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Entry tags:

[ OPEN ]

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!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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...

[His intentions are simple enough -- that he should get someone else to retrieve the cloth for him, because he has his hands full, and while he could easily warp to the rooftop to get it himself, why bother when there was a willing individual nearby to assist him?

Ardyn watches, lifting a brow, observing the other man climb. It's obvious that he's experienced at it, though the ex-Chancellor manages to refrain from making any further comments until he's on solid ground again.]

Yes, though I imagine it does need to be sterilized properly after what happened. It may even have to be burned, if it's fated to be unsalvageable.

[A chuckle.]

But you did remarkably well. My concerns were unfounded.

[he looks a little dismayed at the prospect of the cloth being burnt, even as he carefully sets it down with the other items.]

Oh, I hope it won't have to be. That would be a terrible shame...

[not because he's gone to the trouble at all - a moment while he turns his attention properly to the grandfather they are assisting to offer a reassurance (he will most certainly be back to see him, if he is happy to keep selling, once he has settled his stall again) before turning back to his companion with a light laugh of his own.]

It was... bracing.

[that's not quite the word at all, but it's the only one Linneus can think of. He hadn't climbed for a while, it was nice to have a chance to, and reassuring, almost, that he still could. A change of pace.]

I haven't climbed in many years.

[He’ll take the break in conversation to also return the textiles he has draped neatly over his arm. He has no real want to carry them around for longer than necessary, since he’ll probably require use of his hands again sooner rather than later.]

Bracing. [He echoes the word with a tinge of amusement, eyes flickering back up to the rooftop, which now lies farther in the distance from where they stand.] Yes, most would find dangling from that sort of height "bracing". Even alarming.

[Eyes flicker back to the man.]

Was it a hobby of yours, in those years past?

It was hardly dangling...

[but he laughs, turned a little shy, almost]

Ah-- I used to climb to the roof often as a child. It was a townhouse; quite tall. I won't say I grew out of climbing, but...

[but he supposes it's a little like that. He clipped his own wings, though, really.]

You don't climb yourself then - Mr...?

[A fair enough answer, not one that was really worth following-up on, though he may decide to for the sake of idle curiosity anyway. Still, the other man is expecting a name, and Ardyn will gladly give it.]

Ardyn Izunia. [A sweeping gesture of his hand to accompany his name, just a preview of his rather theatrical nature.] A man who truly finds no pleasure in climbing, if that tells you anything at all.

And you are?

[a little chuckle at that.]

Mr Izunia, then. Or Ardyn, if you prefer? It seems I come across as rather over-formal, but it is strange, trying to adapt. My name is Linneus.

Where is it you find your pleasures, then, if not in climbing?

Just Ardyn is fine. You'll make me feel old, calling me "Mr. Izunia".

[There's a joke in there that only he would find funny, and so he continues.]

It's a pleasure to meet you, Linneus. As for your question, I suppose I find enjoyment in-

[(Not very much these days.)]

-the magic of this world. It catches my interest, some of it is so different than what I'm used to seeing.

Well, all worlds have their own magic. But I'm beginning to understand that some worlds' magics are less figurative than mine own.

[he does love his stories, his tales of magic, but they have always been precisely that. Stories. Magic was never real in his world, no matter how often Linneus had wished it so.

And yet the things he sees people do in this world... some are explained to an extend with the word "technology", but there is so much to be seen here that Linneus has never seen before.]

...it has been an adjustment, to be sure. I am still adjusting, yet.

No, I do not mean it in a figurative sense. Only in the most literal way you can imagine.

[They are not stories for Ardyn. He's grown up with magic, he's lived with his own for so, so long. If there was one steadfast thing in his life, it was the magic of his family line that he carried with him, no matter the changes that descended upon him.]

It is a hobby of comparing and contrasting, you could say. My own magic versus what others possess. [A chuckle.] Though take comfort in the fact that many refugees are still in a state of adjusting. Uprooted as we are, we cannot be expected to be familiar with this world so quickly.

So you have magic, too?

[...Linneus feels horribly mundane, now.]

In my world, magic only exists in stories. So it's strange for me; hearing that it's real for so many. How does yours differ, if I might ask?

I do.

[Sometimes it still feels strange, being able to talk about it so openly here. The rest of the time? He barely gives it a second thought.]

My magic is very... I hate to say "limited", but its purpose seems very specific compared to some here. I can summon items and dismiss them just as easily. I can also warp to close distances rather quickly -- or perhaps the word "teleport" would make it easier for you to understand.

[You know. Maybe he could've warped to grab that piece of cloth?]

I think "specific" is a better word than "limited"...

[and Linneus is more interested in the description of his power than worrying about why he didn't choose to use them in this circumstance - he surely had a good reason for not-doing, right? Linneus doesn't even see it as a problem, really...]

Warp? Teleport? I haven't come across these words...

You haven't?

[Sure, that good reason was the fact that he didn't want to put all of this cloth down. This is a legitimate reason to find someone else to do it, right?]

The ability to move very, very quickly from one location to another. In the blink of an eye.

"Teleport". [a little nod. Like that, he understands it] Thank you.

Does your word have... different kinds of magic? Or is it that all the people who have magic "teleport" as you do?

And now we're back to using the word "limited".

[He laughs, then turns, waving for the man to follow. Time to pick up more cloth.]

Only those who share my bloodline can use this magic. It's a family trait.

Only in your bloodline...

[this is new and strange and fascinating - he barely takes his eyes off the man as he stoops for another piece of cloth, shaking it out and folding it smooth]

So it isn't common? Is it known of by common folk in your world - magic?

It's no secret.

[He plucks another textile off of the ground. It's a bright scarlet red, and Ardyn holds it up to appreciate it while he speaks.]

The "common folk" of Eos were very aware that magic exists.

And they take it in stride?

[reaching out briefly to touch the dangling end of the fabric - too bright a red to be really his colour, but lovely, nonetheless. Withdrawing his hand a little shyly-]

Or do they ask as many questions as I do?

You may ask whatever questions you like. Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of.

[He grins.]

It is magic from the royal line. The people do take it in stride, simply because the talent is entrenched in history, and they've no true reason to complain.

[he is encouraged; bends to gather up another scrap and fold with the first draped over his shoulder, though the explanation makes him hesitate in the practiced movements]

You're of royal blood, then? Is there some way I should address you...?

[...should he have been politer?]

Royalty from my world would usually be addressed as "Your Majesty" or "Your Highness", for example...

[He shakes his head, and that wryness in his look, in his tone, seems to return.]

Not at all. Merely "Ardyn" will do. Think nothing of my so-called "royal blood"; we're all equal here, aren't we? Our titles and homes destroyed all the same.

It just feels... strange.

[knowing what he does now - to not acknowledge the man's blood, when he has always been encouraged to give the proper respect, it is difficult not to.]

But if you should come to prefer another style, please don't hesitate...

No. I assure you I won't.

[No longer does he wish to be called by those titles, from a life long past.]

No point in standing on ceremony. Far too formal for my tastes, though I appreciate your consideration.

I shall try not to... consider overmuch, then.

[it will still be awkward, and it's hard for him to drop manners entirely.]

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