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[ 7 posts ] |
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PhantomDream
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 Posted: Sat, Sep 22 2012, 22:21 PM |
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Player
Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA
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The woman worked hard, moving chairs and scrambling around the top part of L'Obsul. She'd take the chairs away from the small kitchen like structure, stepping back to sketch in her book, before moving forward and putting the chairs in different positions. Her time spent moving furniture, surveying the area, and taking down notes exceeded well past a few hours. If anyone was to stop by and ask her what she was doing, she'd kindly answer with a reply of "Just taking notes, is all." and would continue on with her work. When her "day" was done, and she finally had down on parchment what she felt like a solid plan, she moves towards the barkeep and orders a large mug of whatever the hardest liquor he has in stock. The mug that she is handed stays mostly untouched, for her eyes can't seem to leave the parchment as she studies it.
Her hand is quick to make a few scratchy corrections, with her quill, to the layout that is there.
Later on, the layout, along with a letter, is given to Irae'arra when she next sees the drowess. They are both titled to be delivered to the one and only Ul'ath'tallar.
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PhantomDream
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Posted: Mon, Oct 01 2012, 4:58 AM |
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Player
Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA
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The same woman can be seen moving to and from, though she doesn't seem to stay as long as per usual. The sketches in her notebook seem only to be additives to the work she'd done before. All in all, she'd done a complete sketch of the top part of L'Obsul. The only part that seems to not have any additives or changes is the sacred pool; which could be considered a respectful gesture. While her own personal version of the outline looks like chicken scratch to most, she tries her hardest to make it legible on those copies that are sent out to others.
//PM's will be sent.
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PhantomDream
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Posted: Tue, Oct 02 2012, 2:59 AM |
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Player
Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA
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Phrixus sits openly lounged back in a wooden chair at the bar in L'Obsul. Her hand grasps firmly around a letter. As she reads it, she becomes more comfortable in her chair, a small smile lingering as she makes eye contact with the bartender. She tosses a few coppers towards him, giving a bit of time before she stands. When she does, she makes it evident that her hands brush over the whips that braid around her hips lovingly.
She takes time to fold the letter, sticking it into her pocket when she's done. Something has definitely sparked some interest into the Loviatarian, and the wicked looking smile never never lingers as she makes toward the white-haired Trade Mistress.
"Tear. It. Down." She'd say through gritted teeth, though not commanding; more so, out of loving the ability to say it. Her eyes would look towards the drowess at her side, a shared expression that only the two of them could willingly portray.
Success. "Come. We've work to do." The drowess reached out her arm in front of her, and the two women walk off with only the sound of whispers heard. ((Posted with permission of P-Three))
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PhantomDream
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Posted: Wed, Oct 10 2012, 7:11 AM |
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Player
Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA
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Time. She didn't have much of it. While her focus was momentarily on the trade, her battle was being fought elsewhere; in her mind. The Lovitarian had fought hard to contain her wants and needs, a long battle that was shaking her to her core. Behaving. It was not of her custom. Pretending? It was to an extent. She'd long sought to wield her whip against fresh cold skin, a tremble or scream of fear being produced in response. She long sought to find a temple of her own, a shared common interest in something, anything that didn't have to do with drugs and undead.
To control her mind, Phrixus developed the blueprint she'd considered for the top part of L'Obsul into a more readable structure. She started the work on the renovations, currently focusing on where the bath house was sketched into her notes. If to see her, it's common she wears nothing but a small piece of cloth to cover her breasts, the heat of the work load obviously evident in the sweat that forms down her body. Her back would be covered in scars, burn marks, and some pieces of skin still unmarked. She seems to find no reason to hide them while she works in L'Obsul, though.
A shovel usually in hand, she can be seen dedicating most of her time to this area, and if anyone was to offer her help she'd most likely take it. When she is done, she leaves via portal, and would return for the same routine the next day.
 
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PhantomDream
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Posted: Sat, Oct 13 2012, 1:49 AM |
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Player
Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA
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With a book laid out on a chair beside her, open to a page that is numbered in fine print, the woman stares over six pieces of parchment spread over her desk. Three parchments made the top row, while the other three made the bottom row. The two rows of them formed a perfect rectangle shape. As she takes notes from the book, she leans in to make markings on the parchments. The outline begins to take form, symmetrically, and a few different colors of ink are implemented in the work. It takes a few hours for the piece to be finished, but when it is complete she takes a step back to view her creation.
With a smile, she closes the vials of ink on her desk, and leaves the piece to dry; herself turning into the bed for the night.
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PhantomDream
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Posted: Tue, Oct 30 2012, 12:05 PM |
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Player
Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA
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Something has happened...
The woman who seemed so vigorous at work in L'Obsul has not been seen in quite sometime. If you were to question any of the locals, the ones that speak the truth would tell you she's not been around. If you were even to go to her first home, Tarkuul, none would of seen her heard from her in quite sometime.
It's almost as if she's disappeared.
All traces, even at her Inn room in Shadowscape, have been wiped away.
Except for one item, a single blanket, that still hangs tightly to cover the large mirror above her dresser...
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PhantomDream
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Posted: Fri, Jan 11 2013, 20:52 PM |
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Player
Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA
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A few hushed whispers are shared between a woman clad in blue and a man armored up in his finest, on the eve of a certain night.
In the market area of L'Obsul, they sit, engrossed heavily in conversation at the bar.
Only one word is heard by most, and that word might draw attention.
"Yathrin."
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