dragmirc

[dragmirc]

huh Gan wants a manticore now...

[dragmirc]

The pitter-patter of little feet echo through the corridors hidden deeper in the Imperial Palace, giggling accompaniment to betray their little girls. Old enough to shuffle hurriedly to make sure Mama is also ready for the day in the Nine, still too young to navigate gracefully in the customary drapes.

It's evident as Pamina trips over the center carpet tagging behind her older sister. A simple noise of frustration is given as she picks herself up and follows again closely after Rakkon as the elder bursts into the room.

"Mamaan!"

It's a cry mirrored as the girls rush into the room to bounce around their mother in vies for attention. They know this is the day to honor their mother in the set, but they are young yet and do not understand full customs.

Frankly, neither does their father, appearing in the door behind them and attempting to not look winded. Whoever thought that Ganondorf was unshakable enough to keep pressing onward has clearly never dealt with his children.

A hand through his hair to smooth it back into place, trying to hide the fact he has been frazzled and undone by trying to wrangle his unruly daughters into what he has been assured is proper for this day in the set. A thinning of the lips is given as his uncertainty in hoping it's right rises, though he's positive any misplaced threads or hairs will be swiftly dealt with with a more experienced hand than his own.

Drabblus Unpromptus || Always Accepting

Fariah can hear them coming a mile away. At this age, they are excitable and clumsy, pups still figuring out their proportions and far too curious to try to control themselves. She knows that soon, they will have to start learning how to be proper young ladies fit for any throne. But for now, she seeks to enjoy them in their youth a little while longer. Much more lenient than her youthful days had been, but a little affection goes long ways in the end.

Her ears tick on reflex with hearing the giggling and thundering footsteps down the hall, receiving a small scoff from the attendant trying to adorn her earlobe in the elegant pendant drop, the drapes and droops of pearl strings. All she can offer the woman is a small smile of apology. She is not trying to make her job harder, simply pinpoint her rambunctious children. She knows already their father is overwhelmed with their energy. Someone has to bear them mind.

The whole routine is upended by the princesses bursting into the room to find their mother, attendants moving to scatter out of their way like startled sparrows. Once more, the woman manning her Empress' ear adornings scoffs harder as the woman moves completely out of her range to bend with arms open, ready to receive the pair.

The smile and the laugh as she is greeted and practically bowled over by her pups is genuine. Musical, like wind chimes twinkling in the wind, rain bells in a small storm.

"Ah, my little lovelies. I see we are wearing green today." she says, bright and with the promise of stories. Just as she remembers her own mother would have done for her.

As is customary on this, the Fourth Day, they honor Kushi, the Mother of All. Green and yellow are their colors, and in the light dresses and drapes, depictions of the tigers and the stars and pretty flowers and trees are stitched and gilded over hems and in panels. Part of the customs of being the Imperial family, the drapes on her and both her children show the symbols that is their name; Fariah carries her shooting stars, Rakkon has the string of eight-point stars, and Pamina shows the silhouetted outline of a falcon. Emerald greens and shining golds.

Fariah keeps the pups in one spot, holding one or the other long enough to adjust a fold or take proffered hair pieces and place them. She recognizes Ganondorf's hand in this, amused internally that he has been better adept at taking off such garments and not so much putting them back on. All in all, she's sure even before he arrives in the doorway to the huffs and snarks of the attendants that their daughters have overwhelmed him. For what it is, it has been done ... adequately.

Still, she shares the flashing glance of gratitude for his attempt at it, noticing his anxious scowl for what it is. An assurance he is doing well with a culture not entirely his own, not fully understanding that folds and fabric and colors are all very important.

She holds attentions even though Rakkon wanders back and forth when not held still to poke at things curiously and Pamina tries to grasp at the cowrie laced in her mother's hair when left free, with the stories they have heard every year for this time. Why it is important, not just on a social aspect but also a religious one. Why Kushi is honored for sparking the universe to life in her laughter. Why such celebrations continue on into the Fifth Day to honor Skandi as she defends her pups. Why mothers are all different and loved for different things, but still considered mothers.

Stories she heard time and again from her mother, since repetition anchors it in. Stories she tells in memory of her mother, and in memory of knowing her next generation will carry them with them. What makes Sidhe different, what makes them Sidhe.

A small 'ha!' of triumph is given from the young woman who has been trying to place earrings and pearls for the last minutes, successful in her task and given a new one to adorn Pamina. It proves to be a test of the woman's skill, as Pamina is just as unruly and mischievous as her mother would have been at her age.

