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Relics of the Past

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Relics of the Past

Post by Guest on Tue Aug 14, 2012 3:36 am

Memories were funny things. They could make a man laugh. They could fill his eyes with bitter tears. They could warm him like a flame, or they could leave him cold. Whether a man looked back on his memories fondly, or wished for them to fade into nothing, those memories would follow him to his grave.

Rouen had been a beautiful place. The streets of Paris had been alive with a thousand bright faces. Mirthful people chatting idly by the shops and cafes, children laughing at play in the parks, dogs barking from distant streets, speeding cars wisping by. Parisian streets played a music of life, so wonderful to live and breathe. Now no one could ever hear that music again. The streets were empty and overrun with growth and vegetation. A magnificent city reduced to desolate ruin. Buildings both hundreds of years old and some only just constructed before the invasion were now coated with vines, weeds, and moss. Edifices crumbled and weathered away, statues were faded and tinted green, or smashed into pieces, the roads were cracked and broken with grass struggling through the openings as nature reclaimed it places. Rouen had been doomed to crumble into ruin and obscurity, much like Saamaaltan and Xerxes.

This was Esparia's fault, it was his own fault. Esparia had a long and bloody history of constant warfare. When conflict in the islands ceased, and Esparia was united, it had turned its attention to its neighbors, Rouen and Kamahen. Miguel had, at the time, unwittingly contributed to this cycle of bloodshed so long ago. It wasn't until he pulled the trigger, and that child's bloodied body fell lifelessly to the ground that he had come to realize his complicity in such evil.

---------------------------------------------

With machete in hand, hacking away at the thick brush that claimed the once cultivated and tamed fields and forests of Rouen, Miguel carved his path deeper into the heart of the island. The frozen winter had long melted away with the coming of spring, and the rain forests had roared to life. A myriad of colorful birds chirped loudly in the canopy of the trees, echoing vibrantly through the rain forest. The day had long been conquered by humidity, and sweat poured off of Miguel’s brow as he climbed deeper into the jungle. He was actually here to investigate the Palace of Versailles. It was once a treasured heritage site of Rouen and a wonder of the world, however, it had been ruined in the war. Sacked by the Esparian soldiers and nearly burnt to the ground. Miguel wasn’t there for that part. He had abandoned his position as a soldier and fled the army as deserter before they had reached that far into the island.

But there were rumours, idle gossip, that there was activity in the halls of the ruins once again. Now, being the gossip of citizens in Esparia’s cities, towns, and villages, it was hardly concrete. Some rumours pointed to a drug lord’s cartel taking over. Others said that it was a resistance group that had been fighting in the jungle since the war was lost. Yet others still thought it to be paranormal activity; spirits lost in the war haunting the relics of the past.

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With a soft grunt, Miguel hoisted himself over the high wall of the palace courtyard. Using overgrowth that clung to the marble walls, he managed to scale the wall and avoid going through the front. The palace wasn’t in as bad of a condition as it ought to have been, which meant there must have been recent human activity in the area after all. This being said, caution was actually necessary, and so he elected to avoid the main entrance, which could have been watched.
The courtyard of the Versailles was actually quite a breathtaking view. Unlike the rest of Rouen, claimed by nature once again, the gardens of this palace were cared for and maintained as if the royal family had never left. Whoever was taking up residence over here must have had a refined taste to actually keep such things in perfect condition.
Miguel clung to the shadows of the wall as he made his way along the courtyard’s ege and towards the main body of the palace. Sharp golden eyes kept watch on their surroundings like a wary hawk. The Esparian’s hand hovered near his right pistol’s handle holstered next to his waist. He wasn’t really looking for a fight. Even if there was a cartel or a terrorist cell based here, he was only looking to confirm the truth-- half out of curiosity, half out of duty as an official of Esparia. Domestic peace was a priority for the red haired Esparian. This had been the case for nearly twenty years.
At that moment, it occurred to the intruding man that he was not alone in this courtyard. Near a marble fountain of regal and complex design, adorned with the sculptures of religious figures and naked people sprinkled in clear water, Miguel spotted someone who did not appear to be made of stone. From a glance, even at this distance, it could easily be told that by features hardly hidden and basked in the sun, that this person was a woman. She seemed to be leisurely enjoying herself in the warmth of the sun and the calming sound of the fountain in front of her. She certainly didn’t seem like a cartel boss, a resistance fighter, or a ghost. But surely she didn’t just simply take up residence in an abandoned palace in a desolate country on her own? Did he dare move closer to investigate? Or was it better to approach her? ah, but he was trespassing...or was he? This place didn’t belong to anyone.


