Calder Raoul
Pryfektus 
"Calder is like microwaveable sex in a bowl." - "So he'd be better in an oven, but you can't?"
Posts: 20 
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Post by Calder Raoul on Feb 21, 2014 0:48:54 GMT
Calder didn't like people, and it was a fact that could not be helped. He didn't enjoy their ignorance, their need to make all decisions based off of emotion, nor did he enjoy the repulsive way everyone wanted into eachothers business.
Personally, Calder like his business being his and his alone.
It was for these reasons that the stern male suddenly found himself climbing high up into the Drakonborg's northernmost mast and into the crowsnest.
The fact that Calder wanted to cuddle with his precious snow drake had nothing to do with the fact that he had called to her, and Sigrid was now half wrapped around him as he sat, enjoying the quiet.
No, it was simply that he was cold. That is all.
And it would be no surprise to anyone that he was cold, in all honesty. The sky was a gross, stormy grey and the boring expanse of clouds had blocked out even the smallest of the sun's rays. While there were partings here and there, these were not nearly enough to bring warmth to Calder.
With a sigh, Calder closed his eyes and lay his head back on his extra fluffy snow drake's belly, humming quietly to himself. He was a rather pleasant, happy person.
When he had no shit-for-stain, God-forsaken people around him.
| "There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there will be no one to remember human beings ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was a time before organisms experienced consciousness and there will be a time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows thats what everyone else does." |
Tags:AnyonE
Inspiration:My laziness needs to be fixed
Notes: WOOOO THIS IS SHIT
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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Feb 21, 2014 12:23:12 GMT
The melancholy of the lingering grey clouds had - for a moment - parted and through the small gap rider and drake barrel rolled through. They skimmed over the southern mast of Drakonborg, dipped slightly in height and then looped twice around the protruding column. The rider gave a sudden, stern yank upwards on the reigns and the drake gave an instant response, batting its wings once but with powerful force to gain a burst of momentum and swing upwards again into the sky.
Controlling a creature capable of such amazing flight was an amazing experience, but leave that wonder to Tiros. For Thorulf, the novelty had worn off with age and moments like this were strictly about business, and business was where he returning from. The Pryfektus had flecks of blood splattered about his uniform and droplets of it about his face. The drake too showed signs of such business.
All in all, it had been a rather routine day.
A long day, but a routine one.
It was after such days that Thorulf seeked solitude, not for long, but just long enough to retain his composure and - of course - clean himself up. Some Pryfektus enjoyed the stains of victory, but this uniform was a bugger to wash. And dried blood was most unflattering to a professional - at least in Thorulf's eyes.
The nothern mast was a preferred choice of Thorulf's; it was slightly higher and Thorulf enjoyed that ounce more of added tranquility. Plus, because of it's isolation, it gave him a good opportunity to bond with Talon. The drake was very much in-tune with his rider's routine and, once Thorulf had pulled them back up into the atmosphere, it was the signal that they were coming into land, and Talon needed little instruction from that point onwards.
As both rider and drake neared their point of destination, however, Thorulf spotted that weren't the first to be taking advantage of the perfect isolation. He couldn't quite make out who it was from his distance, but it was definitely a man and his drake. Deciding to suck in his pride and making a mental resolution to remain aloof in his own business, Thorulf kicked Talon on. The drake gave a loud, almost bark-like sound and swooped downwards. He tucked in his wings to get the advantage of being more streamline, which in turn sped up the momentum. They came in quickly, almost a little too quickly as Thorulf fond himself yanking back on the reins. The streamline shape was gone in an instant as all four of Talon's paws came out and latched themselves on the highest point of the northern mast, claws scratching the woodwork slightly as the weight of both drake and rider caused them to slip slightly. "Damn it, Talon, come on." Thorulf hissed, slightly disgruntled. He adored his drake more than most things, but there was no escaping the fact that Talon lived in his own little world sometimes.
At least from where they were now, Thorulf could have a decent look at the duo below him.
Ah, Calder.
At least Thorulf wouldn't have worry about making light conversation.
Talon, seemingly now only just realizing his landing error, gave a screech and unlatched his claws from the mast and dropped down to the crows-nest, landing with a particularly loud thud.
