Philomel
09-29-16, 12:33 PM
Closed to Shinsou vaan Osiris, Lye and Tobias. For Crimson Hand development.
Silence permeated the room as the tension held it captive.
Naught but a whisker moved, not even an eye blinked or a stray hair blew in a breeze.
All attention from the twenty spectators was held, focused centrally to the same location, as if the universe itself revolved around that equivocable point.
And for that few minutes, it did.
Minutes that passed unbearably by second by terrifying second, each accountable in the minds of the company.
One, gilded lily; two, gilded lily; three, gilded lily ...
Then - a hand moved. Flickered, finally, and darted forwards, allowing the room to take a breath. All one collective inhale - then it was held again as fingers clasped around the head of the wooden object ...
And slid it three hexagons to the right and one upwards. Past the king's point, and up towards the emperor of the opposite colour, capturing him with a steady move and therefore winning the entire game.
The room erupted into madness. Ecstatic cheering arose and hands abounded, forming riotous applause as the two combatants stood. Leaning across the table they clasped one anothers' hand and held the pose as recognition of the other's skill flooded from their eyes and faces. A strong nod from one and a smile from the other spoke of the mutual respect, before they drew back. Blue eyes stared back at black. Pale skin framed by salt-and-pepper hair stood against bronze skin with rich raven hair. Male stood against female, the sailor-mage ex-paladin against the mercenary.
Time to admit defeat.
Calmly, Rameses Vaeron took a step back from the table and bowed, offering his acceptance of his opponent's glory, before twisting sharply. He headed right through the crowd, passing by the twenty or so eager watchers, before leaving the room. As the world continued to sing of the victory and wonder of the Helkon Chess match he moved away, letting it and the girl enjoy her winnings.
Despite the fact she was probably so confused that he left so fast.
Chess was a difficult game, and even a master strategist such as Vaeron with vast intelligence and intellect apparently lost to some people. Who were younger, wittier and had been in more championships than he, it had been revealed.
Pulling a hand through his hair he stormed up towards the ship. He was not full of fury - nay that was not the feeling. Rather, it was irritation at being so close yet losing to a woman half his age. If only his emperor had been but a quarter space away, then he would have been able to escape and execute his final plan of a few movements and then force her to suffer the art of loss. With a face that was developing thunder he climbed aboard the galleyway and started his path to his cabin rooms.
"I'm ... guessing you lost the game then?"
Twisting to the right, the direction the fair voice came from, Vaeron came eye to eye with her. Her, the speaker. Braided, deep violet hair, curling horns, and eyes of deep grey meaningfulness were the picture he was faced with. But the picture made him smile inwardly, and if he physically could outwardly also. Smile, despite his current state of mind.
"Yes," he replied, and his voice was littered with disappointment. "I was two moves away from taking her empress."
"And thus winning by second default," she grinned a little.
The loosely tied-up sails behind her fluttered where they could, and curls at her crown danced a waltz as a light breeze upstarted. He grunted, rolling his eyes. Folding his arms he took up temporary residence here near her rather than looking as if ready to walk away again. Merrily, his friend, Philomel van der Aart, began to laugh, a little mocking but mostly in friendly jest.
"In all the two years I have known you, you never cease to irritate me," he muttered loudly.
The faun laughed all the more. "And in the year of of enduring partnership, I am pleased that you think so."
He kicked out, intentionally but not harshly, at her right pastern.
Darting out of the way she spun, hair marvellously spiralling out behind her.
"Come," she grinned, "We have a friend who has just arrived."
She gestured with a hand as she started to the back of the ship, towards what they had created into a grand decking area for eating. Behind it a door led into the mess hall, otherwise known as the bar. Though it was an irregularity now; the Feisty Fox was just a segment in the machine that was the Gilded Lily. In the grand scheme of the year that Philomel had had of full independence, without the Crimson Hand's existence, without split loyalities and without any other attentions pressing on her mind, the society had grown dramatically to endorse many strong female individuals across the countries. True, they had become associated with the Brotherhood of the Castigars, but that was more a secret alliance, a trust-bond which focused on the use of Philomel rather than the Lily. It did not stop the Gilded Lily being what it was. With now a stronghold in Raiaera and Scara Brae, and the secret fortress in Concordia forest the ship was merely a tool now, rather than the central focus.
"Who are you talking about?"
Philomel winked back at him, curtly taking the time to glance back over her shoulder.
