Nel Zelpher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
guillotine) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2019-05-20 01:46 am
guillotine) wrote in middaeg2019-05-20 01:46 am
well, I can make this work
Who: Nel Zelpher, you! (And Solas.)
When: roughly mid- to late-May
Where: Haven, the Aristocratic District, various other districts...
What: Free-for-anyone neighborhood cookout, sketchy odd jobbing, Nel scaring a home intruder out of his wits, and a quest for a super wilde pumpkin. (Three open prompts! The wilder quest w/ Solas will go in a separate comment.)
Warnings: Violence, food with ulterior motives, nudity
*Prose or brackets a.o.k!! If none of these prompts work, you can also PM me to discuss a wildcard.
I. "free" food
There are no flyers or signs pointing to the event, but word of mouth might carry neighbors or passersby to the tables lined up before a pretty majestic garden. Three people hustle and bustle down the lot with wooden plates and utensils, bowls, pots; as the day is temperate with a forgiving sun, not much is being done to provide shade for the food on display.
Fruit tarts, fresh spring rolls, cold noodles some might recognize as soba, and rice that fills your mouth with sweetness are each set out in absurd portions. Two Monsters—a shaggy-haired Turnskin woman and a strapping male merrow—are in charge of ferrying back and forth between the castle-like mansion this production is situated in front of. Off to the side is a short, red-haired, knife-wielding witch in a sleeveless tunic and trousers, all dark and worn. The sun hardly has time to reflect off of her blade, a constant blur while Nel neatly and professionally brutalizes bite-sized slices of fish. These are combined with the sweet rice into layered ovals which fit comfortably into the palms of most, and should someone come near to take any for themselves, she gives a decisive nod without a single hiccup in the cutting of her knife.
“No charge, no surprise enchantments. Dig in.”
I.a. take a minute
It’s nearly dusk when the last of the debris is cleaned up. The pretty lane, restored to its untouched glory, now only hosts what stragglers stayed behind to lend a hand. One or two are collapsed onto a healthy lawn; others mutter and shake hands with Nel and the hired Monsters.
She cracks her neck audibly, with an awful snapsnapsnap that makes the Turnskin cringe as she trudges downstreet in the opposite direction. Then, seeming not to care who sees her so graceless, she throws herself onto a free patch of the garden’s long and feathery grass. “Parched.”
Nel twists a little to fix a tiredly assessing stare onto yourself. “You know, we do have some of the pear tarts left.”
II. pay me
Ingratiating herself with local residents across each district takes up as much time as her study of the Coven’s brand of magic. Nel never outright asks these new acquaintances to spy, just to share what comes their way in terms of news and gossip; in exchange, they receive a favor, or labor, or what monetary compensation she can spare. She’s careful not to offend or go after more than what they’re willing to give. So early in the formation of a network, she can’t afford to alienate people who have no reason to like a strange outsider.
That’s a lot of words to explain why Nel can be spotted (maybe even recognized) taking odd and odder jobs across the city. One morning she’s a runner, only trusted with business-oriented letters and packages of no real consequence to the senders or recipients—the next day sees her in long skirts and a maid’s stark uniform, toiling in the manor of some high-flying aristocrat. In areas where she would prefer not to be remembered, such as the manor, a plain black scarf pins back and hides the bright hair that would otherwise make her more memorable.
What’s it gonna be? Are you slow to move aside when a fast-moving woman bolts past? Did you bite it and hit the gutter, poor thing?
Take a fancy to the market and find a super sale on some item, only to have a sour-faced maid steal it out from under your nose? Even better, are you a manor guest—or snoop, without invitation? Funny how this meek servant pops up in the corner of your eye more than once. It’s not impossible that you’re being followed, even if you’re not inside its halls but prowling the hedge maze outdoors.
III. Aefenglom Woman Terrifies Home Invader, Naked and Unafraid
[ A certain young man, reasonably bitter over having his estate seized and redistributed, knows now his terrible mistake.
Nel Zelpher sleeps lightly in a tiny servant’s room on the mansion’s second floor, her window open a crack for sound to filter through. Even if that weren’t the case, a huffy aristocrat tripping over rearranged furniture in the dark is not a practiced sneak. She appears at the landing of the staircase as he curses and hops on one lordly foot, and a few things happen in quick succession.
One: he sees the dark silhouette of a lady, the gleam of her eyes, and the outline of a machete-sized blade in each fist. He realizes she’s in the buff.
Two: Nel sees him. He turns and bolts for the front door. ]
No, son of a— get back here, cretin!
[ She clears the stairs in two strategic leaps, tucking and rolling to soften the impact. The sound of metal hitting the floor behind him puts a new spring into the man’s step, and when the pursuit leads them to the estate’s sprawling garden he’s almost sobbing with fear. Nel bears down on him with silent and grim inevitability.