Oh well, Thorulf thought bitterly, at least the roost is big enough for four.
He dismounted slowly, his thick-set boots landing heavily on the wooden floor. He gave a long exhale and felt a small twinge in his lower back. He reached round with a gloved hand and rubbed the sore spot. "I'm getting too old for this..." he muttered to himself. Talon, almost sensing his rider's mood, craned his neck to playfully butt Thorulf in the shoulder. The Pryfektus gave a worn smile and gently clasped Talon's muzzle in both hands, "You're a real pain in the arse, you know that, don't you?" he asked softly, releasing his loving grip on the drake. Talon uttered a small purr in response.
Thorulf suddenly remembered he was in company and cast a quick glance over to his fellow Pryfektus, who seemed to be bonding with his drake in his own private manner as well. He looked asleep, but Thorulf knew that his arrival was far too loud to let anyone get proper shut-eye. Calder was a distant sort of man, and while Thorulf respected that, he thought it best to allow Calder to address him on his own terms. That is if Calder even wanted to acknowledge him anyway.
Talon gave a loud whimper for attention, and Thorulf focused back to the drake. "Alright, alright." he sighed, reaching into his satchel. He pulled out a hefty chunk of meat - Talon's reward for a hard day's work - and dangled it in the air. "You want it?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow and the tiniest of smiles. Stupid question. Talon had a sudden burst of energy at the sight of the food and gave a sort of yipping sound in delight. The hefty drake bounded onto the railings of the crows-nest, and Thorulf always marveled at out such a muscled beast managed to keep his balance. The Pryfektus pulled his arm back, ready to throw, and Talon positioned himself accordingly. There was a moment of baited excitement, before Thorulf lobbed the meat with full force into the sky, sending it soaring. Quick as a flash, Talon responded, launching himself into the air to catch his prize. He caught it with ease, having been used to this particular trick. Thorulf watched, smiling as his drake flew around with the meat in the mouth for a while, before coming in to land on the southern mast. Talon was a very social sort of drake, but liked his rare moments of solitude.
Tags: Calder Raoul
Notes: oh hey hi it's thorulf. also i hope that crows-nest was as big as i was picturing otherwise thorulf totally just knocked calder off with his fat-ass whoopsie.
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Feb 21, 2014 13:20:50 GMT
Cedric wasn't exactly in the mood for this right now.
Apparently Puck was on hyper mode today, and this meant that trouble abounded. Ced had already taken him out on a reconnaissance mission, quickly taking down two choratas by themselves instead of just scouting, before finding a new possible lair of a mated pair of kanpol and finally returning home.
The drake still had enough energy to come back, somehow manage to steal a cake (probably with the assistance of some filthy Tiros), run in circles around the deck for a good fifteen minutes, and then scamper up the north mast with a furious Cedric close on his fluffy tail.
This had all lead Cedric to angrily scamper up after him, keeping time with the drake due to Puck's tendency to actually wait for his livid master, apparently due to the belief that they were going on another adventure--one that Ced, for his own ease, allowed him to continue believing. The drake would simply have to deal with the fact that he was here to get scolded.
Puck darted onto the rim of the crow's nest, waiting for the Vetr with butt wiggling in joy. Ced followed swiftly, a lifetime of climbing letting him pull himself into the little area very easily.
It was big enough for a good number of people and their drakes, but already inhabited by two other rider-drake pairs. As such, it was getting a little squashy, especially with Puck's overeager bouncing.
However, Puck's bouncing stopped the instant he saw Cedric's expression.
The Vetr drew breath, and the drake's head lowered slightly, warily, as if waiting to see if Ced really was as angry as he seemed.
"I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate!"
The drake seemed to deflate, head hanging, wings drooping, his tail going limp and shoulders sagging.
"Thou beslubbering rump-fed maggot-pie!" Ced hissed, ignoring the fact that Puck looked rather like a dejected puppy at the moment. "Calm thyself, for the sake of the gods!"
Puck glanced up at him, showing the whites of his eyes in a face that seemed to radiate sorrowful apology.
