the rust of sunset [isra]

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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oslo

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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON Apr 26, 2020 0:10:54 GMT
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ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON





One by one, the Victorian lamp posts lining the stone-paved streets of Rustboro flickered on as the hazy orange sun on the horizon continued to set. Hours previous, these same streets were bustling with pedestrian traffic as the citizens of the historic city clocked out from their 9 to 5 jobs and went home. A few tourists and other civilians still lingered, enjoying evening pastries and drinks at the many cafés and browsing the various shopping outlets that lined the boulevards as well. But certainly not enough to worry about bumping into anyone.

With his right hand interlaced with her left, Remiel led Isra through the quaint town center and towards the Kalosian restaurant they had made reservations for. It was only a few blocks away now, but there was no rush to reach it. They'd left his modest home with time after she'd arrived from Lilycove under the shade of her umbrella prior. The weekend was theirs to spend as they pleased. And if she happened to pull him away elsewhere, Remiel had learned to enjoy such spontaneity.

Though he would have preferred spending time with her alone, however, Herschel had other ideas. Far more defiant and childish than his other well disciplined pokémon, the Shiny Applin had refused to stay in its luxury ball after he'd left his home. Instead, it rolled along happily behind them as they walked. Every so often it would stop to poke its yellow eyes out from the top of the hollowed out apple and assess its surroundings.

"Chirrup!"

It chirped, suddenly realizing it was being left behind before withdrawing into its apple again and continuing its bumpy roll over the stone-paved sidewalks.

Wearing a black aran-knit sweater and brown slacks, the black-haired prince regarded the Applin with a disapproving look and sigh. He turned away from it afterwards to face the young woman he'd finally managed to bring down here instead. She was looking as lovely as ever, of course. But he had a feeling she already knew that. "... Penny for your thoughts?"
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Endless

The Nightingale
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Isra Nightingale
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON Apr 26, 2020 8:05:37 GMT
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[nospaces]


It is a familiar color that hangs in the air above them and paints the city in warmth and accentuates its charm in the final moments of daylight. With it comes the last hints of day, the faint traces of boots against the stone walkways, the whispers on the wind of people settling into their places as lazily as the sun settles on the horizon. It trickles over into quieting streets, as if seeking to hold on to its former home just a little longer before the quiet night can slip in between the stone, curl around the light of the lamps and take over the city.
[break][break]
Rays of sun give way to the darkness, artificial light flickering to life as the moment passes. A small and silly notion meant to ward off the horrors of the dark, to light the way for tired and wayward feet. It never ceases to make her smile ever so softly with amusement.
[break][break]
Though tonight it is also in part to the company she keeps. The chirping apple trailing behind her and the gentleman she has laced her fingers with is almost as amusing as humanity's need to give itself some false sense of security. Enough to pull her away from the window full of odds and ends that almost steals her away from them. Instead she holds his hand just a little bit tighter, something to anchor her to his side and keep her from drifting into the soon to be twinkling star sea above.
[break][break]
"No more than two." the woman answers him as the parasol perched on her shoulder falls like a leaf from a tree to her side. A delicate motion if only because she insists on closing it one handed so as not to let go with her other and she manages just fine, having chosen one of her more delicate and fanciful ones for the evening. The floral pattern that dances around the lace work edge matches the trail of purple and pink blossoms sneaking down from her shoulder and past her waist to her ankles on a black field. A pleasant change from the sleek and plain attire she wears for work. Only the shawl draped around her shoulders fails to break away, as dark and inviting as the night sky.
[break][break]
Amethyst eyes do not linger on him for long, a handsome distraction she must pull herself away from. Instead they come to linger on shop windows and store fronts, names sitting on her lips and tongue but not quite right. As if they don't yet fit the scene before them.



i did it \ovo/

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oslo

the crown prince
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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 10, 2020 6:20:34 GMT
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ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON





Remiel is amused by her response, and shows it with a rare smile before he returns his attention to the path ahead. He's fine to leave her thoughts to mystery... for now. It certainly helped that they were both comfortable with each other's silence. And, at any rate, his lovely companion seemed far too enthralled by the sight of the shops and the city of Rustboro itself. He'd meant to ask whether she'd ever been here before, but he was rather confident now that he had acquired that answer alone.

Suddenly, without warning, the Shiny Applin trailing them bumped into the back of the lady's legs and crashed into Remiel's right after as a result. Their stroll had come to an abrupt stop, and the black-haired royal used the time after it to shoot his pokémon a sharp glare.

