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POSTED ON Apr 27, 2022 22:10:41 GMT

[attr="class","mon"]

[attr="class","monlyrics"]Just here for the turkey legs and mead

[attr="class","monbody"]As with nearly every craft that Aurelie could think of, the best results generally came from having the best materials with which to work. In bladesmithing, that meant having the best high-carbon steel, of course, but having high-quality pommel, guard, and handle materials was important too. Just yesterday, Aurelie had read an article about a renowned woodworker in Fortree City who used exotic, beautiful woods in his work that were seen nowhere else in Hoenn. Intrigued, she impulsively decided to travel to Fortree City over the weekend to visit the woodworker's shop and discuss the possibility of commissioning handle scales for knives or hand axes.

It was such a simple plan. What could possibly go wrong?

What could go wrong was that the woodworker apparently closed up shop every other weekend to go run a woodworking booth at the local Ren Faire, of all places. To avoid wasting her trip and going home with nothing, Aurelie grumpily bought a ticket to the Faire, hoping it'd be worth the trouble. That afternoon, she found herself irritably pushing past the entrance gate shaped fancifully like a medieval Galarian village wall, complete with turrets and watchtowers, and making a beeline for the little market square area. Her Flareon trotted cheerfully beside her, looking far happier to be here than she was.

Festooned with brightly colored ribbons and banners, the booths there were doing a brisk business selling hand-crafted jewelry, artwork, and costumes. When she asked around for the woodworker, though, she was met with several puzzled variations on the theme of "It's only noon, milady. Everyone knows he doesn't open up until 3 PM at the earliest." Aurelie let out a long, disgruntled sigh.

She was stuck here killing time for three hours. And she had no idea what she wanted to do.

The liveliest area in the Faire at the moment was a field where costumed performers were staging a duel with swords, with a nearby area for patrons to practice their own swordsmanship using trained Aegislash. Aurelie drifted toward the field, drawn to the clang of blades and armor despite herself. For once, no one even gave a second glance to her eyepatch, probably because they assumed it was part of a costume, much like the corsets, floor-length gowns, feathered hats, and even suits of armor that other people around her were wearing. On the other hand, nearly everyone kept addressing her as "milady," which, to be fair, they were doing with every woman in attendance, but which was still already starting to drive her crazy.

When a vendor selling mead and beer wandered into sight, Aurelie's face positively lit up. "Yes, please!" she exclaimed, hurrying toward the vendor. "One mead, and make it dou- Actually, no, don't do that. But definitely a large mead, please."

[attr="class","montag"]jack wainwright | Mission: The Ren-Faire

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POSTED ON Apr 28, 2022 0:31:04 GMT

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jack ignored the distraction of the sweat dripping down his neck and sliding to the small of his bare back as he pivoted quickly, striking harpe against his opponent's aegislash shield. his opponent shifted and the pokemon took only a glancing blow. watts barked encouragement from the edge of the sparring paddock as jack lined up for another strike. flexing his toned biceps, he lunged forward again with the honedge held low but his opponent had already started moving and shoved him hard in the chest with the shield forme pokemon. the thin mud and hard shove sent jack tumbling backward into the mud, his feet going out from under him in an ungraceful spin. lying there in the mud, he felt harpe wrap the cloth that hung from its blade around his wrist and he called up wryly to his opponent "look's like I'm dead. good match!"

[break][break] with the help of his sparring parter, jack regained his feet and grabbed his bag. with a deep bow to the man who had bested him, jack leaped the wooden fence and landed lightly next to watts. too bad I'm covered in mud he thought to himself as he stuffed his shirt in his pack rather than soil it by pulling it over his muddy body. he mentally made some notes to himself about what to cover in his upcoming blog post about the ren-faire as he walked, though he kept an eye on harpe as it floated along next to him to make sure it did not snatch any children with its cloth. i forgot how much fun these faires can be though some of these decorations are a little... tacky. is this how people think medieval galarians actually lived?