Ced, however, was far from finished. At least he was done, for the most part, with speaking in verse and quoting Shakespeare. Even his favorite bard really couldn't give the drake a good scolding without the Vetr tacking on some un-metered speech--Puck needed a very special, very thorough type of scolding, or else he'd just be pretending the entire time. The drake could act extremely well, for one who didn't actually have words or anything of the sort.
"No, we are not going on another adventure. No, you are not allowed to eat cake. You know this already. No, you are not allowed to stay on deck. We are going back down, and you are going to be locked in your stall. No, I will not allow anyone besides myself to see you."
The drake looked more akin to a recently orphaned child than a trained killer at this point.
"And if you ever do this again..." the Vetr continued, ominously, "I don't even want to say what I will be forced to do."
It was a lie. A terrible lie. Cedric could technically request a new drake, as a Vetr, but he wouldn't dare. Puck was the only drake he would ever accept. However, Puck did not know this--they shared an extremely tight bond, but Ced showed very little of how he felt, even with people. He would talk to others about his relationships, but he would not mention his feelings to the people concerned.
Although Puck could probably in any other moment see that Ced could never abandon him, currently the Vetr's face showed none of its usual jovial, sly aspects. His brow was creased and eyes as cold and hard as the steel of the gunblades belted on his sides. To any onlooker, and indeed even to his drake, he appeared as furious as he would ever get.
Speaking of onlookers...
For the first time, Cedric attempted to figure out who else was in the crow's nest. Given, he did not look at them, instead appearing focused entirely on the drake in front of him. But out of just the corner of his eyes, without having to turn the eyeballs themselves, he managed to detect the identity of both his fellow inhabitants of the area.
Oh, joy. Pryfektus Raoul and Donalbain.
He was exceptionally close to neither, and neither were in his division. However, that didn't reduce the slight shame he felt at having a misbehaving drake in front of two excellent warriors of the Drakonrhedi.
But Cedric brushed it off, as he always did. Whatever. All the more of a facade for them to deal with, then. The useless Vetr and his untrained drake. It was, in all actuality, perfect for the farce that he normally maintained--but that did not mean that this instance was intentional.
But they don't know that.
Looking at Puck again, he noted the drake's eyes were no longer just pleading, but carefully trained on his. His truant mount had, of course, picked up on his thoughts.
And just like that, it was a farce again, no longer real anger but fake, no longer actual sorrowful posture but carefully performed reactions to lend credence to Cedric's reputation for being entirely useless.
"Illiterate loiterer," Cedric hissed again, but this time it was staged. "Apologize to these fine gentlemen for ruining their solitude."
The drake turned, posture exactly the same as his true apology, and slowly lowered his head, before letting it hang from his neck in a manner most dejected.
| Tags: Calder Raoul, Thorulf DonalbainInspiration: linkNotes: /vetr jumps into thread /vetr is least functional one there /i am worried about the future of the drakonrhedi |
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Calder Raoul
Pryfektus
"Calder is like microwaveable sex in a bowl." - "So he'd be better in an oven, but you can't?"
Posts: 20
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Post by Calder Raoul on Feb 23, 2014 22:59:28 GMT
A cool breeze ran across Calder's unshaven face, causing the man to sigh contently. It was quiet, peaceful and no one was botheri--
At the sound of flapping wings all too close to him, Calder's eyes snapped open. Some idiot rider and his equally idiotic drake were headed straight for him and his beloved Sigrid. Within a few moments, the rider had apparently noticed that he was not the only one attempting to relax on the crowsnest, and frantically tried to stop his clumsy drake from smashing into the mast.
Calder winced when the drake's claws slipped along the mast, causing it to screech abhorently. Then, with a loud, particularly annoying thud, the man and his beast were before him.
Calder could not say he was amused.
Of course, Calder recognized the man, which only served to annoy him further. It was his fellow Pryfektus, Thorulf Donalbain. This man was a trained Drakonrheidi and should know how to control himself in the air. Calder's mouth opened to inform the man of this ridiculous matter, when he was yet again interrupted.
A rather excited looking drake had scaled the ladder to the crowsnest and now stood before them with butt-wiggling glee. If it were Calder's own Sigrid, he would think it a most endearing action, and would be prompt to shower his beautiful fluff monster in affection. This drake, however, caused Calder's brows to furrow and mouth to tighten in a scowl.
Still not amused.
