Soren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silentsavant) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-11-16 02:24 pm
silentsavant) wrote in middaeg2020-11-16 02:24 pm
[closed] crossing hoards
Who: Eren & Soren; Ranulf later
When: Noveuer 15th
Where: Eastern Residential District
What: Two Dragons end up wreaking havoc in the city fighting over who gets to hoard one piece of pointy metal.
Warnings: VIOLENCE and... some cannibalism now, too. Thanks, Eren.
[ Last year, Soren had not received anything through the mirrors that came from home. It never bothered him that he missed out on the excitement. Nothing he used to carry meant much to him. The tomes of magic he once fought with would be rendered inert, unable to invoke the spiritual entities that don't exist here. Any medicine or tools would be fine, but ultimately not worth bending backwards to claim when he could acquire the same here, if not better. More of the clothes he used to wear might be a refreshing surprise, but he'd need to get them fixed if he were to accommodate his new body parts, and he already had enough of those. Beyond the basics, Soren did not tend to keep anything of personal value or significance. Only once he'd started turning into a dragon did he ever feel the drive to hold onto keepsakes, the urge to defend them at all costs as though someone were threatening the concept of Ike himself.
When this year's round of item emergences crops up, Soren can't work up any eagerness at the possibility to be gifted with a surprise from home. More than that, he just hoped he didn't get stuck with someone else's junk. That just meant the hassle of finding out who it belonged to and arranging to have them come take it off his hands. This round seems different, however, and all one needs to do is notice the brassy aircrafts puttering through the air and bumbling into walls, a variety of curios secured in their clutches. Based on the frantic message sent out through the watches, the logistics of delivering this batch to their rightful owners aren't going well, either.
It doesn't have much to do with him. If someone ends up with one of his grimoires or a lost sock of his or whatever else manages to fall out of the glass, they could keep it for all he cares.
Little did he know, he's going to care quite a lot.
At the very extent of the Haven's boundaries, one of the distant shapes of these UFOs catches his eye before disappearing behind one of the taller buildings in the residential district. It's too far to discern exactly what it is, but something about it calls to him, agitates the pool of his memories to dredge up something... familiar. It couldn't have been his. It had the sharp and distinct profile of a sword; he didn't personally use any of those. As far as he understands it, most Mirrorbound are reunited with something they owned.
Then again, what did Soren really own? Almost everything he did was technically bought using company funds and distributed to appropriate fighters. The same could be said for the other mercenaries and most of their equipment. It is this thought that the dragon holds onto as he fixes his eyes on the horizon and unfolds his wings to satisfy this persistent curiosity. Was he imagining? Could it be...? His instincts start to kick in, even if he's kicking himself for likely getting worked up over nothing. Monsters are so stupid... ]
When: Noveuer 15th
Where: Eastern Residential District
What: Two Dragons end up wreaking havoc in the city fighting over who gets to hoard one piece of pointy metal.
Warnings: VIOLENCE and... some cannibalism now, too. Thanks, Eren.
[ Last year, Soren had not received anything through the mirrors that came from home. It never bothered him that he missed out on the excitement. Nothing he used to carry meant much to him. The tomes of magic he once fought with would be rendered inert, unable to invoke the spiritual entities that don't exist here. Any medicine or tools would be fine, but ultimately not worth bending backwards to claim when he could acquire the same here, if not better. More of the clothes he used to wear might be a refreshing surprise, but he'd need to get them fixed if he were to accommodate his new body parts, and he already had enough of those. Beyond the basics, Soren did not tend to keep anything of personal value or significance. Only once he'd started turning into a dragon did he ever feel the drive to hold onto keepsakes, the urge to defend them at all costs as though someone were threatening the concept of Ike himself.
When this year's round of item emergences crops up, Soren can't work up any eagerness at the possibility to be gifted with a surprise from home. More than that, he just hoped he didn't get stuck with someone else's junk. That just meant the hassle of finding out who it belonged to and arranging to have them come take it off his hands. This round seems different, however, and all one needs to do is notice the brassy aircrafts puttering through the air and bumbling into walls, a variety of curios secured in their clutches. Based on the frantic message sent out through the watches, the logistics of delivering this batch to their rightful owners aren't going well, either.
It doesn't have much to do with him. If someone ends up with one of his grimoires or a lost sock of his or whatever else manages to fall out of the glass, they could keep it for all he cares.
Little did he know, he's going to care quite a lot.
At the very extent of the Haven's boundaries, one of the distant shapes of these UFOs catches his eye before disappearing behind one of the taller buildings in the residential district. It's too far to discern exactly what it is, but something about it calls to him, agitates the pool of his memories to dredge up something... familiar. It couldn't have been his. It had the sharp and distinct profile of a sword; he didn't personally use any of those. As far as he understands it, most Mirrorbound are reunited with something they owned.
Then again, what did Soren really own? Almost everything he did was technically bought using company funds and distributed to appropriate fighters. The same could be said for the other mercenaries and most of their equipment. It is this thought that the dragon holds onto as he fixes his eyes on the horizon and unfolds his wings to satisfy this persistent curiosity. Was he imagining? Could it be...? His instincts start to kick in, even if he's kicking himself for likely getting worked up over nothing. Monsters are so stupid... ]