"Why, Shinsou vaan Osiris himself," she gleefully replied.
And that was all to be said.
Silence permeated the room as the tension held it captive.
Naught but a whisker moved, not even an eye blinked or a stray hair blew in a breeze.
All attention from the twenty spectators was held, focused centrally to the same location, as if the universe itself revolved around that equivocable point.
And for that few minutes, it did.
Minutes that passed unbearably by second by terrifying second, each accountable in the minds of the company.
One, gilded lily; two, gilded lily; three, gilded lily ...
Then - a hand moved. Flickered, finally, and darted forwards, allowing the room to take a breath. All one collective inhale - then it was held again as fingers clasped around the head of the wooden object ...
And slid it three hexagons to the right and one upwards. Past the king's point, and up towards the emperor of the opposite colour, capturing him with a steady move and therefore winning the entire game.
The room erupted into madness. Ecstatic cheering arose and hands abounded, forming riotous applause as the two combatants stood. Leaning across the table they clasped one anothers' hand and held the pose as recognition of the other's skill flooded from their eyes and faces. A strong nod from one and a smile from the other spoke of the mutual respect, before they drew back. Blue eyes stared back at black. Pale skin framed by salt-and-pepper hair stood against bronze skin with rich raven hair. Male stood against female, the sailor-mage ex-paladin against the mercenary.
Time to admit defeat.
Calmly, Rameses Vaeron took a step back from the table and bowed, offering his acceptance of his opponent's glory, before twisting sharply. He headed right through the crowd, passing by the twenty or so eager watchers, before leaving the room. As the world continued to sing of the victory and wonder of the Helkon Chess match he moved away, letting it and the girl enjoy her winnings.
Despite the fact she was probably so confused that he left so fast.
Chess was a difficult game, and even a master strategist such as Vaeron with vast intelligence and intellect apparently lost to some people. Who were younger, wittier and had been in more championships than he, it had been revealed.
Pulling a hand through his hair he stormed up towards the ship. He was not full of fury - nay that was not the feeling. Rather, it was irritation at being so close yet losing to a woman half his age. If only his emperor had been but a quarter space away, then he would have been able to escape and execute his final plan of a few movements and then force her to suffer the art of loss. With a face that was developing thunder he climbed aboard the galleyway and started his path to his cabin rooms.
"I'm ... guessing you lost the game then?"
Twisting to the right, the direction the fair voice came from, Vaeron came eye to eye with her. Her, the speaker. Braided, deep violet hair, curling horns, and eyes of deep grey meaningfulness were the picture he was faced with. But the picture made him smile inwardly, and if he physically could outwardly also. Smile, despite his current state of mind.
"Yes," he replied, and his voice was littered with disappointment. "I was two moves away from taking her empress."
"And thus winning by second default," she grinned a little.
The loosely tied-up sails behind her fluttered where they could, and curls at her crown danced a waltz as a light breeze upstarted. He grunted, rolling his eyes. Folding his arms he took up temporary residence here near her rather than looking as if ready to walk away again. Merrily, his friend, Philomel van der Aart, began to laugh, a little mocking but mostly in friendly jest.
"In all the two years I have known you, you never cease to irritate me," he muttered loudly.
The faun laughed all the more. "And in the year of of enduring partnership, I am pleased that you think so."
He kicked out, intentionally but not harshly, at her right pastern.
Darting out of the way she spun, hair marvellously spiralling out behind her.
"Come," she grinned, "We have a friend who has just arrived."
She gestured with a hand as she started to the back of the ship, towards what they had created into a grand decking area for eating. Behind it a door led into the mess hall, otherwise known as the bar. Though it was an irregularity now; the Feisty Fox was just a segment in the machine that was the Gilded Lily. In the grand scheme of the year that Philomel had had of full independence, without the Crimson Hand's existence, without split loyalities and without any other attentions pressing on her mind, the society had grown dramatically to endorse many strong female individuals across the countries. True, they had become associated with the Brotherhood of the Castigars, but that was more a secret alliance, a trust-bond which focused on the use of Philomel rather than the Lily. It did not stop the Gilded Lily being what it was. With now a stronghold in Raiaera and Scara Brae, and the secret fortress in Concordia forest the ship was merely a tool now, rather than the central focus.
"Who are you talking about?"
Philomel winked back at him, curtly taking the time to glance back over her shoulder.
"Why, Shinsou vaan Osiris himself," she gleefully replied.
And that was all to be said.