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Re: Relics of the Past

Post by Lust on Sat Aug 18, 2012 1:47 pm

Tanandra wouldn't argue that of all the world, Rouen was most beautiful. The lush jungle and exotic fruits, the many species of birds that lived nowhere else in the world, and of course, her home that she'd set up in the Palace of Versailles. The Rouenian royal family and their brat were dead so what good would it do them? When she'd taken the palace as her home she'd said it was to preserve the memory of her fallen people and live where she belonged, especially as she mourned the loss of what's-his-nuts. With Vasco's permission, she'd been granted the liberty to live there, alone with her darling wolfies, away from the prying eyes of the media and curious tourists that were turned around by the Esparians that blocked access to the island off for anyone but government employees and Tanandra's own guests. It was exclusive, but not a strictly-kept secret that the model and actress lived there, the walls around the area high and carefully guarded. The war had tainted Tanandra's career, and she wasn't hiding, she told herself; she was recovering. She was carefully planning on how best to move forward again while using the messy business of Creta and Amestris to her advantage without being seen as someone to ban from both nations since her movies regularly played in both countries.

Tanandra laid back on the lawn in her vast garden, the peacocks strutting and pecking by the fountains. It was such a nice day; the sun on her brown skin and long body and the furs beneath her that lazily spilled across the grass beneath her. The feeling between the two was exquisite. A long silk skirt draped down her legs and pooled between her thighs, a tiny white wolf pup curled up at her hip. One hand reached down to scratch him gently, the other curled up behind her head as she lay somewhere between napping and not. The more human of her wolves, the beautiful and deadly human-like chimera whom loyally guarded her, had been told to relax slightly and only urge trespassers back to the designated paths where the Esparians could escort them away from the government property should the come too close to her home. But here in her gardens she was safe to do as she pleased, the silk top open and leaving her exposed to the warmth of the sun.

The jungle that surrounded the magnificent home was thick and lush, the air heavy with moisture and the smells of oily flowers that permeated every inch of your soul with every breath. The palace was safely away from the world, and Mistress had asked to be left alone to be given time to think. Red laquered nails scritched the pup lazily as he rolled onto his back to expose his belly to the sun, cuddled happily against his Mistress. There were public apologies, but that wouldn't cover it for any real explanation. Then again, only a few had really seen her in Amestris, and the ones in Creta who had seen her all had bigger things to worry about than a model being there. Dark lips twitched into a small frown. Even though the unholy brand above her breast had been covered carefully, they had seen her die, just like Alena. And they had seen her get right back up, immortal and unharmed. Vanity had released noxious gasses, and a lot was going on.... Would anyone really believe someone claiming they saw a red carpet actress assisting in the kidnapping of the leader of Creta, the White House's destruction, and that she was an immortal monster that couldn't be killed? Really, even The Sun and National Enquirer often came up with headlines far more scandalous and interesting as that. So, at best, it would be tabloid news that she could brush off. They'd "investigate" to see if the beautiful Tanandra Collier was Elizabeth Bathory, though that wasn't too far from the truth, either.

