Victims of Cycle

Ralor, please.

The capital city of Anaxas and the seat of the government.
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Palis Ainu
Posts: 62
Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
Topics: 9
Location: Vienda
Race: Galdor
: Sad, Sappy Boy
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Mon Jun 17, 2019 7:25 pm

Loshis 27, 2719
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Palis sighed as he stood on the white steps of Vienda’s political capitol, the pale pistachio umbrella in his left hand shielding him from the fat, warm raindrops that had drowned the spring sunshine for all 27 days of a Loshis. The sunlight that did filter through the lazy blanket of clouds washed Vienda in a dreary grey light. Yet, Palis stood out against the wet, cobblestone world that encompasses him, as he’d prefer. In a pale green suit and leaf green vest, the only part of a Palis’ outfit that had succumbed to the monochromatic world that surrounded him were the black shoes that he changed into before coming outside to spare the little shoes that matched his vest from the rain that soaked into his socks now. If anything, he was thankful the rain was warm and fell strictly vertically. That winter had been a disgusting one, with several cold and ill-thought adventures in freezing, blowing rain leaving Palis bed-ridden over his birthday. He would certainly take Loshis over Ophus, but, still, the thought did not make him any less impatient. He pulled a silver pocket watch with floral etchings from he inside of his coat, and, flipping it open, checked it. By the 15 numbers that marked the 30 hours of the day, it was nearing the 13th. Only half an hour before, Incumbent Siordanti has interrupted Palis’ assignment— a small research project on the immediate response and recent effects of the Dentis prison break within Seventen ranks— with a soft knock on the small cherry desk he had been granted smashed into the corner of Siordanti’s personal office. In nearly three years of working with the incumbent, Palis’ perhaps unfounded idolization of his political role model has not dulled in the slightest, leaving the man so near to growing out of his lowly status as an intern unable to decline a job that could so easily could have been handed to a much less experienced intern. Because of this, Palis now stood in the rain, itching to return to his work.

He was awaiting the arrival of— Ralor, was it? He uncurled the small slip of paper that had been crushed in his umbrella hand.

Mr. Ralor Szczebrzeszynks, 13th hour it read in Siordanti’s slanted hand.

”We’ll stick to first names, then,” he thought to himself, eyeing the surname of the new intern. The man was Anatole’s, and Palis had to say a mental prayer for him. He loved Anatole; truly, the man was the nearest thing Palis had to family after his how father. Yet, even Palis had to admit that Anatole’s skills in politics had up and vanished with him in his delirium, but had not joined him on the return trip to his life. Many of the line items that Anatole had once preached were off his mind, and the political connections he once has built instead collapsed. And, now Palis, out of the pity or kindness or loyalty or idiocy of his heart was trying to help. Maybe this— he glanced back at the note— maybe this Ralor could help. He slipped the note into his pocket and squinted across the square. When Ralor’d come, Palis would be at his carriage with his umbrella and signature smile armed and ready. He’d introduce himself (first names only, of course) and then lead Ralor into the capitol. For now, though, he stood in the rain, letting the warm water of Loshis soak sickeningly into his socks.
word count: 612
tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699

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Ralor Szczebrzeszynks
Posts: 7
Joined: Sun Jun 09, 2019 10:18 am
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Race: Galdor
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Writer: Nito
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Wed Jun 19, 2019 12:19 am

🙞 the capitol building / vienda
the 13th hour of 27/03/2719
Swaying gently along the muddy road, the carrige seemed to be making good time. He might get to the capitol building just before the 13th hour. It had been a surprise to him in the morning, when while preparing to make to the city center to shop for a new attire, he was met by a rasping knock on the door by a courier. His pleas for an interview with imcumbent Anatole had been postponed once again, but since he had returned to political life, he could be approached, although the incumbent himself had yet to respond to him. For the time being they had agreed instead for a small meeting with another incumbent's intern, so that Ralor could understand the position better, and how to assist incumbent Anatole in this trying time.

He leaned on his seat, and lifted the curtain so the light could sip in; there wasn't much light to go around, but it was better than the interior of the stuffy carridge.

He made sure to look at himself once again, looking at his hands and underneath his trimmed nails for dirt. His boots were wet, but free of mud thanks to the civilized cobblestoned street.

As the carridge bent the corner of the street, he lifted the curtain once again, and observed as the capitol building came into view, a magnificient collosus of marble. People moved in and out, up and down the stairs that fed into the gaping mouth of the beast. As it drew closer, the carridge came to a halt. Ralor stood awkwardly, sprung the door open, and stepped outside while opening an umbrella.

As he stepped, he ran an hand over his hair to make sure it was presentable; usually tied at the back to his hair, it now tumbled on the sides of his face to conserve heat and protect his head.

He glanced at the buidling for a second before a short galdor assaulted his sight; in a greyish world, the greens he bore, in stark contrast with Ralor's dark leathers and fabrics, made quite the appearance. And yet, something about him made his presence... Inperceptible. Even his field seemed to pass unnoticed. A severe lapse in judgement from the galdor, if he could say so himself. However, some characteristics made themselves obvious to the hoxian: he was anaxi, brown eyes and almost pink skin, slightly shorter than Ralor himself. The lad matched the description he had been given, and by the look on his face, it seemed he had been expecting him patiently.

He approached the green clad galdor with confident strides, carefully placing his feet with intent, raising his right hand to meet his fellow's. A smile drew on his face, amicably, while his eyes locked with Palis', trying to figure the color of his eyes, a common Perceptive technique to increase raporte upon meeting someone.

