- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- Online Availability
- 12 pm-10:30 pm (with some exceptions)
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
- Beginner
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, Mystery, Scifi, Romance, Yaoi, Yuri, Horror
Ivory raised his glass as well in a show of comradery that he wished to see dead more than any other citizen of The Light with a smile and a nod, knowing he had to keep an image too, similar to Elior; he needed these people to see him as softspoken and gentle as well, perhaps even see him as a bit simple. These people mustn't know just how much of a threat he really was, and how much of a threat he was about to be.
No, they mustn't know that he fully intended to launch their picturesque kingdom into absolute hell within the next few hours, whether he had to actively search out Elior or not - because while he hated the Prince, that hatred was nothing compared to the pure fucking rage he felt when watching the King. No playing around, no taunting. No, he would follow his plan to a T with the King and Queen as he let his eyes return to the finished food in front of him, sipping on his wine.
He couldn't do anything, no matter what Ivory tried. He watched his sister closely, playing with the fringe of her shawl as he sat by her side. His fingers hurt, having not quite gotten used to using a pickaxe yet and a distinct red oozed from the scrapes on his hand if he flexed them too much. The same kind of red that stained his sister's blankets from coughing up blood. She had become unresponsive at this point, the woman he looked up to for so many years now a husk of what she had been, what she could have been. Their father said that medicine would not be offered to the people of The Dark for at least a month but he wasn't exactly sure why. Did he have to write to the King himself? Would he listen then? He was just a young boy, barely a man, but maybe he could make a change with his letter?
He was making a change now, no kind letter or begging would have helped and he knew that now. Ivory's eyes locked on the glass of wine he held carefully in his hand before finishing it off in one gulp. He needed it if he was going to get through the rest of the dinner party. Then he would dismiss himself, wait until nightfall, and get the hell out of The Light with Elior in tow, whether that be him dead or alive.
"Well, I do hope your son returns soon. Ruling a country cannot be done on an empty stomach, hm?" Ivory added after a moment, his voice a bit airy as he spoke. Perhaps it could be read as daydreaming or a sign of just how tired he was but it was mostly due to him trying to focus his energy on not using the steak knife that say by his hand and lunging for the King himself.
No, they mustn't know that he fully intended to launch their picturesque kingdom into absolute hell within the next few hours, whether he had to actively search out Elior or not - because while he hated the Prince, that hatred was nothing compared to the pure fucking rage he felt when watching the King. No playing around, no taunting. No, he would follow his plan to a T with the King and Queen as he let his eyes return to the finished food in front of him, sipping on his wine.
He couldn't do anything, no matter what Ivory tried. He watched his sister closely, playing with the fringe of her shawl as he sat by her side. His fingers hurt, having not quite gotten used to using a pickaxe yet and a distinct red oozed from the scrapes on his hand if he flexed them too much. The same kind of red that stained his sister's blankets from coughing up blood. She had become unresponsive at this point, the woman he looked up to for so many years now a husk of what she had been, what she could have been. Their father said that medicine would not be offered to the people of The Dark for at least a month but he wasn't exactly sure why. Did he have to write to the King himself? Would he listen then? He was just a young boy, barely a man, but maybe he could make a change with his letter?
He was making a change now, no kind letter or begging would have helped and he knew that now. Ivory's eyes locked on the glass of wine he held carefully in his hand before finishing it off in one gulp. He needed it if he was going to get through the rest of the dinner party. Then he would dismiss himself, wait until nightfall, and get the hell out of The Light with Elior in tow, whether that be him dead or alive.
"Well, I do hope your son returns soon. Ruling a country cannot be done on an empty stomach, hm?" Ivory added after a moment, his voice a bit airy as he spoke. Perhaps it could be read as daydreaming or a sign of just how tired he was but it was mostly due to him trying to focus his energy on not using the steak knife that say by his hand and lunging for the King himself.