Quickly on the beast's tail, Vetr Cedric Vyrrson popped onto the crowsnest with a less than pleased expression on his face. Well, at least Calder wasn't the only one now.
The Vetr proceeded to insult and scorn his beast, which Calder took with little enjoyment. He was all for punishment of people, but the drakes were another matter. The only harsh words he would ever say to Sigrid would be in hushed, comforting tones with a quick forgiveness to whatever his lovely lady had done wrong.
"Illiterate loiterer, apologize to these fine gentlemen for ruining their solitude." ))
In proper formal fashion, Calder rose to his feet and saluted his Vetr before speaking. Sigrid had quickly moved to lay her head on Calder's rather large feet with a light trill. Before his mouth opened, Calder cast his snow drake an affectionate glance, and then spoke.
"Vetr, your beast has no reason to be sorrowful. It seems the Gods to not favor me, as I had already had my peace interrupted by one unskilled coleague and his clumsy beast beforehand." Calder shot a dry look to his fellow pryfektus.
Calder didn't like people.
| "There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there will be no one to remember human beings ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was a time before organisms experienced consciousness and there will be a time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows thats what everyone else does." | | |
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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Feb 24, 2014 23:36:08 GMT
Calder's mouth dropped open to speak, and Thorulf (although only really half-noticing this) felt a part of him clinch as he waited for the onslaught of sharp, verbal jibes. Here we go, his mind droned, and Thorulf - seeing as his fellow Pryfektus was facing away from him - allowed himself to give the smallest of eye rolls, and already his mind was in overdrive to summon up pre-planned comebacks. Calder was someone who needed to be...extra firm with. By common courtesy, Thorulf had to respect his fellow rank member, but that didn't mean he had to like him, per say.
Funnily enough, however, the onslaught never came.
Instead, they were interrupted by the rather abrupt arrival of an overly-excited drake, followed by its overly-disgruntled master.
"I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate!"
Thorulf recognised the newcomer before he saw them. The Shakespeare obsessed Vetr. Indeed, Thorulf had dabbled in the works of the Bard himself, but the fondness this man possessed was legendary within the ranks of the Drakonrhedi. Thorulf himself like to pride himself on his own sense of culture; he read a great number of texts, some by Shakespeare and some by other authors. Reading was something he did regularly each night before he went to bed, comfortably under his duvet by the light of candle.
This particular Shakespeare fanboy came in the form of Cedric, head of the Stalkers, and a man whose eccentric behaviour was well-talked about. For Thorulf, however, this was his superior, and must be treated as such. Once the Vetr had thoroughly scorned his misbehaving drake (although Thorulf could only sympathise - he knew how tedious a rebellious mount could be) and regained his breath, he'd turned his focus to Thorulf and Calder.
"Apologize to these fine gentlemen for ruining their solitude."
Thorulf had lost count on the number of times he'd had to apologise for Talon's misadventures. That one time he tugged roughly (albeit innocently) at a female Ideunus blouse and it had ripped at the seam, that other time he'd knocked another drake out the air when a training session got too boisterous and -who forget- that other occasion where he'd left...a present on the deck of the Drakonborg. The cleaners were not impressed with that one.
Pushing all thoughts about his drake's less-than-graceful episodes, Thorulf turned to face Cedric. He gave a solemn nod of the head, "Sir." He kept a cool façade, playing as if he hadn't seen the Vetr's misbehaving drake - purely out of respect.
"Vetr, your beast has no reason to be sorrowful. It seems the Gods to not favor me, as I had already had my peace interrupted by one unskilled coleague and his clumsy beast beforehand."
Thorulf's eyes slowly slid in their sockets to return Calder's unimpressed glare.
Cheeky, insolent little-
Thorulf's lips pulled up into a soft smile.
"My apologies, Raoul." he returned politely, with just a hint of dry sarcasm, "Unfortunately we are not all so blessed with such lax timetables that we can spend the day cuddling with our drakes. Some of us," And this, his glove hand reached down to his left-hand side to slide out with a metallic sounding 'Schinng!' his sword, caked in drying Behemoth blood, "-have been busy working." With his other hand, he pulled out a pristine white cloth from his pocket. He always kept one handy. He positioned the cloth in the palm of his hand and cupped the bottom of the blade within the white fabric, and made a long, sliding motion upwards to the point. The white slowly dampened into red.
