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Forbidden Love (IC! Now Open); Romance/Adventure/Fantasy
Topic Started: 5 Oct 2008, 01:09 AM (1,771 Views)
Mira Darkmoon
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Emma turns to him, a small smile flickers on her face for a moment. "Duty always bothers one. I have more duties then I'd like to admit. My sisters don't even know what most of them are. Tomorrow is the crowning." She says, biting her lip slightly. "I will never truly rule, nor will I marry for love. Princesses marry for one thing. Duty and Alliance." She says, sounding annoyed at the last part.

"One more slip up and I will end up with a prince who is as cruel as my sister Ella is innocent and Delia is Sweet." She says, a sad sigh escaping her. "But truly, I do not care what happens to me anymore. Duty is duty." She says, faking a smile for his benefit. She truly believed she was doing this for the sole benefit of her sisters. It was as if her fate meant nothing to her. The chill air blows her long brown hair into her face and she grabs her cloak, wrapping it more firmly around her slender body. She looks him in the eye when she speaks this time. "I will see you again, perhaps. For Now I will go on my own. I know better then to keep my dagger too far from me." She says with a smile before walking away.
Edited by Mira Darkmoon, 5 Oct 2008, 02:14 PM.
"I know two languages. English and Sarcasm. I'm fluent in both." - Me
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5 Oct 2008, 04:44 AM
There was a voice that had sounded out somewhere nearby, momentarily startling the young woman as she halted her steps, slender fingers clutching the top of her beautiful cane.

Ella's head turned this way and that, looking around for the source of her voice, when something silently nagged at her to look upward.

There, sitting on the edge of the rooftops, was a man staring down at her, his body barely lit by the firelight of the nearby street lamps lining the street at interval. Ella stared up at him with a bit of astonishment, as though never having seen such a thing in her life. In truth, she hadn't. The castle walls had always been too high to climb, and it was likely death would only wait for the foolish who sought to brave such heights.

Realizing he was addressing her, she stammered for logical thought to process, though it came slowly. The princess was a sheltered bird, not a socialite, and because of this, she only bore a measure of decent "people skills" when her sisters were near to give her confidence. What could she say to a stranger? What would this stranger want from her? Nervously, her free hand came up to thread her fingers through golden bangs, her gaze averted from him as though seeking to hide her face from view.

"I-I'm only...looking for someone..." she replied to him, wondering if her voice was loud enough to reach him at all. "My sister went out alone tonight..."

She struggled for more words to come, but at this point, her mind was in a fog as it struggled between her thoughts of communication, and the desire to be with her sisters again.

Ella's green eyes burned and she blinked rapidly to supress the sensation. She only wanted to be with them, to be with her sisters who must have loved her in some way. A father's love hadn't been enough, tough as it was, as he was a man of politics and things Ella couldn't bring herself to completely understand. Emma and Delia, however, were closer to understanding and unconditional love. Or were they...?

How often had the young princess wondered if her sisters had loved her at all? How many times had she feared that the two sought to leave her behind because she was merely a burden that slowed them down in the end? Perhaps that was the truth, but so long as they were kind to her, Ella knew she would take advantage for the sake of remaining close.

"Maybe you've seen her?" she asked up to the man, turning her face to him. "She's a pretty young woman with long brown hair. Half-Elven."

The description was simple enough, but Ella could easily picture the face of Emma within her mind, not considering that any other stranger would have a more difficult time imagining.
Vincent couldn't help but chuckle at how the concept of talking to strangers seemed foreign to her.
"I apologize if i startled you, but i figured addressing you first would have been better than approaching you." He let himself slide off the roof, it was about a 10-12 foot drop but he hit the ground and landed in a slight crouch, his hair fell in his face which he quickly pushed out of the way.
"I do believe I met someone of that description not long ago. She is currently at a fountain a little farther in town...but from the way she looked it seemed she wished to be alone...she looked like she was trying to sort some things out that might have been troubling her."
He put both is arms straight out to show that he meant no harm or anything of the sort. "Now that I have made my presense known to you. My name is Vincent. May I approach you?" He didn't realize that she herself was one of the princesses as well...he never was good with faces that he hadn't personally seen before. But when it came down to it, he figured that asking her permission to approach her would possibly calm her...even if it was just slightly.
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Ella was startled when the man dropped from the roof, a very soft gasp escaping from between her lips, muffled behind the palm of her hand for a moment. To her amazement, he made the action seem so effortless and natural, landing with a crouched posture before straightening and brushing his dark hair out of his face.

