[As they chatter over which roles to play without having filled anything out at all, their candle flames flicker a little, and they'll get the sense that their audience is growing somewhat impatient. The atmosphere is a little unpleasant, actually. Meteion's sword is focused but doesn't seem worried, and Prompto's still feels right at home. There's a sense of urgency for all three, even so.
They'll get the feeling that this is indeed a script, or the bones of a story long-past, and it's up to them to fill out what's missing and bring the tale to life. They can narrate or act it out as they see fit, but the unseeing eyes of the audience are watching and perhaps waiting to judge.]
[ Aymeric! Does not know how most dates are read in Japan, so he will start with the narration? I guess? Over the vibe is some slight irritation that they forced to do all of this. They're so tired already. ]
In the year of XXXX of the Seventh Astral Era, a hardworking servant named Meteion worked for a prestigious but complacent lord named Aymeric.
[ He gestures for Meteion to start being servant-like. ]
[Somehow, the already-silent specters watching this performance grow even quieter?? The three will get the sense that they're listening with rapt attention...
Prompto's sword is doing the sword-equivalent of laughing at his ass, though. Meteion's sword is sort of fondly amused and gently encouraging her in her very dedicated servant-acting. A few of the light blue flames from the audience begin drifting up onto the stage, too. Do none of these people know stage etiquette? Wow.
Anyway, one circles around Aymeric as he speaks, conjuring up a paper crown and placing it upon his head. One circles around Meteion, and over her very suave idol outfit, she'll suddenly find a raggedy apron. The one that circles Promptorella will conjure up a cowboy hat fit for a beautiful blushing love interest.]
[ ... what is a borger king. Just kidding, Aymeric knows what's a burger. Carefully, he adjusts his paper crown? ]
However, no matter how many serenades, Promptorella did not love the lord back.
[ He starts singing a song he heard in the music store. I have made Aymeric a swiftie. Unfortunately, he sings well, with passion. Very good at faking this even though the irritation is still there. ]
[ encouraged by her sword, she plays her servant duties more wholeheartedly! she has no idea what she's doing! but she keeps cleaning, tidying up and sweeping the floor clean. ]
Full of.. daily.. glee? The lord decided to shout and say that she had become one of their three precious... tomatoes?
[ i don't know what's happening, i say as i google adverbs and verbs ]
[ shhh sword bro. just adjusting his hat and swaying his hips as he moves. ] Aren't you just a talented lil thang! I'll be sure to let my servants know you're out here giving a live show for them all.
[ wait. tomatoes? time to...twist this part a bit ]
Maybe the lord will want to brush up on his compliments. That's such a bewilderin' crime to a lady such as myself.
Such a heinous crime, to reject the lord and ridicule his choice of play... If Promptorella cared not to become one of his tomatoes, he would threaten Meteion's life, whom Promptorella befriended during the Lord's visits.
[ HE HAS TO WEAVE METEION IN SOMEHOW? he moves over to her, but doesn't handle her roughly. Instead, he just makes sure that she's right beside him. ]
Oh gosh. That is not how you win the heart of a lady. I am dis-gus-ted.
[ Sassy wave of the hand. ]
So Promptorella refuse. Her servant also refused to be used like that. Which is when the most horrific happens. The lord has decided to [ uh. adverb. adverb ] Longingly toss her down a uh chocobo ranch.
[holy shit help me WELL, THAT ALL HAPPENED. As this truly sordid and extremely bizarre tale comes to an end, the three will begin to hear whispers circulating amongst the spectral audience after a brief delay. It's hard to tell what they're saying, and every so often, one of you might catch words coming from what sounds like a familiar voice. It's almost entirely drowned out, but you may also catch the distant sound of gunfire and an ebbing, keening war cry.
A ghostly laugh whispers through the air, each of the flames of their candles snuffed out in an icy breath, leaving the glimmering, looming shapes of inhuman creatures as the only source of light. Those, too, begin to fade one by one, and the three are left with a sense that they've done a good job. The blue flames that had visited before will leave three objects upon the stage before dispersing:
A ring of simple metal. A broken shard of a plate. A withered rose.