"C-Chiiru!"

Herschel nervously stammered, hiding behind Isra's legs and only peeking his eyes out at Remiel in cautious intervals. The trainer in question eventually sighed before settling a much softer gaze onto his date instead. "Are you well? He didn't bump into you too hard, did he? I swear... I command him to stay in his ball and he just won't listen. It's embarassing."

Meanwhile, on a rooftop nearby, a pair of red claws grip to the edge of a stone border as a Zoroark slowly pokes his head out from behind it. Fox-like eyes, filled with enigmatic malevolence, narrow on the green apple with pleasure as the creature licks its snout. The human perched beside him chuckles. "Oi... are you marking that one for your own?" The Galarian accent inquires. "You must be daft. A Shiny Applin could fetch me quite a good price on the black market." He adds, flipping a gold coin before swiftly slamming it down onto the back of his left hand.

"But I suppose... we'll let fate decide."

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Endless

The Nightingale
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Isra Nightingale
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 16, 2020 8:09:21 GMT
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[nospaces]


The sound of a stuttering heel is unfamiliar on her, sitting awkwardly beneath her pristine imagery. The flowers of her gown flutter but only for a moment as she rights herself without trouble and without hesitation. Where her companion is quickly off put by the behavior of the pokemon Isra seems to be unbothered. Such a small thing, her eyes are on him more so than his pokemon, smiling.
[break][break]
Both at the look in his eyes and the simple fact she has relaxed enough to be caught off guard.
[break][break]
A most unpleasant reminder of why she's here, an odd little whimsy that she cannot seem to get herself to deny. Unlike most everything else she tells herself no to.
[break][break]
"I'm fine." a hint of a smirk on her lips, quickly hidden beneath a plain facade, one she wears all too often. "Perhaps you should try something other than commanding if that's not working."
[break][break]
Isra lets go of his hand, turning to crouch in front of the pokemon for a moment. A second of silence is followed by the swift motion of picking the green apple up and cradling it in the same arm she hangs her parasol from. Only once it's settled does her free hand find his again and pull him away from their minor interruption.
[break][break]
A sign still flickers open along the walk in front of them, and this time Isra does not hesitate to pull him with her towards the storefront in question. "That one looks interesting." and it seems, if only for a moment, whatever spell had her lost in her own head is broken and she surfaces again for him, as she finds she often does when their paths inevitably cross again.

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oslo

the crown prince
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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 22, 2020 19:23:26 GMT
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ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON





Puzzled by her suggestion, Remiel slightly tilted his head. He'd been raised to take commands. And, as he grew older, to deliver them. It was all he knew in his private world, really. He woke up every morning with commands for himself, even. Goals he needed to meet, followed by the discipline to meet them. To abandon that was, to him, equivalent to simply giving up and letting Herschel win. But hearing Isra say it made him rethink that...

The blue-grey eyed prince watches with great interest when she releases his hand and crouches down. The green Applin looks up at her with a curious and equally endearing set of eyes... then chirps happily when it is suddenly scooped up in her arm. Softly, Remiel sighs but perks up when her hand finds his again. He wouldn't say anything. Mostly because he wanted to see what Isra had in mind for the Applin. Mostly because he trusted her.

Tugged along towards a nearby storefront, Remiel's attention shifted away from his disobedient little dragon and towards the antique shop that had captured her interest instead. He stands in front of it beside her, observing the contents on the other side of its wide windows silently for a moment. When she turns to him, only a few seconds pass before he turns back.

"Let's go in, then."

He speaks, a slight tug at the corner of his lips before he leans in to peck her lips. It's a fleeting gesture, but genuine and heartfelt nonetheless. He proceeds it by squeezing her hand warmly and escorting her inside after. The bells tied to the corner of the door chime as they enter. It captures the attention of an old proprietor reading a book at the end of the dusty brown halls and behind a counter covered with all sorts of knick-knacks.
MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW
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Endless

The Nightingale
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Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
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Isra Nightingale
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 23, 2020 7:52:36 GMT
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[nospaces]


