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aurabcrealis replied to your post: “Honestly… Father, you cannot speak to a princess...
“Both smart and beautiful! I like her.”
“Isn’t she? S’ my daughter fer y’.”
“Oh! You flatter me with your praise, your Highness.” The teenage girl curtsied to the dancer. “I am Magnolia, Princess of Roses.” She turned and scowled at her father. “Please pardon my father, he has a penchant for stupidity; it is a wonder how he became a sorcerer.”
“Maggie...”
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@aurabcrealis replied to your post:
yo U KEEP FUCKING UP MY TITLE.
“Ah, my sincere apologies to Hopes To Be Better Than Her Uncle Some Day Somehow Demigod Lenore, the Fair.”
@aurabcrealis. call.
‘ --why are you stopping? it isn’t safe here, we should keep going. ’
starter for @aurabcrealis
CHAMPION gundyr! fearless and peerless! renowned all throughout lothric, famed for the masterful way he wields that halberd. he doubts there's a one out there that hasn't heard his name--news spreads among undead like wildfire, and he is still fresh-faced, strong and self-assured, worthy of being talked about. half ego, half fact. certainly people do flock to the graves! a place so dark and hollowed out thronging with undead!
AND today news comes to the graves instead of from it. a name and a face the champion has heard of before, whispered about by shy undead, a princess all in flowing silks and gleaming jewels--well, so the rumors go. gundyr hardly leaves the graves, keeps to the arena where he has memorised every scratch in every stone, but today--today his armor shines like the stars, and his halberd! well! well. decorum does say he should leave it at home, meeting someone of her status, but his fingers itch without it.
(MAYBE he can fend off attackers that make to seize her. win her heart, all chivalrous and brave! it's only befitting of a champion!)
AT least he has left the helmet off, tucked under his arm, so when he knocks on the grand doors it's his own features on show, not the face of a long-dead king. lothric castle. an unkindled like him in a place so elegant. well, the champion would never admit to being nervous, but the way his fingers are clenched like a vice around the haft of his halberd does belie the truth.
Starter for Aurabcrealis
Gundyr felt out of place in the ornate and beautiful city of Irithyll. Everything from the sheen glass of the windows to the graceful armor that the knights here adorned felt exceptionally refined: products of a culture that valued refinement above all other things. It was nothing like the land from which the foreign champion hailed, and his armor revealed that. It sported a degree of intricacy, with its carvings that depicted a king well-beloved by his people. But it was the armor of the champion of his people, and while it was extremely practical was not nearly as gorgeous as the skyline of this city. He had come to Irithyll just shortly after rising from his grave, upon finding that there was no firekeeper there to greet him, and no bell that had risen him from the slumber of death. He searched for a means to link the flame despite the circumstances he was faced with, and journeying to Anor Londo, home of the gods, seemed like a logical first destination.
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😘 8) just cause i wanna see what u do *chin hands*
It’s international kissing day! Send 😘 to kiss my muse.
The Court of Roses had earned a name for themselves, namely in how their “king” was personally hired as the retainer for Prince Lorian of the Lothric Kingdom on several occasions. It was because of this, relatives of the royal family in Irithyll had summoned him to accompany her on her excursion to the territories beyond the city’s borders. Now, they were returning to the moonlit city, snow gently falling down around them.
He could not help feeling that he looked a little silly standing next to her like this. Prince Lorian was regal, but Princess Lenore was a different story all together. The material of her clothes gave her an almost ethereal form, as if she were ready to dance off into the night. Her veil blew gently behind her. She braved the cold weather in what amounted to be little more than a dress–a chill never bothered any divinity, it seemed.
“And here’s where we part ways, Princess,” he had told her, turning to face her. He had to tilt his head up slightly to meet her gaze. In comparison to her beauty, he bore a more rustic appearance. The signature cloak of the Court was draped over his shoulders with a shawl of black furs on top of it. Although he was called a king, he had confided in her how it was a title initially given in mockery, which stuck. He had forced her to not refer to him as “Lord” or “Sir,” for he was no knight.
He was a simple mercenary trying to do good in the world.
And apparently, that was enough of a reason for the Princess to commit theft. It all happened too quickly for him to react. A soft finger hooked under his stubbly chin, and her lips pressed against his for a moment that felt like hours. She seemed amused by his shock, and then she departed, satisfied with how things turned out.
tfw the two of them should honestly band forces together and fight like. everyone. just. everyone.
{{CRASHES INTO IRITHYLL. FINDS HIS NIECE.
“AYYY LMAO LENORE, I HEARD SOME CREEP WAS TRYING TO FUCK YOU UP. LET’S FUCK HIM UP FIRST.”
DESTROYS THE PONTIFF. DESTROYS ALDRICH. RESCUES THE REST OF THEIR FAMILY.}}
@aurabcrealis replied to your post:
"You love me"
Sighs. “Yes, very begrudgingly, Lenore.”
