Licyn Mansbane (
bravelyrunsaway) wrote in
eastbound2023-12-16 01:25 pm
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audio | un: mansbane
An outside mystery for you all! The wolves here aren't natural, and where the village children leave supplies at those cabins in the woods — around there smells of wolves, children, and adults. Human adults. Ever seen any venture out that way? I haven't.
If you care more about domestic mysteries, here at the estate the fireplace and feasting hall stink of bloodshed and all the emotional reasons one might have for it.
Not related, but terrible nonetheless, Julien refused even the idea of himself and his prince joined by a third in the bedroom. Pulled a Wrath and everything, cold, snippy, jealous, downright possessive. Which can be fun under certain circumstances, but might be a warning to all of you who've only seen his apparent sweetness.
If you care more about domestic mysteries, here at the estate the fireplace and feasting hall stink of bloodshed and all the emotional reasons one might have for it.
Not related, but terrible nonetheless, Julien refused even the idea of himself and his prince joined by a third in the bedroom. Pulled a Wrath and everything, cold, snippy, jealous, downright possessive. Which can be fun under certain circumstances, but might be a warning to all of you who've only seen his apparent sweetness.
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Such things I get to wondering when I spend too long around the lot of you, but easy enough to say again. These are not natural wolves. Smell all wrong. Feel all wrong. But they're not mean spirited or mean in intent. So what would you think?
Wolves don't need clothing. Humans do when it's cold like this.
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And I apologize, but I think I must have misunderstood what you meant until now. I thought you were implying that you've noticed adults around the cabin, too. Not that there was the scent there but visiual absence of them.
I've thought the wolves were strange since we arrived.
Have you heard of lycanthropy?
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I've heard mention of that word as related to what, a curse on people who take both human and some kind of wolf form? Not by choice?
( people do mention this, and here he is, where his shapeshifting is inherent. man is wolf, wolf is man, he's the same whichever but for his outward appearance and some strength to his senses. sounds so strange. people do curses like that? pfft. )
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But yes. A curse that forces a man into that of a wolf. I don't know much about it, but it might explain why the wolves seem to spare easy prey and focus their efforts towards the castle.
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( except for one time, but the majority of the time? ... exactly as he says. )
I don't see the flow of that logic, unless it's because what caused the curse lies within this castle. Or the reason why they were cursed.
Which may bring us back around to the ever lovely, very possessive... Julien.
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That was where my thoughts went, as well.
Someone with skill put a magic barrier on Julien's bedroom door. A weak one, but a skillful one.
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Weak when none but the prince and the cursed servants live here, and what would be purpose of something stronger, or weak because of limitations on power? I don't know magic, I don't understand it, but many in our numbers do.
By implication: Julien might be magically gifted. And he's possessive. And there are wolves that desperately want in here.
Exactly how enticing is this prince?
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'Weak' as in maybe it was made to be broken.
And again, you follow my thoughts. Someone in the castle has magical skill, someone cursed the castle. Potentially the wolves.
This castle is full of breadcrumbs.
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If you know such things, I'll agree with your judgment, since I've none of my own to make on that. Traps are traps, magic or otherwise. Bait people to try and break it, then visit consequences on them.
And at the same time, perhaps also it's the prince who bears his own jealousy. Or whatnot. I don't trust nobility to be much of the 'noble', though the nobles of Alem were at least straightforward.
( and delightful in bed. which is neither here nor there! )
If you're inclined, might as well ask Julien what happened in the feasting hall and what happened by the fireplace. Both are steeped in blood and anger. Whose anger, I couldn't say.
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Julien is hard to talk with. He speaks carefully, suggesting the Prince hears everything...
He did confess to me that he was here before the curse was placed.
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So why was he spared? Why was the prince?
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I think we both know what we're suggesting here...
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As for soft beds... that could be arranged.
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Oh? Have one softer than mine?
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I have a bed. You're free to judge it's softness fitting enough for your standards or not.
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Inviting the commentary? Where would I even find this bed, to judge its relative hardness?
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I'm at the end of the guest quarters. The last room on the right.
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I see, I see. More of a morning, afternoon, or evening entertainer?
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Is evening not better for a bed?
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Anytime is good for beds, love, just a matter of certain preferences and traditions. Evening is better for rest after. Fewer questions, fewer demands, that sort of thing!
Still, read and understood. Evening it is.
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I'll listen for you later.
> action!
( such as it is, he does keep to his word, though he walks with just enough sound to be heard. he's not trying to be sneaky, and thus in the evening, he raps his knuckles against the door three times, in unhurried succession. he expects on some level this might be another jest (teasing, he finds, he's used to from this group of misfit chaos agents) but it's always worth treating it as if it isn't — easy to laugh it off either way, and more pleasant if it's genuine.
which is mostly to say that he's bathed and groomed and still looks like he rolled out of bed eyeblinks ago, with the exception of his shirt missing anything but artful wrinkles. of course, for all that he's not human, and looks exactly human when not in wolf form, he thus passes as human, unless one is sensitive enough to magical energies to realise he's practically a fountain of magic. endlessly generating and casting it off.
or if one scents a hint of wolf around him.
so there he is, standing, hands now loose and hanging at his sides, shirt baring throat and collarbone, sword not on his person, hair out of its queue to hand loose over his shoulders and down to the mid of his back, naturally curling and waving as it does so, pretty certain this...
... is a set up.
........ but one he can survive, and thus, hope blooms eternal! )
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so while Deimos isn't entirely surprised to hear the knock at his door, he is a bit taken aback.
he answers it, tilting his head at the other man as he takes him in in full now they're face to face. he stands in the doorway, stripped down to the leather pants he wears only with black tattoos showing along his stomach.
eventually his eyes rise back to the other man's and he offers a friendly sort of smile. ) We never exchanged names.
I'm Deimos. ( he steps into the room, nodding his head for Licyn to follow him. )
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Licyn Mansbane.
( neatly tying in his "name" on network as he stepped in, remaining relaxed and looking around with mild curiosity. he's more concerned about signs of escape routes (negligible, things here aren't designed for people to leave in multiple avenues), and furnishings (one does want to know one's options), and then for the hopeful lack of the scent of any fresh blood, fresh murderous intent, or hot angers inclined toward violence.
he smiles, still affably lazy. )
A lingering side effect of finding myself terribly clever in my younger years.
( idly moving closer, canting his head a touch to the side to study Deimos and quirk up his brow, observing. some invitations are verbal, some are in body language. )
I find it less clever and more established these days, love, consequence of my own making. One of the more amusing ones.
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