nysalogs | so if you see my sister rosalind tell that girl to hurry home again

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so if you see my sister rosalind tell that girl to hurry home again

Who: Rosalind Lutece (

originallutece) & YOU
What: Various open prompts! Most of them coming from the opening log.
When: First half of February
Where: Wyver and Olympia
Warning(s): Maybe some nsfw??

Wyver - Lagoon

[Perhaps not all that unusually for her, Rosalind is once again at the lagoons. What is unusual: she doesn't seem to be alone. She's most certainly chatting to someone, murmuring instructions and the occasional bit of praise, but to whom? There's no one around-- Or so it seems, anyway.

Come in close, and you'll spot a very small, very determined hippo kicking its way through the water. He keeps looking up at Rosalind, seeking approval and praise-- and oddly enough, she seems inclined to give it, in her own reserved fashion.]

I told you that you'd do well. You're built for this. No, don't come to shore, don't be lazy, you've got to build up your muscles and your stamina. I've a treat for you when you're done.

[But here's the truly oddest thing: the hippo seems keen on mirroring his master. He wiggles joyfully when she smiles; he grunts with effort when she prompts him into exercising more. But that's probably just a coincidence . . . right?]

Wyver - Victory Celebration - Festive Spirit - maybe nsfw

[There's some kind of celebration going on in Wyver, but honestly, when isn't there? She's only been in this universe six months and it seems as if they're having a celebration about the moon or the stars or some long-dead hero . . . it's headache inducing, but she supposes there's little harm in it, especially when she doesn't actually live here.

She doesn't mean to venture into the festivities, but it's hard to avoid them. Someone presses a cocktail into her hands and leers at her when they offer her paints, and she rolls her eyes at both, but it's easier to just pocket the latter instead of refusing them. She does not offer her body to be painted, but she might let those paints drop if she finds herself with someone she's already acquainted with.

But in the meantime, she sips her drink and stares with a neutral expression at someone wandering around with paint and little else. Whether they're a man or a woman is irrelevant; she stares, and though her expression is blank, her gaze lingers just a little too long. Is that a flush to her cheek? Perhaps.]

I suppose that's one thing about Wyver: they certainly are eager to offer entertainments.

Wyver - Victory Celebration - this time with Robert tho

[Of course, Rosalind isn't the only one enjoying herself. There's a man wandering around, tall and bright-eyed, smiling as he sips at a drink and socializes with others. He seems somewhat eager to talk to others, though his smile is a little odd . . . almost as if he's all but taking notes behind those blue eyes of his.

But hey, it's not a time for introspection. Right now, the man-- his name is Robert, has he told you?-- gestures for another drink, smiling as he turns to watch whatever entertainment is spilling out on the streets.]

What on earth are they trying to do? Good grief, they're bound to break a neck trying to jump around atop each other like that.

Olympia - Dark Turns

[But all good things have to come to an end, and soon Rosalind returns home. The far more somber festivities are still taking place, not that she much cares. She ignores the glares she gets for coming in from Wyver, rolling her eyes at the whispers . . . but it doesn't stop at that. People have warned her that she'd get in trouble for trying to play both sides, but she'd ignored them. Oh, she's noticed the whispers and rumors and whatnot, but so what? That hardly effects her.

But she's come back at night, and people are feeling particularly patriotic, and that . . . that means trouble.

There's three men following her down the street. She can hear them, because they're not bothering to be quiet, not at all. They're jeering at her, catcalling and calling out to her; she ignores them. There's no use in confronting them. But that isn't enough for them, it seems. One of them catches up to her, grabbing her elbow, and she jerks, yanking her arm away sharply.]

Get off.

Olympia - Flona Cove

[She's not foolish enough to swim in the cove again. She doesn't even stick her feet in, not when the last time she'd done that had resulted in her feeling up a boy a decade younger than her. But she does sit by it, her boots shed and resting at her side, watching the water with a surprisingly soft expression. Her little hippo is nearby, of course, huffing and puffing as he swims around in the water. His grunts of effort echo throughout the cove, and Rosalind smiles to see him work.

No one comes to bother her for a long while, though, and that's nice. It's nice to be alone, frankly, and she's lulled into a relaxed state because of it. The water is warm and she feels so very calm . . . and so, her voice very soft, vocalized under her breath, she sings.

(Perhaps the cove is effecting her more than she realizes).

She's a sweet voice, steady and surprisingly high-pitched, and the tune she sings has the tune of a waltz, her voice rising and falling. Only about half the lyrics are articulated; for the rest she hums softly, continuing the tune, enjoying the way the cove echoes her voice back to her. And if she isn't interrupted, she'll turn to something a little more jaunty. Though this tune, oddly enough, doesn't sound as though it comes from her time period. And it isn't the right name she articulates-- rather, she puts her own in place of it, laughing softly as she does.]