...This time, no new audience comes in to fill the emptiness and silence of the seats. At the far end of the stage, a spotlight falls on a single black door.]
[ Relieved that it’s over, Aymeric heaves a sigh, but the darkness coming over them has wariness dialed back up. It stays, cautious, even when I guess a light shines on the items before them or else they wouldn’t be able to see. ]
‘Twould look like stage’s end for now… But stay vigilant.
[ Aymeric still Does Not Trust. Without thinking, he takes the broken shard. ]
Let us away together to the door anon.
[ Once they pick up their shiny items, he means. ]
[ Her wings perk at the sound of a familiar voice, curious and almost fixated on it, who could that..? But the distant sound of gunfire and cries spooks her and she blinks a few. um. hello?
she inches a little closer to where she saw Aymeric last, after he unceremoniously sent her to be trampled by chocobos...(?) ]
O-Oh, alright! [ she'll go ahead and. gingerly take the withered rose in hand. poor thing... she'll try and get it into some water hopefully soon enough? now, where's the door... right. she'll only make her way over once Prompto has picked up the last item and they start to move. ]
[For his role as the love interest tomato who sacrificed sweet Meteion like Mufasa and his nat 20, Promptorella picks up the ring! It imbues him with a sense of bravery and sureness. He can wear it or carry it or even leave it behind if he'd like; regardless, he'll instinctively know that he will be able to save the life of one person with its power. If he chooses to keep it on him, it radiates a peaceful, steadying warmth.
For our two extremely low rollers, Meteion the cutest servant in the world will pick up the rose. Though it's withered and has no visible thorns, it somehow jabs painfully into her palm - it draws a bit of blood, in fact. She'll instinctively know that she can direct one enemy strike toward herself and away from someone else. Keeping it on her person offers no comfort, though; in fact, if she does, she'll get the sense that she's lost something precious long ago and can no longer recall who or what it was.
Aymeric the prestigious but complacent lord will pick up the broken shard of plate and immediately feel a searing burn in his right hand. The shard blackens and crumbles to ash, leaving an oblong burn mark across the center of his palm. He'll instinctively know that he will be able to shatter one weapon of his choice with a single touch. The sensation of burning will not fade, however, and it will worsen to a point of agony any time he draws his blade.
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saturations) wrote2022-03-14 04:57 pm
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anyways rng says he has scissors. ]
You get to pick. If you want to be the Lord, you can go ahead. I don't really mind.
[ Though hm. Yandere Aymeric? ]
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[ He also doesn't mind? But we can pretend after them going NO YOU CAN CHOOSE, they ended up with Lord Aymeric and Love Interest Prompto. ]
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okay servant Meteion, Lord Aymeric, Love Interest Prompto. we got our choices ]
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now that they have that square away, he'll read over the script. again ]
Looks like I'm Promptorina? Promptorella? Ready for my close up, baby! [ let's fake hype to get over nerves ]
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They'll get the feeling that this is indeed a script, or the bones of a story long-past, and it's up to them to fill out what's missing and bring the tale to life. They can narrate or act it out as they see fit, but the unseeing eyes of the audience are watching and perhaps waiting to judge.]
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In the year of XXXX of the Seventh Astral Era, a hardworking servant named Meteion worked for a prestigious but complacent lord named Aymeric.
[ He gestures for Meteion to start being servant-like. ]
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wait there's actually confetti right here on the floor still, the hell... she crouches next to it as she brushes it aside with her hands. ]
This lord was... important, and would readily.. sing every day to prove their love for... Promptorella!
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Then in his version of a girl voice ] Howdy y'all. I'm Promptorella.
[ Giving a wink. ]
Little ol' me didn't really love the lord. This gal's heart was set on bigger things then what a man can offer.
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Prompto's sword is doing the sword-equivalent of laughing at his ass, though. Meteion's sword is sort of fondly amused and gently encouraging her in her very dedicated servant-acting. A few of the light blue flames from the audience begin drifting up onto the stage, too. Do none of these people know stage etiquette? Wow.