[break][break] arriving at a stall where drinks were being sold, he sidled up next to a woman with an eyepatch and scanned the offerings. "no spiced wine?" jack asked with a sly grin. "better make it a mead then, same size as hers" he said with a nod to the woman in the pirate costume.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] jack wainwright [break]

[break][break]Aurelie Lefevre

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December 12

Anistar City, Kalos

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TAG WITH @aurelie

POSTED ON Apr 28, 2022 22:53:18 GMT

[attr="class","mon"]

[attr="class","monlyrics"]Just here for the turkey legs and mead

[attr="class","monbody"]Almost immediately after she asked for the large mead, Aurelie started to second-guess her decision to start drinking in the middle of the day, especially when she hadn't had much to eat yet. On one hand, she was pretty sure a little alcohol would really help this afternoon go by more quickly and pleasantly. On the other hand, she didn't want to end up sloshed and incoherent by the time the woodworking vendor finally arrived. Maybe she should've requested a glass of water to help stay hydrated and pace herself while walking around.

Her ruminations were rather abruptly interrupted by the arrival of a shirtless man who also ordered a mead. His back was plastered in a layer of wet mud, and a large, faintly reddish mark on his chest suggested he'd recently been pushed or shoved. He didn't seem angry or in pain, though, but rather like someone who'd been through a strenuous workout.

"Oh, my," she murmured, a grin breaking across her face as she unabashedly looked him over. "Of all the costumes I've seen so far, I think I like yours the best. Also, that's a nice way to bring in some historically accurate guns appropriate to the medieval period," she added laughingly, tilting her head in the direction of the man's toned biceps.

Then Aurelie's one visible eye widened with genuine interest as she caught sight of the man's accompanying Pokemon, particularly the one that hovered in the air alongside him. "Oh, my! Is that a Honedge? Very nice!"

Her unblinking gaze took in the details of the sword, focusing not on the blue eye-like gem or the long, flowing sash, but rather on the form and dimensions of the unsheathed sword-shaped Pokemon. "The long, wide blade with parallel edges definitely resembles a classic medieval knight's sword," she said thoughtfully, her expression rapt, "though the curved cruciform hilt and the lack of pommel or a visible fuller are a little puzzling. Still, it would have good thrusting and slashing capabilities for deep stabs or swings with a lot of forward momentum in them…"

Suddenly, self-consciously, Aurelie straightened and cleared her throat, looking back at the shirtless man apologetically. "Which I suppose, is how the sword's victim met its end and the Honedge probably came to be. Um. Sorry about that. I can get a little carried away about blades."

[attr="class","montag"]jack wainwright

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POSTED ON Jun 21, 2022 0:25:13 GMT

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jack flexes his arms almost reflexively at the woman's comment, though thankfully the mead arrives quickly enough that the can hide a faint blush behind the heavy clay flagon. his body is naturally athletic from the almost continuous walking, hiking, and climbing in search of the next best pic as he traveled and he was used to the attention from lads and ladies alike, but he never could shake being faintly embarrassed by it either. finishing a long pull, he sets the flagon back down with a heavy thump. must have a thick clay bottom to reduce the amount of mead while making the container look large. good to know these faires pull the same tricks regardless of region he thinks to himself, feeling a little closer to home for a passing moment.
[break][break] harpe begins to rotate slowly in the air as if swept up in the woman's interested gaze, bronzed sheath glinting in the noonday sun as she speaks. almostly lazily, the pokemon drifts over to her and extends its azure cloth toward her arm in a loving caress. jack snatches the end cloth in a two-fingered pinch grip and tugs it back away from the woman just as she finishes speaking. "wow, you sure know a lot about honedge. even back home, a lot of trainers miss the finer details of their forme, and... uh, the origin of the pokemon," he says, the admiration clear in his voice even as he looks disapprovingly at harpe.

