[ OPEN ]

[daemonized]

Who: Ardyn Izunia (daemonized) & YOU!
When: Event things! All throughout October.
Where: All around.
Warning(s): None... yet. Will add if necessary.



i. market district;

[He wasn’t nearby when the explosion had shook the market district, though panic spreads quickly, and the aftermath of such an event is impossible to ignore. Even more so for Ardyn, being part of the royal guard — being delegated orders to provide aid and investigate, it is his own curiosities that truly drive him farther into the area to assist. Granted, his form of “assistance” might be lacking compared to those who are rushing to and fro, enveloped in a frantic need of wanting to help. Instead, it’s easier for him remain calm, more unaffected, eyes taking in the area with a sense of detachment that’s perhaps less than appropriate for the situation at hand. If you need to talk to him, he’s easy enough to spot in the crowd. More specifically, a few things that take place are:

A.) An elderly man, a vendor whose wares had been toppled over completely in the explosion, requires help retrieving his goods now strewn all about the street. Textiles and clothing of various colors, one of which seems to hang high up, caught on the corner of a rooftop of a nearby building. It billows, not unlike a flag flying in the breeze. Ardyn cranes his head up to look at it. Then he says, to the person closest to him:]

Be so kind as to retrieve that for me, will you? I’ve already my hands full.

[And so it seems he does, various unravelled yards of cloth hanging over his arm.

B.) There are, of course, looters. As to be expected, people who would take advantage of tragedy for their own benefit, and the ironic part is that Ardyn generally would not care. And yet there are a couple of young men who are being so bold as to do so right in front of him — only down the street, where they appear to be scrounging around another vendor’s (not currently present) property: an array of decorative items, small enough to be thrown into a bag and carried off nonchalantly. Covered in filigree and adorned with precious gems. Certainly possessing high enough market value to sell for a quick profit.

It’s easy enough for Ardyn to close the distance, of course. A flash of magic, sword in his hand, and suddenly he’s warped from where he was standing to directly in front of one of the men — blade pressed up against his throat. The other looter freezes in shock, mid-crouch, in the midst of picking up a shiny bauble to steal.

The smile Ardyn gives them is… amused, but a little disconcerting.]

At least wait until the cover of night like proper thieves.

[If the second man is slowly reaching for a dagger at his hip, there’s zero indication of Ardyn either noticing or caring. What do you do, passerby?]

ii. red light district;

[Now it’s time for an investigation proper, and who says that all manner of secrets and rumors do not eventually make their way to the red light district? This is where you can find Ardyn tonight, skulking through alleyways and hovering near the edges of crowds, sometimes asking around, sometimes not. He is, of course, dressed in plain clothes, a hundred times more subdued than his usual tastes. No guard uniform, no outfit from Eos to turn any heads. Only Ardyn, looking like a commoner, hair tied back. His only indulgence is a maroon scarf, hanging loosely around his neck.

He is absolutely drawn to the sight of individuals speaking in hushed whispers, for often times they are not being as discreet as they believe. This time, it’s two women, huddled in an darkened alleyway, and Ardyn eyes them from where he stands. He catches something about “Wyver”, but will have to draw closer to hear anything more.

Are you a fellow refugee wanting to unravel this mystery further? Join him in figuring out a creative way to move closer without drawing any unwanted attentions. The women do seem to be on the lookout for anyone snooping around. Alternately, he may speak to you first, muttering:]

Just how inconspicuous can you be?

iii. wildcard;

[Open for future threads, or any prompts that you’d prefer to play out if none of these work! I can be found at aurajen to plot further if you’d like!]

Comments

i-b!

[frombetrayal]

[This particular passerby was about to step in herself - but Ardyn beat her to it. It seems birds of a feather really do flock together, after all... no wonder he's rooming with Ann and Akira.

She stays nearby just in case, and she's glad that she did, because when it means that when she sees the second would-be thief go for a dagger, she's close enough to do something about it.

In this case, that "something" is giving him a firm thwack on the head with the flat of her axe.]

