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The Falling of A Blue Salvia _____________________________________________ The 18th of the Amber Cold As the Blue Salvia Flower falls, a story would be shown as to Meira Kervallen-Elmwood's true colors. *A flashback through her life unfolds before her eyes from start to finish as if she would be no more.* Meira had a struggle for her life going on adventures, going places, seeing things, having fun, and doing some pranks as a child. Growing up in a happy family, she was shown her true, colors for the first time as a child. "I see pink! Pink is all I see mat'er! 'nd a little bit of blue too!" Her mother turns to her after performing some sort of a spell and asks "W'at do ye' see now?" Meira's mother questioned Meira. "I... I don't know w'at t'ese colors are." She'd reply to her mother. Her mother then pointed to each color and told her each color until it was time to go out and about, the spell went away and all she saw, was pink again. She went on with her life as she saw it in her normal state, but sadly never saw purple as a colorful color. She grew up in her life fighting for her home and friends. Friendship was the only thing that meant anything to her to those who knew her well. She had a bow custom-made to her. She bought it from the man not knowing who the individual was officially. And to this day always brought it, and never missed a single shot when wielding the bow as her main weapon. She was a proud archer, fighting for her pride, fighting for what she thought was right, fighting for what she believed in. She was the best among all those wielding a bow. However, things changed a lot when she followed her mother's dream. She took over Ravenmire, to follow her mother's belief and try to bring pride onto the lands to make things enjoyable. Always was happy, always working around, and was always busy but able to help those in need. She needed help choosing who to help her as her delegation. Though who better to go to than her friends, including the one who made her, her primary weapon. At that point, things kicked off fast and everything went to plan as she then ventured on making more and more friends. She made friends across the lands far and wide, though she was always able to make time shooting with her favorite bow. Before leaving for good, she was able to shoot her arrow once more at target ranges and moving animals. Though something, took her by surprise, causing her to fall limp in a pool of her very own red ichor that had poured out of her. Her amber-colored eyes shutting as she was passing knowing her time had come and now onto her new adventure. Now seeing her fellow fallen friends, as she entered into the land of the fallen, she would show each and every one of them a smile from ear to ear, as she had always shown to nearly everyone. The background being in her favorite color, cotton candy pink, with her blue outline popping out in the background. Down came what appeared to be a rain of blue Salvia flowers as she looked about. She heads further into the fallen pink lands, and turns around offering a gentle hand to the next person to join her, saying "Trust me, it will be okay!" in her cheery way with a smile to them... whoever it might be. Then continue forth to an edge and fall to be among the flowers of that she truly adored in life in all of their true colors. _____________________________________________ In Ravenmire, her will would be sent out to her family and friends by a raven as a symbol it is from Ravenmire. ((OOC: Only those who are pinged or named or a part of ther group/family is part of can read those sections of the will.)) To Bo Rostova @moosehunter123@Aces__1, To Hacket Hemoss @Hacket, To Kelton Thorne @RedResult, To The Rex of The IronHorde, Klog'Akaal @LobsterLarry, To Vlachia @chaotikal, To The Kervallen Family Far and Wide, @KaptainScarlet@ECS1999@Lmcfc@Snow1770 To The Valiant Seekers @Roguechaotic, To The Entirety of Rhosmark @mojanghunter, _____________________________________________ Now everything below this message is OOC. This is just my goodbye from LoTC entirely. I'd like to thank everyone that I have roleplayed with and around and even those I have talked to only in ooc manners. I enjoyed the roleplays I have encountered, the ones on stream and off streams. Unfortunately, I realized I cannot stream LOTC very well, and streaming is what I wish to do. I will admit, I have gone through the good times and the hard times on this server, but with every beginning, is an end. To all those I have wronged, I am deeply sorry that I have wronged you in any way shape, or form. This is my goodbye from lotc, honor is honor and I wish this gets passed around, hold your honor above everything