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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Apr 7, 2014 2:42:35 GMT
Larael rolled out of bed, placing her feet on the cold floor of her room within the Drakonborg. She stood up and stretched, crossing to the shelves where she kept her clothes.
As she put on the uniform, she looked to the dress that she had worn just the night before.
That was a good night. Met someone nice. Now today I fight them. She chuckled to herself and finished buttoning up her coat. She picked up her sword and gun, strapping the sword and gun to opposite hips.
There was a fine line between dressing to impress and dressing appropriately, and Larael had done her best to only barely cross that line. The coat she had chosen was, while not part of her ceremonial uniform, quite nice. Her hair was put up to stay out of her face, but had a bit more attention paid to it than usual. She smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror before heading out.
As she passed through the drake stables on the way to the deck, Fateseeker plodded out to walk behind her, eager to be near his mistress. She stroked his head and continued walking.
Larael passed onto the deck mere seconds later. Snow was gently falling on the deck, melting as it came in contact with the magically ice-proofed boards and steel. She scanned the area for Thorulf and not seeing him; sat down on a barrel while drawing a book from her satchel. She began to read while Fateseeker rested his head in her lap. The volume itself was unusual for her -- a romance novel. Talithe had suggested she read it. Talithe being one of her superior officers, Larael wasn't entirely sure she could decline. She hoped to herself that no one could identify the book or the genre, but was fully prepared to handle anyone who called her out on it. She relaxed. The air, despite the snow, was quite still, and it was nearly peaceful on the deck. Too early for most Tiros and Iduneus, only a few other Drakonrhedi dotted the deck.
| Tags: Thorulf Donalbain Inspiration: Hue hue hue there is no inspiration to be found Notes: B O O M table made by Opal.
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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Apr 7, 2014 11:44:27 GMT
Thorulf had woken slightly later than usual that morning. The sky was still fairly dark, mind, but that was only because the heavens were thick with clouds that morning. The Pryfektus had slowly come to, his eyes creaking open groggily and falling onto his window that overlooked the great empty vastness of the sky beyond. He gave a long yawn, stretching his bare body into a tight, streamline shape, wincing slightly as he felt a couple of his limbs click into place. Come on, I'm not that old.
Once this particular morning ritual was aside, he whipped the covers from his body and sat up, placing two feet down onto the cool floorboards beneath him. He rubbed his eyes and stood up gently, before crossing over to his window. Although he usually slept naked, there wasn't anyone who was going to be able to peer into his window, not unless an unfortunate drake and their rider were flying past. But he doubted anyone was going to be out practicing at this time, on in this weather. The snow was falling softly, hardly a blizzard in any sense of the word, but he knew from personal experience that flying at certain speeds while there was already a chill in the air was enough to freeze your joints in place if you weren't sufficiently wrapped up.
With that in mind, Thorulf strode over the his dresser and flung open the doors, fingers running briefly over the range of attire that hung inside before selecting his choice of apparel. Thorulf prided himself on his fine stitches, and resolved to wear nothing less, even while training. To his knowledge, he wasn't on duty today, so he could afford to wear more casual gear. That being said, during this particular training session, he was going to be accompanied with another Pryfektus - Larael Astriddottir no less, and his fingers subconsciously fell on his crisp, neatly pressed work uniform. Some officers liked to keep the stains of previous victories splattered on their attire, but Thorulf liked to think he was more professional than that. After all, there was no real pride in killing, not really.
He dressed quickly and straightened himself in front of the small mirror the hung on the back of his door, adjusting his collar so that it sat smartly around his strong neck. As he checked himself over, he noticed a slight darkening on his jaw, and patted it with a grimace. Damn. He probably should've shaved yesterday, as the stubble was beginning to thicken and roughen his face. Still, his hair was reasonably neat, having been brushed thoroughly while Thorulf was dressing, so a little heavy stubble wouldn't detract - he hoped. Maybe Larael likes stubble?
He paused. Why did it matter? He shouldn't pay any heed to what his fellow Drakonrhedi thought of his appearance, unless they were his superiors. He shook the pesky little thought away from his mind and went to grab for his weapons. Once his two swords were firmly in place in their sheaths on his belt, he gave himself one last glance over (just to double check) and set from his room.
Despite his muscled structure, Thorulf was surprisingly light on his feet, thanks to his extensive training and experience. And it was good he was too; his quarters were nestled right in the bowls of the Drakonborg and he was mindful of fellow comrades who were still snuggled up in bed, and wouldn't take too kindly to him thumping through the corridors. Instead of heading straight to the deck, Thorulf made his way to the stable first, and picked up a rather excited Talon. His drake was used to the early starts, and Thorulf often wondered how one beast could have so much energy. As he approached his mount's stable, listening to the soft, purring snores of other drakes with a small smile, that familiar snout burst forth from over the top of the stable door and gave a few loud excited yips.
"Alright, alright, I know you're waiting." Thorulf chuckled gently, reaching out to lovingly stroke Talon's muzzle. The beast gurgled softly in response, thriving off the attention from his adoring companion. Because his drake was so in synch with his master's routine, Thorulf thought it mean-spirited to not allow Talon to accompany him whenever he could. Not only that, he also felt guilty that the poor creature was forced to stay in the stables while Thorulf was attending last night's party, although he had no doubt Talon had entertained himself by pestering his fellow drakes.
With a quick unlatch of his stable door, Talon came bounding out like an overactive puppy, his tail bouncing happily with the beast's springy motions. "Calm down, you, come on, we'll get you some food." Thorulf laughed. The mention of food fell welcome on Talon's ears, and the beast exploded into another strong burst of energy.
Once the rather hectic feeding frenzy was done, rider and drake exited the stables and onto the deck. They appeared to be the first ones out that morning, although their grand entrance was somewhat broken by Talon's sheer excitement at the fluffy, white splotches falling from the sky. Thorulf watched, amused, as the beast snapped at the air, barking happily whenever he successfully caught the snow in his jaw. Playful antics aside, Thorulf strolled out onto the broad width of the deck, taking in the scope of the scene. By this point, a couple of others had emerged, but they were preoccupied with their own business, so Thorulf paid no attention to them, stopping only briefly to make sure his gleeful drake was following close behind.
After whistling for a third time for Talon to come, Thorulf turned back and halted. At the other end of the deck, Larael was sitting on a barrel, quietly reading. She looked exceptionally smart this morning, and Thorulf had to shake himself a moment later when he realised he was absent-mindlessly staring at her. Thankfully, she hadn't appeared to have seen her so Thorulf made his way over with a strong stride, Talon plodding happily behind. There was no point in playfully making her jump, as his warbling drake would give his stealth clean away, so as he approached, he cleared his throat.
"Good morning, Larael." he offered her warmly, a small smile tugging at one corner of his smile. Talon gave a purr, matching his master's welcoming sentiment, "It's rather cold today, but I'm hoping a good session can warm me up. Wouldn't you agree?"
He tilted his head to the side, eyeing up the book in her hands but unable to make the title out, "Good book?" he inquired. His mind suddenly gave a mental groan at his feeble attempts to small talk. Call yourself a smooth gentleman? came a scolding thought, and Thorulf had to will himself with everything he had not to cringe at his own words.
Tags: Larael Astriddottir Notes: larael needs to sit in thorulf's stag horns as an ickle fluffy owl hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng
OPAL EDIT;; sparring isn't the only thing that could warm you two up hon hon hon
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Apr 7, 2014 21:49:39 GMT
Larael brushed some snow out of the inside of the book. The white flakes were falling steadily, covering her head and shoulders. Flicking her eyes towards Thorulf, who just entered the deck, she returned her attention to the letters on the page.
He took her face in his hands. "You --"
Thorulf cleared his throat. Larael jumped and resisted the urge to shut the book, instead looking confused for an instant and smiling up at him. "Good morning, Thorulf." Fateseeker approached Talon and sniffed at him, releasing a series of clicking noises.
"It's rather cold today, but I'm hoping a good session can warm me up. Wouldn't you agree?"))
She nodded and stood up, book still in her hand. "By the end of this we'll both be warmed up." She looked at Thorulf.
He didn't shave today? Hmm. She mulled that over in her head for a second.
He looks rugged. It suits him. Larael shook her head to clear it, preventing that train of thought from going any further along its tracks.
Placing the book inside her satchel, she placed the container on the barrel and drew her sword. She had already stretched before coming out onto the deck, and was ready to spar. "Shall we? Or must you stretch first?" She lowered the weapon.
| Tags: Thorulf Donalbain Inspiration: I wrote it, then sat for 15 minutes trying to improve it before "Yeah, it's not gonna get any better." Enjoy the short & bad reply! Notes: DOOOOOOOOM table made by Opal.
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OPAL EDIT;; oh yes you'll definitely both be warm by the end of this /eyebrow waggle you'd better stretch thorulf you're gonna need some flexibility for some of these exercises
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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Apr 7, 2014 22:40:45 GMT
His arrival had noticeably startled Larael, and both Thorulf's hands lurched forward an inch as if reaching forward to steady her. Quickly, he stopped himself, coughing abruptly as his arms quickly fell flat against his sides. He pretended to be interested in the trickling snowfall, but only doing so to hide his slightly pink cheeks. What's wrong with you this morning? Steady yourself, man!
"Good morning, Thorulf."
Thorulf returned her welcome with a polite smile and a slight dip of the head, acknowledging her greeting with warmth. Out the corner of his eye, he spotted Fateseeker trotting over to greet Talon with a curious sniff. The drake was an incredibly graceful beast, Thorulf inwardly mused, rather suited that he should belong to Larael. His own mount was less elegant, as evident by the rather overly-happy way he responded to Fateseeker's welcome. Talon gave a low, throaty growl (but one that signaled a 'hello' in drake speak, Thorulf could only assume) and wriggled his hind quarters in the air, before giving an excited chirp and bounding excitedly off around the deck, barking for Fateseeker to follow him, and Thorulf wondered if such a proud-looking beast would stoop to join in Talon's boisterous antics.
Larael had stood up by this point.
"By the end of this we'll both be warmed up."
Thorulf gave a quick nod, his friendly smile widening, "I don't doubt that." he returned, his breath coming out as hot puffs like steam from his lips. He watched as Larael disposed of her book, thankful that she hadn't chosen to humour his ridiculous attempts at small talk. She stood and readied her sword, and Thorulf had to suppress both his eyebrows raising at the impressive blade. A rather beautiful instrument indeed, he pondered. Still, he resolved that he wouldn't be distracted by the weapon's pleasing aesthetic quality and focus on his own technique instead. After all, he was a professional, was he not? A professional to who was keen to impress Larael, at any rate.
"Shall we? Or must you stretch first?"
A low chuckle rumbled from Thorulf's throat as he doubled back a few paces, "Come now, Astriddottir, you don't think I'm that old, do you?" he asked, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. He knew that hadn't been her meaning, but he couldn't resist a slight jest. Both hands fell softly on the two swords he kept either side of his waist, and with a slow, forceful motion, he withdrew the blades from their scabbards, the edges of both weapons piercing the air with a metallic 'shwink' sound.
Positioning himself, Thorulf readied himself to spar. Both feet stood shoulder width apart, his shoulders relaxed but broadened, head raised, fingers rapping against the handles of his swords. Talon had stopped careering around the deck and came to a sudden halt, his head raised and wings pricked, the sound of Thorulf's blades catching his attention automatically. A brief whistle confirmed from Thorulf confirmed to the poised drake that this was merely a practice, and that the beast didn't need to worry himself. At sound, Talon uttered a loud mewling sound, and continued sporting with Fateseeker.
Thorulf turned back to Larael, one eyebrow raised, "Now, ladies first?" he offered her, seemingly breezily but his challenging smile betrayed his airy tone, "Show me what you've got."
Tags: Larael Astriddottir Inspiration: the pina colada song was playing in the background and it somehow really fueled this post Notes: show thorulf what you've got, larael ey ey ey
OPAL EDIT;; larael's sword isn't the only thing that's raising
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