[Arturian Cerule]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","harum"]Arturian C. ”Raise your sword for those who cannot do so themselves.” [break] Arturian drew his cloak closer to his body to ward off the cold of the encroaching night. The crowd exiting the playhouse was thin, most of them dressed in somewhat formal garb. Arturian, himself, was severely underdressed for the occasion, his cloak and tunic garnering him strange looks from those also exiting the theatre, but he didn’t mind. This was the cloud district, after all. He probably didn’t have a single article of clothing that would satisfy the others that frequently visited here.[break][break] He looked down at the ticket to The Phantom of the Theatre in his hands with a small smile. He’d always been interested in seeing a musical but, until now, he lacked the funds to even dream of it. The experience was as much as he’d hoped it would be. He had a bleeding heart, it seemed, for the theatrics, one he hadn’t been able to oblige beforehand With a quick motion, he stuffed the ticket into one of his many pockets, saving the memento for later.[break][break] It was directly after this action, however, that Arturian was taught why most people think cloaks aren’t best worn in large crowds. Just as he stepped off of the curb of the sidewalk to cross the street, something - or someone - caught his cloak. Going taught, the force around his neck was enough to cause him to trip and careen backwards, arms flailing clumsily as he did so. With no way to break his fall, he fell completely atop the thing that had restrained him, be it someone’s foot or just a loose nail. [break][break] [attr="class","harum1"] 0271 [break] 271/271 Weapon - E | Semblance - E| Durability - E| Martial Arts - F | Stamina - F | [attr="class","harum"]

PHARAOH LEAP CREATES

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[googlefont=Hammersmith One]

[newclass=.harum]position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass]

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[Kishka Burzanova]

KISHKA BURZANOVA

It was always a lovely afternoon spent at the Cloud District's renowned Mistral Theatre's Sunday matinee. Kishka had tried to drag Argent or Holly along with her, but both were worn out from the Vytal Festival, so she was content to go alone. She'd bought her tickets the week before, and she was intent on seeing the production- a showing of the classic Arbor Webber musical, The Phantom of the Theatre. It was especially exciting because she could still remember when the Drama Club back at Sanctum put on the very same show. Bel had auditioned for the starring role, Kristine, despite not even being a member of the club, but while Bel had beaten Kishka handily in nearly everything else the two had competed at, she hadn't managed to win the lead role. No, it was Kishka, in fact, who went on to star in Sanctum's Phantom, and that memory still filled her with a surge of pride, as she stepped into the vaunted threshold to the mezzanine seating. She'd come well prepared for the occasion- dressed in simple, but deceptively nice, clothing, she fit well into the upper crust audience in her seating section. Not so ritzy as to need box seating, but it was clear that she was a born and bred denizen of the Cloud. Silky white dress, with a nice jacket, and her best heels. And clutched under her arm, the book for the performance- she wasn't necessarily going to follow along, because it would be dark, for one, and for two, because that would defeat the purpose of watching the performance. But it would show all of the other, admittedly wealthier, patrons that she was well-versed in the show, and had a discerning eye for quality. She wasn't watching this show for the first time, that was clear to those around her. The lights dimmed, and with them, her thoughts of anything but Kristine and the Phantom floated away. Her eyes sparkled, brimming with excitement and immense satisfaction, as she left the theatre, her ticket stub tucked neatly into her script. It was better than she'd ever hoped for- the leading actress was phenomenal, the Phantom was mysterious, and the staging was superb. She would have expected nothing less from the Mistral Theatre, after all- it was proven fact, simply put, that Mistrallians were the truest masters of the dramatic arts. Glancing up at the sky, she saw that the sun was slowly beginning its descent, as the afternoon faded into evening. Not a cloud in sight, which was nice to see. It was a pretty good day, and she was in a rare good mood, for not having Argent or Holly with her. No rain, so she just walked with her umbrella folded, resting easily against her shoulder. And then, for some reason unbeknownst to her, her violet eyes fell on a strangely dressed boy, clad in a blue cloak and tunic, not too far ahead of her. He looked oddly familiar- had she seen him around Haven? Couldn't have been there long, or she would have remembered his name at a glance, but students came and went all the time during the year, so it didn't surprise her to spot someone she recognized. And then, suddenly, he went for a tumble- looked like something had caught his outlandish cape, and he dropped like a rock. The crowd dispersed around him, not wanting to associate with the scene he had made, and Kishka, frankly, might ordinarily have joined them. Wasn't exactly her fault that the dumbass couldn't walk straight without falling, after all. But, alas, she was in a more generous mood than usual, so she sauntered over and offered him the hook of her umbrella, with which to pull himself up. "Here, let me help. That's the trouble with capes, you know- they always get caught on things, when you least expect it. Stylish, but impractical. Still, I applaud the aesthetic." As he hopefully raised himself back up into a standing position with minimal bit of help she was providing, she offered him a thin smile, slightly amused. He was definitely an odd sort of guy. Dressed like one of the knights from her old Tale of the Dragonsword comics, but with a frame that left much to be desired, and shocks of blonde hair over blue eyes that gave off an impression of youthful naivete. If he was trying to be a knight, he was certainly lacking in the gallantry department; not quite cutting an imposing figure, either, as it seemed he was roughly her height- maybe a little taller, were she not wearing heels. "Kishka Burzanova. You're a student, yes? From Haven?"