else, this is just a game to be fair. Who knows, maybe I will come back in the future to have fun, if I have lost all motivation in my future or something exciting is happening. I stress this part heavily though, do not be afraid to be perma-killed, sure you lose items you gained on the persona, but your persona's legacy still lives on to those you interacted with. Do not be the 15 thousand death warrior NL that never perma-kills, takes all the fun out of roleplay. We all want enjoyable roleplay, so make it more enjoyable, make it better than what it is right now. I believe that you all can do it. Speacial shoutout and respect to all you fellow military veterans, active duty, guard, and reservists (Yes Space Force and Coast Guard counts lol), y'all are the real ones, and glad to call you a brother, sister, and everything around. HUA - Heard, Understood, Acknowledged, and I hope every day you all come home safe and enjoy life as it is tough. With all that said, for the last time, peace out, stay safe, and have a great time on lotc! -
A Long Dream In the dead of the night, a young-looking elf with tousled, dirty blonde hair toils tirelessly in the Workforce Building near his residence in the Cargonia District. His cerulean eyes, mirrors of the vast ocean, scrutinize each item he handles. Faelion steals a moment for respite. His arms extend above him gracefully, a hand caressing the fatigue from his other limb, accompanied be a refreshing "Eeeeaaagh... Aaaahhhh..." A melodious contentment echoes through the walls of the Workforce Building. Amidst the tranquility, memories of Lumia's wedding surge. A mixture of exhilaration at the use of fireball and a cloud of worry spawned by Scrisa's assault on the Golden Lubba's marriage. The thought of flinging fireballs makes his heart flutter. Fireballs, of all things. Faelion's shoulders sag, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, before he resumes his work. In the silent night, atop Lurin's Workforce Building, a bright, luminous light—brighter than the noonday sun—emanates from within, leaking through the windows. A voice can be heard, "Faelion... It's time for you to wake up..." =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! The jarring sound of an alarm clock shook the room in the early morning. "Hey! Go down and eat your breakfast, young man!" Aurelia, a woman in her late 20s who bore a striking resemblance to an older, gender-bent Faelion, stood over her slumbering younger brother. She tried to rouse him with a mix of authority and care. "5 minutes..." Faelion muttered in protest against his older sister. He grabbed a nearby pillow, covering his face, attempting to reclaim the remnants of sleep. "You'll be late for your first day of class," Aurelia reminded him, forcefully snatching the pillow Faelion had used to shield his face and giving him a gentle pinch to coax her little brother to get out of bed. "Alright, alright. Ow! Stop pinching me, Sis," Faelion groaned, trying to shake off his older sister, all while feigning resistance to convince her that he was already awake. Aurelia stood up from Faelion's bed and observed the young man, crossing her arms with her right foot tapping rhythmically on the wooden floor. "You'll go back to sleep once I go down on my own." "Fiiiine." Faelion reluctantly rose from bed, finally yielding to his older sister's persistence. As Faelion ambled through the city, making his way to school, he vividly reminisced about the dreams he had. His mind replayed scenes of proud warriors going to war, incredible wizards flinging powerful spells, vast lands and frozen wastelands, forests with towering trees, encounters with demons and dragons, and witnessing unspeakable horrors. Amid these dreamt landscapes, Faelion found kindness, and, more importantly, made friends along the way. It was indeed a long dream—one he wished had never ended. Waiting for the bus to school, Faelion glanced at his watch and realized he had ample time before its arrival. He opened his new college notebook, a fresh canvas for this chapter of his life, and grabbed a pen. In the notebook, he inscribed these words: "I dreamt for miles; now reality smiles. Grateful for the journey, it was a dream that turned. Thank you." "I dreamt for miles; now reality smiles. Grateful for the journey, it was a dream that turned. Thank you." ~ FIN ~
