Posts by TallowCat

Tilting his head in slight confusion the knight allowed himself to pull his hands back. "My apologizes, my prince. I did not mean to worry you." He bowed his head slightly, "if it would make you feel better you may tend to them." Corrin offered, a small, encouraging smile in his face, he'd prefer the prince not to feel so tense about the situation.
"I assure you, I will not allow myself to get an infection of any kind." Once more he bowed, his promise genuine and true. "What sort of guard would I be to allow that to happen?"
He wasn't too sure what had the prince so tense about the small injury. Maybe he simply dislikes blood? He'd met people like that.

Corrin would admit that he felt quite...out of place in the prince's room. It was grand, compared to what he was used to anyway, and just seemed to much more...more. More everything really. More effort, more colour, more everything. It truly felt like an honor to be there.
Watching the prince leave with the vase the knight followed before remembering. "Oh, I'll join you soon, I'd best go change, yes?" He'd almost forgotten the prince had mentioned the clothes and mask when he'd been shown his room.
"I'll see you soon then." Bowing again the knight returned to his new room.

The clothes were defiantly more..hmm, more exquisite then anything he'd ever seen, let alone worn. The mask was the same, he noted whilst changing, it was very fancy. He'd have to wear that too eventually, he wasn't sure he was keen on doing so. Masks often limited vision and he wasn't keen on that aspect, he had to see a lot if he was to do his job right.
Corrin couldn't help but feel out of place in the new clothing, but he ignored it as he exited towards the stairs. "I suppose I'll get over it..." He signed to himself.

"Well she was nice." Alister smiled, "indeed," Owen replied, looking more tired now then before. "I simply wish to go home," his words were a sigh. "Yeah, you don't mind if I stay over the night?" "Never have before, have I?"
"Let's just find the others." Nodding Owen gripped his friend a little tighter, it was the first time in a long while that he'd actually met someone new, he faintly wondered if they'd ever meet again.

((As long as it's fine with you it's fine by me.))

"Could you imagine though? I doubt he'd let anyone out late again after it." Corrin couldn't help but laugh at his close friends attitude. Jean just cared so much for people it was kind of sweet. He was simply scared his teammates wouldn't come home, it was a good fear sometimes.
"His heart would probably stop." Corrin shook his head with a small smile, "poor Jean. Eh, he'll have a go at me in the morning when he sees my nose anyway."

"Sometimes a day is all that's needed." He shrugged again, it was true though a simple day out could probably do great things for them. "Sometimes I feel like I'm stressing everyone with too much work, I can't even really help, I've taken on enough that it's keeping me throughout the day."
Tilting his head upward the Rabbit rubbed his face. "Well," he pushed from the chair to stand, "I best be getting to bed, you know how I am in the mornings." Giving her a good natured smile Corrin went to bed.
"Night!" He called back to her, waving, "get to sleep soon."

((No, no, it's absolutely perfect.))

Corrin’s eyes focused on his hands for a moment, the cold digits twined together. Despite being tall he was generally quite small in any other aspect, like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Both knew that to be a lie, as he did eat, just not very often.
He didn't seem to like it, he'd eat very little of what he was given or none at all.
Food just didn't have much of an appeal to him.

Watching her with eyes that looked more tired then her own Corrin tilted his head. He may not have understood a whole lot of things to do with the more ‘new’ world but he understood people well enough.
People weren't like technology, they didn't have many complexities that couldn't be figured out by watching. He could usually figure people out quickly, whether he put that into motion was another thing entirely.

With silent steps Corrin stands in front of her, blinking slowly with a look of interest in his eyes. Brining his, surprisingly slender, hands down to her face he tits her head to look him in the eyes. “You're…quite tired.” He mumbles, hands dropping from her face to fall back at his side, nearly engulfed by his large sleeves.
His hands may have been cold but they were never an uncomfortable type of cold, not one you'd immediately flinch away from.
Corrin didn't feel it, the cold was more natural to him so he didn't even notice that he was below temperature. Another thing they'd learned didn't change no matter what.

Settling down at her side Corrin couldn't help but wonder what she did. He knew the basics but he wondered what made her so tired, was it interacting with people? Maybe the work she had to do with all the papers? He was never quite sure
He always returned to her home, he wasn't sure why but he wanted to be here, even if she wasn't too keen on the idea at first.

His legs curled under him again, his size drastically smaller like before. Glancing at her for a moment Corrin let his head drop to her shoulder, cold nose pressed to her neck. “You're…tired…” He repeated, eyes drifting up to hers.
It was rare he was too affectionate, he never shed away from it he just rarely initiated it. He didn't mind affection at all, he was just very odd when it came to giving it.
So it was nice when he tried like this.

“Lively…” Again he simply repeated instead of speaking more, his fingers curled around her arm, body relaxing against her. For a moment he looked emotionless, as if trying to find his feelings, before he gave her a look of sympathy. “Worn out.” He eventually decided upon, head buried against her neck.

He wasn't sure how many days he'd stay this time, sometimes it was only a day, others it could be weeks. She didn't seem to mind either way.
He hadn't been here in a few days so maybe he'd stay longer this time. He liked it here and so did she, there was really no problem. It wasn't like he was using her for anything other then the room itself, he wasn't using her things and he was more then happy to simply sleep on the floor.

Laughter was rare as well, he smiled and showed amusement other ways he just rarely laughed. So when he did so now it was kind of odd. “You..,” his freckled face was smiling, though hard to see, “try so very…hard…”

Kain sometimes wondered what life would've been like if he'd never become a knight. Where would he stand now? If someone else had done what he'd done how would he feel? Would he understand? Or would he feel anger and hate? The same feelings he was sure he started to direct at himself after a while.
Hate was such a strong emotion, one his mother had often scolded him about using lightly.
“Hate is a strong word.” That's the most he remembered from her. Was self hate the same? Not to be used lightly? He wasn't sure, Kain still didn't understand many things.

What if it was Ronan that had done it?
What if Ronan had been as disgusting as him? He defiantly wouldn't have held his tongue. He was always like that.

Kain was uncertain now. He'd been so strong on his footing until this point. In the old kingdom he wanted to protect, he wanted for people to be safe and the world to understand that war was unnecessary.
Now he had little a goal in mind. Was living worth it when there was nothing to live for? His new king, maybe, but other then that was he simply trying to live a fleeting dream?