Other; [Rosalind will also be wandering around as her counterpart, Robert Lutece. She'll be disguised completely, an illusion covering her. Her interactions will be far more energetic, and "he'll" be eager to socalize, so feel free to meet him in Wyver or Olympia, deep in the festivites.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He is, technically, off-duty, and therefore under absolutely no obligation to play the part of knight-in-shining-armor. It is by circumstance and timing alone does he find Rosalind, being accosted by a few stubborn men — a raise of his brow is all he meets this with, wondering just how she might decide to handle the situation. He knows she has the ability to; he lent such a thing to her.

Still, it is when one man grabs her by the arm that he decides to saunter forward, arms gesturing in a grandiloquent way. He is all smiles, teeth flashing in the night, gold eyes doing the same.]

Rosalind! Having a bit of undue trouble with the refuse?

[The men get the same smile. Hello, boys.]

[Oh. It's her husband.

He's right, of course, in that she could get out of this on her own in one way if not another, which is why she's not really all that scared. But those ways involve revealing herself to be something not quite ordinary, and she'd like to avoid that when it comes to the natives. So no teleporting, no blasts of energy . . .

Not that she would have held to that principle should worst come to worst. But it'd be nice to keep the facade going. Fortunate, then, that there's someone here to intervene, isn't there?]

A fair bit.

[With a short exhale she jerks her arm again, rolling her eyes when the grip only tightens. All three men are staring warily at Ardyn, who is, to be fair, rather large. But there's only one of him and three of them (and you can practically see that thought running through their minds), so no fear, yeah?

Fuck off, the leader says, and pulls at her arm, tugging her towards him. She's not available to talk right now. Try again later.

That, apparently, was a joke, because there's a round of sniggers. She resists the urge to roll her eyes again; instead, she meets Ardyn's gaze expectantly. Is he going to intervene or not?]

Were you missing me?

[The words from the leader might as well have been gnats, how easily he brushes them off. Annoyances at best, as he moves forward.]

Oh yes, dreadfully so. Why else would I be here, after all?

[Which she knows is not at all true, but he loves utilizing his flippant manner to throw people off. Notably: the three men. The man with his grip around Rosalind's arm will be the first to garner his attention, for when Ardyn moves close enough, he reaches out to grip the man's arm in turn.

And squeezes. Smiling at him.]

Which arm is more important to you? Hers? Or yours? Time to decide.

[The man's expression goes from unimpressed to frightened within an instant. Ardyn's strength is far, far from normal, and there's the hideous creak of bone that threatens to snap.

He releases Rosalind's arm in an instant, and she smiles faintly.]

Perhaps you've a brain cell after all. Well done.

[She glances up at Ardyn.]

Do you want to play with them, darling, or shall we be on our way?

[If these idiots were to be so easily cowed, though, they wouldn't have picked on her in the first place. With a roar of rage one of the others throws himself at Ardyn; there's a glint of metal in the air, because he's got a wickedly jagged blade in his hand. He's aiming for Ardyn's face, not that it really matters, not really.

The other goes for a swing. Nothing like two on one, huh? Rosalind is stepping back, because fuck getting involved.]

[He doesn't have time to reply, not really, before the two decide to come at him in their laughable fury. But if he did, he would have said that he wouldn't mind the distraction. It would be amusing, at best.

But there's the flash of a blade coming at his face, something sharp and glinting in the light. Ardyn merely leans back to avoid it, not even feeling the need to activate his magic; the swing comes second, hitting him in the shoulder thanks to his movement. He doesn't even move.]

I think they're still smarting for attention, wife of mine.

[Ardyn merely lurches forward to knee the one man in the gut, hard, and though it looks as if he isn't exerting much effort, the force behind it is nothing to scoff at. If the chance presents itself soon afterwards, he'll grab the other man by the collar of his shirt, and toss him into his friend.]

[It's a fight that's over pathetically quickly. The first man is still clutching his arm, staggered back in fear; the other two are in a heap on the ground, sputtering and squirming. One is still trying to catch his breath, and there's the scent of copper in the air, suggesting he might have cut himself or his friend on his blade.

Perhaps they'll get up again. Perhaps not. Rosalind glances towards him.]

I hope you don't expect me to thank you.

[How disappointing, for it was barely any amusement at all.

Ardyn nearly shrugs, turning on his heel to face Rosalind instead. The scent of copper in the air hardly concerns him; if they were smart, they would leave it at that.]

Of course I do. I've just saved you the effort of having to do it yourself.

A kindliness, but not one I asked of you. And really, Ardyn . . . I'm not inclined towards any pleasantry for you.

[It's nothing he had forced her into, not truly, but that doesn't mean her pride isn't bruised. She's never been a good loser.]

Oh, and why not?

[He brushes past her as he walks by, idly wondering if she will walk with him.]