[break][break] "the name's jack, by the by," he sketches a courtly bow as he introduces himself, his bare abs flexing with the motion. "do you go to a lot of these? he gestures vaguely at the surroundings with the flagon of mead.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] jack wainwright [break]

[break][break]Aurelie Lefevre

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Anistar City, Kalos

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TAG WITH @aurelie

POSTED ON Jun 22, 2022 0:09:14 GMT

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[attr="class","mon"]

[attr="class","monlyrics"]Just here for the turkey legs and mead

[attr="class","monbody"]Aurelie had been so absorbed in her examination of the Honedge that she honestly hadn't noticed the Pokemon starting to extend its azure-blue sash around her arm. When the Honedge's shirtless trainer tugged it sternly away from her before it could attempt to do anything particularly sinister, she jerked backward with a startled exclamation of "Zut!" and flashed a grateful smile at jack wainwright. Her smile deepened when he complimented her knowledge of swords and Honedges in general, reflecting her pleasure that he admired, rather than ridiculed, her admittedly niche expertise and enthusiasm.

"Nice to meet you, Jack. I'm Aurelie," she replied brightly, flicking a strand of red hair out of her eye. "Thank you for that little rescue just now. It's always nice for a lady to feel like she's got a knight with shining abs looking out for her."

She took a long sip of her own mead, enjoying the rich honey-like sweetness and the burn of the alcohol as it flowed down her throat. The sensation was welcome and relaxing, taking her mind off her impatience at waiting for the woodworker to show up and her annoyance at all the medieval tomfoolery around her. Aurelie couldn't help rolling her eye as more people lined up to buy drinks, speaking in outlandish brogues that they probably fondly imagined were accurate traditional Galarian accents.

"But to answer your question, no, I'm not a big fan of these places," she declared, staring off to one side as if deep in thought. "When I was a kid, my father did a lot of business at local Ren-Fairs—he was a great blacksmith, you know? So, I got sick of it pretty fast, especially when all the weaponry on display can be so anachronistic. Like, why in Arceus' name do they think medieval knights carried around Kantonese katanas? My little brother, though, he loved Ren-Fairs, at least until..."

Aurelie suddenly stopped, wondering where this unexpected torrent of words was coming from. The mead, most likely, she decided. Still, it was going to take a lot more alcohol for her to start talking about her brother, let alone the reason why he stopped enjoying Ren-Fairs. Absentmindedly, she took another hearty swig and wiped her mouth.

"Anyway," she said abruptly, "what about you? Are you a fan of Ren-Fairs?" As a new thought occurred to her, she asked, " You said 'even back home', so I take it you're not from around here. Can I ask where you're from?"

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POSTED ON Jun 25, 2022 20:01:42 GMT

Jack takes another long pull of mead to hide a rush of blood to his cheeks at the mention of his abs, though he continues to listen to Aurelie's story as he drinks. Nodding along, his appreciation for the woman grows as she mentions the Kantonese katanas and the corners of his mouth turn up in a knowing grin.

"Ah, I guess it makes sense that you've got such an eye for weaponry with a blacksmith for a father," he says with admiration, adding a quick glance to Harpe to make sure the pokemon wasn't trying to snatch up another child. He still didn't know if Harpe tried to grab others out of some instinctual drive or because he thought it was a game between trainer and pokemon, but Jack did not want another run-in with an angry mother.

Thickening his accent playfully, he jibes "But milady must not be fooled by the environs of the faire, for this speech doth issue forth from native tongue." With a wink, he slips back into his natural accent, "I'm from Hulbury, in Galar. I've only recently gotten to Hoenn as part of my travels." Taking another drink of mead, he sighs and replies "I'm not a fan of ren-faires for similar reasons as you - I actually think they are a touch ridiculous. They're popular back home though, and it is one of the few places I've found here where Harpe and I can practice so I came to see what Hoenn's faires had to offer."

Jack leans back against the stall and takes another drink of mead. "Did your brother come with you today or are you suffering through today's experience on your own?" he asks.