“You're father was always quite wise.” Kain returned, a small twitch of a smile on his lips. “But you're right, we weren't the most,” he paused, trying to find the right word, “respectable of children. We would’ve simply met up another time.” Kain laughed lightly again, feeling less shaken by himself now. Kain could admit he was scared, that his heart wouldn't stop that it just kept rapidly beating.
Kain would admit that his friend had the highest power over him at that moment of vulnerability.
“Maybe he should have spoken up about that ban.” His words were a low hum, he always did have a low tone.

Kain almost felt dirty smiling, his friend was beaten in his arms and he could find the energy to smile. In some ways he kept telling himself that it was simply for Ronan, smiles were something they'd shared as children.
He tried to focus his gaze everywhere but his friend. The cold ground that he was sure would be the most uncomfortable place to sit, the people who dared not look at the knight who carried a bloody body, his hands coated in blood and who knows what else.
But no matter what brown eyes always trailed back to the origin point. Blood to Ronan back to blood only to repeat.

“What of the king?” The knight inquired, confusion evident in his tone. “According to the king I am to do with you as I please, if I wish for you harmed them I am allowed that, if I wish you safe and protected then I am allowed.” The words felt foreign, protect. That was something he'd once been proud of, being able to protect.
A frown found its way to Kain's face, a sigh falling from them as well.
Kain tried to ignore the others fidgeting, it wasn't breaking his hold so it shouldn't matter, but he was concerned the other was in pain.

“You… You could get work, I could find you work. If you wish to. Or you could stay here, do as you wish.” Kain's voice was strained, as if he were on the verge of losing his voice. “The king would gladly allow me, he'd have nothing if it weren't for me.” The loose grip tightened, body tensing as if ready for an attack.
“I'll find whatever you want, Ronan. Be it nothing or everything.”

He hadn't expected an answer to his question. He knew that both were needed. But he wanted it to be thought upon. He could cut many a man down with no feeling, but when it came to loss Kain had troubles.
He'd needed Ronan when his mother refused to get up after father died. He'd needed Ronan after he'd lost more then one comrade on missions. He didn't deal with loss well.
Kain couldn't deal with loss at all.
Maybe that was odd, considering he was capable of the murder of many.

A smile came to Kain's lips as he laughed lightly. “No matter what you've not changed, still much too kind.” His tone was fond, like when he used to tease the other for small things, or when they met up and simply talked and remembered.
“Mm, I suppose you have a point. Thinking was always your strong point. Compared to my solutions anyway.”

Kain's shoulders fell, relief washing over him. He looked worn now, not just from the events prior. He looked a lot more…used. He'd grown in such a short time but not in the way he had when they were young.
“I'd much rather rush,” Kain gave a small grin, “it gets things done quicker, yeah?” Same as always. Reaching toward, placing a, surprisingly cold, hand on Ronan's face Kain gave a small look. It wasn't one of any real emotion, just...concern. “I'm sure.” His hand fell again.

It didn't take long, with words from someone as high up as Kain, someone was there quicker then he thought possible. He'd immediately turned away from the newcomer, as if they'd scold him for having done this.
But instead they ignored him, immediately asking Ronan questions on things that Kain knew would be bloody.

It hadn't taken long for them to start, and even less time for Kain to go an almost sickly pale and leave. It was kind of funny, actually. He could kill men and injure them with little to no feeling. But the second he'd look at a bad wound, being treated or not, he'd look like a dead man.
It was a long while before they left, Ronan's wounds treated as best they could for now. It was also a long while before Kain returned, still horribly pale, but less shaky then before.

((I know absolutely nothing about medical practices, so I basically just skipped it. Haha. I didn't want to be dragging it on with no knowledge.))

‘Someone who can get past loss or someone who can cut down all in his way, who is the stronger man?’ It wasn't something he liked to dwell on, yet here he was, dwelling on it. The question had been posed to him a while ago, and he still hadn't given an answer.
How was one supposed to answer? Yes mental strength was needed in everyone, as was physical strength.
Many others had simply said the man who could cut all down. Mostly Knights and men. And for a while he felt that was the true answer.

He had cut down others, he was stronger then them. But as time passed he began to think more, something he hadn't really been known for before. He had always been someone to follow orders with little thought on them.
Seeing how Ronan refused to fear him, or even hate him, showed Kain that strength in the body was worthless to those who know more. His physical strength had done nothing to stop him from dropping the blade, it had done nothing to stop him from crying, nothing to stop him from helping Ronan.

Smiling properly now Kain nodded, a light laugh coming from him, “I suppose so. Knowing us we'd simply try to do something more dangerous.” He couldn't help but agree, they were pretty stupid kids. “Something like… Fighting someone behind our strength. Or trying to hunt some other feral beast.”
He wondered. What it'd be like to go do something like that now, fighting and hunting animals they had little knowledge on. Now they could survive something like that, they would be strong enough to protect themselves.

Connections to people were odd. Sometimes it could be a few weeks you'd know someone before they left, sometimes months, lifetimes. Was there ever really a limit to something like that?
Relationships of friendship or romance were different yet similar. It could be hard to find both but sometimes it was easier to hold one them the other.
Kain faintly wondered if Ronan had found someone whilst he was gone. Someone who he'd helped kill. He wasn't sure he was ready to ask, lest the guilt crumble him.

“Was a good friend, indeed I was.” Kain’s response was distant, as if he weren't talking to Ronan. “I'll have to work quite hard before I am willing to accept those words as truth once more.” He wouldn't allow anyone to say that to him and expect him to accept the words.
He was no longer a good friend.
He was a man who had death at his fingers and guilt cut down.

“Blacksmiths are useful, you could find work like that.” The words had to be forced out once more, he had to keep talking. He was scared that if he didn't he wouldn't be able to speak again, that he'd be forced into silence.
“Or, if you'd like, I could teach you to hunt and we could do that. Or you could do it alone.” The offers were true, it was always good to have an extra smith or Hunter, not everyone was keen to go out and find the wildlife.

“Though this time we’ll be with something much better then the old stolen swords of your fathers.” He couldn't help the small grin, it was funny to think of now. Out of all the things they could have taken they chose those swords.
“If none of that is to your fancy I'm sure your head would be of some use, more so then mine.”

“You're correct with that,” he affirmed, “I don't have to do a thing for you, I don't need to do anything. But I want to. I want to do this, I want to help you. I want to.” Ronan was always like this, even when they were younger. He wasn't the only knee to keep old habits, it seemed.
Kain had always been a tall boy, taller then most. So he'd gotten into the habit of slouching, which was terrible. His mother scolded him endlessly about it. Even now, when he was lazy and bored, he'd slouch down.

“Mm, not yet. Maybe one day I'll use my head to find some fault in that.” Kain replied, his tone equally joking.
Was it wrong to hope they could be the same as before? Was it wrong for him to even hope for anything with his cruelty? Was he worthy of begging for something like that.
He wouldn't think so.

Kain bit his lip at the others flinch, but made no comment on it. “I suppose you're right, there is a first time for everything. Me be right, I mean.” His voice was quiet now. “Never was one for thinking.”

Still pale Kain nodded, looking almost shameful of his own departure. “They're some of the best, I'm glad they did as asked.” He didn't actually know the doctors himself but he'd heard they were good at what they did. And it seemed that was correct.
“As long as you're feeling better I don't care for much else.” Kain shrugged, looking off with a pale face.
A jittery, shaky boy he used to be, now a jittery and shaky man only when in a bad wounds presence. “Sorry for simply leaving you.” He lowered his head in an apologetic bow.

“Are you tired? You should sleep if you are.” He was like a doting parent, worry in his expression. “Please, it would help you to rest.”
Hesitantly Kain reached out and ran a hand lightly over the others arm. “It seems to be a bit better, at least. He murmured.

Being young and abandoned on the streets Jean did what had to be done to survive. He had no money, no way of getting money, and was completely alone. So, of course, he did what anyone in such a desperate situation would do, he stole.
He stole money to buy things he needed, picking wallets right from people's pockets without them noticing at all. Jean stole food, running with armfuls of whatever he could grab.

And it went fine, he was surviving. He didn't care that he was dirty or that his clothes were torn. He tired not to care when people gave him looks of disgust, he tried not to care when things stuck to tanned skin.
He tried not to care that he would eventually die like that. But he was young and fear was easy to create.
Jean was a desperate child.

A traveling performance group had come to town, dancers and musicians lined the streets and the set up for a play was only just starting. Being the child he was, full of wonder and curiosity, Jean decided to check it out.
There wasn't many people in the traveling group at all, not as many as most would assume anyway, so not many people were far from their caravan. His home was known form it's petty thieves.

They had a lot of money, they had to. They needed a lot to be able to do something like this. He wouldn't take much, just enough to get him through. He promised himself he wasn't a bad person, he just needed it more then they did.
He got pretty far, snuck in and grabbed what he wanted, only to be caught on the way out.
The leader of the group hadn't yelled or scolded he'd laughed, laughed. Jean soon found out that he, a petty little thief, had just tried to steal from a large group of thieves.

~~~~~~~
The troop of thieves happily took in the young Jean, the young one already having a talent in stealing. It was still a small, odd group, but they were a family. Something most of them hadn't had before.

Whilst he was a great thief Jean had no acting talent, none to save his life. But, they found, he could dance. Stringing together movements in an almost hypnotizing manner he could easily pull someone's purse from their pocket.
He'd cleaned up quite the bit from when he was younger. Tan skin clean, only marks on his body were ones painted on, black hair sitting where it should at his shoulders.
Dancers had to look eye catching, to bring people to the show and also to be distracting when stealing.

None of the troop cared for the fact makeup was primarily targeted towards women because it defiantly made the dancers more interesting to look at beyond their moves.
All three of the dancers wore clothing that covered a lot yet still shows the skin with the cloth being transparent even with the bright colors.

The troop had just finished their first act and the three dancers were already in the crowd dancing and moving between people. No one cared when one of them brushed against them, taking whatever they could from someone's pocket before moving on.
Lips painted a light purple and hair adorned with jewels Jean was defiantly eye catching. He'd become quite the flirt growing in the troop, making many a man and woman swoon.

The lights returned and the curtain was pulled up, the second act was just about to begin, a sign the dancers should retreat with what they got. Watching the other two begin to leave the crowd Jean followed, quickly moving between people, maybe a wink or two to whoever seemed to look his way.

He in the open now, very few people out at that time of night. He'd take his share of what he took and take the rest back. With the he lack of clothing he would admit he was cold, but nothing made him as cold as the hand that grabbed his wrist and the glare the other person had.
Jean froze, they knew.
“G-greetings, how may I help you, haha..?”

((Sorry for the length. Just jump in. Please don't track to never reply.
Your character could be someone he stole from, or someone who knew he stole something or whatever. Go nuts and have fun!))

Buried deep below the earth was a library, one so large it had never been explored to its fullest. No one knew where it had come from, it held knowledge from years past and years present. It only seemed to get larger as time went on, creating more room for its contents.
At one point in time the existence of this place was common knowledge, but that had soon faded form human memory.

Some humans still managed to find the library, usually getting lost before the keeper of the place found them. Many humans wished to take the books and scrolls from there and to bring them to the modern world.
They were always stopped and denied.

The keeper of the library was a tall creature with a face resembling a cats and a man's. Tuffs of fur ran along the sides of his face like hair, curling down his neck and up onto the top of his head.
His eyes wide and cat-like, pupils like slits at times and full black at others. His body was still shaped like a humans, face as well. Most of his body was hidden beneath heady dark robes. His hands were long with sharp, black tipped nails. The rest of his body was hidden.
He had a tail, long and black. He could raise from his desk and walk around multiple shelves and return, for his tail to still have some length that hadn't moved from the beginning.

He was Vinde and he protected the library.

~~~~~
It had been many years since a human had ever entered the library, not that Vinde minded. But for a being that lived forever,any years was barely a brushstroke. He was a silent and gentle, if a human did come he wouldn't mind as long as they used the library for things of kindness.
He would not accept someone taking his books or using the knowledge he allowed them to gain for cruel things like war.

It was simply another time, the candle lit library as still as ever until a human, quite literally, stumbled upon it and fell in. The noise had echoed, making Vinde look up from his work. With easy steps he made his way to the source, tail dragging slowly behind him.
He found a human, one who looked quite confused and scared. In a calm and level voice he explained the situation, telling the, about the library and how to get out.
After the initial shock the human seemed to calm down, asking to look around. Which they did.

Vinde returned to his post at the desk, writing corrections to old books. The library didn't only hold books of reality fiction was just as abundant, which Vinde would admit was quite charming.
The human seemed to think so too, Vinde having found them surrounded by fiction stories on the ground. He could appreciate that the human enjoyed literature so much.

