Watching her eagerly, the interest of all the residents of the pit sitting atop the balcony focused on the young hero. It was not an unusual sight, but rarely did Reaver have such victims that were deemed a hero - this would be an entertaining, if not spectacular fight. Hollow men were an easy feat, and he did not have enough to match the hordes so oft found in the marshes. Yet he had more up his sleeves than frail bones.
Tapping his cane against the floor, the echo reverberating. As usual, Hatch provided his usual vulgar, but witty commentary as Vivian fought. Another door flung open, a low snarl emitting from the darkened corridor leading out. “Give them something to howl about, won’t you?” Reaver’s voice carried it’s usual gleeful tone in the face of such horrific activities; the Balverines he kept caged pouring out from the doorway into the pit alongside hollow-men. Each frenzied, howling and looking to the alpha for guidance.
Hearing the rap of his cane, she knew enough to expect something far less than wonderful was about to happen. A sudden shot, though, perturbed her aim of attention and caused her to finch in pain, the sting of a scattered bullet grazing her shoulder.
Looking to where it had come from, she spotted one of the damned corpses wielding an old, beat-up rifle. Glaring, she made a mad dash over to the blasted thing, darting to one side to dodge its poor aim. Reaching it, she made quick work to slice its head off from the body, stomping on the skull once it hit the ground. Even with her bare feet, it was quite easy to shatter it. Taking up the rifle as her own, she was sure that it wasn’t going to be like her own, not by a long shot (pun possibly intended).
Then when the creaking of the cages was heard, she raised her gaze up to look across the room, to where the sound produced from. Then that snarl.
She froze.
Oh good god, no. Not those murderous things. Not in droves!
Come on. Move. MOVE. They’re about to get their orders!
Her body wouldn’t listen. She’d only seen these creatures from afar, seeing them tear up wolves in the woods on one occasion. Would she go near them? No. that was like asking for a mauling. But now she was to fight them without any choice to turn heel and run.
Holding out the old rifle to one side, the worn sword the other, she took in a breath and set a full glare on the snarling beasts, something like a growl coming from herself as it seemed something inside of her clicked.
“Come on,” she said in an angered whisper, her feet spaced out and twitching, the twitch growing into small hops from one foot to the other as she spoke on. “Come on, come on, come on. COME ON.” She yelled. “COME ON!”
Her feet could bare the twitch no more, and she took off into a sprint towards the closest beast, raising the rifle and firing at close range. After the shot was fired, she tried to make a slash into the next, trying to be as quick as possible with it.
After all, one slash from these buggers could make her nothing short of a victim out of a gory horror movie, so why not charge into the fray at full speed?
(Source: royal-hero)
There was always something to do, and such was the life of the King of Albion. It was a title he had taken on with a willingness most impartial - if only to spare another from the weight of the crown, particularly his sister. However, upon his return from Aurora he had grown wear and ever more did duties and responsibilities rack up. There was never a shortage of people crying out for better work conditioning or some other frivolity when there was a great task at hand.
The future of Albion rest with him. It was his Albion, as it had been his parent’s before him, and he would keep it safe. The dynasty of the former Hero would remain intact, that much he would see certain.
Long fingers rest over the arms of his throne, his head rest in the palm of his hand as he briefly shut his eyes. The idea of sleep was tempting but the sun still shone and there was much to be accomplished yet. Logan sighed at this truth, this thought that spun itself within his mind and he slouched against the padded back of the chair as the court slowly trickled out of the anteroom. All was quiet and for a while he was at ease, despite the fears that stirred and would not rest.
That journey had taken a tool upon him - one far too great for him to speak of.
He had been the only survivor, and even now as he sought refuge in the blackness behind his eyelids he saw the face of that thing still. How it whispered of things and how his breath had caught in his throat, limbs seized and never before had he felt so afraid. Above all else there was the fear of it crossing the ocean and spreading darkness, thick and miasmic, across the features of this continent.
A voice tore him from this thought, black eyes slowly opening. “Your Highness,” Her breath was short, chest heaving and a look of panic spread over her face - perhaps misplaced for the subject at hand. “the Princess has vanished.” There was some exclamation at this but Logan rocked forward on his heels to stand, gloved hands crossed behind his back. “Is that so? Have you checked the gardens?” A single brow quirked as he inquired and the chamber maid shook her head. The King lifted a hand to silence any word that might come from her mouth and descended the steps to the throne and further still until he passed her. “I will find Vivian, do not fret.”
Something of an escape.
He traveled through the great hall, the heels of his boots clicking against the polished floor and the stone steps he ascending to the sprawling courtyard. Often she would retreat here, as he had when she was far too young to remember. It was not so difficult a task to locate the girl who rest beneath the curved branches of the trees. His steps were silent as he approached and despite the crunching of leaves underfoot she seemed not to stir. “Enjoying the sun?” He commented, black eyes focused away from her and now towards the grey cloud of industry that filled up a section of the blue sky.
Now there was a familiar voice. And a welcomed one at that.
Glancing up at him with a faint smile, she replied to him with a cheery tone.
“Of course I am. It’s a beautiful day. That pale skin of yours could use a bit of color.” Her last remark wasn’t meant to be anything like a put down, but rather how any sibling would poke fun at the other.
Taking in another breath of the fresh air, she could smell both the present flowers with a mix of the other species of fragrances from others that populated various parts of the gardens. There was an idle flicker of a memory somewhere within her mind, possibly a trigger from the smells around her. A figure of a woman stooped to tend to a patch of daises. A woman with long, dark brown hair.
Mother.
She gave a small frown at this, maybe more in part that she couldn’t quite recall what she looked like, nor their father.
Dismissing the thought, she gave a yawn and sat upright, her gloved hands taking hold of a small tie that was wrapped around her wrist and put her shoulder length dark hair back into its braid, save for her bangs that framed her face.
“Busy day today, as per usual?” she asked innocently, knowing full well that his work load was stressful and taxing. It honestly concerned her at times, but for now (and ever since he took up the throne), she kept her distance and only held the idle worry for him back. At least for now.
(Source: royal-hero, via hollow-king-deactivated20120527)
Peace. Finally.
These were the thoughts of a twelve year old princess, having gotten away from the finicky and scheduled nature that had currently grasped the castle. Once a blind eye was turned by her chamber maid, she had made haste out of the castle to seek refuge in the courtyard. Sure, it wasn’t far, but you try being a teen-aged girl trying to get past the healthy guardsmen that stood like statues in front of all the exits.
But here, she seemed to be in a state of serenity. She had found a nice spot next to a patch of small trees cloaked in flowers, hidden away from those that would look for her. In truth, the chamber maid had been trying to get Vivian to wear a dress, and she wasn’t having it.
“I’m going to be a hero someday. I should have to wear dresses!” This was her argument. After all, she loved wearing suede pants, particularly dark ones. They went so well with her boots, not that she cared how she looked. It simply made for better movement in combat, let alone anything else.
No need to worry about such things now. The sunshine felt good today as she laid there in the grass, her hands folded behind her head to make for somewhat of a pillow. There was a gentle breeze blowing through, causing some of the petals in the trees to fall like snow. Smiling at such a sight as they fell both upon her and around her, she took in a happy sigh.
Spotting a petal that had fallen upon her nose, she went cross-eyed as she spied it, then blew it off in a puff as if she were to blow a stray bang away from her face.