Isra finds herself quite content with the little applin nestled in her arm, Remiel's hand in the other. A feeling that is almost foreign to her, something she has yet to be able to get used to in her moments of freedom from the many duties she finds fall on her shoulders. It seems almost like she could be happy about it. A silly notion certainly, but one that is sealed with the hint of a kiss on her lips before Remiel pulls her into the shop that has gotten her attention.
[break][break]
She squeezes his hand as loudly as her heels click against the sidewalk before the tile of the store. A pleasant retort to the affection he gives her. The most she can muster.
[break][break]
There is a moment where nothing in the shop could catch her attention nearly as well as he does, amethyst eyes linger on him before they move past him. Trailing along the items displayed on shelves and in cases, plenty of which could hold her attention awhile but none of them do.
[break][break]
The notes are light, barely there, if they had not felt familiar she likely would not have noticed them. They draw her attention down the halls and isles, taking Remiel and his pokemon with her. She scans the items on display until she finds it, a small music box that's surely been wound and played more times than anyone knows but the man with his nose in his book.
[break][break]
But even when she finds it, with its ebony sheen and ornate gold accents, dancing flowers taking the place of a twirling figure, she cannot name why it draws her to it. "Do you know this one?" she asks, looking back to him with curious stars in her eyes. The arm cradling the Applin holds him just a little closer.

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oslo

the crown prince
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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 24, 2020 1:50:17 GMT
Remiel Calcifet Avatar
ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON





The feeling is foreign. And it still takes Remiel a moment to note it: the way he so willingly allows himself to shift into such a passive role with Isra. Almost an entire minute passes before he realizes she's taken the lead once more, guiding them down the dusty hallways of the antique shop as her attractively narrow eyes scan its many treasures and baubles. Though he hears the twinkling of music nearby, too, his mind quietly ponders on how comfortable he feels in her grasp instead. All of this despite his instinctual inhibitions, of course.

His deep thought is seemingly evident on his expression, as Herschel turns his large eyes backward to gaze at his master in tow. It's only then that Remiel forcefully buries those thoughts away, staring back at the Applin nestled in Isra's arm with his usual stern, yet nonchalant, look. A moment later and his raven-haired darling has found it: the music box that had set her on the trail of it with its faint yet powerfully melodic tune. The young royal examines its detail with his blue-gray eyes for a moment. Then she turns to ask him if he recognizes it.

"Hm... I can't say that I do,"

Remiel responds, reaching forward to carefully pluck the music box up from the shelf it had long since been placed on. It leaves behind a clean space amongst an even layer of dust as he manages to lay it flat upon his open palm. Angling it away from Isra, he softly blows away the dust covering it before bringing it back around again to see. Its ebony sheen is much brighter now. The ornate gold accents more pronounced. Even the music prompting the perfectly carved flowers to slowly twirl in joy seems to play a little louder and clearer for it.

"It's a lovely melody..." He remarks. His eyes then meet with hers. "Have you come across it before?"
MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW
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Endless

The Nightingale
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Isra Nightingale
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 24, 2020 3:18:49 GMT
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[nospaces]


She finds herself watching him closely, perhaps more than she intends. It cannot be helped, as she finds more and more that there is a melody in Remiel's movements that her eyes can see but her ears can't hear. Something smooth but unlike any she's seen or heard before. He is not quite piano keys but something almost like them.
[Break][break]
The more she watches him the less she can name it. Eyes return to the little box playing its little tune as she leans in towards him. The closeness of the gesture is nothing new as the woman often forgoes such boundaries in the company of others. The fact she grows closer to him just as much as the box is one she chooses to ignore. The comfort of his presence as she watches the flowers dance around the palm of his hand makes her hold onto the applin in a manner that's almost anxious. Her eyes meet his.
[Break][break]
"If I have" she trails off.
[Break][break]
There is an urge to reach out and touch but her hands are full of dragon apples and fingers that work too much and play too little. She cannot quite make herself let go of either as she leans against Remiel and must instead suffer the nonsense of her own feelings.
[Break][break]
"It... Sounds like something my father would have played." she says after much deliberation, eyes turning back to the little box. She remembers something dancing in the background but she cannot quite name what, only that it was enough to make her smile. Then again her father often did, the only one that saw her as a child. Her real father, at least.
[Break][break]
"I'm surprised to find such a thing here." she watching the dancing petals, a smile creeping into her lips and the twirl. "It just caught me by surprise." she states, as if to explain the small whimsy she felt compelled to answer the call of. Satisfied in witnessing it she looks to Remiel, waiting with something she can only call pleasant and calm.


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oslo

the crown prince
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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 26, 2020 0:12:50 GMT
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ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON





His father died when he was very young. Certainly before he could attribute any kind of melody to the man. So the idea was foreign to him, but it was fascinating nonetheless. Isra didn't speak of her family often. There was very little to go on when Remiel secretly craved to know every little detail, hoping someday to use this knowledge to discover yet another facet of hers to admire. He often found himself hoping for detailed answers to such questions as what her room had looked like back then. What sort of family dynamic was she a part of? What was her dad like to begin with?