The human had asked to borrow some books, to which they were denied. Vinde did not trust them to leave and never return the books. The human accepted that and left with kind words and a wave, one that Vinde slowly returned.

He was surprised, he'd admit it, when he found the human had returned, sitting where they were before, reading. He was confused as well, why had they returned even after the denial of books being taken? They simply wanted to read, that's what he'd been told.
He left them be.

They came nearly everyday. Reading, watching him, questioning. He'd answer them all, of course, it was pretty nice to speak to someone. Slowly it became something like a friendship, he'd told them he could change forms one time so they'd brought a bunch of pictures with them.
They spent the day with him chancing shapes, his work at the desk forgotten.

Again they asked to take out a book, he didn't immediately answer. “What for?” He'd asked, they replied saying they needed help with history and none of the books at school helped.
School. They wanted his books for school.
He allowed it.
Sometimes they'd ask him for help on homework which he was happy to help with.

~~~
It was simply another day when the human returned, Vinde at his desk a pen in hand. They'd come straight up to him, stepping over his tail which was all over the place, they had that look in their eye, the same one from when they asked important questions.
Putting his pen down Vinde turned to them, head tilted.

“I want you to come to the surface with me.”

It caught him off guard, it showed too. He'd pulled back, long ears perked. He must have misheard them.
“Apologies, I must have heard you wrong. I thought you just asked me to come to the surface.”

((Sorry for the length, haha… you can just jump in, friend.
Please do not track to never reply.
I hope you have fun!))

Buried deep below the earth was a library, one so large it had never been explored to its fullest. No one knew where it had come from, it held knowledge from years past and years present. It only seemed to get larger as time went on, creating more room for its contents.
At one point in time the existence of this place was common knowledge, but that had soon faded form human memory.

Some humans still managed to find the library, usually getting lost before the keeper of the place found them. Many humans wished to take the books and scrolls from there and to bring them to the modern world.
They were always stopped and denied.

The keeper of the library was a tall creature with a face resembling a cats and a man's. Tuffs of fur ran along the sides of his face like hair, curling down his neck and up onto the top of his head.
His eyes wide and cat-like, pupils like slits at times and full black at others. His body was still shaped like a humans, face as well. Most of his body was hidden beneath heady dark robes. His hands were long with sharp, black tipped nails. The rest of his body was hidden.
He had a tail, long and black. He could raise from his desk and walk around multiple shelves and return, for his tail to still have some length that hadn't moved from the beginning.

He was Vinde and he protected the library.

~~~~~
It had been many years since a human had ever entered the library, not that Vinde minded. But for a being that lived forever,any years was barely a brushstroke. He was a silent and gentle, if a human did come he wouldn't mind as long as they used the library for things of kindness.
He would not accept someone taking his books or using the knowledge he allowed them to gain for cruel things like war.

It was simply another time, the candle lit library as still as ever until a human, quite literally, stumbled upon it and fell in. The noise had echoed, making Vinde look up from his work. With easy steps he made his way to the source, tail dragging slowly behind him.
He found a human, one who looked quite confused and scared. In a calm and level voice he explained the situation, telling the, about the library and how to get out.
After the initial shock the human seemed to calm down, asking to look around. Which they did.

Vinde returned to his post at the desk, writing corrections to old books. The library didn't only hold books of reality fiction was just as abundant, which Vinde would admit was quite charming.
The human seemed to think so too, Vinde having found them surrounded by fiction stories on the ground. He could appreciate that the human enjoyed literature so much.

The human had asked to borrow some books, to which they were denied. Vinde did not trust them to leave and never return the books. The human accepted that and left with kind words and a wave, one that Vinde slowly returned.

He was surprised, he'd admit it, when he found the human had returned, sitting where they were before, reading. He was confused as well, why had they returned even after the denial of books being taken? They simply wanted to read, that's what he'd been told.
He left them be.

They came nearly everyday. Reading, watching him, questioning. He'd answer them all, of course, it was pretty nice to speak to someone. Slowly it became something like a friendship, he'd told them he could change forms one time so they'd brought a bunch of pictures with them.
They spent the day with him chancing shapes, his work at the desk forgotten.

Again they asked to take out a book, he didn't immediately answer. “What for?” He'd asked, they replied saying they needed help with history and none of the books at school helped.
School. They wanted his books for school.
He allowed it.
Sometimes they'd ask him for help on homework which he was happy to help with.

~~~
It was simply another day when the human returned, Vinde at his desk a pen in hand. They'd come straight up to him, stepping over his tail which was all over the place, they had that look in their eye, the same one from when they asked important questions.
Putting his pen down Vinde turned to them, head tilted.

“I want you to come to the surface with me.”

It caught him off guard, it showed too. He'd pulled back, long ears perked. He must have misheard them.
“Apologies, I must have heard you wrong. I thought you just asked me to come to the surface.”

((Sorry for the length, haha… you can just jump in, friend.
Please do not track to never reply.
I hope you have fun!))

Jean used to life not going the way he planned. He hadn't planned on being abandoned, he hadn't planned on stealing, he hadn't planned on joining a traveling theatre troop. Yet here he was, face donning some intricate makeup while a girl held his wrist in a near death grip.
They had protocol for this. It was usually just easier to go along with what the person wanted, or have another member bail you out. But since his fellow dancers had already moved away that wouldn't help, it would be just as suspicious for them to come back in right after leaving.

The transparent purple cloth hung low, flowing down past his waist. Some said he had quite the feminine figure, he wouldn't deny it especially if it made him look better. He was distracting himself, words running through his head.
She'd caught him, there was no way around it. She could call him out and then things would turn real bad.

Biting his lip Jean let his eyes flick down her body, only just catching the glint of the dagger. He'd been threatened before like this, he wasn't scared it just made it more difficult.
With a small sigh he flashed a charming smile, eyes lowering to give her a proper look. To onlookers it may have simply looked like two people simply flirting, which he was counting on to not be caught.
“You have quite the exquisite voice, my dear.” The words rolled off his tongue in a purr, obviously trying to persuade her views of him. “Quite the eye too.” The compliment was genuine, not many normal people could catch that kind of thing.

It was cold especially since he was lacking clothes, but with the amount of people here it didn't feel as cold as it had before. “Alright, my dear, I'll play your song and dance.” Using his free hand he held out the coins he'd taken from her, nails painted a similar colour as his lips.
“A dime deal, my dear. I really must be returning to my friends.” Letting his free hand slide up to her face he grinned again, “as much fun as it would be to stay.”

Being young and abandoned on the streets Jean did what had to be done to survive. He had no money, no way of getting money, and was completely alone. So, of course, he did what anyone in such a desperate situation would do, he stole.
He stole money to buy things he needed, picking wallets right from people's pockets without them noticing at all. Jean stole food, running with armfuls of whatever he could grab.

And it went fine, he was surviving. He didn't care that he was dirty or that his clothes were torn. He tired not to care when people gave him looks of disgust, he tried not to care when things stuck to tanned skin.
He tried not to care that he would eventually die like that. But he was young and fear was easy to create.
Jean was a desperate child.

A traveling performance group had come to town, dancers and musicians lined the streets and the set up for a play was only just starting. Being the child he was, full of wonder and curiosity, Jean decided to check it out.
There wasn't many people in the traveling group at all, not as many as most would assume anyway, so not many people were far from their caravan. His home was known form it's petty thieves.

They had a lot of money, they had to. They needed a lot to be able to do something like this. He wouldn't take much, just enough to get him through. He promised himself he wasn't a bad person, he just needed it more then they did.
He got pretty far, snuck in and grabbed what he wanted, only to be caught on the way out.
The leader of the group hadn't yelled or scolded he'd laughed, laughed. Jean soon found out that he, a petty little thief, had just tried to steal from a large group of thieves.

~~~~~~~
The troop of thieves happily took in the young Jean, the young one already having a talent in stealing. It was still a small, odd group, but they were a family. Something most of them hadn't had before.

Whilst he was a great thief Jean had no acting talent, none to save his life. But, they found, he could dance. Stringing together movements in an almost hypnotizing manner he could easily pull someone's purse from their pocket.
He'd cleaned up quite the bit from when he was younger. Tan skin clean, only marks on his body were ones painted on, black hair sitting where it should at his shoulders.
Dancers had to look eye catching, to bring people to the show and also to be distracting when stealing.

None of the troop cared for the fact makeup was primarily targeted towards women because it defiantly made the dancers more interesting to look at beyond their moves.
All three of the dancers wore clothing that covered a lot yet still shows the skin with the cloth being transparent even with the bright colors.

The troop had just finished their first act and the three dancers were already in the crowd dancing and moving between people. No one cared when one of them brushed against them, taking whatever they could from someone's pocket before moving on.
Lips painted a light purple and hair adorned with jewels Jean was defiantly eye catching. He'd become quite the flirt growing in the troop, making many a man and woman swoon.

The lights returned and the curtain was pulled up, the second act was just about to begin, a sign the dancers should retreat with what they got. Watching the other two begin to leave the crowd Jean followed, quickly moving between people, maybe a wink or two to whoever seemed to look his way.

He was in the open now, very few people out at that time of night. He'd take his share of what he took and take the rest back. With the he lack of clothing he would admit he was cold, but nothing made him as cold as the hand that grabbed his wrist and the glare the other person had.
Jean froze, they knew.
“G-greetings, how may I help you, haha..?”

((Sorry for the length. Just jump in. Please don't track to never reply.
Your character could be someone he stole from, or someone who knew he stole something or whatever. Go nuts and have fun!))

Despite all his knowledge and all his time alive the cat-like being had never once stepped foot out of the library. Humans came and humans went but he always stayed, he'd never had a reason to leave.
After all, she was the first human to come here and…befriend him. Most of them came seeking knowledge or wanting to take something that wasn't there's. But she had only wanted to read and inky read.

For the first time since they'd met Vinde looked confused, confused and unsure. How was one meant to respond to such a request. It was one thing to allow her to take books but another thing to let her convince him to leave.
Sharp teeth but his lip, eyes roaming back to his desk as he thought. Sharp fingers gripped his robes tightly, he was scared of the thought.

“I… I am unsure.” He eventually replied, allowing his eyes to trail back to her. “I do agree that it would be an experience of learning for myself but… I am not human and I am unsure how to act as one.” Vinde was willing to tell her his fears.
He was smart and knew a lot but had a lack of skills to actually interact with people, obvious by how he acted with her. “I… Hmm.” He turned back to his desk, looking at the writing he had started. Being silent again, he raised his head, looking at the high ceiling.

“I… I suppose if you would like me too. I could… I could for a while.” Vinde tired to give a confident look, but it was quickly masked with sheepishness. It was obvious he still wasn't sure, one couldn't blame him it would be quite the change and so quickly.
“You must remember that I am not human, though…”

Returning her batting eyes with a grin Jean bowed, cloth hitting the ground as he did so. “Mm, thank you for the compliment, my dear.” Standing tall once more he brushed his hair back behind his ear, “I've been told by many I am.”
Licking purple lips he tilted his head at her letting his eyes flick over her body. “Mm, you too, dear, try to keep safe.” It was hard to tell, what with the way he spoke, if he was being genuine or not. It was part of his performance to be like he was, flirty and charming.

Raising a hand in goodbye he turned and made his way back out of the crowd.
He wasn't completely gone though, sure he wasn't meant to go back to the crowd, in case he was a distraction, but the dancers needed to stay out. They didn't have enough me,bees for there to be actors, dancers and a line of security. So when the show was on the dancers watched, when the dancers were out an actor watched. It was a good system for them.

Shaking his arm gently and hearing the coins shake where they were hidden away made Jean grin. People in places like this had a lot of coin on them, it was perfect for people like them.
Raising his hand to wave at a woman looking his way Jean winked, smiling at her blush. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the caravan just get. There were a large number of quite… exquisite people around here. He wouldn't mind ‘getting to know’ some of them.

His fellow members were already back in stage, one of them speaking with a sword held high, proclaiming something about honor and justice. He'd seen the show so many times he could recite the whole thing easily.

Just as Jean was about to make his way up to a woman who'd caught his eye the crowd became a mess. People were moving out of the way quickly and there were people shouting.
Shooting a look to those on stage they quickly tried to wrestle the crowd back in their favor as the dancers moved in to fix the trouble. The other two went to get the crowd to focus back in the stage while he went to find the source.
Only to find a guard and the woman who'd caught him.

Skillfully moving through the crowd Jean grabbed her wrist, in much the same manner she'd done to him. Flashing her a grin he quickly began to pull her with him, running just as swift and skillfully as he danced.
He didn't know the towns layout but as a thief he learned to think on his feet. “This way, darling.” It wouldn't be hard to lose the idiot of a guard.

He was right. It hadn't taken them long to weave through the streets and lose him.
Now leaning back against an ally wall he tilted his head at her, looking like he hadn't just run halfway around town. “Care to explain, my dear?”

Blinking at her, confusing bouncing in his eyes, Vinde simply shook his head. He looked a bit shaken by the whole matter, not truly prepared for such a thing. “I don't think so, I a, not a creature of the surface, I don't fit there.”

Despite having been alive a long time and having knowledge of many many things Vinde was not keen to go to the surface. Humans came and went but he always stayed, he always stayed here, never wanting to leave.
In truth he could see no reason for leaving. Vinde knew she wished him to be around the surface but he couldn't. It was something he'd never done and he wasn't keen to do so. He defiantly liked this place more then the surface he'd read about and the surface he was told about.

“I don't mean to be rude…” His words were softer, his ears having fallen back down where they usually sat. “I think it'd be too much for me,” he explained, picking his pen up once more. “We could read or do something else, but I don't think the surface is the kind of place for me.”
The end of his tail, which sat somewhere among the shelves, thumped lazily against the floor, showing his emotions on the subject. Sharp clawed hands had stopped gripping his dark robes as tightly.

“I'd be happy to do anything else of your choice, though.” He offered, sparing her a small glance.

((Dude, it's great, marvelous perfect even. Don't even worry about it, but if it's getting too late you better have a great ol’ sleep.))

Jean was used to disappointment and things not going the way they were supposed to. From being abandoned to stealing to being a barely clothed dancer nothing ever seemed to go the way the poor young man had wanted.
Why have a child if you can't care for it? He was bitter towards the people who were meant to be his family and yet he was still scared to show it.

He was a dancer, someone who moved with grace and always made someone light up in a bright red. Be it from close proximity or his almost inappropriate words. Maybe even from his almost feminine figure, only emphasized by the makeup.
Weaving through crowds was simple, many parted to simply watch the transparent cloth flutter as he moved or the way his body twisted to better show off.

A strong air of confidence surrounded him at all times, never afraid to lick his lips and try and persuade someone with more then words. Slender fingers with nails painted the same as his lips quickly and effortlessly slipped into pockets and out once more.
There weren't many places to hide stolen goods, lack of clothing was the only issue sometimes. Usually they were hidden in the thicker cloth pieces, the sound of coins only thought to be the accessories of the costumes.

It was odd when he thought about it. People used to stare at him with looks of disgust, words harsh and cruel. But now, now people looked at him in awe, their words full of praise and love.

Maybe it was cruel to take advantage of such a thing, people who wanted him close simply to find everything they own gone when he left. But life wasn't fair, life was built on luck and talent. If you weren't lucky to be born well off then you better have talent.
If you've got neither then your life is over before it's even begun.

~~~~
Maybe it was the lack of affection as a child that made him flirty, willing to touch people so. Almost in a needy manner sometimes. The lack of morals from good parents made him see very little bad in what he was doing, unlike when he was a child and stealing often felt horrible.

But now, as he pressed a finger to his painted lips he couldn't care less. A fine watch he'd taken was settled in the cloth of his arm, cold against clean skin. The white paint that carved intricate designs on his chest, stomach, arms and legs started to feel more natural then when he was without it.
Jean honestly was quite plain. Beyond an odd figure he was a normal person. But with the costume and the makeup he looked like some royal dancer, not just a traveller troop member.

He was always so confident, so charming and flirty but now, with this shabby kids hand wrapped around his thin wrist he was frozen. He was sure this kid, hardly a kid but hell he didn't care, could brake his arm if he tried.
His words hadn't issued a response, not one that he'd have preferred anyway. Jean knew what to do in such a situation but now looking at who he was dealing with he wasn't sure he could simply farm his way from this.

Purple lips parted again, trying hard to not appear as tense as he felt. “My dear, you've quite the mouth on you, you know? Not even a kind word and you're dams ding things from me.” As his sentence got to the end his voice turned almost threatening, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

He was caught, that much was obvious to Jean, but the world be dammed if he'd let someone speak to him like that. The young man's voice was rough, just like some other of the poor folks he'd spoken too. Which was defiantly what he was.
Jean felt some sort of pity, that could've been him if he wasn't so stupid. He could've been the one glaring at another for taking something that was, obviously, stolen.

“Aha… Well, dear…” His words trailed off and he pulled his arm higher, dragging Rouvin’s arm with it. He pulled it close, lips almost pressed to the others wrist. “I'm sure it's not yours, this pretty old watch, my dear.”
The jewels in his hair seemed to sparkle in the lack of light, lips pulled up in a smirk. “But.. I suppose, for you my dear. I could donate my lovely watch.” Grinning he shook his free arm gently, the silver time-keep falling into his open palm.

"But what do I get in return, darling?”

Vinde’s cat eyes shifted from her and back to his unfinished work, we wasn't worried about it, that was evident by his expression. He wasn't sure, he defiantly wasn't sure. He wanted to do something for her, something that wasn't as simple as borrowing books.
She was so hopeful too, something Vinde hadn't ever really known about, hope. He knew the concept but never fully understood.
He thought he might be starting to.

Twisting his hands in his robes he shifted his shoulders. Despite being taller then her, and most humans, by quite a bit he still looked small, as if his robes were drowning him. If he had a human heart he could defiantly say it would be beating quicker then it should've been.
His ears had fallen back to their original placement, not perked nor drooping. The tip of his tail, that lay somewhere around the shelves, thumped slowly on the floor. It wasn't of annoyance, more so thought.

“Foreign… Mm. I suppose that would be an acceptable lie.” His words were slow, not like normal. Vinde really wasn't sure how this would work out, he wasn't scared of humans he'd felt with them many times. He was more scared of the dangers the modern ones provided, he wasn't sure if he could die.
The thought of death truly scared him. He often asked her about it, she seemed more fine with it then if another human had asked her.

“Russia is quite the interesting place the study, I suppose that could be considered my ‘favourite’,” his head tilted slightly to the side as he looked back to her, bringing a hand up to rub his face, fingers dragging through fur.

“I can stay in one form for as long as I like, but I cannot take a form without a reference. Voices are easy to make but creating a physical body is much more straining on the mind.” He informed, seeming to relax a bit more now.

((Nahhhh, don't worry !!!! <:0 )))

What made someone human? Beyond being born of the species what counted as being human? Was it morals of right and wrong? Empathy? Kain wasn't sure.
Was someone who killed human? Would others treat them the same as any other? No, they wouldn't, many would consider that man a monster.
At what point does someone stop being human, an empathetic being with morals, to a monster, a beast willing to tear through all in its path for its selfish goal?

Kain didn't know, he was afraid of the answer. Scared that it would simply be a reflection of what he'd done. Had he crossed the line between man and beast? He really didn't wish to know.
Could a child be considered a monster? He didn't think so.

If he could go back to his childhood Kain was sure he'd do nothing differently, maybe skip that one lesson to go see Ronan like he pro missed or to find a better place to hide when they wanted to be away from their families.
Kain loved his childhood, he wished he felt the same for his adult life. He wished he became the man his child self had always looked up to and wanted to be. Not the villain in a story.

At Ronan’s suggestions Kain couldn't help but laugh, the sound lighter then before, more childlike if possible. “We would! Of I can only imagine what mother would have said and done if we'd done so!” The ache in his chest felt lighter, like a rock being lifted, weight from his shoulders so to say.
“Or we'd have done something to that poor man at the market we used to harass, oh that poor man we were so cruel to him.”
There was always a man at the market that had sold fruits, Kain thought he was a farmer, he couldn't quite remember though. That poor man got trick after trick from the two restless boys.

Kain would've liked to know what would've happened if he'd chosen not to be a knight, if he'd simply been a farmer or a blacksmith or something. He'd have probably spent more time with Ronan.
He'd have made an honest living and he wouldn't have many ill feelings towards people or himself. But then he would've been disappointed in himself for giving up on his dreams, ones he'd blabber on and on to Ronan about.

Would he have been as energetic then? Or would he have slowed down like his knight training made him? He was still occasionally restless, fidgeting and moving around. More then once he complained to Ronan about the boredom, often finding it more interesting to watch the blacksmith then actually do his duties.

“Last time you had too much faith in me we were going to be eaten by an angry wolf.” Kain teased, shooting his friend a sly look, ever since then the two had joked about Ronan's faith in Kain being a bit misplaced when it came to his ideas.
Never an ill intent behind such words though. Many people still thought their relationship odd, a knight and a blacksmith. Hotheaded Kain and calm Ronan, an odd pair that just so happened to work exceptionally well.

Despite the situation Kain couldn't help but let his thoughts wander to his work, he'd have to question the king about the Knights that wished to their position. And the ill intended crafter that they'd caught.

“No matter. We'll find something for you, I promise. Even if it's as simple as some paper work.” Kain couldn't help the grin that came to his face, knowing his friend would absolutely despise doing anything like that, Kain knew he absolutely detested anything like it.

“Indeed, at the time they were shining weapons like the one the army used, ha… Imagine us wielding such old blades now? I doubt we'd have any comfort with those in our hands.” As if to prove his point Kain curled his fingers into a fist.
“What would we have even done if we'd found what we were looking for?” He questioned, unsure of himself. What would they have done?

Not replying only shaking his head in a good natured manner Kain leaned back slightly, flexing his sore fingers. It was comforting really, having someone to speak to in a more familiar way, he knew no one here personally. No one wanted to know him personally, he shared that sentiment. He was feared knight, not someone's friend that happily trailed at their feet.
Not until now that is.

Huffing with a quirked brow Kain looked almost amused. “What? You assume I wouldn't get the very best doctor for you? Of course they did their jobs well.” The colour had finally started to come back to his face, which was relieving in its own way.
Making an odd noise Kain tuned his head away slightly. “Ugh… I never was good with injuries was I? Always looked paler then the person in pain, huh?” Kain couldn't help but joke.

“You say you're not tired right in front of me, then proceed to look as though you're about to fall asleep?” Kain’s question was lighthearted. “I'm glad, I'd much rather deal with this you then one in pain.”
It was true, mostly for the fact that Kain was sure he'd faint if Ronan had stayed in a state of bleeding pain. It wouldn't do well for any of them if that happened.

“Hey…Ronan? Can I ask you something?” Kain closed his own eyes, looking more relaxed then ever now. “I can't remember, really. But how did we become friends?”

"That is primarily my fault, though." Ingus pointed out in retaliation, "still, there is no need for the humans to be so boring. Most of them do absolutely nothing or spend all their time doing something with no real impact on the world."
He sounded more like an annoyed parent then a spirit, then again he was an old spirit, he was an old man by that logic.

Many times in his life Kain had been told that life existed only to die, which he had accepted as truth. But as he grew and the days seemed longer he couldn't help but wonder if that was true.
Soldiers were to give their lives for their ruler. Death was not something to be feared, it was something that just happened and they had to get past it. A knight was expendable, if he died another simply took his place.
The cycle continued.

At times it felt like life had no real meaning, just someone to be used and tossed away when he enviably died. A grim but true thought. It was only what happened between the start and the end that could make a difference, the choices made and the life lived.
Kain chose to befriend Ronan, he chose to be a knight. Kain chose a lot of things and the life he lived had been good. Until a point where he couldn't stand it anymore.
He would've been happy if that short part of his life was the only part of his life.

It was known by many that Kain had no alignment with any higher being, he didn't pray as his mother had nor did he care for wether his actions put his soul lower or higher on some scale. His mother hadn't been happy when he'd stopped praying as a child, scolding him. No matter what she'd done Kain just didn't, if he did there was no heart in it, no belief.
It wasn't something he told a lot of people, many thought it horrible that he would do such a thing. It was known but rarely spoken upon. Many knew but Kain rarely stated it himself.
Kain simply wasn't a man to let some higher being dictate what he could land couldn't do. He was his own person and wasn't about to let some god tell him how to live his life.

The only time he'd ever prayed was the days his mother refused to get up. The only time he ever did anything like that was out of desperation to see his mother get up. He didn't care if there was a god or not, he just wanted his mother back and he was willing to ask anyone for help, no matter his own thoughts.

“My mother wouldn't have let me leave the house I'm sure, you know what she was like.” Thinking of his mother was bittersweet. She'd died and he'd been upset of course, but by then he'd had to deal with so much it felt like his emotions didn't want to react. He'd gone to everyone he could to try and vent, always ending with him unable to feel anything but numbness.
Kain's head fell slightly, “she'd have had a go at both of us, she wouldn't have been easy on either of us.” Kain's mother never treated Ronan better then Kain, if they did something stupid they both got the punishment. They always got the same treatment, no matter if they weren't related.

Rolling his eyes Kain shook his head. “I doubt we traumatized him,” no matter what he said Kain knew they were both quite apologetic now, knowing that it would've been hard on the poor man.
“Probably got scared anytime he saw us in the street.” He remembered a few times when he'd been walking with his mother the man had tensed as they passed, but quickly found that when with his mother Kain wouldn't dare do a thing.
“Pretty sure he began to love my mother in a way, knowing we wouldn't do a thing in fear of her scolding.”

Shifting to get comfortable again Kain shook his head. “Only reason we weren't is because your father wasn't a fool, he wasn't about to let me ruin his precious Ronan.” Kain teased, making a face, “you were his pride after all. I'm sure if I hadn't been a knight he wouldn't have let me come back as I got older.” A small shrug and Kain dismissed the idea.
“I bet he thought I mellowed out because of it, doesn't seem quite right if my memory serves.” No matter the age Kain was still Kain, he may have grown but he was still the same.

Seeing the other roll his eyes Kain couldn't help but grin. “Oh I just knew you'd love my suggestion, you always talked about it being your dream job.” He pulled back leaning back with a quirked brow. “All I could think of was ‘Ronan would love to sit all day writing on paper he couldn't care less about!’”
Kain knew he dreaded writing reports when it came time, often falling asleep before even starting. “I know I love it, so you would too. It's the best kind of job.” His words were dripping with sarcasm.

Kain raised his dominant left hand, clenching and un-clenching his fist. “I suppose though, you'd much rather forge a weapon then use one?” He questioned, letting his eyes flick over to Ronan again. He remembered kids being weirded out by the fact he used the opposite hand to them, thinking it really odd.
Brining his hand to rub his face Kain noted there was a scratch near his eye, one that fell down to his cheek. Seems he was close to being blinded if the aim was a bit better, maybe it was from training? He couldn't recall.

“Bravely with a wolf biting at our heels? I'm sure,” Kain's words were playful, “I'm sure we'd have tried to hit it, only to anger it more. We weren't always the smartest of kids.” It was just a passing thought really.

“At least I came back…” Kain echoed, blinking slowly as he looked down at his hands. “Ha,” smiling he raised his head, feeling a bit better now that he'd calmed down from before, “at least I can do something, huh?” It was almost forced, the smile he wore. Like he was too tense because of the thoughts to reply to his fullest.
“Boo.” Like when they were children, trying to scare each other by jumping out from the dark shadows of night. More often then not Kain was the one scared, often jumping quite high when he was.

He'd barely heard the words, they were like words on the wind. He also to didn't reply, unsure how to address such a statement. “I'll be here as long as I'm needed.” He eventually settled on whispering back, unable to raise his eyes to look at the other. If he were to try and describe his feelings it'd probably be a mix of panic and calm. Which really made no sense.

“I'm sure you're right, I never had the best memory.” He laughed, “probably was something like that. Never was good with small details.” Scratching his head he tried to remember, it was always hazy when he tried to think that far back, most of the time he couldn't remember at all.
“I think it was something like that, I feel like I remember my father pushing me forward to see you. You know, because I was a timid kid.”

A petty thief this one, someone who used pickpocketing as the only form of theft, petty. It wasn't disgusting as someone who sold others for a few coins but it wasn't anything grand. In a way they could both be placed on such a petty throne of thievery.
A swipe off his tongue across colored lips Jean was immediately entranced with the scenario at hand. There wasn't much he could get from the young man, not like blackmailing a richer man.

More lost in thought them normal he let his eyes flick over Rouvin, he couldn't gain much from him physically either. What was there to gain from letting this kid take what he'd already stolen? Nothing, he'd gain nothing except the loss of a valuable watch. One he was willing to bet, by its look, was worth more then some other things he'd snatched from pockets.

It was almost a huff of a laugh, the other pulled away with that look men had when they'd realized they'd just touched a poor man. How horrible of Rouvin, they were just as dirty as each other. Only difference was Jean was more dressed up for a role.
Brining his now free hand up to his lip he traced it, eyes colder now. He had to figure out a way to get out of this situation without dragging attention to them. Then again he could always act as though he'd been attacked.
The thought made disgust coil in his stomach, he may have been a thief but he wasn't as cruel as to send someone else away in such a manner.

Twirling the watch around his fingers Jean held a charming grin, one laced with lies and sly acts. “Oh? You didn't, darling? How unfortunate.” Jean could recognize the tone anywhere, cold and wanting. He wanted what Jean was sure not willing to give. He dragged his nails down his arms lightly, no marks appearing due to the cloth on his arms.
Jean simply laughed at the others threat, shoulders shaking, a hand coming to cover his mouth. He'd lived a long enough life for threats to mean nothing to him. He may have been physically weak, couldn't win a fight if his life depended on it, but he was quick. He could run over this entire town and barely be out of breath.
If things turned sour he'd simply turn to flee.

Reaching a hand out he tightly grasped the others wrist, yanking him forward. “If I were to return it to its rightful owner then you shouldn't be the one asking, my dear.” His words may have been a purr but the underlying threat was clear, like a cat ready to strike.
Letting his head rest near the others ear he grinned once more, “I am no fool, and neither are you, harming me would do nothing but get you in trouble.” Any closer and he could hear press his lips to the others face.

Tightening his grip, nails lightly digging into the others skin Jean shifted his feet. “We're quite similar in situation, you know. I was the same.” His tone dropped, keeping them charm but falling into a more dark place. “The world is built upon luck, weather you're born high or low. Luck dictates it all, my darling little thief.”
Pulling back he smiled, fake and cruel. “But I'm not so cruel as to leave you on your own, so take this. You're right, I really don't need it, dear.” He brought his other hand and clasped something around the others wrist, cold and heavy.

Letting go he waved and moved on, quickly moving around the other, grinning all the while. As soon as he could he broke into a sprint, silver watch still in his hand and a bronze bracelet around Rouvin's wrist. He'd taken from some woman, she was not well on the eyes according to Jean.
He just had to lose Rouvin, that was all. He could run and climb for days if needed. He was keeping this stupid piece of silver.