With the two Princesses controlled to a fault, Fariah cannot help but give the quirk of mischief to her lips as she regards her Emperor standing there. It is a celebration for the entire family, after all.

"Make sure your Emperor is properly clad for the Fourth Day."

It is a command to those attendants with nothing left to do, a terrible thing for a group of Sidhe. With a flutter and wave of laughter, they descend on their new target to do as commanded.

@dragmirc

[dragmirc]

:: Home :: Ask :: Info ::

Real magic can never be made By offering someone else's liver

You must tear out your own And not expect to get it back

- Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

::An OC Roleplay Blog for The Legend of Zelda franchise:: ::Featuring Custom Lore and Magical Mechanics:: ::Independent and Non-Selective:: ::OC/AU/Crossover/Multimuse-friendly:: ::Currently Follows back from @schwarzwaldcr ::

[dragmirc]

I'm a little more active here today! Feel free to add me to Discord if you want to chat, plot, or just hang around.

[dragmirc]

If he could deflate any more than he has, he would make a noise. But this is a small bump in the road, being shut down. And it only forces him to keep trying.

He follows along in stride once Raki takes her mother's hand and follows her and her younger sister to the tent set up for them in this settlement. It isn't much, but it is what was set aside for the royal family on their brief visit here.

Slowly, he bends over the top of his lovely wife as though to show how much taller he is, the almost mischievous grin slowly wending its way across his face once more.

"Perhaps you can clean me up too. I seem to have acquired a bit of dirt."

Oh, he's pushing it.

"Above and below, you were supposed to be teaching her self-control!" She pauses a moment as she considers this. "Although, how exactly you would when you have none is beyond me!"

[dragmirc]

"Ah, and there's our second mistake."

The odd crooked grin cresting his face as he watches her start giving in to her own anger is such a pretty sight, he almost forgets she's actually angry at him. Of course, Raki thinks this whole thing is hilarious, and it is!

Never mind that he'll be dusting sand out of places it shouldn't be for weeks, or that he and his darling crotch spawn now look very much the same with toasted faces and burnt hairtips. Those are little details, and a small price to pay for one of Gan's favorite spectacles.

"Above and below, you were supposed to be teaching her self-control!" She pauses a moment as she considers this. "Although, how exactly you would when you have none is beyond me!"

[dragmirc]

"Papaan!"

Rakkon seems particularly excited about something or another. She's burst into the room, looking like she's met with the business end of a charcoal windstorm, but with a smile wider than anything. She scrabbles to pull herself up to her father's level, rising to stand like she's seen him stand before. Faux authoritative, hands on her hips and shoulders back.

"I wanna show you! Look!"

Already, she has abandoned emulating her much taller parent. Hands with palms facing together, fingers barely touching. She tenses, focusing hard on the space cupped between them and within a half minute, there is a crackle of magick.

It smells of brimstone and a small ball of flame manifests between her hands, much to her visible delight. Of course, with such unrefined talent, it explodes in her face with a comical pop!! It's not hard to see where she has gotten her scorched face and scent of crisped hair.

Despite being met with her own little bomb, Rakkon blinks before bursting into a broad grin. Obviously undeterred from having it go off in her face, she seems more excited that it happened at all.

"See!? I can conju--conjun-- .... conjugacate magic!"

She gets a pass there, 'conjure' is a big word for an excited six-year-old.

@sanguinesorcery

A Random Prompt from @sanguinesorcery

Ganondorf is pulled from his musings by the scuffling shuffle of his eldest. It could only be his eldest, as Pamina is still a toddler clinging to her mother's hip.

He thinks at first he should correct her to use the proper term of endearment in Gerudo rather than in Sidhe, she is destined to lead the sovereign in her future. But the thought is quickly dispelled when she finally makes it to stand next to him in his broken solitude. He is reminded of his own pride in the making of such fiery curls and firm stature, of the sharp angles of her face. Her ... burnt face, smeared in char and now that he thinks about it, there's a flavor of burnt hair in there. And he thought her hair had looked especially curly today...

Before he even has a chance to respond to his vibrating daughter, she interrupts him. Though it is not how she does so but with what she does. A familiar tingle passes through his fingertips into his left arm at about the same time as the smell of brimstone invades his nostrils. To say he is proud at such a display is an understatement, even with the small explosion that soon follows. Not that he admits he jumps a little at it; it is a surprise to both of them, it seems.