"Now that I have made my presense known to you," he said to her, arms extended to either side of his body. "My name is Vincent. May I approach you?"

Ella's hand slowly lowered from her lips to gently grip the soft fabric of the wrap over her shoulders, unconsciously hiding the ruby broach holding it closed over her chest. She remained glued to the place on the darkened street she had originally stopped in, making no effort to move closer, and too uncertain to find it in herself to move away.

With her heart pounding within her chest, the young woman swallowed hard and gave a simple nod to him, her deep green eyes remaining locked onto his figure, as though watching him warily, wondering what more may come of this encounter.

"Y-Yes..." she said, to verbalize her response to his question. "I am... Eleanor, or Ella, as some call me..."

Though neither had been her first name, she had always preferred her middle name over all others, recalling the gentle sound of her mother's voice speaking to her while putting her to sleep at night as a child. Also, by telling any stranger this name, would it be more difficult to suspect her true lineage? Unfortunately, the rich style of her dress failed to enter her mind as an element that might give it all away. For now, the new plan was simply to pretend. Maybe if she wasn't a princess, she would be in less danger?

Ella shifted her gaze away from the man for a moment to look in the direction she could only assume that Emma might be found in. At the fountain, he had told her. Thoughts flew through her mind to visualize such a place, but the princess was still unaccustomed to the layout of things outside of the castle walls.

Something...is troubling Emma...? she thought to herself, her green eyes shaping themselves in something akin to concern or sorrow. What could trouble Emma so, if this man is telling me the truth? She is the crown princess of our kingdom. She should not worry for anything...

"She shouldn't need to be so alone..." Ella said quietly, her golden hair shifting at her back as the breeze silently moved through the streets.

Her rounded eyes burned once more, though it was a wonder if Ella was more concerned about her dearest sister being lonely, or herself.
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He slowly stepped forward, progressing towards her at a steady pace. Even with her permission he would leave a few feet between them for her own comfort.

As he came closer he began to better notice her fine clothing, he wasn't tempted to take them from her because of his personal code of ethics, but rather he was concerned for her. Theives and ruffians with no ethics tended to come out at night, and from her apperance she did not seem the type that was used to seeing violence, and if any thieves did come out for her....that would be what it would resort to.

As the wind blew, so did a few papers and leaves, but he believed he heard more than that, but wasn't quite sure. He hoped he was just imagining things, he'd rather not be pushed into a fight in front of a young lady who seemed so sweet and innocent, even if he was fighting on her behalf.

She didn't seem to recognize his name...though he had the occasional bounty on his head from nobels...and other thieves. But still it was probably best not to let on that he was a thief, it would probably just cause her to run...and he wouldn't blame her.

"If you wish I could take you to the fountain. But if not then I will understand."
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He was a little closer to her now, her eyes able to decipher more of his appearance beneath the glow of a nearby street lamp. Were the commonfolk so different from nobility? Rarely, or perhaps never, had Ella truly stopped to converse with them, as leaving the castle had been forbidden, and those of lower status within the castle walls were the servant staff, and speaking to them at great length was...taboo.

This man, Vincent, was easy on the eyes and she supposed she could call him handsome, but with such a sheltered life behind her, she had to admit she had very few whom she could appropriately compare him to. However, in comparrison to the old and/or pudgy noblemen her parents would entertain within their great halls, he was a rather nice vision to behold.

Ella let her eyes shift away slightly, down to the cobbled street beneath them, her hand fidgeting nervously with a golden lock of hair resting over her shoulder. She wouldn't want to be caught staring, how unladylike it would be to do so. Instead, shyly averting her gaze would be best, for now. As the wind blew between them, the young woman was oblivious to the additional sounds nearby, easily mistaking them for natural sounds of the night.

"If you wish I could take you to the fountain. But if not then I will understand."