Aurelie Lefevre

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POSTED ON Jun 27, 2022 22:32:56 GMT

Xiura Balfaltin and Zev Harcourt like this

[attr="class","mon"]

[attr="class","monlyrics"]Just here for the turkey legs and mead

[attr="class","monbody"]For someone displaying his rather attractive musculature in public with such aplomb, it seems awfully easy to make Jack blush with a compliment or two, Aurelie mused, taking another enthusiastic swig of her mead. She could feel it running through her, warming her up from within. The sensation was so relaxing and pleasant that, when she realized her mug was empty, she found herself disregarding her previous injunction against drinking too much and signaled to the vendor for a refill. She'd barely taken another sip when jack wainwright started playfully turning up his Galarian accent, which made her almost spit out her drink in a burst of laughter.

She clapped a hand over her mouth before that could happen, but her single visible eye was dancing with amusement. When Jack admitted how he too wasn't a big fan of Ren-Fairs, Aurelie raised her mug to clink it against his in a gesture of solidarity. To be honest, she hadn't noticed his accent very much at first, but now that Jack had emphasized it, she couldn't help but hear it gently lacing his inflections and enunciations with a hint of elegant flair, even when he returned to speaking normally.

"Cheers to that," she exclaimed wholeheartedly, taking another hearty quaff. "I'm glad to meet a fellow traveler who also finds these fairs ridiculous. At least, they're mostly harmless fun, though. And it's certainly not like I can fault you for wanting to practice your swordsmanship! Swords," said the professional bladesmith, with wide-eyed conviction in her own absolutely unbiased judgement, "are serious business. They're totally the best. They're so cool."

When Jack asked about whether she'd come with her brother or by herself, Aurelie promptly took another deep draft of mead. Some part of her knew she was drinking too much too quickly, and she was probably going to fall over onto her face pretty soon, with the way the mead was going to her head. It was either that or burst into tears, though, and Jack seemed like a nice enough person that she didn't want to put him through the ordeal of suddenly comforting a crying woman in an eyepatch.

"Nah, I came on my own today," she answered, once she'd gulped down the drink and wiped her lips. "My little brother hasn't stepped foot at a Ren-Fair since he was, oh, 17? Let's see, that was summer break my first year of college, so yeah, he was 17. I wouldn't be surprised if he hates them a little now, after what happened that summer."

Her throat had gone dry, so she took a small sip, steadying herself against the edge of the stall. "You see, my brother's taste always ran to the strong, macho, dominant types. He'd fallen head over heels for a classic alpha male guy, and they were basically inseparable." A faint, ironic smile came and went across her face. "Every other day they'd get into these fights, though, these vicious arguments that kept turning physical, and my brother would come home with scrapes, bruises, even cuts. But he'd always wave it off, saying it was nothing."

The words kept coming out, as though they had a power of their own, even though there was no reason to share this story with a total stranger. "One thing they fought over a lot was how often my brother always wanted to do date night at the local Ren-Fair. The boyfriend hated them, but my brother insisted; it was the only time he stood up for himself. One night, they came home from one of them, and the boyfriend was so angry, so enraged, he was just screaming at him nonstop. He started slapping my brother around and punching him, even though my brother begged him to stop. My parents and I rushed outside, but by then he'd thrown my brother to the ground, and my brother's arm just crumpled underneath him. The boyfriend ran off when he saw the blood and the bit of bone sticking out from my brother's arm."

At her side, Aurelie's hand clenched into a fist. "I was so angry. My parents were comforting my brother and calling an ambulance, but all I saw was red. I knew where he lived, and I drove over there, thinking I would drag him back and make him pay for medical bills, something like that. But when I got there and saw the boyfriend, whistling to himself like nothing had happened, all I could think of was my brother crying and cradling his arm, all covered in blood." Her lips curled into a crooked, humorless grin as she went on, "I'd rushed off so fast that I still had my forge hammer on my belt, and I took it out and just started hitting him with it. Over and over. He begged me to stop, but I didn't, because he didn't stop when my brother asked him to."

She regarded her half-empty mug. "Arceus, this is good mead. No wonder people said it used to be the drink of ancient poets and storytellers." With a shrug and a long sigh, she finished her rambling story. "So anyway, I left him there, conscious but just barely. And I told him if he ever lay a finger on my brother again, I'd kill him. Then I drove off. My brother never heard from him again."

The red-haired smith went silent and solemn, staring dry-eyed into the middle distance.