He is reminded momentarily of when his own powers manifested. It wasn't nearly so calm, the remembrance of putting a hand on a wooden fence for someone's cow coming to mind and immediately catching it alight. The chaos that ensued as his own panic surfaced and made it only worse. The shame in the aftermath of knowing he had caused undue damage without willing it or causing it with his own two hands, something the Gerudo were proud of.

He was about Rakkon's age when it happened, excited to see the birth of a new animal that would help the community he grew up in. It is little more than instinct for his golden eyes to dart around now, feeling passed him and his daughter to make sure there isn't anything she has left behind. Although, Rakkon's excitement also assures him she is not in trouble despite discovering this nature about herself.

It gives her father a moment to relax at this realization. Mostly in that he doesn't have to explain to her mother why the Gerudo would suddenly dislike their future Queen. Truth be told, they tolerate the one they have now. At least Rakkon has the grace to be born looking like her Gerudo heritage.

"Conjure," he offers matter-of-factly before bending to a knee in front of his daughter.

It is not to praise these abilities, Ganondorf always sort of knew both of his children would be magically adept. Or, he assumes with Pamina, as hers has yet to awaken. Rakkon clearly is, but it is to be expected. Not only are they his children, but their mother is a mage equal in power to himself. It was only a matter of time, but a glaring issue faces him now with his eldest. Her form is off.

He reaches slowly around the excitable six-year-old. His fingers tap on either side of her spine, right at the curve. Once, twice.

"This is your core. It is where all manner of energy is stored. Both the physical and the metaphysical," he begins before drawing the fingers up her back to her shoulderblades. "Concentrate on drawing that energy up to here--" He continues, moving down her arms to her wrists. "--To here..."

He takes her hands, so little against his own. So soft and new to the world against his own scarred and calloused fingers. Albeit, the explosions she has been making have caused the skin around her fingertips to glisten a little...

He spreads her fingers to the appropriate positions, curls the palms as they should. Holds her hands up in position so they shouldn't block the flow of her energy.

"Try concentrating on it now."

The results are frighteningly potent. He feels as her channels open unburdened and it takes all of a second to both be proud of the crackling plume of fire she manifests in her hands, bigger and brighter than any she has likely shown yet, and realizing another mistake. He forgets to tell her to block off her emotions. The excitement at how easy it comes is palpable.

The explosion can be heard in a nearby settlement some distance from his overlook.

[dragmirc]

while this is true, he also feels a pang of jealousy that his eldest daughter does get what he never had. that being said, he lets it fuel his want to be what he never had, though.

so while he's not the best father in an emotional capacity, his daughters never doubt who their father actually is or that he cares about them. he does give them affection and support, underneath that perfectionist nature to Be Better Than Everyone.

he is not a 'do your best' dad, he is a 'listen well because you will do it until i deem it perfect' dad. younger ages are given a little bit of leniency, but as they get older, he will make sure they know his praises are won, not given freely.

[dragmirc]

killy dropping The Child in my inbox and the only thing my mind can say is 'rakkonhoneyno'

[dragmirc]

totally not me noticing some people interacting with my promo i never poked at.

sorry, it's been A Month or so. hopefully, this will all even out soon and all i'll have to deal with is The Brace.

in the meantime, you can add me to Discord if you want: buunyip

[dragmirc]

I am here for Gon supremacy

[dragmirc]

ohgod someone got killy back on gwent

[dragmirc]

I'm a little more active here today! Feel free to add me to Discord if you want to chat, plot, or just hang around.

[dragmirc]

Stuff and Things i was thinking about while my lawyer was 'yelling' at the gc today:

It's no big surprise that Ganondorf is a man more of action and impulse and not of words. But since I've been rereading old rp logs since the whole Skeams switchover and rereading that one thing Killy wrote for me, I notice a commonly recurring theme with my interp when it comes to affection.

He doesn't say it. He grew up in the political ashfall of the Hyrulean civil war and has some small inklings to basic politics, like how Words Can Be Used Against You. And how intentions can be completely faked in words, something he actually does use to his advantage a lot.

But it's in his actions one sees his true intentions.

He telegraphs a lot of his genuine emotions and expressions in the way he physically conducts himself. He delegates intense sudden emotion into something as otherwise unnoticeable as his hands to hide it because he knows it would be a detriment if seen and understood, masks it in the flourishes and dramatics. He is very emotionally active.