"Greetings... Palis, correct?" He asked hesitantly to make sure he'd gotten it right. "My name is Ralor Szczebrzeszynks. The name rolled off his tongue among rasps with the naturality only hoxians would be able to attain, but he knew it'd be last time it was pronnounced correctly in this conversation if he himself didn't say it. "Pleased to meet you." He accompanied the last statement with a curt nod. After shaking Palis' hand he gestured toward the building. "Please", he said as in a way of offering Palis the lead as his host in this place.


🙝
word count: 622
User avatar
Palis Ainu
Posts: 62
Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
Topics: 9
Location: Vienda
Race: Galdor
: Sad, Sappy Boy
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: Post Templates
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Contact:

Wed Jul 10, 2019 12:16 pm

Loshis 27, 2719
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In shaking Ralor's hand, Palis let his field breathe and swell to greet-- but not invade-- the other's. He knew his field to be weak for a galdor, as his father had undoubtedly reminded him most of his young life, but he liked to make it known, if only for his own reassurance that he would not be mistaken for someone of another race or underestimated as he had been in school. Yet, the familiar greeting of fields found Palis' to wash against Ralor's like a tidal wave ridiculed against a tower sea wall. He recoiled as he retracted his hand, drawing it in as if two forces had grabbed it's draw string mouth and pulled away from Palis, leaving him sucked up into the middle of it.

Ralor was, most obviously, Hoxian. His face structure in itself was sharp and clean, all uniform angles under soft white canvas. He had dark hair cut into a fashion Palis had never seen before, shaved military short on the sides and left to flow long down the middle. Had their meeting not been of professional importance to both of them, or had he been younger and less experienced, Palis would have asked Ralor about both his hair and his fashion. He knew his own love of colors and florals was eccentric, to say the very least, in the dull political landscape of grey, black, and navy. In a lineup of politicians, his gawdy green would be picked out much faster than Ralor's dark palette, but leather- leather was certainly new against the suede and silk world Palis tucked himself into. Yet, Ralor smiled kindly at him despite their numerous differences, and, in an atmosphere of hostility and wrinkled frowns, Palis welcomed a new smile into his workplace.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. It's always nice to see more young minds invested in politics," he said lightly, lining his words with a genuine smile, then accepted Ralor's gesture to lead. "Of course, business."

The two umbrellas floated back up the slick white steps to the Capitol, and Palis held the door for Ralor before shaking his umbrella onto the steps and allowing the door to close behind him, shutting out the pattering sound and the soil-infused smell of rain, letting the enveloping din of the Capitol, busy this time of morning, wash over them.

"It's a beautiful place to work, really," Palis mentioned without so much as looking up as he folded his umbrella, hooked it over his arm, and guided Ralor just out of the way of the bustling doors that opened and closed and let in the sound and smell of the rain as if someone was rapidly opening and closing a box carriage window as it tumbled through the countryside. Before the pair was a perfectly symmetrical room of delicate marble, a large rectangular box they had entered through its longest side. The floor was polished enough to make Palis feel as though he could dive into the amber ocean below into a world where the sounds were drowned into the muffled peacefulness of water. The high golden ceiling vaulted into a painting of history-- of war, of foraging, of victory. Beyond this high ceilinged hall, the building split into two floors. The bottom level was that of wide, white marble arches that led to quiet corridors, On either side of the room, a grand white staircase ran from the far end of the room towards them, up to a second floor of thin white columns. The room was absolutely immaculate, and full of a bustling social life. Palis took it in for a moment, then turned to Ralor.

"I simply get lost in the scenery sometimes, he said breathily, then began towards the stairs. "You'll primarily be upstairs. That's where the incumbent offices are." And Palis began to ascend, then paused and turned to Ralor, his small hand on the railing.

"This level is meeting spaces and library archives. You'll be asked to fetch documents from the archives occasionally and are allowed to access it as you'd like for your own pursuits," he continued now up the stairs, smiling at the incumbents who passed and barely gave him a glance, giving small verbal greetings to the interns he passed, a form of camaraderie among them. The upper level was quieter than the lower, though the openness of the building only pushed the din of conversation farther away. Offices lined the walls, most of the heavy wooden doors closed and unwelcoming. The offices made an initial ring around the lower level, and hallways dribbled off from the corners. Palis lead Ralor around the ring, and stopped at the first open door it came to. The name plaque that decorated every door seemed to have been pried off.

"A diplomat from Gior just left us after an extended stay, and I've just managed to take her office as my own. It's one of the smallest offices here, you'll see, but it makes due. We can drop our umbrellas in here, rather than dragging them through the building," Palis said, wishing it wasn't impolite for him to also change his shoes as the wetness spread with every step through his socks. He pushed the door open the rest of the way to a small, but brightly lit room with one large window. Had it been a bedroom, a simple, twin-sized bed would have taken up over half of the room. A small desk sat in the corner, more of a classroom desk than an office desk by size, and the room was filled with an organized mess that screamed Moving in progress. Watch your step! He nudged his bright green shoes, dry, under the desk farther, then hung his umbrella by its hooked end on the small coat rack of four pegs beside his door.

"Leave what you like in here, I'll lock the door," Palis invited, perhaps too proud of his first personal office. He leaned patiently on the desk. "Whenever you're ready, we'll head out."


word count: 1049
tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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