You're not still sore about our little bet, are you?

[Well, of course she follows, walking at his side, her pace a little clipped thanks to how tall he is.]

I'm not sore over it.

[Yes she is.]

But you can't imagine I'm regarding you with starry eyes afterwards. Your actions have consequences. And you forcing me to act domestic does not come without a price.

I think you miss the point of a bet in the first place, Rosalind. There should be no consequences at all, because you knew what you were getting into.

[She is such a sore loser. It's amusing.]

I could've been much worse. Especially since you were so keen on breaking a few of my things.

As if you wouldn't be a menace if I'd won. I would have asked you a few questions and spent the next few weeks paying dearly for it.

[But though she's a sore loser, at least she seems to be easing into something a little less petulant.]

You got the better end of the deal, frankly. I would have been far worse if you'd been my real husband.

[She's probably not wrong about the first half of that. Still, he shrugs his shoulders, as dismissive as ever.]

And what would you have done if we were legitimately married?

Tormented you, but on a subtler level. Refused you in our bed, of course. And, depending on how you acted, destroy your reputation.

Well, maybe that's why you're not a married woman, Rosalind. If that's how you intend to treat those who might be bound to you legally, and by way of romance.

[But Ardyn laughs, because of course he does.]

And exactly how would you destroy my reputation? Start all manner of gossip about my work?

Not everyone. But we're imagining you and I making a home together, aren't we?

[But this is nothing more or less than a hypothetical, so why bother clarifying? She wouldn't act like this to any man who bound himself to her, but . . . mm, she isn't just thinking of any man. She's thinking of home, and all the expectations that came with matrimony at home.]

But mm, no . . . I'd make you look incompetent. Manipulate factors and circumstance so as to make you look a dullard, and then express my pity towards your employer. Perhaps I'd even beg him to let you keep your job, poor at it though you are, because I loved you so very much.

[And he looks even more amused at that.]

That would be a mistake. He'd grow suspicious immediately, being told such an obviously blatant lie.

Oh? Even with evidence mounting up? If I managed to make you look incompetent, you don't think he'd believe it? I'd hardly do all this over one week, you realize, this is a long-term effort.

Would you truly be so vicious, so vindictive, just because I treated you like some domestic, mindless thing?

[Though to be fair, it sounds like something that Ardyn would attempt to do. The long con, the slow but steady build-up towards a greater goal. Scheming, to put it simply.]

How easily your pride is bruised, my dear. You should be more careful to not let that be known to others, lest someone take advantage of this glaring weakness.

Yes. I would.

[That's a simple, easy answer to his first question. It's absolutely honest and said with no hesitation whatsoever, because it's not a question that requires thought.]

Why is it, Ardyn, that even when you give advice, you sound as though you're threatening someone?

[Somehow that is not at all surprising. Given what he just said about her pride, she would not at all consider that an overreaction, he thinks.]

Does it? Maybe you're just biased, knowing what you do about my personality.

[Or maybe it's purposeful, the way he makes his words just enough disconcerting out of habit alone.]

I don't know if I'd call it biased. That would suggest I'm making a claim without basis, and that I'm not doing.

Is that a threat, Ardyn?

[She doubts it's a threat to her safety. But she's equally certain that Ardyn would happily break her down, if for no other reason than she isn't normal and she's in his radar. There are people who aren't easily controlled, and sometimes it's better to be rid of them before they can cause a problem.]

[He turns his head to give her a look -- one that is difficult to read, but the way amber eyes shine with something considering might not exactly be the most comforting thing to see.

If he has to think about it, generally, it's not promising. But at least his answer is honest enough.]

Threats always hinge upon prerequisites, don't they? If you burrow too far under my skin, if you become more trouble than you're worth, then yes. It's a threat.

But as it stands now? I hardly have to apply such a thing to you, Rosalind. Even out of mere amusement, there are others I can direct my [sadistic] impulsive nature towards. So I would not label it a threat so much as -- well. A further understanding of my character. That's what you want, isn't it?

Among other things.

[Oddly enough, she appreciates the honesty. It seems a rare enough thing to get from him, especially without a lot of grandiose posturing to wade through. Never mind that he's confirming that she ought to tread lightly; at least he's not trying to keep her in a false sense of security.]

And what does it take to burrow underneath Ardyn Izunia's skin, hm? I think I've nearly managed it a few times.

[She smiles faintly as she stares ahead.]

Perhaps I ought to be more direct. You're touchy about your past.

When it happens, you'll know.

[A deflection and a truth all at once. Very few people are so oblivious to not realize when they've gotten under Ardyn Izunia's skin.]

Am I? [Here we go again. Questions to dance around it; but Rosalind should know that might as well be an affirmative response.]

so if you see my sister rosalind tell that girl to hurry home again

SLIDES IN LATE....dark turns!

you're never late

8)

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