But swinging back around to the original thought, you will never hear him say 'i love you'. It's not a part of his verbal vocabulary. He simply doesn't think like that. Words can be ingenuine. They can be faked. So his shows of affection are more or less the grander flourishes and gestures. Actions, not words.

Those he wishes to pour over can be treated to the most possessively protective actions he can think of. He doesn't so much as protect them because they need it, he will protect them because they are his. Even if -and most especially if- they can protect themselves otherwise. Always in contact with them, even in subtle touches, to reiterate his power over them. While he is fond of gifting, it is to show possession. 'I gave this to you, it means you're mine now'.

Genuine affection is something not seen in public eye, though. And he is capable of it. But it's clumsy, it's awkward. He's clearly not used to it, to how it feels or how to show it, and sees this as a vulnerability. A detriment. Trying to translate the blurry line between romance and affection is a struggle for him, but it is always genuine. He still won't say it, but someone adept to his presence and his ticks can still read it well enough.

To be honest, I tuned out the argument for a moment and focused on, "You made her cry. And these are not rage tears, I can accept her anger. I would suggest you start running."

[dragmirc]

Another day another what the fuck

[dragmirc]

29 - a kiss on the inside of the wrist

In following the line of that one video of them flirting you know the one, she really cannot take this man anywhere

A Kiss Before You Go || Always Accepting

Fariah wishes sometimes that Markesh would learn to keep his expressions flat and his mouth shut in certain presences.

It is the only reason she is not attending the summit alone this time through. An annual event, usually held between the political superpowers of the south tropics to check in on each other and ultimately pick and prod at their competitors to find weakness.

The Imperial family usually attends together, regardless of internal upheaval. For the past fourteen or so years, she has shown up alone, all teeth and claws and monolithic presence. Closed off toward pokings and prods, refusing to rise to frivolous shallow things and ignore advances of the men and women of the ruling class of each nation in their half of the world trying to insert themselves into her life and her role.

Sidhe is rich in culture and position and power. It is only natural the opposition would try to tie a knot with them in an attempt to be peacefully a part of that. Naturally, she does not allow it.

Unfortunately for her, neither does her accompanying shadow.

It has been two years since she accepted the endearingly clumsy advances of the King of Gerudo. By all rights, he should have accompanied her to those summits since, as their marriage not only makes her his Queen, but him her Emperor. However, she is more than aware of his failings when it comes to political court. She would trust his wicked brutality at her back during physical warfare and the intimate protectiveness in closer quarters in a heartbeat, but politics are a much different battlefield she has learned he is anything but truly adept at. Especially the cutthroat climate of the south tropics, where his nigh-uncontrollable temper would be a detriment and not a strength.

Also unfortunately for her, Markesh has made several comments concerning the tenuously flirtatious nature of meeting with other politicians around the towering Gerudo and it has sparked a territorial facet in his personality she was hoping to avoid. Not only has he stubbornly refused to be left in the Three and Ten, she knows he follows now not so much for political reasons or to better either of their principalities, but to make sure any would-be suitors are chased off despite being assured time and again that there is not a one of them she would accept anyway.

She instead decides to pick her battles and determines that due to Markesh's interference, this is not one to be won. It is a stern but tentative agreement of her husband's demands to accompany her.

Fariah is aware of how much this may backfire. She can only steel herself for what is to inevitably come as they enter the main greeting hall as is customary. A den of vipers, political leaders from all over the south tropics have coalesced, trying to feel out the local competition in their vicinities. Poking for weaknesses, asking for strengths. It is a vibrating sort of violence here, not overt and easy to read. She can only hope nothing is said that would otherwise detriment Sidhe's position.

She is surprised at first on entering the introductory fray. Ganondorf seems to try to mind himself with the first interactions, stoic and intimidating in his zipped and reminded silence. A towering presence over her shoulder with his eyes narrowed in mild suspicion that make the king of a neighboring territory nervous to be anywhere near them. She cannot say she dislikes this turn of events as greetings are made and he puts distance between the pair to find someone more amicable to poke at. It is helpful to be able to tell the weaker willed opponents in this foray simply by having her Emperor nearby to silently chase them off earlier, easier to pick apart the competition between her richly-accented words and the Gerudo's simmering malice over her, his hand on her shoulder when he feels like someone is a little too close.

She relaxes in those few fleeting moments, a small release of tension in her shoulders and the casual droop of her ears when things begin to wind down. All seems to be going well, she is letting the feeling of being the most powerful pair in the room wash over her.