Notes// your lucky day | Tagged// @wowwhatanerd | Aura// 100% | WC// 783 | TWC// 783

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[Arturian Cerule]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","harum"]Arturian C. ”Raise your sword for those who cannot do so themselves.” [break] Arturian winced in slight pain as he regained his bearings after his fall. His Aura, thankfully, protected him from any outside harm until it broke, but that didn’t mean it stopped the pain from anything. Noting that both his ticket and the sketchbook he’d taken in with him had fallen out of his inner pockets during his tumble, he looked back towards the end of his cloak to see that it’d caught on… a random hook on the edge of the curb? He furrowed his brow, but decided that questioning it wasn’t within the best things to do for the health of his sanity. At least his Aura had kept it from puncturing his skin.[break][break] As he moved to collect the things that had fallen out of his cloak as he fell, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. He’d noted that, as he fell, everyone around him had done their best to avoid looking at him. It didn’t really bother him, he didn’t really mind that the elite class that he’d likely never see again saw him. But if someone was helping him…[break][break] Turning around slowly, he saw a face that he did recognize, and, almost instantly, he felt the burning fire of embarrassment light in his stomach. She wasn’t in his class, and he didn’t know her by name, but he was certain that she was a student at Haven. What was it with him causing a commotion in front of his classmates in public lately?[break][break] With a few words about capes and an offering of aid, the girl lowered down the hook of her umbrella towards Arturian. Offering her a small, thankful smile, he finished shoving the things that’d fallen out of his cloak back where they belonged before taking the hook in his hand and standing up. He hadn’t put any weight on it, but the acceptance of aid was a formality that wasn’t about to break. After he stood to his full height, he shrugged his shoulder and spoke, his voice slightly deeper than average for an eighteen year old, but nowhere near gruff or harsh, “It was the best I had for an event like this. They don’t know you’re wearing rags underneath it if they can’t see them,” he chuckled nervously before continuing, “...I may also wear this daily. I won’t deny that I admire the image it presents.”[break][break] He brushed the gravel off of his cloak as she introduced herself. Seeing that she hadn’t offered a hand to him as she’d done so, he did the next best thing and lowered his head into a crisp half-bow, “Arturian Cerule, a pleasure.” He lifted his head back up before continuing, “Yes, I am a student at Haven. I believe I’ve seen you around campus.” He furrowed his brow, looking her up and down quickly, “Though, you must be in Class Red. I haven’t seen you in homeroom, at the very least.”[break][break] With another bright, toothy smile, he turned back to the theatre, “I wasn’t aware anyone else in Haven enjoyed the theatre. From what I understood, I thought it was reserved for the pompous upper class.” He paused and looked at himself, “Though, if I can get through any entry barriers it presents, I suppose I can’t be surprised that I was the only one below thirty to have an interest.” There was a far away gleam in his eye as he continued, “...But what a wonder, it was. I’ve dreamed for years of seeing that show at a place like this, but nothing I could’ve ever dreamed would have been this amazing.” [break][break] [attr="class","harum1"] 0631 [break] 631/902 Weapon - E | Semblance - E| Durability - E| Martial Arts - F | Stamina - F | [attr="class","harum"]