Hm. I didn't want to use violence, but you gave me no choice. [...she says, to the now-unconscious man as she nudges the knife out of his reach with her foot. But then she looks up at Ardyn and the other thief.] Are you all right, Ardyn-san?

[daemonized]

[It's the painful-sounding thwack of (the flat part of) an axe that grabs Ardyn's attentions first, of course. The man falls unconscious, the knife clattering to the ground and skidding away a little when Haru kicks it.]

Yes, now that you're here.

[If you squint really, really hard, there might be patronization in there. The knife meant very little against a man like himself, but he sounds grateful enough to those who don't know him very well.

The thief with the blade pressed against his neck stammers out something that sounds like an apology, but Ardyn gives him a look that shuts him up relatively quickly. And you know what? He looks over at Haru, giving her a courteous grin.]

What do you think we should do with him, hm?

[frombetrayal]

[Haru, thankfully, does not know him well enough to pick up on the patronization - which is probably a good thing, considering they still have to live together.]

Check him for markings. Perhaps he's simply opportunistic, but there is the possibility that he's one of the associates of the mastermind behind the attacks.

[She wouldn't put it past a terrorist to take advantage of the chaos to swipe some stuff and sell it to fund their cause. Since Ardyn's got the first thief well in hand, she'll crouch down and check the other for tattoos.]

After that, turning them in to the guards should suffice. I don't think they'll take kindly to this sort of attempt when there is already so much on everyone's plates.

[daemonized]

Well, that should prove easy enough. He already does have the attentions of a guardsman as we speak.

[None other than Ardyn himself, though no one should ever misconstrue his intentions as born of anything other than his own amusement, or some other underlying cause. Helping for the sake of helping is something that should be delegated to others instead.

He returns his attentions to the thief, telling him to show him his arms and hands. A good enough starting point to begin to look for any markings that might reveal a deeper association with what's happened, though Ardyn is willing to bet that he's merely what he appears to be -- a thief.

A thief that panics easily, apparently.

Foolish or otherwise, the blade pressed against his throat still isn't enough to keep him held in place. After Ardyn makes the request, he's silent for a moment, and it's difficult to tell if his hesitation is from knowing that he'll be turned into the guard, or something else.

And so what does he do? The man turns and bolts as fast as his legs can take him, right from under Ardyn's blade. Ardyn actually... laughs, saying to Haru (but loud enough for the thief to hear):] It looks like we have a chase on our hands, Haru!

i.A

[inaurare]

From there...?

[It's quite necessary to crane one's neck to see that far, although it really isn't as far as the Teahouse roof... it's been a little while, since Linneus last climbed. He was a teenager, then... but it's not as if he is now an old man, suddenly.

He nods, carefully setting down the other things he has gathered]

Very well. I shall see what I can do.

[daemonized]

[How courteous of him. Ardyn just smiles, amused and airy as always, even despite the dreary situation. Above, the cloth continues to flutter in the wind, easily seen from where they stand.]

I'd be indebted to you if you did. Do be sure to watch your step, however; it would be a shame for you to break your neck over something as trivial as textiles.

[inaurare]

[he is less sure, now, what the man's intentions are here.]

Quite.

[...but he is sure it is not trivial to the vendor in question, and he can already see his first footholds - really, it's all about finding footholds. Even in the wind, he's confident enough in his ability to be sure he won't fall. He's climbed in worse, after all, and off he goes, checking his footing and handholds before pushing up to the next. A strange sight, and with nails his grip is harder to get, but his progress is steady and he releases a hand to reach out for the fabric, draping it over himself. Getting down is easier and he jumps the rest of the way, once he is close enough.

Folding up the piece carefully, smoothing out creases]

It is good this wasn't lost; it's a beautiful piece...

ii.

[unprays]

[ her brothers would not approve, she is certain of it. she is not yet sick enough to be confined to the house, though her complexion is pale, almost ashy, and there is a hammering headache that will not let up — yet here she is, under the guise of retrieving clothes from Lady Koralle... with the true motive of trying to find out more about whoever orchestrated the attack.

because whoever did that, also framed someone she cares for, made him into a fugitive, and that she cannot stand for.

she catches the sight of the two women on her way back, and her steps carry her closer to where a man is clearly trying to listen to them, same as her — so when he speaks to her, it is hardly a surprise. ]

Very, if I must, my lord.

