her anger to push the hesitant stutter of hers to an asset rather than a weakness due her anger. Bright, yet pale green eyes blazed while her tattooed fingers tapped complex rhythms. Today, the gloves were off. The gentleman at her side – attired in dark leather armours, a fine grey coat, and boots that could have easily hidden any number of weapons gave a quiet, annoyed sigh.
“Why did you drag me here with you, Miss ‘Sana,” Ruaelin complained in his gravelly baritone. “I’ve no interest in this … foolery.” The man tugged hard at the necktie that she’d insisted he’d wear with its pale silver falling of lace that caressed a stickpin in deepest sapphire. The buttons on the vest he wore matched in kind – making the two pale haired Blackwood blooded elves stand out perhaps not quite in the way most would have thought wise - meaning that kissing Magister rear was generally the better option.
They were dressed and armoured to the nines.
“Because. I’d like to n-not punch another m-man this week, if you really do not mind,” she snapped with so much edge in her soft contralto voice that Ruaelin arched a brow at her.
“Someone is being a little bit rude this morning, I notice …”
That blizzard we had was pandemonium! I think we saw about a foot of snow in NYC proper, I heard out on Long Island they had well over that, to the point where people got stuck in their cars out on the highway for hours.
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