An escort truly would be something Ella was more accustomed to, but to burden a stranger with her selfish pursuit of a sibling who sought solitude during a time of troubles... It almost felt to be too much.

"I would not wish to burden you, sir," she said to him softly, continuing to avoid his gaze. "I am certain I can find my way on my own, though I thank you for your offer. I'll not hinder you at all if you have other matters to attend to this evening."

Clutching her cane within her hand, she looked up at him with a faint smile, masking her uncertainty and displaying a guise of confidence, even if it had been a pointless thing at this time with her previous display of social inadequacy. It was a face shown often to her sisters in times when she could better control her emotions, refraining from falling into a childish fit of tears that always threatened her over a not-so-distant horizon.

I'll be alright, she thought. As long as I have Emma and Delia, I'll be just fine.
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No sooner had she declined his offer had a few thugs, thieves, and rogues come out of some nearby alleyways.

"Oh..goody...company. What do you createns want?"

"Just the ladies nice clothing sir."

"You want to steal from her? What makes you think I'll allow such a detestable act such as stealing from a woman take place?"

"Because if you stand in our way, we'll take you down and go after her."

Vincent looked around, there were roughly eight of them, all of them on the same side of the street. Bad choice, if they had come from the other direction they might have stood a chance.. "And what makes you think you can get even a foot past me?"

"You're just one guy...what could you possibly do against eight of us?"

Vincent moved around and stood a few feet in front of Ella. "Miss Ella...you seem like a very nice and sweet young lady, and I would prefer you not see this...so would you kindly look away?" He asked as he turned his head slightly to look at her, giving her a kind hearted smile. He intended on keeping away from using his Tiger Claws if he could.

He stood ready for them if they charged. "Last chance boys, turn back now."
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The shadows had moved, coming to life and taking the shape of a number of darkly dressed men, their ill intentions tainting the air like a stale cologne. Elle's body stiffened at the sight of them, their presence spawing a new measure of nervousness within her. Clutching her cane within her hand, she could feel her legs falter ever-so-slightly.

By their bold words, slurred and bearing that comment "accent" often held by the commonfolk who were not expected to speak with intelligence and grace, it was obvious, even to Ella's otherwise ignorant mind, what they had wanted. At mention of her clothing, her free hand grasped the flowing material of her skirts almost defensively. Though, in the back of her mind, the young woman wondered what a group of men would do with a woman's dress...

As they made their threats, the dark-haired stranger, Vincent, chose to challenge them.

"You're just one guy...what could you possibly do against eight of us?"

Ella's eyes, widened with fright, shifted from the eight men nearby as a figure moved between them. As though his words were not enough in his blatant challenge to the brigands standing before them, Vincent shifted his body to stand as a sort of barrier between them and the blonde-haired woman, their target. Her green eyes locked onto his profile from behind with a measure of surprise and an otherwise unknown sensation of...admiration? He was no guard of hers sworn to defend her from harm, he had no obligation to do any such thing. Yet there he was, risking himself for...her?

"Miss Ella..." she heard him say suddenly, tearing her focus to meet his eyes. "You seem like a very nice and sweet young lady, and I would prefer you not see this...so would you kindly look away?"

What else could she have possibly done?

Obeying silently, Elle nodded to Vincent, her eyes still widened and conflicted with worry and fear, though she had to admit that she felt a strange sense of comfort at the sight of his smile. In the next moment, her body turned away as her free hand rose to cover part of her face, as though to hide her eyes and reduce the chance of sight. Her heart pounded within her chest, erratically, and she felt feverish and weak, standing on unsteady legs as she leaned against her cane for support. Walking for extended periods of time inevitably took its toll on her body, and with the added emotional stress within this moment...

"That's right, girly," one of the dark thieves spoke with a chuckle. "You don't need to see us gut your little friend here. We'll take care of you in a minute."

The one who spoke, the group's leader perhaps, gave a simple gesture, a tilt of his head directed towards Vincent. Grinning widely at the concept of shedding blood and taking a prize this night, four of them prepared their weapons; daggers, clubs and the like, and charged forward to take care of the whelp standing in their way, leaving the rest to stand back and enjoy the show to come.