[daemonized]

[Thankfully, she is a stranger to him, and Ardyn will not cast any judgment upon her for being willing to investigate, despite how pale her complexion might seem to any observant eye. He sees only a young woman claiming to be stealthy if she must, and that's all he needs to work with.]

Come now, there's no need for such formalities.

[When was the last time he was called something like that? Even if only born of politeness and habit, it settles unwell in his mind. But his demeanor remains unaffected, even as he takes a casual step back behind the corner of an adjacent building, just to slip out of sight of the women. His tone is hushed.]

You may call me Ardyn if you like. And those women there... [He motions in their general direction, though it's likely unnecessary.] They've already caught a glance of me milling about, so if I draw closer, I'm sure they'll stop their gossiping. And I'm dying to know what they're saying.

[He gives her an appraising look.] Though if you are able to get close enough to eavesdrop... well. That would be ideal.

[unprays]

Forgive me, Ardyn. It is a force of habit.

[ she gives him a small smile and a nod. ] Then, you should call me Sansa. [ her house name matters little now, as much as it means to her — right now, the less she speaks that is not related to the matter at hand, the better. she glances at the corner, seeing one of the women still from behind it, and she nods again. ]

I believe I can. I have no powers to make myself unseen, but there are many things people see but care little of. [ turning towards the dark alleyway behind them, she whispers, ] Ghost, stay there. Stay out of sight.

[ only a brief flash of red and the sound of soft paws tells that someone's listening.then, when she's sure she won't have a wolf-shaped companion coming with her, she tugs on the hem of her dress until it tears, musses up her hair until her braid is half-undone; with her pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, she looks very much like one of the less fortunate members of the city population. ]

What do you think? Do I look like a beggar?

ii.

[lahaine]

[ Stealth was not her strong suit. It was actually not part of her skillset what so ever. She was much too straight forward. She always had been. To succumb to the ways of stealth was to simply let your intentions, ideals, self go unrecognized; hailed merely as a shadow or assumption of something. It was not her style.

Looking fairly out of place, was the dragon witch herself. Plated armor still covering her dress, and wrapped in her rather elaborate fur lined cloak. Even with her very obviously out of place attire, no one dare approach her. Her blackened aura made those wary of doing so. It was a blessing and a curse in a way; for gaining formation was difficult, but she wasn't solicited for acts that would prove to fluster her.

Eyes glanced up - noting the man who appears to be skulking around, making quite the effort to sate his curiosity without blowing some sort of cover. Like herself, he was certainly not here for other immoral indulgences. Eyes watch him for a long while, before she steps closer, prompting anyone who might have been near to him to retreat a bit.

Just how inconspicuous can you be? Eyes narrow at the remark. Perhaps she already made a mistake, or she knew this and just wanted to deliver misfortune unto someone else, certainly someone that seemed to remind her of the one who called himself her Master. With this in mind, she would lazily shrug, regarding him cooly. ] That depends, ever see artillery in clothing?

[daemonized]

[There are any manner of responses that he could be met with, when asking such a question to a stranger, ranging from amiability to offense. From confusion to apathy. Some might even consider his manner patronizing, as is a long-standing habit of his to sound as such, perhaps even when he doesn’t truly mean to. But let it be known the question coming from this woman — an individual done-up in armor that was certainly going to turn heads — is not something he would have expected.

Looking her over, perhaps she would not be the best choice to quietly eavesdrop on the pair of women that have drawn his curiosity. But such is the way of things, and he adjusts his attentions (and his interest) accordingly. Where her eyes narrow, he only lifts a brow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.]

Hm. [A false moment of consideration.] I have. Or at least, man-shaped artillery. Hardly ever are they subtle.

[lahaine]

Then you have your answer. [ Her blunt retort was spoken at questionable volume. Evidence that she was not making any sort of effort to work in the ways of delicacy that this mans aura so exuded.