"So!" Aurelie said abruptly, as if there had been no awkward pause after her unexpected, unasked-for storytelling session. "What do you think of Hoenn's faires so far? And of Hoenn in general?"

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POSTED ON Jun 28, 2022 3:13:10 GMT

Hearing Aurelie's unbridled enthusiasm for swords brings another broad smile to Jack's face as he listens to her gush. With a long gulp, he sets the empty flagon on the counter as she continues to speak. As she continues to speak, his smile falters and then fades completely. Soon his jaw is clenched, the muscles straining as Aurelie tells of her brother's brutal assault. His heart pounds in his ears though he can still clearly hear the end of the tale. As she finishes, he lets out a slow, ragged breath through flared nostrils though it takes him a moment to speak.

"Hoenn's faires seem just the same level of silliness of Galar's, I'm beginning to wonder if they are run by the same group," he replies evenly, looking down for a moment. "Hoenn itself is great. I'm really looking forward to exploring and learning more about the region."

Still avoiding looking at the woman, Jack raps his knuckles on the stall and orders two more meads. "In Galar we have a saying: Begin to weave and Arceus will provide the thread," he says, raising his eyes to give Aurelie an approving nod. As the two flagons of mead arrive, he takes a large swig from one and passes the other to the woman.

Aurelie Lefevre

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dreamflower

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December 12

Anistar City, Kalos

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Blacksmith, bladesmith

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A keen mind cuts deeper than even the sharpest sword.

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POSTED ON Jun 30, 2022 18:44:52 GMT

[attr="class","mon"]

[attr="class","monlyrics"]Just here for the turkey legs and mead

[attr="class","monbody"]Now, it was Aurelie's turn to blush red to the roots of her hair when she caught sight of the clenched jaw, flared nostrils, and decidedly perturbed-looking expression on jack wainwright's face as soon as she stopped talking. Oh Arceus, what possessed me to start telling this complete stranger all of that out of nowhere? she thought in a flush of mortification. They'd been having a normal, friendly conversation discussing the Ren-Faire and bonding over their shared exasperation over it, and then she suddenly started spilling out a story she'd never told anyone before, not even her brother or parents. Sure, the mead was pretty good, but Aurelie should still have known better than to start babbling and jabbering on so freely.

Thankfully, Jack hadn't responded by running away screaming—or even expressing any visible sign of disapproval, for that matter. He's a better person than I am, Aurelie reflected ruefully, or at least definitely far more patient than I am. When he simply smoothed over her story by responding only to her abrupt question at the end, she seized the opportunity to similarly behave as if her sudden rambling had simply never happened.

Trying to fight past her own flustered emotions, Aurelie smiled weakly back at Jack. "I was expecting to hear that Galar's faires were all far superior to Hoenn's, or at least less anachronistic," she said teasingly, "so I appreciate your even-handed judgement on the matter. I'm glad you've had a good time so far in Hoenn. It's a fascinating region, from what I've seen—so much variety, so many different people and Pokemon and places to learn about."

She took the mug of mead that Jack offered but didn't drink from it, instead tilting her head owlishly at him. With her head all foggy from the mead she'd already drunk, it was harder than usual to think clearly, but Aurelie was slowly coming to a decision. She had firmly vowed sometime ago to only forge weapons for confirmed Rocket members, but it was so rare to find another sword enthusiast—let alone to find one who had the grace to not call the police on her or lecture her about anger issues after the story she'd just shared.

"Well, if your thread ever, uh, weaves you in the direction of Lilycove City, come visit my workshop sometime," she offered hesitantly. "The Iron Lady Forge, a few blocks away from the department store. I make swords and knives there, and...and I'd love to be able to craft a practice sword or a historical replica for you, if you'd like. If you're interested. Nothing you'd use to fight with, just something you could use for sparring if your..." She gestured generally in the Honedge's direction. "If you'd rather use something a little simpler."

She held her hands up in a conciliatory fashion. "No pressure, of course. No rush at all. It's just nice to meet someone who appreciates swords too."

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