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[ P ] A Peasant’s Soil

Pythus Arezio
Male 3 Mainlander Commonwealth Noble
Royalist

17

posts
105.00

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posted 09-04-2021, 10:35 AM - Word count:
#1
Each step through these rolling hills seemed to use more of his depleting energy than the last, and the scenery seemed to pass by slower than it did in the city. Pythus decided immediately that he loathed it here, because not only did the boring trek tire his aching legs but it did nothing to occupy his restless mind. And worst of all, he was walking the ground of peasants. Arezios were never meant to touch the soil of Edinburgh. He deserved a walkway of exquisite mosses and flowers, not the cold snow blanketing soil that would surely reek of fertility come spring. In fact, he didn’t deserve to be travelling at all; he should be lounging across one of the expensive carpets of his old manor and listening to the lovely song of that comely bard, his belly warm with wine and his lungs tickled by the sweet aroma of incense. Winter’s gruesome chill snaked like talons around his chest, reminding him of where he was now, and of what he no longer possessed. He gave a tremendous shudder, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from the way his throat constricted as if trying to devour his last breath of air.

Pythus had passed by a few lone gatherers already, many of their sides hollowed by the winter’s hunger and their paws madly scraping the snow for forage or dying crops. To each one he scowled, and stayed well clear as if their misfortune were contagious. The last thing he needed was for some lowly thief to come by and purge him of the last of his family’s belongings, the few goods he’d been able to salvage and carry with him before losing the manor and the vineyard. But Pythus could only endure so much of this lonesome venture before the torment of his memories began to overwhelm him, and he knew that he desperately needed some form of interaction, even if it was with a scoundrel. So he threw on his classic lazy grin and began in the direction of the next figure he spotted over the distant hill.

“Is the weather always this dreadful here?” The nobleman asked as he approached the stranger, his smile falling slightly as a flake of snow landed across the fine hairs of his snout. There was no sunshine today, no mercy from Mother Nature. Only clouds, so thick that they felt suffocating even over such an open landscape.

@

Zoltan Blackwood
Male 3 Highlander Commonwealth Witch
Undecided

27

posts
155.00

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Son of a witch

posted 09-07-2021, 06:53 AM - Word count:
#2

The hunger of the fae was a cold hand pressed against his neck, squeezing tighter with each day that passed. He needed to find a suitable sacrifice, a hapless stranger that could be charmed and lured back to the Fae Forest. There were no visitors of late so the blue witch was forced to venture beyond the sanctuary of his home. It would be his first time putting his mother’s advice into action. He was both excited and nervous. If it didn’t work then he would have to keep looking. Much to his surprise and joy it was a stranger that greeted him first. His dotted brow knitted together, looking around at the snow covered ground and the flakes falling from the sky. I think it’s magical, he answered galeic accent obvious upon his tongue, lips bearing a warm smile. Would that be enough to charm the man?

It’s fun too, Zoltan said, lightly pawing at a mound of snow and shaping it into a lumpy misshapen ball. Ever played with it? he followed up with a question, white tipped tail wagging happily behind him almost causing his entire rump to wiggle with it. There was a playful gleam in his soft blue eyes as he looked over at the sandy stranger.

Art by Bunny

Pythus Arezio
Male 3 Mainlander Commonwealth Noble
Royalist

17

posts
105.00

renown





posted 09-07-2021, 02:51 PM - Word count:
#3


when everything you
touch turns to gold

Magical, perhaps, when viewed at a distance, preferably from a sheltered, cozy den when one is wrapped in a bear-skin rug and is kept warm and dry. Pythus never cared for the snow, because snow was cold, and he hated the cold. But the stranger was admittedly appealing to his playful streak, and as much as Pythus tried to maintain his scowl of disapproval at the mention of the crystalline substance, it faded into a curious little smirk. He eyed the stranger again, but could not detect any signs of ill intent. For the time being, at least, it seemed he was safe from being robbed or defiled by the commonwealth. And so his gaze then dropped to the lump of snow that the stranger now cradled in his paws.


“If you dare throw that at me,”Pythus warned, though his tone was light enough to not impart any aggression. “You are going to have to make up for hours of grooming. Do you think I just woke up looking like this?” To demonstrate his flawlessly-tamed pelt, he took a couple exaggeratedly-prideful steps to the side and pointed his chin upward so that the ball of snow was hardly in his vision anymore. Just the wagging tail of the curiously mirthful stranger bobbed back and forth before him.