PHARAOH LEAP CREATES

[googlefont=Montserrat]

[googlefont=Hammersmith One]

[newclass=.harum]position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass]

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[Kishka Burzanova]

KISHKA BURZANOVA

Oh boy. He was such a little spring chicken. Granted, she wasn't exactly some wizened old seasoned veteran of life herself, but something about this kid just screamed young, naive, and innocent. It was kind of adorable. The way he awkwardly defended his weird little cloak, and the way he seemed to be taking himself way too seriously (well, for a normal person, anyways- if she'd tripped and fallen on the sidewalk, it would have been the end of her life. She'd have died of embarrassment.) She smiled at his best gentlemanly half-bow, admittedly at least a little charmed by his little introduction, at least up until he assumed her class, at which point her smile very briefly waned, before returning to its pleasant (if unnecessarily regal) bearing. True as it was, she hardly wanted her name to be tied to that bunch of low-tier neanderthals. Red Class had a reputation for being where all the shitty barbarians and dumb desert peasants were placed, after all, and considering their leader was a pointless broken dwarf who belonged in an asylum, not an academy, she wasn't too inclined to continue with that line of conversation. Fortunately, he was quick to change the subject to something else which was no doubt intended to offend her. Or well, no. It probably wasn't meant to offend, but he definitely had some incorrect assumptions, and the frown that her face shifted to as he spoke reflected that. He had to be pretty fucking dense, though, to make that comment. Maybe she'd misheard or misinterpreted it, but either way, it touched a nerve. On the one hand, he might be saying that she was a member of the "pompous elite," due to her attendance at the theatre. Which itself was rude, because well, there's no polite way to call somebody pompous, and further, it was a classist judgment coming from someone who was clearly just like the rest of the Ground Rats in Mistral; too uncultured and uncivilized to understand why the Cloud District denizens preferred forms of entertainment that stimulated their generally higher intellects, and appealed to their tastes in higher quality things. It was much like Colton calling her noveau riche, despite being the son of some poor sap Dust miners who got kicked out of Mantle when the city got moved into the sky. Clearly, Arturian was jealous of her lot in life, and mad that he wasn't a wealthy member of the aristocracy. But on the other hand, he did seem to say it in some warped sense of solidarity- almost as if to imply that because she was a Haven student, she couldn't be a member of the upper class. Which was demonstrably incorrect, and frankly even more insulting. Coupled with his remarks about her homeroom at Haven, and it was almost like he was insinuating that she too was a filthy barbarian dumbass who picked boogers with one hand and broke villager kneecaps with the other. Absolutely disgusting to think about. She was halfway to telling him off, when he turned away and started talking about how much he'd love the show. And suddenly, her scowl was replaced by a smile, pleasant, and only slightly pretentious. "It was an incredible production, for sure. The director's casting decisions were spot-on. And the setpieces were completely immersive and well-designed! Although I would have staged the big climax differently, with the fight on a riser, instead of at the ground level, of course." Her fancy smug smirk didn't last very long, however, as she quickly found herself lost and enthralled in thoughts of the play, turning to a more genuine and excited expression as she got more and more into describing the intricacies of the show. Just thinking about all of the work that went on behind the scenes... It was giving her goosebumps! To have been part of the cast in the week before the performance... If she weren't so hellbent on being the strongest Huntress possible, maybe she would have gone into acting, or directing, or- well, something! It was definitely still a passion of hers, which brought a spark to her eyes, and zeal to her grin, as she matched gaze with the caped boy with visible elation emanating from her very pores. "Tell me! What did you think of the Phantom? The costume, the songs- his big soliloquy! Oh, it was perfect, wasn't it!? And Kristine- what was your favorite moment? I know you had one!" All of a sudden, any pretenses of nobility and seniority were gone- she was just excited to have someone to gush over this play with.

Notes// g e e k i n | Tagged// @bruhthatstagingsogoodtho | Aura// 100% | WC// 776 | TWC// 1559

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[Jay]

XP Distribution:

Arturian Cerule: 9 XP
50 + 9 = 59

Kishka Burzanova: 15 XP
263 + 15 = 278