the brucolac. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vrykolakas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eachdraidh2014-10-03 12:32 pm
vrykolakas) wrote in eachdraidh2014-10-03 12:32 pm
iii. video. open, then unseelie-locked. backdated to the end of september, ~29-30th
[UNLOCKED: VISIBLE TO ALL.]
[Candlelight laps at the dim image of the Brucolac's face, showing up mottled scars along his cheeks. His expression is tired. Whether it's the light or exhaustion, his olive skin looks faintly greenish.]
Alyosha of Redgate is dead by the hand of Reynard the Fox.
[It's not a lie. She is exactly as deceased as he is. He sighs out a breath, tches faintly, and moves on, his hoarse, scratchy voice impassive.]
Unrelatedly, I require information on the thief who stole the feathers of the birdking. He wasn't found? Did anyone pick up a trail?
[He knows he wasn't found. Hence (partly) the current sticky situation he's in.]
[LOCKED TO UNSEELIE.]
I'm at Caer Scima.
[He hisses through his teeth, rubs his forehead; his head is pounding, thick knots of tension twisting in his temples, pain shooting down his neck, bursting behind his eyes, tightening his jaw. Bone-dry and grimly humourous, he says:]
If anyone, preferably human, feels they have a surplus of blood.
[That sentence is left unfinished, the conclusion—in his mind, at least—obvious.]
[LOCKED TO ALICE & BERSERKER.]
[Flatly:]
What the fuck happened.
- - - -
[ooc: I realised too late that dating it this way means it went up a few days before new arrivals, damn it! but PLEASE feel free to have any newbies reply a few days late, if you so wish. c: ]
[Candlelight laps at the dim image of the Brucolac's face, showing up mottled scars along his cheeks. His expression is tired. Whether it's the light or exhaustion, his olive skin looks faintly greenish.]
Alyosha of Redgate is dead by the hand of Reynard the Fox.
[It's not a lie. She is exactly as deceased as he is. He sighs out a breath, tches faintly, and moves on, his hoarse, scratchy voice impassive.]
Unrelatedly, I require information on the thief who stole the feathers of the birdking. He wasn't found? Did anyone pick up a trail?
[He knows he wasn't found. Hence (partly) the current sticky situation he's in.]
[LOCKED TO UNSEELIE.]
I'm at Caer Scima.
[He hisses through his teeth, rubs his forehead; his head is pounding, thick knots of tension twisting in his temples, pain shooting down his neck, bursting behind his eyes, tightening his jaw. Bone-dry and grimly humourous, he says:]
If anyone, preferably human, feels they have a surplus of blood.
[That sentence is left unfinished, the conclusion—in his mind, at least—obvious.]
[LOCKED TO ALICE & BERSERKER.]
[Flatly:]
What the fuck happened.
- - - -
[ooc: I realised too late that dating it this way means it went up a few days before new arrivals, damn it! but PLEASE feel free to have any newbies reply a few days late, if you so wish. c: ]
voice; locked;
voice; locked;
[It's the hair, Brucolac.]
Clothing. Good, slick-as-shit, but comfortable clothing, not the over-stuffed trifleish fancies of fashion. I trust you wouldn't, but I don't trust others not to tell you otherwise. Ask at the castle wardrobe. Exactly that wording.
voice; locked;
And I'll deliver it just as you've said.
[ Enjoy that image. ]