There was no question given to his reply on seeing someone regarded as "man-shaped artillery", however. Many others may find that odd. Perhaps the statement was merely rebuffed because she didn't believe him - or maybe it was because she did and the notion was so commonplace she had no need to speak on it further.

At his disgusting smile, she would roll her eyes a bit. Not two seconds and this man was already being a pretentious moron. ] Proron... [ The mashed together insult left her lips as she brushed by him, choosing to approach the pair of women he had been eyeing.

Christ, if he had a god damn question, he just had to ask someone. ] Hmph, hey you two!

i-2

[originallutece]

[Well, well. There's another few powers on display, just for her.

He can teleport. More than that, he can summon a weapon from nothing, a weapon he knows how to use with frightening efficiency. That last part isn't so surprising; surely the royal guard teaches their soldiers how to fight, and even if they didn't, a thousand years is a long time in which to learn.

The other culprit is reaching for his hip, but Rosalind doesn't say anything, not yet. She watches him, as concerned as if this was a story being played out on a television. But why should she interfere? Either Ardyn will be able to protect himself and she'll get to see more of his abilites, or he won't and she'll be able to see another power in action. Faster healing, he'd said. She'd certainly like to see that.]

[daemonized]

[His faster healing capabilities will have to be displayed at another time, because they aren’t so easily revealed by the hand of a petty thief grasping for his knife. The flicker of movement, a rustling of boots pushing against the ground — that is absolutely all that’s required to tip Ardyn off to the motives of the other man. The one with the blade pressed against his neck is easily dispatched by slamming the hilt of his sword against his head, so that he might crumple to the ground unconscious, and Ardyn can turn and focus his attention on the assailant.

The man’s on his feet, rushing forward, but Ardyn catches the hand with the knife in his grasp. Fingers curling around his wrist, tightening like a vice.]

Ah, ah… drop it.

[Like talking to a pet dog, the patronization is so sharp. A stark contrast to the sound of something snapping, bones cracking under the pressure of his grip. Needless to say the man does drop the dagger and cries out; he would crumple to his knees if his arm still wasn't being held up by Ardyn, who then says:]

Enjoying the show?

[He doesn’t even look at Rosalind, but he noticed her seconds before. It’s obvious that he’s directing that question to her.]

[originallutece]

A fair bit.

[Good god, how strong is he? Could DeWitt have done that? He's her baseline for strength and feats of violence, frankly, but Rosalind isn't certain he could measure up to Ardyn. She'd heard the bone crack from a good few feet away.

Fascinating. Rosalind comes forward, walking with the confidence of someone who knows they shan't be hurt.]

What an efficient royal guard we have. I'll certainly feel better sleeping in my bed tonight.

[It's not quite patronizing, but it is mocking, straddling the edge between good humor and something more mean-spirited.]

Finish what you've started. I want to ask you a few things.

i-a

[unweave]

[ She ignored him for the most part. Went about her business to get people to the ushering clinic members who wanted to check for signs of infection or harm during the stampede of people. Aranea's nearby, actively focused on the task despite how much she wishes she just slept in today.

What a headache.

Ardyn, of course, doesn't make things better when her kneeling form stands up and eyes glaze over to the fabric dangling from the roof.

Looks at camera like this is the Office. ]

Oh, hardy har.

[ groans. SHE CAN'T EVEN MOVE AROUND COMFORTABLY. ]

[daemonized]

That wasn't an attempt at humor.

[Hello, Aranea. How's that wound healing up? Are you sore? He sure hopes so.]

It was a sincere question.

[(It probably wasn't.) He does have his hands full, however, colorful material draped over his arm in several layers. Look at the good deed he's doing, aren't you proud?]

Ah, but I forget. You're probably in no condition to make any particularly strenuous efforts.

[p e t t y af]

[unweave]

You should try for comedy instead of drama. Makes the outrageous shit you say sound more fitting.

