Top Posts Tagged with #calliopevalmont

A memory that makes them feel angry. Asked by @shadowrcith and @vasylia Featuring @calliopevalmont

There had been women before, that was to be certain. At random ports and on drunken nights of revelry. There had been many women before, but none who had affected Feivel to the point of any sort of attachment. Perhaps this was because these women understood the temporary nature of the man’s presence at their shores, or maybe it had been because Feivel was a different being all together in those days.

#abuse mention #calliopevalmont #about feivel #tag feivel later #you'll hear me howling outside your door #add interaction tag later #under a read more for length and abuse mention

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when: 6th of the 10th month, evening where: the queen’s chambers closed to @calliopevalmont

Francis is summoned back to Castle Tyrholm after dinner. By the Queen, of course, because the King has never once requested Francis’ services, and not even an attempt on his life could be enough to change Septimus’ mind about the Undying God. ( All men have the opportunity to step into Undeath’s light, but Francis fears Septimus is too far gone. ) They have a soft spot for the Queen, but that is not why they go; they make the trek from the outer city back into the castle walls, for that is their duty to the Undying God.

The sun has disappeared for the evening when Francis arrives outside of Calliope’s chambers. The guards stationed at her door announce Francis’ presence, and the doors open to reveal the Queen’s lavish living quarters. They have been here before, too many times to count, now, but they are still taken aback by it. Even before they donned the role of Cleric, Francis had no worldly possessions to give up.

“Good evening, my Queen,” Francis greets her with a bow of the head. “I’m pleased to find you safe and well,” they add. It is an obligatory addition, but in this case, it is also true. “I imagine this has been a frightening day for you.”

#interactions: calliope #calliopevalmont #calliope 001

status: closed to @calliopevalmont location: receiving hall, castle tyrholm. date: three years prior, seventeenth day of the fourth month.

Another restless night, and Feivel found himself roaming the halls of Castle Tyrholm with the company of his faithful hound, Gunport, at his side. It was the sound of the wind whistling outside his sleeping chamber’s window that kept a good night’s sleep at bay, the sound reminding him of those wind whipped days out at sea that built him into the man he was now. He lobbed a ball down the corridor lazily and got some mild entertainment watching the hairy beast chase after it with gusto before bounding back to its master’s side and pushing the slobbery toy into his hand. But even the momentary distraction couldn’t hold back the feelings that he was now more a ruin than a man.

His father had died valiantly in battle, though the skirmish itself could have been avoided by better planning. Even so, his father had died with his reputation intact, ruthless to the end. Feivel himself had quickly built his own mythos around himself, even if it was not as cruel as his father’s. He knew the Clan Asturias had gained a measure of renown, enough for King Septimus to know of their accomplishments, and as the captain of the ship Feivel himself was the figurehead of the legend. On nights like this, he would retract his steps and try to pinpoint the exact moment he had gotten too far ahead of himself or too comfortable. He knew what his father would say, that his downfall was the direct result of trusting anyone but himself. Some nights, Feivel felt that conclusion was correct. On other nights, he surmised that his fate was inevitable. For years, he had wondered how legends were brought to their knees. Now he knew he was little more himself than some exotic game King Septimus had cornered and would eventually mount on his wall like the other trophy animals in Castle Tyrholm’s gun room.

The candlelight flickered from further down the hall, and both Feivel and Gunport stood aware, their two sets of wild eyes pointing in the direction of the disturbance. He wondered vaguely if someone else was being kept awake by the ghosts of their past, or if perhaps it might have been the growing sense of restlessness that had been building behind closed doors and in whispered conversations throughout the castle. He had only been a member of the court for a handful of months, but he knew what the early stages of insurrection looked like. This was something he altogether aimed to avoid, more than convinced that the king would be able to put an end to any treason before it truly started.

It surprised him to see the queen passing through the hall, and for a moment he felt his presence was inappropriate. Life in Tyrholm had come with a healthy dose of culture shock, to say the least. He had cleaned up well, this was true, but he knew he was far from noble. His manners had provided ample fodder to mock him in his first months in the court, and the stiff clothing he had been given felt like it choked him. Perhaps it was his station in his office that made him feel most like the butt of a cruel joke, the books that lined the shelves and his pot of ink and paper virtually useless. He had wondered for a while how long King Septimus would humor him after he realized his master of antiquities couldn’t so much as write his own name. Luckily enough, he had proven himself entertaining enough to listen to that when he was called upon it was almost exclusively in person. Whenever the need to write was unavoidable, it was no trouble to intimidate a servant or page into writing it for him. It took little more than a menacing glare and the simple lie that he preferred to dictate his response rather than be saddled with the chore of writing his message himself.

As The Empress approached, Feivel bowed. It was practiced to look natural, as if he’d been bowing to monarchy all his life rather than copying the other members of court over the past few months. He also took grain pains to make the motion as fluid as possible despite the strain it caused his lower back. “Your Majesty,” he greeted, “I apologize for disturbing you this evening.” He tossed the ball away again, figuring someone of her stature had little interest in being near such a creature. The dog took off again after the ball, springing clumsily down the long hall.

#calliopevalmont #add interaction tag later