“speak”

@Zoltan

Zoltan Blackwood
Male 3 Highlander Commonwealth Witch
Undecided

27

posts
155.00

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Son of a witch

posted 09-10-2021, 04:29 AM - Word count:
#4

Blue eyes sparkled with mischief when the creamish golden stranger warned him not to throw snow at him. It seemed an invitation to touch that lushous pelt would be his reward. He played with the snow ball for a little, lifting it with the pad of his paw and placing it back on the ground as if to tease the man with the prospect of being pelted.

Zoltan’s gaze was drawn to the man when he presented his fur for inspection, encouraging the blue witch to take a closer look. He approached the man, blue eyes full of awe for the carefully groomed fur. Was it as soft as it looked? Zoltan couldn’t help, but want to touch the man. It was an odd impulse, one that filled him with an electric tingle. Your fur is so beautiful, he remarked, lips parted in a look of amazement. His own blue fur was wild and untamed. It was clean, but it wasn’t half as resplendent as the handsome strangers.

He sniffed at a patch of fur, lightly touching it with his nose and accidentally ruffling it slightly. Oh! Uh, lemme fix that, he said, attempting to groom the fur back into its pristine place.

Art by Bunny

Pythus Arezio
Male 3 Mainlander Commonwealth Noble
Royalist

17

posts
105.00

renown





posted 09-11-2021, 10:23 AM - Word count:
#5

when everything you
touch turns to
gold
Pythus wasn’t accustomed to having this kind of male attention. Often, he didn’t get along very well with the same sex, because his charms didn’t work on them, and they rarely seemed to appreciate or even tolerate his sarcastic remarks. Sometimes, they were only interacting because Pythus had done something like “accidentally” sleep with their wives or pass a few rumours along behind their backs just to stir up some drama and ruffle some feathers. Memphet would usually have to intervene before her little brother got himself killed. It was a miracle that his hide still remained untouched by violence.

This particular man was larger than he, and his own hide revealed that, unlike Pythus, he was not a stranger to violence. Without his sister to come and save him, this should have been enough warning for the golden-eyed noble to watch his tongue, but old habits died hard, and this man had done the unthinkable. He’d sullied his perfect grooming.

Pythus’ lip curled with displeasure over one pearly white, his expression twisting into a frown.
“You fool!”
he snapped, and shifted away from the stranger’s attempts at undoing his calamitous action.
“What makes you think you have the right to tamper with such fine work?”


"speak"

@Zoltan

Zoltan Blackwood
Male 3 Highlander Commonwealth Witch
Undecided

27

posts
155.00

renown



Son of a witch

posted 09-12-2021, 03:52 AM - Word count:
#6

Surprise lined his dotted brow with a hesitant frown. Oops. He had made him mad. His mother wasn't joking when she said that it might be hard for him. Maybe he hadn't found the right words yet because the magic of seduction obviously wasn't working. An easy going smile touched his blue features and he took a step back. Sorry. I just really wanted to touch your fur. It's so soft, he apologised, blue eyes still fascinated by the pretty fur. You can touch mine if you want, he offered as a way of apology. He would even let him touch his scar if he wanted to and normally he didn't like that. The deep punctures that marked the left side of his neck. It would have been a mortal wound if not for his mother's tender love and care. No fur grew on the exposed skin, just scar tissue.

He didn't know if this would be enough to salvage his attempt at charming the man. Part of him was still debating whether or not he would make a good sacrifice, but selfishly he wanted to keep him around because of his splendid fur even if he was a little cranky about Zoltan touching it. He hoped he could charm his way through the man's defenses so that he would be allowed to touch without resistance.

Art by Bunny

Pythus Arezio
Male 3 Mainlander Commonwealth Noble
Royalist

17

posts
105.00

renown





posted 09-12-2021, 05:01 AM - Word count:
#7

when everything you
touch turns to
gold
The stranger’s words did nothing to remedy Pythus’ unease with the situation. Still flustered, he placed a few furious laps across the area of his pelt that had been disturbed, his lips curling as he tasted the stranger’s saliva on his fur.

When he had finished, Pythus fixed the man with a derisive glare and scoffed at his offer,
“And why would I do such a thing? I’d probably catch some disease from you filthy Lowlanders.”