Four against one? Should be simple enough. No sense to waste the energy of all to take out a single would-be hero.
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"That's right, girly," one of them spoke up, "You don't need to see us gut your little friend here. We'll take care of you in a minute."

Vincent only gave a curt huff at this comment.

Shortly after four of them charged after him bearing their weapons. "Four on one? Barely a challenge."

The one who seemed to be the leader, seemed to take these words the wrong way, for he was fully suprised by what happened next.

As the four charged, Vincent ran forward as well. The one furthest in front made a motion that would obviously be a horizontal slash, which Vincent dodged with a high jump and while in the air, he delivered a hard kick straight to the man's face, knocking him flat on his back.

Vincent landed, croutched and quickly approached the next, moving with his hands and feet. As the man went to kick him, he spun around and got behind him, grabbing him by his shirt and throwing him into his nearby cohort. This thew them both to the ground for the moment.

The one farthest back came near him and lunged at him with his dagger, but Vincent turned his body slightly, the man managed to only cut his shirt. "This...was my favorite shirt you scumbag." He twisted the man's arm and forced him to drop the knife, he used his free hand to grab the man by his hair, he pulled he mans head back and forced it down as he brought up his knee to meet the mans head for added force. The thug fell to the ground.

The other two got up and charged at him for another go. They seemed to have dropped their weapons when he forced them to the ground, and were comming at him with just their fists. The smaller one came at him first and went for a right hook, but Vincent ducked under and kicked at the man's knee causing him to shatter the kneecap and demobilizing the man.

The last one was a bit larger than the others, and would be harder to grab hold of. His swings were much more violent and unpredictable. The man continued to swing at Vincent until he had Vincent against a wall, at which point he made his biggest mistake, he went for a headbutt, which Vincent croutched to dodge, causing the man to slam his head against the wall and lose consciousness.

Razael stood back up and walked to the center of the street and faced the last four. He was standing in front of them...relatively untouched, save for the cut in his shirt. "Now let us try this again...leave now...or you end up like your buddies here."
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The sounds around her kept Ella from looking back at all to see what was happening during the fight. All she could realize where the sounds of collision, breaking bones, masculine grunts of pain between the struggle. Her hand continued to press against her face as her eyes clamped shut tightly, her mind attempting to block out the horrible sounds reaching her ears.

This was not something a princess was meant to experience.

Even more terrible a thought, could any of those pained grunts belong to Vincent? Did that group of men overwhelm the one who had chosen to defend her against their wickedness? The young woman wasn't sure how the death of a stranger for her sake would weigh upon her mind, though in such a situation, if he had lost, what would have become of her as well? As selfish a thought it may have been, was it truly so damning for the innocent to fear for a life ill-prepared to end?

"Now let us try this again...leave now...or you end up like your buddies here."

It was his voice that brought the young woman back to the now, his voice that gave her a measure of hope, causing her eyes to open just slightly as she fought the desire to turn around. His voice was something different than the others who spoke with sarcastic slurs, their voices laced with traces of wicked poison and unspeakable desires.

The leader of the eight regarded Vincent silently, looking at the four of his men who were either unconscious or writhing unceremoniously on the street as the three on either side of him shifted uncomfortably. Seeing four of your companions go down when faced with an unarmed man was not something to benefit morale. The leader's eyes, narrowed and trecherous, shifted from Vincent to the blonde head of the woman just beyond, as though weighing his options and what he was currently willing to lose.

With a casual shrug, the man said, "No scrawny chit is worth the health of me an' my men."

Without any verbal order to do so, the remaining three went to assist those of their companions who could no longer move alone, moving carefully around the man who defeated them so effortlessly and sending him wary glances. As they began to drag the wounded back into the shadows, the leader turned to face Vincent once more with a mischievious smirk plastered onto his face.

"Maybe next time, the price will be right," he said. "And I don't forget a face." He glanced at Ella as she slowly pulled her hand away from her face and carefully looked back over her shoulder to watch them flee. The man blew a sloppy kiss in her direction and said, "Be seein' you, love."

Vanishing back into the night just as swiftly as they had first arrived, the street was once again barren and silent, occupied only by the two.

Ella glanced at Vincent uncertainly, keeping herself from turning her body completely to him. She wasn't sure how to face him in this moment after what he had done. This wasn't anything like a moment with her sisters when they might have supported her, protected their fragile sibling. She could not throw herself happily into the arms of this stranger and thank the gods above that she had been blessed with such kindness in her life.

"Are you...hurt...?" she asked quietly, seeking something to say to break the silence and ease her confusion.
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As the men gathered their fallen comrads, Vincent kept a stern eye on them. If even one of them made the wrong move, all of them would pay the price.
They helped up and carried the injured and unconscious and vanished back into the alleyways.

When they were gone Vincent wheeled around on the ball of his right foot and slowly paced back towards Ella. He didn't expect any thanks of any form. He didn't even expect her to show concern, and this caused him to be suprised when she asked him if he was alright.

He was at a loss of words for a moment, no one had shown him concern in any form, even past women he had defended, everyone had recognized him as The Black Winged Thief and always tried to turn him in despite his actions, but here she was showing some concern for him.

"N-no I'm not hurt. I just have a cut in my shirt is all. It is an easy fix. It happens every now and then. I hope they didn't give you too much of a scare." He was taken aback really. Did she even know who he was?
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DeFalco
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Ella smiled faintly, relieved at his words as her eyes drifted to find the newly made tear within his shirt. As it appeared, it was only a cut in the fabric with no sight of blood. Turning more to face him, supporting her weary frame on the slender length of her cane, Ella brushed a few golden strands of hair away from her face as a good breeze swept past her, shifting the folds of her gown and the cloak upon her back with a subtle whisper of fabrics.

"Well," she began softly, "I'll admit that I haven't met with such people before in the past, so it would be a horrible lie to say that I was not afraid."

The young woman glanced around at their surroundings for a moment, her eyes taking in the sight of the lonely streets and the shadowed alleyways nearby. No matter how much time she had been able to spend in such a community, it was all still so foreign in the end. She longed to return to the safety of the castle, but at the same time, she wanted to follow her sisters, desired to be like them in their bold pursuits for freedom. Would spending time out here on the streets with a stranger bring her closer to what they might have achieved on their random adventures away from home? How wonderful it would be to become something more than a sickly princess, with a weak and pitiful body that burdened not only herself, but others around her. Knowing her sister Emma, she would not have stood quietly by in a moment such as the one that had passed without a few choice words escaping her lips. Then again, Emma was not hindered by her health.

"I suppose...that I didn't realize what things were truly like out here. Meeting people like them... I didn't consider such an encounter when I left home this evening. I've heard stories, but... Perhaps people never consider that such things will happen to themself."

The young woman pulled the hood of her cloak closer to her neck, as though to protect her throat from the breeze that easily chilled her, also attempting to close both ends of the cloak before her to keep warm. It was an unfortunate thing, her thin body succumbing to cold alot quicker than most, or perhaps she had simply been spoiled with warmth most of her life that her body would not tolerate anything less.
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As the wind blew by, Vincent did not even give a hint of shuddering. He had lived on his own for six years now as a thief, and was fully adapted to the changes in weather.
"Then it is safe to assume that you have lived a rather sheltered life, and judging by your clothes, a rather extravagant life at that."
At her mention of stories he became curious, "I wonder, have you ever heard stories of a man called The Black Winged Thief?"


((Agh...my posts are getting short again...nooossss))
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DeFalco
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Ella felt somewhat self-conscious when Vincent made idle mention of her clothing, pressing the young woman to make more of an effort to hide the less-than vivid shade of her royal purple gown behind her cloak. Emma was one who sought to hide herself outside of the castle, dressing herself more akin to that of a common woman as opposed to royalty. Ella understood a need for discretion, but at the same time, the naive princess found it difficult to consider hiding her true nature from others. Even the tiny lie about her name, refraining from speaking her title, made her feel uncomfortable in the end. Yet here she was, trying too late to take the advice from her elder sister in maintaining a measure of mystery surrounding her true identity.

Somehow, though the young woman only knew how to be herself, she wondered if it was a problem for this young man before her, if he pointed it all out so specifically.

"I wonder, have you ever heard stories of a man called The Black Winged Thief?"

Ella glanced up at Vincent, blinking at his question as her mind could only draw a blank. Shifting her weight very subtly and adjusting her grip on the emerald sphere atop her cane, she thought about the things she had heard, though such knowledge was, in the end, very limited.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I do not believe I've heard of such a person."

She turned away for a moment, an embarassed smile tugging at her pink lips, as she mindlessly brushed a few stray locks of hair away from her cheek.

"I suppose I would not know of much if my life is sheltered, as you have said. Is he someone well-known out here? Though...if he is a thief, maybe he is a dangerous person? I've not encountered many thieves in my life, for measures are taken to keep them away from my home. No thief would dream of going there," she mused softly.
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The fact of her dress did not concern him at all, he was intrigued by her, not what her possible status was. She looked so small, fragile, and innocent. She was everything he had left behind six years ago when his adopted parents told him everything. He had cast away his innocence, purity, and naivette. Even though the fact that she was looking for the girl that had introduced herself as a princess and the way Ella was dressed, he was starting to put two and two together in his head, but he was intrigued by her no more and no less...he was intrigued by the person...not the status.


He figured he would go with his hunch, and give her a little story of his own, and fabricate a future event that he would try to act on in the next night.

"They say The Black Winged Thief is as his name suggests, a thief with black wings. From what I have seen, he is dangerous if you cross him, but I have never seen nor heard tale of him having ever harmed nor robbed a woman. Rather, I have heard he defends them, whether it be wild animals or other thieves. When he fights, it is as if watching a beautiful dance, his fighting in itself is an art. Yet, because he has defended women from thieves, and stolen from nobles and royal families, he has had many bounties placed on his head by each."

He took a pause as he looked to the stars, the moon wasn't out for a change. "I have heard rumors, that he will be sending a letter to the royal family of this city, saying he will be there tomorrow at the stroke of midnight to steal the families greatest treasure. Personally I would like to see him captured, yet at the same time, if he managed such a feat...i would feel the need to applaude him for such a daring success."
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The young woman listened to his tale of this man carefully, soaking in the new knowledge eagerly, like a child listening to a new bedtime story before sleeping. From the description, the man didn't sound so terrible, nothing like the stereotypical cutthroats and brigands often spoken of during a topic of thieves. However, it was difficult to find the whole truth in the perspective of anyone other than the person in question.

When Vincent began speaking of this "rumor", however, Ella listened in silent concern, worried both for the treasure this person might have sought, as well as what might happen as a reaction to the thief's possible infiltration of the guarded castle.

"Personally I would like to see him captured, yet at the same time, if he managed such a feat...I would feel the need to applaude him for such a daring success."

Ella stared at him for a moment, soaking in his words.

"He must be mad..." she mused quietly, her voice carrying a hint of a stunned sort of awe. "To have any wish to go into the castle, of all places... Surely he must be aware of the risks involved. Though there certainly are many things of value within the castle walls, what could be valuable enough to risk one's life for?"

Almost immediately, she closed her lips together, eyes partially growing wide at the realization that she was speaking a little too freely about that which involved the castle, her home. If she spoke too openly, could anyone suspect who she really was? She had to remember discretion.

Nervously clearing her throat, Ella's fingers idly toyed with the trimming of her vermillion-red cloak as her green eyes moved downcast.

"Well that is... I mean... Surely those of royal status would house many treasures... But to think that a single man would risk himself over a simple treasure... I am not sure I understand what he feels he would gain."
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Damien put his head in his hands "were is the money?" he asked a tall young man "he said he don't have the money" the young man put a bag on the table "whats this?" Damien asked. "its some i took to pay for his debt" the young man left, Damien looked in the bag "eh?... ha! so thats what the goblet of honor looks like.". later, he was walking down the street. "were to hit today?" he asked himself "i know! that small new fort. the men there could use some training" he said as he climbed on to the rooftops and headed towards the new small fort...
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Mira Darkmoon
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Emma walks down the street heading north. No one even noticed her, but then again that might be because they were heading home and she was just wondering. "Freedom is so fleeting." She mutters to herself, closing her eyes against the tears. She would not cry, Emma didn't cry. Emma was seen as the strong sister and she rarely allowed herself such a privilege.