A long, soft sigh escaped her lips, golden eyes gazing upward to catch the clouds but lost in their shapelessness. Something would be figured out. She'd be okay- she always was. Adn as long as she could stay out of the limelight for just a little bit to catch her breath, the world wouldn't believe that Tanandra was involved with anything, just as they'd written off Alfred's suicide. Alfred... It was strange. Tanda wasn't in the mood for company lately, and even her wolves had been told to give their lady space as she'd become more quiet and distant, no guests coming to be entertained or stay for the week to bask in pleasures outside of the world. It wasn't the war that had done this, nor the blemishes to her reputation. There was a genuine void there, deep and dark, and as much as meeting with her enthusiastic fans amused her, it just made that emptiness ache more. She would truly live forever, beautiful... and alone. Like a slow venom, some part of her was beginning to regret a few choices and truly wonder if she'd been hurt enough that she'd started to strike first to stay safe, even when what she was killing was something she wanted and needed. Ugh. Too much heavy thinking n people that no longer mattered. Alfred was dead. Fernando cursed her name. Xavier was forgotten amongst the sawdust and glitter. All the blood family she'd ever known were dead and in urns and took the burnt remains of her real name with them. They were all gone, and none of them mattered now or could help her face an eternal future.

An insect buzzed by, landing on the pup's bare belly and causing him to suddenly wake up, prancing and trying to snap after the bug. Tanandra propped herself up on her elbows, amused at her newest pup's antics when he suddenly stopped, staring off behind the fountain, his little tail bristling and shooting outward. Slowly Tanandra followed his line of sight, turning and almost startled, seeing someone who was definitely not one of her wolves. Tall and not bad-looking, but a trespasser. Hurrying to tie her blouse shut, Tanandra stood, silk tumbling down to drip to her ankles. "This is private property," Tanda stated firmly, her Esparian accent heavily swirled with Rouen. Golden eyes moved to the holstered gun on his waist and the machete in his hands. Whoever he was, he came ready for a party. "You have no appointment, and I am not receiving guests. I would ask that you stay where you are and allow my security to escort you back to your boat, monsieur."
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Re: Relics of the Past

Post by Shula Brighton on Sun Sep 02, 2012 7:41 pm

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Re: Relics of the Past

Post by Guest on Tue Sep 25, 2012 8:27 pm

Miguel tensed up as soon as he felt the eyes of the pup he had failed to notice before upon him. It wasn't long before the pup's master too, noticed his presence. She was quick to rise to her feet and tie her clothes shut to protect her modesty. Miguel's golden gaze met with her own eyes of gold, filled with wariness and subtle ferocity. If anything, Miguel was certain he hadn't simply stumbled upon an extreme nude sunbather here just to get a thrill off of getting a tan in a restricted area.
The rugged Esparian couldn't help but noticed the beauty which this woman held about her. Her dark skin was flawless, her features somewhat exotic, even for an Esparian. But most striking about her was her curled locks of green hair and her bewitching golden eyes. Something about her looked familiar. Did he know her from somewhere?

"This is private property," said the mysterious beauty, her glare trained upon Miguel like a poised knife. Beautiful or not, it wasn't hard for him to see that she was giving off a dangerous vibe, even if she didn't actually look the part.
"I should be saying the same to you, señorita", replied Miguel, his voice even and calm. So to, was his posture, as he tried not to alarm the woman by taking the stance of an aggressor. If it could be helped, he'd rather avoid hostilities.
"You have no appointment, and I am not receiving guests. I would ask that you stay where you are and allow my security to escort you back to your boat, monsieur." The woman spoke with a telltale Rouenian accent. Not a Gelemortian accent, and not an Esparian speaking Rouenian, but the unique sound of a Rouenian speaking Esparian, something Miguel hadn't heard in nearly 20 years....
"Appointments? Guests? Security? It sounds like you've taken up residence in this old palace, or maybe you're opening a very private resort and I just haven't heard of it." he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood and possibly ease the tension between them, despite how serious this was.
"Tell me, mademoiselle, just who are you? This area is restricted to outsiders by the Government of Esparia. Unless Vasco isn't telling me something I should know, I don't think you should be here? And what's more, you sound very Rouenian to me. But I can't imagine that you've just been hiding in her since the war."

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Re: Relics of the Past

Post by Lust on Tue Oct 02, 2012 2:07 am

The days spent hiding behind her high walls were not befitting of something such as Tanandra, and yet, here she was, living behind a wall and avoiding the world. The world was too loud right now, and she needed to think where things weren't so distracting. Someplace away from where the wars had recently touched and poisoned, away from RIOTE for now, and away from the discerning eyes of her fans. Tanandra loved them in her way, but they would never satisfy the way they once had. This was the last place where the Beast could go to think and try to reorganize the world she'd thought was hers, and for that, she needed no company. No fans fawning over her, no media to scrutinize her. Her wolves were her family and her safety, and to them, she was Mother, Mistress, and Goddess. She would never punish them, never let them be unhappy or in need. She and they were just the same, and needed more than the high, vine-covered walls of the desolate island. They needed game to hunt and room to run, and she would let them prowl the island as they saw fit since they always came back to their Alpha. This brooding wasn't like her, and she knew where the problem lie; she too needed to hunt.

Too many predators in a small area would overkill and then starve and turn on each other. Tanandra had spent her life hunting, climbing, killing in one way or another, and then looking for her next step. Always two steps ahead, always in control like the hunter that she was. Power granted to her had cost her that sense of control and she'd fallen from her pace, now retreating from the world as she tried to find her next move. But it would seem that even in an area restricted from the world, the world would still find her. This man from Esparia made no advances toward her, his posture as calm as possible as though he were trying to keep a predator from attacking. Heh. Not far from the truth. Gold met gold and held, the man not looking away in submission. Responding to the pup's yipping, a gray and brown wolf far larger than a natural breed stepped silently up behind Tanandra, very intelligent eyes trained on Miguel as the pup quieted.

"Appointments? Guests? Security? It sounds like you've taken up residence in this old palace, or maybe you're opening a very private resort and I just haven't heard of it." The man seemed to think that this private property was not for her to prowl in, which told her two very important things: he was neither an over-eager fan, nor paparazzi. But if that were the case why would he have come here of all places? Rouen was fenced off and Esparian military shooed away uninvited guests on Vasco's orders; retiring or not, those orders still stood. The man was quiet for a moment, the air heavy as Tanandra wondered if he'd simply turn and leave or if her family might have something fresh to chase and chew on for the night. "Tell me, mademoiselle, just who are you? This area is restricted to outsiders by the Government of Esparia. Unless Vasco isn't telling me something I should know, I don't think you should be here? And what's more, you sound very Rouenian to me. But I can't imagine that you've just been hiding in her since the war." With no trouble, the man seamlessly changed from speaking Esparian to Rouen.

Which, of all things, Tanandra did not expect.

It had been decades since Rouen fell to Esparian forces and most of their people eradicated and gone into hiding. She herself was responsible for her share of their rank as an endangered species many years later. But Rouen was not a language commonly spoken. It was not taught in Creta or Esparia since it was no long a country to do business with, and the bastardization garbled by Gelemorte was hardly worthy of being called a Rouen dialect. Nation of drunken camel-fuckers could freeze to death before she'd recognize them as not staining her beautiful mother tongue. No, this man was speaking fluent Rouenian. Whoever this man was, he now held something in his favour that would stave off his becoming dinner: Tanandra's curiosity. Deep olive and slender arms gracefully folded across her chest, not caring if it pushed them up slightly, her eyes not leaving the man. "I am Tanandra Collier," she replied quietly, curious to know if the name would ring a bell. There seemed to be few corners in the world where her face and body weren't known. "This is my home, on Vasco's invitation. I am tasked with caring for and overlooking the ruins of a lost culture." After all, an invitation that was prompted with money and some nudging from Aurelius was still an invitation. "Typically I don't welcome strangers or invite them to stay. As you said, this island is restricted, after all. So tell me monsieur, who are you and what brings you to my home?"
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Re: Relics of the Past

Post by Csilla Angelis on Sun Oct 21, 2012 7:04 pm

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