Pythus’ heated gaze raked across the scar tissue on his unwanted company’s neck, regarding it now more as an infection than an indication of battle prowess. He knew absolutely nothing about this man, or what hole he dragged himself out of, but he reeked of the waxy stench of tree sap and the noble could only assume that he must be a worker here.

@Zoltan


"speak"

Zoltan Blackwood
Male 3 Highlander Commonwealth Witch
Undecided

27

posts
155.00

renown



Son of a witch

posted 09-12-2021, 05:43 AM - Word count:
#8

The smile fell when venomous words were aimed at him, stinging like nettles digging thorns into his flesh. A hurt expression settled upon his boyish features, eyes becoming like hard chips of ice instead of the soft friendly baby blues full of wonder. It was a pity. Zoltan sighed in disappointment, shaking his head slowly to emphasize it. A witch scorned was a dangerous foe to have, but he was a patient man. Don't be like that, he replied, a regretful smile touching his lips. I'm not a filthy lowlander so you'll be fine. Or… are you afraid to? he asked sincerely. He didn't mean to challenge the man's bravery. It was entirely possible that he was shy and all of his grumpiness was just a front.

He smiled at the handsome man, blue eyes returning to their former brightness of character. He was persistent perhaps more than he ought to. Insults were quickly forgiven and he bounced back to being his happy go lucky self. Growing up in the Fae Forest under Elwynn's tutelage had toughened him up. He'd learned that weakness was not an option for a Blackwood witch. Words held power, but they did not have power over him, at least he tried not to let them harm him. His prickly prince would hopefully settle down soon and realise that Zoltan wasn't going to hurt him, at least for now.

Art by Bunny

Pythus Arezio
Male 3 Mainlander Commonwealth Noble
Royalist

17

posts
105.00

renown





posted 09-12-2021, 06:48 AM - Word count:
#9

when everything you
touch turns to
gold
“If you’re not a lowlander, then what are you? A highlander? Even worse. I’ve never met a more uncivilized lot,”
Pythus scorned, still completely unfiltered with his disgust. But he could feel his pulse calming, now that the stranger was no longer violating him.

“Of course I’m afraid, as any man should be. Did you not hear what I said about disease?”
He answered, though mere seconds after the words parted from his lips did he start to wonder if he’d correctly interpreted the stranger’s question. Something about it felt unnatural to him; it should have been spoken as a jeer, but it was much softer, and held a genuine curiosity rather than any sort of challenge. Pythus felt his stomach tighten with uncertainty, and he added,
“Wait…”

Suddenly, the quick-witted part of Pythus’ brain that had seconds before been spewing insults ceased to function, and he was all awkwardness as he struggled to find the words,
“Are you… asking if I’m afraid to… touch another man?”

The idea that this stranger might be interested in him in such a way seemed preposterous, though it would explain their bizarre interaction. It could very well have been why Pythus wasn’t beaten into a bloodied pulp by now, since most men grew violent or at least aggravated by Pythus’ scathing words. Frankly, however, he wasn’t sure which scenario he preferred. Both made him want to crawl back to his Mainland manor and hide behind his sister.

@Zoltan


"speak"

Zoltan Blackwood
Male 3 Highlander Commonwealth Witch
Undecided

27

posts
155.00

renown



Son of a witch

posted 09-12-2021, 09:25 AM - Word count:
#10

It was confusing for the blue witch to be treated with such disgust. He had been perfectly friendly, but the man seemed to find everything he said and did offensive. Being a Lowlander was bad and being a Highlander was bad too. He didn’t really think much of his origins. It was all interconnected with his upbringing as a witch and strengthened his faith in the fae. He was proud of who he was and where he came from. You don’t like many people, huh? he observed, still calm and pleasant in his manner. Isn’t that lonely? Zoltan asked, cocking his head. He always had his mother and his trees to keep him company, but sometimes he longed for something else. Perhaps it was why he didn’t give up so easily.

The handsome stranger rambled about disease again. He didn’t understand why he was so worried about getting sick. Technically Zoltan had already touched him anyway and given him his cooties so it was too late to worry about that. He didn’t mention it though. It would only upset him more. Surprise widened his gaze when the man asked if he meant if he was afraid of touching another man. He hadn’t even considered that the man might be reluctant because he wasn’t a girl. Did it really matter? The naive boy didn’t understand what a preference was because he didn’t have one. I just wondered if you were shy. Does it matter that I’m a man? he asked, genuinely curious about it. The innocence of his question was obvious in his boyish features, blue eyes full of wonder.


Art by Bunny