[ >:[ HIS SINCERE QUESTION WAS STUPID. Aranea gives a little girl a push in the right direction — directing a small family to the clinic aids before eyeing the fabric once again. ]

With your fancy little warp, that should be no problem for you, right?

i - a

[kaleorbekaled]

[Ever since it became more tiring for her to fly than it used to be, Kale has been more restrained about using that ability. She eats far more than humans do, and thus doesn't need to burn off energy unnecessarily. Up to that rooftop won't cost her much energy, though, and it will be much faster than climbing.

She's a bit surprised at this request coming from a total stranger, and she can only guess it's because she looks younger and healthier than him that he selected her of the people in the crowd.]

Um...o-okay.

[She takes flight, landing on the rooftop a second later. She's more careful in how she removes the fabric from the corner of the roof, not wanting to damage it more than it already has been. Once she has it folded neatly, she simply jumps off the rooftop, landing the way one might if they'd done nothing more than hopped off of a step.]

Where should I put this?

[She presents the retrieved fabric. Kale does, if nothing else, follow directions well. Unless those directions involve confidence and social skills.]

[daemonized]

[Taking flight is perhaps not all that surprising, given the array of refugees that he’s met thus far. Still, it’s quite the sight to see, how effortless she makes it. He’s pretty sure even his warping would’ve been more strenuous than how she’s going about it.

He offers a pleasant grin, though it runs askew on his expression, which is really nothing new. Her landing is just as impressive, and he holds out his arm, which has various materials already draped over it.]

If you’d be kind enough to fold it in half and drape it over my arm, please.

[And if she does follow those instructions as well (or even if she doesn’t), Ardyn will add:]

You made that look effortless. I’m almost jealous.

[kaleorbekaled]

[Kale dutifully folds the fabric tidily and drapes it over his arm before taking a couple of steps to the side for the sake of personal space. Both out of manners, and for her personal comfort. Kale's not someone who's terribly comfortable with strangers, although she's making a real effort to work on that.

Her cheeks flush from the praise. Where she's from, it's not so rare. Any talented fighter can do it. But here? It seems to be far rarer. So she swallows down her standard self-depreciating response and tries for something that sounds more confident. The stammer takes away from that, but it's an improvement over putting herself down.]

I-it's a martial arts technique that Sis taught me.

I-B

[fisherwife]

[Mipha didn't think there'd be a time she'd be walking around the market with her trident; it had seemed like such a peaceful place that the need for an actual weapon to protect herself or others hadn't crossed her mind much.

It's unfortunate how quickly perceptions change.

It is fortunate that she has it though, because the point of it is none-too-gently jabbed at the side of the man with the dagger, Mipha's voice soft and her grip strong.] I would rethink that action.

[The man freezes, because one wrong move could send the points of the trident into his flesh, and despite Mipha's size and normal demeanor, there's a steel there and a sort of cool, grim determination to her face. Her eyes slide to Ardyn, head tilted a little in silent question. He was here first, after all, so leadership in this goes to him. What do they do with the interlopers?]

[daemonized]

[It's a trident he's never seen before, and it's a side of Mipha herself he's never been privy to. There's a coolness there, an unflinching demeanor when faced with these thieves. Ardyn knows the look of someone who can use a weapon with efficacy, often by just the way they carry themselves and their stance. He can tell that the princess is not merely putting on a show for his sake.

The thief would be a fool to move with that trident pressed against his neck. He's not that much of a fool. And so, it seems they have the advantage over the both of them.]

Princess! How kind of you to lend your assistance.

[He would've been in so much trouble had he not seen that dagger! Well, no, probably not, but it's fine.]

Care to help me escort a pair of petty thieves to the guard station? If you've the time.

[fisherwife]

[Mipha bows her head a little, a polite little greeting and acknowledgement of his words while her trident remains steady.]

I have the time. [Her trident is lowered, but not pulled away completely as its aimed at the man's back now, addressing him now.] Walk.

[There's really no need to tell him twice and Mipha exhales softly as the thief half-leads them himself.]

I apologize for interrupting. [She's clearly not really sorry though, since she didn't know Ardyn would probably be fine being stabbed and all, but even if she had no one liked being stabbed, right? She clearly still did him a favor!] Are you alright?