But these all seemed like better questions to ask in a more intimate and comfortable setting than this, so he kept himself from doing so. Remiel typically wasn't good at reading people in any kind of emotional sense, but he did sense Isra was reluctant to talk about her past. Looking down at her, he gently presses the side of his cheek against the top of her head after she leans on him. He finds the gesture odd himself, and really only did it out of instinct. Yet he hopes it provides her the same comfort as a hug, how ever subtle this iteration of one may be.

"I don't recall you being surprised very often," He calmly speaks, cobalt eyes reuniting with her own when she looks up at him. "Let's take it with us."

Just after he says so and snaps the music box shut, someone enters the antique store and causes the door to chime just as they had. Now in an aisle separate from the one at the center, however, the pair have no line of sight to the stranger as footsteps sound and head towards the counter at the far end of the shop. They soon come to a stop, presumably in front of the counter and the owner sitting behind it reading a book... but no voices come to follow it. Perhaps... they're being ignored?

As it so happens, Remiel has unwittingly been ignoring these sounds as he shares this moment with Isra.
MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW
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Endless

The Nightingale
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November 11
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Isra Nightingale
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON May 26, 2020 1:58:34 GMT
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[nospaces]


He is so very warm.
[break][break]
It is a feeling that the woman has only truly encountered in small doses in a childhood long left behind and better off forgotten. Even then it had never felt quite as comfortable as this, Remiel meeting her affection with his own. It is not brash and bold, this is something gentle and subtle.
[break][break]
In the moment it lingers between them Isra finds she cannot create an answer in her head. Such a feeling, something so quaint and small a gesture is meant to be turned away. All her life has told her such, she is not meant for it, she is expected to look down on it as a weakness of humanity. Despite this Isra finds no want to lean away from him, the state of indifference expected of her does not exist here. It cannot be found.
[break][break]
And thus, in such a moment, Isra finds herself at a crossroads she rarely ends up at. There is no script that fits her needs, her want, how she thinks she might like to answer in this moment. Nor can she entirely turn away from an upbringing, a teaching that is ingrained into her very core despite how much she already defies it. How much she thinks it has been taught wrong.
[break][break]
"Alright." she answers stiffly, face blank as she tries to find the right self to be but settles on none of them because none of them are her to begin with. Everything sits all wrong but before the hint of flustered color can surface on her face she's turning away from him. Dragging him to the front of the shop to pay for the trinket. Focusing on the task is easier on her mind than trying to figure out what to think of the gesture, of how life says no and self says yes.
[break][break]
She seeks to fill the space with something other than the fingers that now feel overwhelming in her hand. "You surprise me sometimes." she says without looking at him, because he is already like words jumbled into broken letters in her head.
[break][break]
He surprises her right now, and caught up in that surprise she's oblivious to what else awaits them on the other side of the quiet little store.


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oslo

the crown prince
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twenty-seven
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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON Jun 10, 2020 4:49:03 GMT
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ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON





It doesn't take a genius to note her abrupt behavior as she turns away from him and tugs him off by the hand. There couldn't possibly be any other action that better said (no, exclaimed) the desire to exit the interaction they'd been having and trade it for another. If Remiel had to guess, he'd made things awkward again. But rather than brush it off quietly, it actually had him a little amused.

Perhaps Isra had somehow managed to feel that ghost of a smile on his lips. Perhaps it was that which prompted her to vocally note it. "..." He really didn't know what to say, at first. He didn't consider himself a very spontaneous person, after all. Except in the heat of battle, perhaps. But even those instances had a big degree of logic and reasoning behind them. Nothing a little introspection couldn't eventually decipher. Though he supposed she was exclusively regarding those rare instances when he was... such as the physical gesture he'd made earlier.

"Ah, well... I do tend to do that to myself, as well. On occasion." The black-haired royal finally responds as they turn a corner and exit their aisle.

Standing behind the counter is the old store owner from earlier, smiling at them pleasantly as they approach. His book is nowhere to be found, nor any sign of the other patron who'd entered the establishment earlier. Though, even if Remiel had managed to perceive said patron's presence, he likely would have assumed they were off  browsing the antiques in another aisle nearby.