"Oh, so I see someone has finally netted your hand!"

She is not relaxed anymore, drawing herself up in an unseen frizz as Melikaan zeroes in on them, ears tall and pinned with a snap to her head. If anyone in the south tropics can match Sidhe for size and strength, it is the local tyrant's principality. He is also the least desirable person she wanted to encounter, more for trying to wedge himself into her space than anything else.

"You hear rumors, but I never pegged you to be the type to actually give yourself up to someone."

He has grabbed her hand before she can pull it back, placing a kiss to the knuckles in faux respect. Although she notices Melikaan is not looking at her. He is looking passed her, judging and assessing her husband.

"Just because I did not accept your advances does not mean everyone is off the table." she replies, short and curt, while still putting her free hand up to try and keep Ganondorf from feeding into his more violent impulses here. "Besides. I do not like sharing my husband with five other women, I am sure you can find more time for them now too."

She can feel the pressure that is the Gerudo at her back, the grip on her shoulder tighter in his obvious displeasure at her fair startle to being grabbed against her permission. The way he reaches across her to carefully grip her captive lower arm, pulling her hand away from the other man.

"You may leave now."

Short and curt. Polite, even though she is aware he is straining his manners. He is vaguely aware of the atmosphere he finds himself in, the way eyes have turned toward him as he moves to defend the Empress of Sidhe. However, she realizes that is where his restraint ends and impulse once more takes control.

On one hand, it is not his usual overt violence, something she is grateful for although it wouldn't be the first time violence was at the summit. On the other hand, he has draped himself around her and raised her recaptured hand, pulled the pretty bangles and jewelry further down her arm, and kisses the heel of her palm. Amid the sputtering insult of who he has deemed is his opponent, a second kiss is planted below the first at the inner wrist. It makes her grateful for the powders that obscure the flush to her cheekbones, the delicate flutter of a breath at even such heinous attentions. Not that he would see the blushing, his eyes firmly rooted into Melikaan's face to gauge his reactions.

"You are making my wife uncomfortable."

There is a dangerous growl in so few words, she feels the flush deepen at the movement of his lips against her skin. Above and below, she shouldn't find enjoyment in this! In his powerful grip, his unwavering claim. She would be a liar if she said it wasn't almost sweet, if it were for reasons other than proving their relationship to a flirty ex-suitor who disengages with a huff at being upstaged and makes a snide comment about her marrying herself to yet another brute.

"Better a brute than whatever you claim to be, Melikaan." Fariah finally pushes out, her voice still as low and menacing as is expected of her position with the weight of promise. It is steadier than she expects, a surprise.

Although it has taken her a moment to speak without the stutter, still entangled with her possessive husband, his free hand having shifted to grip at a hip to solidify further his claim. Thankfully, the parting reply has properly washed attention off this display for the moment and put the seething tyrant into a light of ridicule. Turned down again, and it wasn't even by the object of his desires, how embarrassing.

"I told you to behave!" she hisses once she has the Gerudan King's attention again.

"I am behaving." he snarks back, though the crooked grin on his face tells her that he is simply trying to stir the pot, so to speak. "Am I not allowed to show affection for you."

"That is not affection, that is an unnecessary flex."

"Well, he was asking for it." She finds she doesn't like the amused quirk in his voice, almost as much as she dislikes how flustered and light-headed his firmer kiss to her captured wrist make her, a thinning of the lips as she tries to maintain decorum. "Plus, red looks very good on you."

She finally manages to wrest herself away from him and his attentions, already kind of missing the way he envelopes. Not that she would admit this, holding a hand up to stop him while she tries to regain some form of her usual monolithic presence back, to let the blush even out and her stuttering breath to steady. Thankfully, he listens to her half-hearted barricade with his arms crossed over his chest, standing with a disgruntled sigh and crooked frown she has learned is him preparing to be scolded.

"You will behave from here out, I suspect this whole debacle is already a point someone will poke at." An ear twitches toward him as she continues, "We will have to continue our own discussion after the main summit talks. In the meantime, keep your hands to yourself."

She should have come to expect he will not listen as he returns to her side. A run of a finger up her spine to enjoy how her ears snap flat to her head and she stiffens, and that devious, "No promises."

She will have to fight harder to keep him in the Three and Ten next year as he may be an unnecessary distraction otherwise.

@dragmirc