It’s pretty late. Maybe you're one of her housemates. Maybe someone’s out for a walk on the nicer part of town where naked folks aren’t supposed to charge out and chase shrill men with paint-stained hands. Maybe that someone is or isn’t you, but either way, this is heading in your direction… ]
When: roughly mid- to late-May
Where: Haven, the Aristocratic District, various other districts...
What: Free-for-anyone neighborhood cookout, sketchy odd jobbing, Nel scaring a home intruder out of his wits, and a quest for a super wilde pumpkin. (Three open prompts! The wilder quest w/ Solas will go in a separate comment.)
Warnings: Violence, food with ulterior motives, nudity
*Prose or brackets a.o.k!! If none of these prompts work, you can also PM me to discuss a wildcard.
I. "free" food
There are no flyers or signs pointing to the event, but word of mouth might carry neighbors or passersby to the tables lined up before a pretty majestic garden. Three people hustle and bustle down the lot with wooden plates and utensils, bowls, pots; as the day is temperate with a forgiving sun, not much is being done to provide shade for the food on display.
Fruit tarts, fresh spring rolls, cold noodles some might recognize as soba, and rice that fills your mouth with sweetness are each set out in absurd portions. Two Monsters—a shaggy-haired Turnskin woman and a strapping male merrow—are in charge of ferrying back and forth between the castle-like mansion this production is situated in front of. Off to the side is a short, red-haired, knife-wielding witch in a sleeveless tunic and trousers, all dark and worn. The sun hardly has time to reflect off of her blade, a constant blur while Nel neatly and professionally brutalizes bite-sized slices of fish. These are combined with the sweet rice into layered ovals which fit comfortably into the palms of most, and should someone come near to take any for themselves, she gives a decisive nod without a single hiccup in the cutting of her knife.
“No charge, no surprise enchantments. Dig in.”
I.a. take a minute
It’s nearly dusk when the last of the debris is cleaned up. The pretty lane, restored to its untouched glory, now only hosts what stragglers stayed behind to lend a hand. One or two are collapsed onto a healthy lawn; others mutter and shake hands with Nel and the hired Monsters.
She cracks her neck audibly, with an awful snapsnapsnap that makes the Turnskin cringe as she trudges downstreet in the opposite direction. Then, seeming not to care who sees her so graceless, she throws herself onto a free patch of the garden’s long and feathery grass. “Parched.”
Nel twists a little to fix a tiredly assessing stare onto yourself. “You know, we do have some of the pear tarts left.”
II. pay me
Ingratiating herself with local residents across each district takes up as much time as her study of the Coven’s brand of magic. Nel never outright asks these new acquaintances to spy, just to share what comes their way in terms of news and gossip; in exchange, they receive a favor, or labor, or what monetary compensation she can spare. She’s careful not to offend or go after more than what they’re willing to give. So early in the formation of a network, she can’t afford to alienate people who have no reason to like a strange outsider.
That’s a lot of words to explain why Nel can be spotted (maybe even recognized) taking odd and odder jobs across the city. One morning she’s a runner, only trusted with business-oriented letters and packages of no real consequence to the senders or recipients—the next day sees her in long skirts and a maid’s stark uniform, toiling in the manor of some high-flying aristocrat. In areas where she would prefer not to be remembered, such as the manor, a plain black scarf pins back and hides the bright hair that would otherwise make her more memorable.
What’s it gonna be? Are you slow to move aside when a fast-moving woman bolts past? Did you bite it and hit the gutter, poor thing?
Take a fancy to the market and find a super sale on some item, only to have a sour-faced maid steal it out from under your nose? Even better, are you a manor guest—or snoop, without invitation? Funny how this meek servant pops up in the corner of your eye more than once. It’s not impossible that you’re being followed, even if you’re not inside its halls but prowling the hedge maze outdoors.
III. Aefenglom Woman Terrifies Home Invader, Naked and Unafraid
[ A certain young man, reasonably bitter over having his estate seized and redistributed, knows now his terrible mistake.
Nel Zelpher sleeps lightly in a tiny servant’s room on the mansion’s second floor, her window open a crack for sound to filter through. Even if that weren’t the case, a huffy aristocrat tripping over rearranged furniture in the dark is not a practiced sneak. She appears at the landing of the staircase as he curses and hops on one lordly foot, and a few things happen in quick succession.
One: he sees the dark silhouette of a lady, the gleam of her eyes, and the outline of a machete-sized blade in each fist. He realizes she’s in the buff.
Two: Nel sees him. He turns and bolts for the front door. ]
No, son of a— get back here, cretin!
[ She clears the stairs in two strategic leaps, tucking and rolling to soften the impact. The sound of metal hitting the floor behind him puts a new spring into the man’s step, and when the pursuit leads them to the estate’s sprawling garden he’s almost sobbing with fear. Nel bears down on him with silent and grim inevitability.
It’s pretty late. Maybe you're one of her housemates. Maybe someone’s out for a walk on the nicer part of town where naked folks aren’t supposed to charge out and chase shrill men with paint-stained hands. Maybe that someone is or isn’t you, but either way, this is heading in your direction… ]
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