Regardless, he takes the lead here and makes a beeline for the front counter with Isra in tow. "We'd like to purchase this, please." Setting the music box carefully upon it, he watches as the old man nods and slowly proceeds to ring them up on the register. In the meantime, Remiel's nonchalant blue-grey eyes drift over to a small rack of metal trinkets on the counter.  In particular, a pair of ancient silver coins. They hang together from a metal ring. When he lifts them off the rack, he notes the bust of Hestia on one side of them.

As one of the coins slowly spin to reveal a flatter and more reflective side of themselves that depicts the symbol of a flame, however, the prince notes something else:

The top half of the real owner just barely in reflective view, collapsed on the other side of the counter.

And it is in that moment of bewilderment that the imposter strikes. Remiel only has time to let go of Isra's hand before he's blasted backward by a blast of shadow and sent crashing into a large cabinet full of porcelain dish and tea sets. Everything shatters when he makes impact, his body falling limp on the floor afterwards just before the cabinet comes toppling down in a clamor. He's saved from being crushed by it when it leans into the large cabinet opposite of it instead. Though its contents crash and shower down upon his body anyway.

The illusion falls and the imposter behind the register is revealed to be a Zoroark. Should Isra make any move, it is quick to use its Extrasensory power to incapacitate her. It leaps onto the counter and sits as the door opens and chimes from the other side of the antique store. It's hard to see who has entered, considering the fallen cabinet that now obstructs the main hallway in front of them. But the Zoroark knows. Its nose tells him exactly who.

Herschel quivers in Isra's hands when the new visitor speaks. Their voice is sharp, and malevolent. 

"Easy peasy! And here I thought our beloved prince was going to give us trouble." The stranger tauntingly speaks, bending down to crawl beneath the tilted cabinet and step over Remiel's body. When he reaches the other side, he smirks at Isra standing there.



"Well, I'll be gobsmacked... you're actually the Nightingale, aren't you?"
MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW
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Endless

The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
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Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
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Isra Nightingale
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON Jun 22, 2020 0:14:16 GMT
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[nospaces]


Eyes go wide with alarm but she does not scream, he is gone from her side and the crashing sound is like thunder in her ears. She realizes all too late what sort of spell he puts on her, how the world became muffled with his hand in hers and now everything goes unnoticed until it's just a little too late.
[break][break]
She turns with anger in her eyes and a whistle on her lips, sharp and cut short before she can summon her pokemon to her side. Her now empty hand reaches for her head as she flinches at the pokemon's attack. It is overwhelming and she grits her teeth to bare it, grip tightening on the pokemon in her grasp, desperate not to let him go. Isra keeps her eyes on the ground as the individual approaches, listening to his footsteps more so than anything else. Working her way through the throbbing now in her skull from the pokemon's attack. How she hates that feeling.
[break][break]
When Isra looks up it's with fury in her eyes. "What of it?" she hisses, anger sinking deep into her features, the way her jaw clenches shut, the way her eyes narrow ever so slightly, fixating on the man in front of her.
[break][break]
Isra takes a step back, seeking distance between the two of them, her eyes don't leave him. She says nothing else, she asks nothing of him. She doesn't really care for an answer. She only care to address the obvious threat he poses, that he has made of himself. Her fingers drum against the applin in her arm, it seems almost like a nervous tick. Like she might just feel like a rattata in a corner.
[break][break]
There is only a split second where her eyes shift to Remiel and back again, unwilling to give the enemy too much opportunity when they have already had so much.
[break][break]
She only bites because it seems like she has to. "What do you want?"


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oslo

the crown prince
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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON Jun 23, 2020 19:33:30 GMT
Remiel Calcifet Avatar
ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON





The man with the wild mane of red hair grins with all his teeth, tilting his head ever so slightly at Isra. "Oh, I'm sure he told you right? About the importance of your name?" He pauses for a response, but eventually shrugs when he doesn't receive one as quickly as he'd like. "It's no matter. Let's just say I've been hired to gather a nice little list of people together. And you happen to be one of them." Leaning off to the side to meet eyes with his Zoroark, who remains crouched atop the counter with its predatory gaze on the back of Isra's head, the man points at her happily.

"Can you believe it? Two birds! One stone!" He settles back into his posture before smirking at the raven-haired lass. "Or would two lovebirds be more appropriate? A lovebird and a nightingale, perhaps? Agh, you don't care." He remarks, waving it off before turning back to look down at Remiel's seemingly unconscious body. Any reservation about exposing his back to the woman is negated by the Zoroark he has fixed on keeping her right where she is.