She lets out a sad sigh and her hands flow slowly to her neck. She felt as if she was going to cry. She shakes her head clear the feeling away. She walks a bit faster, keeping her eyes ahead of her, her eyes half closed as she thinks.
"I know two languages. English and Sarcasm. I'm fluent in both." - Me
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((Shit! I'm so late for posting!))

Princess Cordelia Anastasia Amarantha slipped through an alley way, having just given her guard the slip. She could hear his gruff voice calling out her name, but she just kept running. Soon she slowed to a walked and entered the heart of the city, pocketing her crown.

As she walked through the city, amazed at what the city was like, she passed a group of men laughing at something. After she had passed, they stared at her back, nodding to each other as they stood from where they were sitting to follow her. Delia noticed this and increased her pace which only resulted in the men increasing their pace. Soon though, Delia broke out into a full out run.

A little while later, Delia was cornered with the men slowly inching towards her, laughing at her seemingly helpless body. She was thin and her wings were retracted against her bare skin. She let a sigh slip as excitement built up in the back of her mind. "Excuse me men, but if you can, would you be so kind as to move out of my way?" she asked sweetly. The men just laughed and walked towards Delia once again.

That was when one of the men lunged and grabbed Delia's arm and gripped it tight. She let out a small yelp and tried to pull away, but the mans grip was to tight. The other men just laughed as the one who had gripped her arm spoke, "Nice to see you've fallen for me, missy." These words made Delia gag and once again, she tried to pull away. "Let. Go. Of. Me. NOW!" she screamed the last word quietly before she felt a filthy hand at her mouth. "Speak one more time without being spoken to missy, and you die," the brute who was holding her hissed.
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Mira Darkmoon
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Emma notices some commotion and decides to investigate. Unlike her sisters, she wasn't sweet or innocent. Emma was considered strong of will and of body, even if she seemed as harmless as any other lady.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I do you mind moving? You are in my way." She says, tapping her hand across her arm hitting the bracelet on her wrist with a slight tapping sound. The men turn to see her and grin, thinking they've gotten themselves another victim.

((that's alright ST -hugs-))
"I know two languages. English and Sarcasm. I'm fluent in both." - Me
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Delia heard her sisters voice and even though she was disgusted by the hand at her mouth, she bit it. The brute yelped and let go of her and she immediately jumped back. "Nice to see your safe sister," she spoke in a soft voice. She summoned her staff. She chanted a small spell and sent a ball of flames hurtling towards the baboons who were surrounding Emma.

"Don't you dare touch one hair on my sisters body, you baboons," she said. The leader laughed and reached out with his good hand to grab Delia. She slapped his hand away and her staff disappeared. She put her hand into the air in front of her and a bow materialized. It was already loaded and she grab the string, pulled back, and released the enchanted arrow. This time, it was a shadow arrow. It pierced the leaders skin near his heart, and the arrows darkness slowly began to take him into darkness.
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Gwyn
5 Oct 2008, 10:48 AM
"He must be mad..." she mused quietly, her voice carrying a hint of a stunned sort of awe. "To have any wish to go into the castle, of all places... Surely he must be aware of the risks involved. Though there certainly are many things of value within the castle walls, what could be valuable enough to risk one's life for?"

Almost immediately, she closed her lips together, eyes partially growing wide.

Nervously clearing her throat, Ella's fingers idly toyed with the trimming of her vermillion-red cloak as her green eyes moved downcast.

"Well that is... I mean... Surely those of royal status would house many treasures... But to think that a single man would risk himself over a simple treasure... I am not sure I understand what he feels he would gain."
To him this was almost like a game. He had always been planning on stealing from the castle, but he had no incentive to do so. If this girl was who he assumed her to be, then he would have no choice but to send his "trademark" letter announcing his plan to the king. He had even already decided what he would steal, though this treasure he planned on would be far different from any he had ever stolen before.

"No one truely knows why he has chosen the life of a theif, nor why he choses to steal only from well known people, nor why he sends letters announcing his plans before he acts on them. I myself believe that it may be because he seeks attention. He maybe realizes that as a normal person he would live, die, and his name would fade away to be forgotten by all. Maybe he does this to get attention equivalent to that of the nobles and royalty, so show he refuses to be forgotten, even if all he earns is notoriety."

He took a pause as he looked back up to the starlit night, for some reason, they seemed to burn brighter tonight to him.

"My dear, thieves are just like the seasons, each one of them are different. Some steal just to steal, some steal to live, some steal for the attention, and others steal for the thrill. This would be Black Wing's first attempt on a royal treasure, and I personally can not wait to see what shall happen next."

As he said this he ran his fingers through his dark hair moving it all away from his face, and he moved slightly more into the light from a nearby lamp. He hoped she was the type to remember a face, for she would need to remember his for the night of the morrow.
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"Tonight is so not my night. Delia, remind me next time I want to leave the castle of this." She says, as she jumps out of the way of one of the brutes. "I seem to be losing my senses." She mutters, daggers drawn. She slashes at one of them in a movement that seemed more like a dance then a fight. The grace of her elven blood had taken over.

She slashes at another and her dagger comes in contact with that of his. "What are you? Faye?" He says and she laughs at his remark. "You will never know." She says, swinging with the skill that the sword master had taught her. She comes in contact with his cheek and cuts him. "Bitch!" He says and sticks out his foot, tripping Emma and sending her sprawling to the ground. She didn't move but if that was from shock or from hitting her head one couldn't tell.

(oh god my posts are getting short! Sorry I didn't post sooner, I went to the mall with my friends. I should never be left near a book store O_O so many books....)
Edited by Mira Darkmoon, 5 Oct 2008, 10:32 PM.
"I know two languages. English and Sarcasm. I'm fluent in both." - Me
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DeFalco
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Listening to Vincent's take on thieves, Ella remained silent and contemplative. She still did not understand. Stealing for attention? Stealing for the thrill? What point did any of it have if the person were caught and killed? Far too much risk involved, it seemed, and she couldn't think of any treasure in the world worth someone's life.

"Well," she started simply, wrapping one hand gently around her arm holding her cane, "I suppose we shall have to wait and see if this person is truly bold enough to come to the castle to do such a reckless thing. Although..."

Her words trailed off for a moment as her green eyes shifted elsewhere, momentarily uncertain.

Though she would be at the castle, her home, could she really stand by and simply wait for news about whether or not a thief had come and was caught or escaped? If he was caught, then the only thing she would hear about was the inevitable execution of a reckless man. Thief or not, was the idea of another's death truly something to enjoy? The thought made her sad. Why did people have to die simply because of some disagreement or alternate method of living? And for one so bold as to steal from the castle... Did her family not have enough riches that the loss of one would be minimal?

"I am not certain that hearing of his arrest and death is something I will wish to hear of, simply for the sake of knowing that he attempted the impossible..."

((Meh, short, but this gives Mosaic a chance to post again.))
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Delia growled and unsheathed her royal daggers and ran at the man. She slashed at him and he let out a mangled scream as he died. She grinned and turned around to face the leader, letting her wings unfold from her bare skin. The wings cast her face into shadow, her piercing red eyes seeming to glow from the shadows.

"What do you want with us, bitch?" the leader asked, attempting to sound brave. Delia grinned, but let out a small yelp when she felt a sharp pain shoot through her ankle. She collapsed to the floor to see her ankle swelling and a clenched fist retreating from her ankle. "Damn you bastard," she muttered.
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Emma moans and sits back up. Her head had been killing her all night, now it was really hurting her. "Okay, that was cheating." She says, daggers in hands, and jumps to a protective stance in front of her sister. She really wished they hadn't left tonight.

"Now would be a lovely time for help, however, sister, we are on our own." She says with a strength in her voice that was usual. Her leg was killing her but she wasn't one to complain about pain. She swipes her daggers to keep their enemies away from them. "Back off you creeps and go bother some one else!" She shouts at them. She was now playing the part of Princess Emma instead of just Emma.
"I know two languages. English and Sarcasm. I'm fluent in both." - Me
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