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A Gasp of Fresh Air What is life? Is it a gasp of fresh air flowing through the lungs of a living person? Is it the birth of a child and the death of an elder? Does life truly end? Does it ever even start? Andrik woke from his seemingly eternal slumber. It had been days since any person had even seen the now estranged Prince. Even the servants who regularly tended to his every need were locked out of his private chambers. It’s not like anyone wanted to tend to such a room anyways, the place was barren. As once stated in a poem, Andrik had manifested his quarters into a truly dark and depressing prison cage, yet he played the role of warden and prisoner at the very same time… Perhaps it’s not so simple? No, it can not be, for life is not just for the descendent. It resides in every cottage, hole, stump, and castle. It is valuable to the most devout sinners and those seeking repentance. “The wedding, Highness, it is time” heard the Prince as he awoke from his rest. For a moment, Andrik paused. Should he show? Is he ready for such a feat? Is the world ready to see him again? Would they even care? These questions, and many more, ran through his mind as his maids laid out a simple selection of clothes. “Well, Ana surely would never forgive me if I missed this one” replied the Prince, only it was already an hour after he awoke. It was funny to him how fast time flew by in his head. Perhaps life has no meaning at all? After all, history has proven we obsess over social structure, Is it too foreign to say that we have no right to question it? Are we so arrogant? So hubristic? Or even egotistic? After all, it was not too long ago that Andrik nearly lived a fairytale life. A separate path that was so foreign to the life of a traditional Prince, even he had trouble imagining it sometimes. But he did dream… Those dreams were severed along with his lover’s head. Oh well, God had punished him much more harshly, right? It was tragic, but the Prince had a void growing in his heart beforehand. Besides, feelings have no place in the Royal Household. It was simply improper. Annika had taught his son better etiquette than that. Is life ever beautiful or horrible? The wolfpack hunting a herd of rabbits is gruesome to the privileged eyes of man, Yet no man sheds a tear for tearing down the home of a squirrel. Perhaps there is no right answer, no conclusion, or plan? The ceremony was like all others for the Prince, a simple reminder of what could have been for him, and what could be for the newly wedded. Marriage, in his eyes, was an overrated social construct of humankind. Why should a man and a woman be pressured to wed for social status and not for the love of one another? Why are divorces so final and yet a betrothal can be remade at any time with little consequence? Oh well, no matter. The past was just that and he had no future to look forward to. “Just a few more minutes until I can lock myself in again.” The truth may never be found. However one thing is for certain, Life is valued by all things that hold on to it And is a mere existence of those who let go of it. “Margrait looked beautiful in her dress. I wonder who tailored it?” thought the Prince to himself. The dinner was okay. Andrik had been picking at a small slice of carrot cake, freshly made by the Queen herself. Andrik was never really a fan of sweets, even as a child. He’d always cherished the more unique foods like various fruits and cheeses. It reminded him of how he so yearned to be unique, and yet ironically ended up like every other Barbanov royal; He was a broken and dysfunctional mess, and yet let none of it hinder his duties. Life is a blessing to most but a curse to the lonely. It is both utterly meaningless and yet means more than anything. It can be cherished and cursed in both birth and death. It is the end of the road for some, and the start of the pavement for many others. Savoyard Port was always a close favorite of the Prince despite the harsh memories it gave him. Surprising to his gossiping servants, it was true that he’d been sober for nearly a decade now. Most of his adulthood had been spent drinking, Andrik didn’t even remember holding his first, and only, son in his arms. A distant memory of what could have been… It’s both beautiful and cruel at the same time. Suddenly, as he dreamt of a better life, a servant bumped into the drunken Prince, causing his face to collapse face-first into the cake. I no longer wish to know what life means. In the end, is it all meaningless? Even if the generation ahead of you screams your name until it echoes through history, Would the noise sound forever? Walnuts. Andrik always enjoyed walnuts as a child considering his varied pallet. He’d always loved unique tastes, yet his adventure had come to a sudden unsuspected halt. The laughs slowly faded as the Prince's eyes shut, forever in that dream. I refuse to accept that. Life is not about what you do as you live, But rather what you leave behind for your successors. Life is not a purpose, but rather a legacy. ~ P.A.N. B.B., Akovia “Anya? Bran? Is that you?”