Instead, the foreigner with the Galarian accent crouches down to rummage through Remiel's belongings. He eventually finds the luxury balls clipped to his belt, proceeding to unclip and pocket them into a small black pouch one-by-one. "I traveled thousands of miles to be here, you know," He continued. "I'm absolutely knackered, too. This tropical weather! I don't know how any of you manage it."

Meanwhile, the little green Applin in Isra's arms shifts around in them to look up at her. Herschel is quick to realize the Zoroark is doing something to her. And, though fear inhabits his expressive eyes like a wasp in a bee's hive, the little wyrm turns to look at his fallen master once more before finally finding his resolve.

He needs to do something... right?



✓ reference the color red in any ic post.
MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW
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Endless

The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
Slateport
Heterosexual
Assistant
executive
Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
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Isra Nightingale
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON Jun 27, 2020 6:59:40 GMT
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Despite the obnoxiousness of his tongue Isra listens nonetheless, paying attention to whatever it is he's willing to say. A brow quirks at his joke but it's as much of a reaction as he'll get out her. Amethyst eyes have gone cold, watching him something even more so as he moves through the isles for Remiel and his pokemon. Though she's been involved up until this point it had not truly hit home to her what sort of situation she was getting caught up in until now. It makes itself apparent, no longer just words in a book and on the tip of someone's tongue.
[break][break]
"No, he hasn't." she lies, the venom on her tongue may help to cover it, may make it seem more obvious. She can't be sure, she detests it and it leaves a sour taste in her mouth but she's unwilling to let him know anything. "So what, you're here for his pokemon?" her tone turns accusatory, almost condescending, as if she can't believe that's all this is about. It seems like such a waste, her evening spoiled over something they could have gotten elsewhere. It seems especially true with how she watches him plucking the balls away and pocketing them like he has a right to them.
[break][break]
Her fingers continue to tap against the applin, ever so slightly, nervous she must be for it to be so persistent. After all, she's stuck between quite the rock and the hard place, one is particularly obnoxious and the other has an advantage not so easily overcome. Just about anyone would be, wouldn't they?
[break][break]
Something flickers at the end of the isle, something most might not even see, not without knowing to look for it. [break]
For where there is the Nightingale there is always something lurking in her shadow.



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oslo

the crown prince
masculine
twenty-seven
may 20
hammerlocke, galar
heterosexual
archaeologist
aqua/ex-admin
born under a bad sign with a blue moon in my eyes
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Remiel Calcifet
the rust of sunset [isra]
POSTED ON Jul 8, 2020 5:51:41 GMT
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ROYAL
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
POKÉMON




The red-head smirks when he hears her obvious lie, but doesn't say anything as he continues to pluck away Remiel's luxury balls like fruit from a neighbor's front yard. When she suggests that he's some sort of common thief, however, the man snorts and pauses from his endeavor to turn over his shoulder and look back at her.

"Really? Do I look like any kind of two-bit robber to you? You think I'd have sent Black Jack here to kill that poor codger just for that?" He adds, gesturing towards the Zoroark still on the counter.

The creature grins, baring its teeth and licking them once over as it keeps its predatory gaze fixed on the Applin in Isra's arms. Meanwhile, there's no peep from the old store owner on the other side of the counter. He is, presumably, as dead as the red-head claims him to be.

"Nah, mate, you're a right twit for thinking that, you are." He continues, turning back to Remiel's unconscious body as he bags the luxury balls in hand.
"I call this a precautionary measu—"

He's hard-pressed to finish his sentence when, suddenly, Herschel bounces upward and out of Isra's arms before spinning in mid-air and unleashing a torrent of LEECH SEED. They get everywhere, immediately attaching themselves with thin vines to the first surface or organism they make contact with. While they cover the antique shop and the pair of intruders like a spider's webbing, Isra is spared from it because of her positioning. 

Rather than land back in her arms after the attack, the green Applin lands onto the ground below and immediately begins to roll away. If drawing the Zoroark's attention away from Isra was its goal, releasing her from its Extrasensory power, then it succeeds. Despite the leeching vines that wrap themselves around its right arm and continue to grow, the creature snarls and chases after the little wyrm, leaping off of the counter and knocking over an array of knick-knacks and other things.

The red-head, in the meantime, struggles to tear away the vines from the back of his neck. "Agh! That little bastard!" He curses, setting the bag of Remiel's luxury balls down as he uses all his force to rip the leech seed off. When he realizes Isra has been left unguarded, however, he reaches into his black coat for a stun gun. "You stay right where you are, little nightingale. "
MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW