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Masquerade - These Masks We Wear


Zephrun’s Imperium

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1 hour ago, Zephrun's Imperium said:

"Alright, fine. If you don't tell me what you're doing, I won't find the sword for you. I will not aid any evil mission."

Umbra shrugged. "I mean, I'm not going to force you to do it." She put her feet back up on the desk. "You don't have to collect your birthright, gaining the indisputable power to rule and the power to deal with any who dispute its indisputability. You don't have to bring your brother back from the dead. You could forget all about this and live out however much of your life you have left before those in power do to you what they've done to all your ancestors. It's all your choice."

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Get the sword, and this woman won't be able to do whatever evil thing she might have in store. You could stop her. You could make everything orderly and right. You could bring Darrin back... 

"I'll plan a meeting with the king and try to find it. And... maybe I do want that spike after all."

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Just now, Zephrun's Imperium said:

Get the sword, and this woman won't be able to do whatever evil thing she might have in store. You could stop her. You could make everything orderly and right. You could bring Darrin back... 

"I'll plan a meeting with the king and try to find it. And... maybe I do want that spike after all."

Umbra shrugged and closed her eyes. "Make sure you can focus when you use it. If you die, it's not my fault."

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16 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said:

"Certainly can be, but not always."

"Sounds like most places. I just... I left my home in the hopes of finding somewhere better. I thought working in a palace would be some glamorous experience, but..." A lump caught in her throat. "The terrible people are there, no matter what. The ones who hurt other people to get what they want, and don't even care about the consequences."

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22 hours ago, Zephrun's Imperium said:

Early that morning, Nicolae stirred, waking. The effects of a hangover made his head feel like a marsh; stuffy, wet, and humid, crowded with fog. It was miserable and the deep gash on his torso did nothing to ease that. For a moment he lay half in dreamland, suspended in misery, unsure why other than the nebulous idea that this was what he deserved. As he emerged into wakefulness, however, memories began to return, last of all his conversation with Fischer. The memory - clouded by alcohol as it was - felt far away and formless. 

The light peaked through the Praetorium guard's eyes as Fischer tried to stifle and yawn. The side of the table that he had been leaning against dug into his side until he groaned and shifted. When he did, he saw Nico stirring and sat up immediately, trying to blink away the sleep that tried to hang onto his eyes. "Nico, are you awake?" Fischer whispered softly, trying to keep it low enough to avoid waking the man up if he were asleep.

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