A couple of flecks of blood splattered onto the deck of the crowsnest as he flicked the cloth away from the now clean blade.
"But please," he continued, doing the same activity with the second blade he kept on his right hip, "Don't stop on my behalf. I'd hate to think I ruined one second of your canoodling."
Pot calling kettle black, his mind remarked, as memories of him pampering Talon flashed back to him.
Tags: Cedric Vyrrson, Calder Raoul Inspiration: well there was a documentary about tape-worms playing in the background but i dunno Notes: calder's such a dick i love it
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Feb 26, 2014 22:21:03 GMT
Now that rider and drake were once more on the same page, it was time to quietly escape from this particular social situation. Of course, Cedric couldn't particularly care about how it left the two Pryfektus' thoughts of him--keeping a constant farce of ineptitude did that to you. At least it let him laugh at his own mistakes, whereas normally he'd be mortified. Cedric, socially awkward as he was, had found a long time ago that he needed the upper hand in situations. He needed some sort of secret to keep to himself, to let things be pretend.
Of course, he'd taken that concept pretty far, with the Shakespeare obsession and all that.
"Vetr, your beast has no reason to be sorrowful. It seems the Gods to not favor me, as I had already had my peace interrupted by one unskilled colleague and his clumsy beast beforehand."
Oh, how interesting. Someone with as much disdain for people as I. Cedric's face, however, showed nothing of his amusement at Calder's words, instead turning with one raised eyebrow to Thorulf.
"My apologies, Raoul. Unfortunately we are not all so blessed with such lax timetables that we can spend the day cuddling with our drakes. Some of us have been busy working."
The other Pryfektus sounded polite. However, Ced severely doubted that--most of the Drakonrhedi in the higher echelons of the order had quite the ego, and when insulted could be extremely volatile in their response. At least Thorulf appeared contained. It was sort of like the "I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir," type of concept: an insult wrapped in a nicety with a cherry on top.
Never mind vanishing, Cedric mused. Perhaps this will provide a bit more interest than whatever I was supposed to be doing when Puck got me into this mess.
Ced's drake was exceptionally good at making messes, after all.
"But please. Don't stop on my behalf. I'd hate to think I ruined one second of your canoodling."
The Vetr's lips almost slipped into a grin at that word. Canoodling. I'll have to remember it. A glance at Puck found the same light dancing in the drake's eyes. Although some might insist that the beasts were stupid, any rider knew better. Some were smarter than others, aye, but all of them at least understood the concept behind the tone of someone's words. Puck was one of the most intelligent ones, an Cedric was proud to admit it.
"I am certain, however, that I could find you something to do." The blue-haired man tilted his head to the side slightly, fists on his hips. "Are you on a set break currently, or do you simply not have anything to do? There have to be any number of patrols in need of another expert hand. Evidently, Pryfektus Donalbain has just returned from one such squadron. The life of a Drakonrhedi is indeed a busy one."
The word expert was not stressed suspiciously, but one who knew Ced well enough would understand that it was a subtle humorous jab at the Pryfektus. The Vetr did occasionally manage to lower his Cedric enough from levels of open sarcasm to become sly or even a trickster.
He was curious to see if Thorulf would join in. If he did.... well, dare Cedric predict that there might be some 'witty banter' incoming? Delightful. Purely delightful.
This was especially enjoyable because he was a good 90% certain that all three of the men currently present had spoiled their drakes at one time or another. He knew that he was incredibly guilty of the act, as Puck was a little princess when it came to demands. The drake's puppy-dog eyes, too, were infamous for their effectiveness, and Cedric was no more immune to them than anyone else.
Despite the fact that all three of them were being hypocritical, none of them appeared to be willing to openly admit this, and neither were they about to pull down the facade. Normally, Ced would have no issue with showing his devotion to his drake, but as he was supposed to be angry at the dumb beast. Suddenly reversing his supposed emotions wouldn't do.
No, instead he'd simply have to play along. It wasn't like he was bad at improv, he was going off the cuff most of the time nowadays.
And he could always resort to quoting Shakespeare. That scared people away pretty quick.
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