Anyway, one circles around Aymeric as he speaks, conjuring up a paper crown and placing it upon his head. One circles around Meteion, and over her very suave idol outfit, she'll suddenly find a raggedy apron. The one that circles Promptorella will conjure up a cowboy hat fit for a beautiful blushing love interest.]
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However, no matter how many serenades, Promptorella did not love the lord back.
[ He starts singing a song he heard in the music store. I have made Aymeric a swiftie. Unfortunately, he sings well, with passion. Very good at faking this even though the irritation is still there. ]
no subject
Full of.. daily.. glee? The lord decided to shout and say that she had become one of their three precious... tomatoes?
[ i don't know what's happening, i say as i google adverbs and verbs ]
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[ wait. tomatoes? time to...twist this part a bit ]
Maybe the lord will want to brush up on his compliments. That's such a bewilderin' crime to a lady such as myself.
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[ HE HAS TO WEAVE METEION IN SOMEHOW? he moves over to her, but doesn't handle her roughly. Instead, he just makes sure that she's right beside him. ]
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T-To.. spare Promptorella's friend, the lord promised to... forget! If Prompotorella would agree. [ to become... tomatoes....
words are hard. ]
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[ Sassy wave of the hand. ]
So Promptorella refuse. Her servant also refused to be used like that. Which is when the most horrific happens. The lord has decided to [ uh. adverb. adverb ] Longingly toss her down a uh chocobo ranch.
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... I'm sorry, Meteion, but mayhap Promptorella never cared for you.
[ He pretends to cast her aside?? To MICMIC TOSSING HER DOWN A RANCH?
I GUESS?
Where the chocobos are supposed to trample her like mufasa. ]
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A ghostly laugh whispers through the air, each of the flames of their candles snuffed out in an icy breath, leaving the glimmering, looming shapes of inhuman creatures as the only source of light. Those, too, begin to fade one by one, and the three are left with a sense that they've done a good job. The blue flames that had visited before will leave three objects upon the stage before dispersing:
A ring of simple metal. A broken shard of a plate. A withered rose.
...This time, no new audience comes in to fill the emptiness and silence of the seats. At the far end of the stage, a spotlight falls on a single black door.]
no subject
‘Twould look like stage’s end for now… But stay vigilant.
[ Aymeric still Does Not Trust. Without thinking, he takes the broken shard. ]
Let us away together to the door anon.
[ Once they pick up their shiny items, he means. ]
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she inches a little closer to where she saw Aymeric last, after he unceremoniously sent her to be trampled by chocobos...(?) ]
O-Oh, alright! [ she'll go ahead and. gingerly take the withered rose in hand. poor thing... she'll try and get it into some water hopefully soon enough? now, where's the door... right. she'll only make her way over once Prompto has picked up the last item and they start to move. ]
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he looks towards the door. ]
Guess it's back to the grind.
[ bullets are something he knows. he'll walk over to the items, picking up the ring. ]
Aren't you supposed to give the lady a ring? [ he's trying to ease any wariness. okay time to head to the door ]
Ready? Open sesame! [ time to open the door together \o/ ]
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For our two extremely low rollers, Meteion the cutest servant in the world will pick up the rose. Though it's withered and has no visible thorns, it somehow jabs painfully into her palm - it draws a bit of blood, in fact. She'll instinctively know that she can direct one enemy strike toward herself and away from someone else. Keeping it on her person offers no comfort, though; in fact, if she does, she'll get the sense that she's lost something precious long ago and can no longer recall who or what it was.
Aymeric the prestigious but complacent lord will pick up the broken shard of plate and immediately feel a searing burn in his right hand. The shard blackens and crumbles to ash, leaving an oblong burn mark across the center of his palm. He'll instinctively know that he will be able to shatter one weapon of his choice with a single touch. The sensation of burning will not fade, however, and it will worsen to a point of agony any time he draws his blade.
They enter the door.]