Author Topic: The Life of a Bastard - Assorted RPs of Hrafn Skovgaard  (Read 10829 times)

Eduardo Almighty

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While My Guitar Gently Weeps

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"Tell me, Hrafn, what's with those merchants earlier? You didn't even haggle, which was weird enough in and of itself. On top of that, you gave them some weird coins I've never seen nor heard of. Not to mention the fruit tent exchange... I smell a story! Do tell, young 'Sultan'. I love a good tale."

The young crow waited for her to settle, standing before her, gently fingering the strings of the lute as if in a little mental distraction. Did she realize how beautiful she was for his eyes? Yes, she certainly knew. Hrafn didn’t have the same determination Erik had when dealing with women. He needed to find a way to not look like a complete idiot in her presence. He heard her like a distant echo, a little lost in his own insecurity... until he had a snap. She called him by his first name, without titles or social conventions. He just needed to relax a little and be himself.

Hrafn smiled and approached her to put the lute on the bench, his hands fast releasing the clips of the black cape. Wrapping the cloth in his head, he gracefully made a black turban flowery with black feathers, taking care to leave a niche in the front where he, more confidently, placed the crystal ball with the Elven eye staring at her like a third eye; a three-eyed raven. He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out one of those commemorative silver coins, flipping it to her to catch in the air.

Hrafn: “These coins were minted in commemoration of my father's first Triumph, when he defeated the Sultanate and returned from there bringing in tigers and elephants, freed slaves and concumbines. It was when he began to reform Avamar in his image and likeness, building harems, libraries, plazas and gardens. For a long time the Temple of Retarte in Avamar was the greatest building ever seen in Sirion, rivaling a few others around the known world. It was when he added the title Sultan es-Selatin to his name, incorporating the culture of a defeated people in his own. Then he advanced, finishing the work with Fontan and Westmoor. It was when the Duchy of Avamar had Krimml and Oligarch under his command. He was on top of the world... and them, he fell.”

The young sultan leaned carefully to pick up the lude again, testing its strings and tuning. Those were careful approaches, regally measured to approach her just enough, on the edge between education and boldness.

Hrafn: “This eye... they say a sorcerer named Nesrah snatched my father's left eye, ironically so he could see beyond his flaws and the mistakes that marked the end of his political career in Sirion. My father was certainly the greatest Judge the Republic had the pleasure of supporting. He transformed Avamar, supported the right people to the right positions. In a single mandate as Prime Minister he ended Perdan's incursions at a time when Sirion and Nivemus were defenseless. And, of course, he slept with so many women that we are the result: the Thousand Bastards. Entire clans and families, every one of them with the legal right to claim his legacy. And this preserved eye... it’s the symbol that I was chosen to lead them all.”

Sigrid hid her mysteries while Hrafn gladly gave his own to her. That eye must have been hidden. He should not show it off lightly, let alone to impress a woman. He didn’t know, but her future was far more promising than his own. It did not matter what Erik had done for Sirion. It did not matter that all his family members were infiltrated into Sirion's administration: he would remain a nobody or worse... Erik ended his days much more hated than loved. There was nothing for Hrafn in Sirion, just Sigrid. However, being there in Avamar, in the ruins of the harems and with the black turban on his head and the lute on his hands, facing the poor victim of his young and puerile love, he felt himself greater than Erik, greater than anyone. That transient force she'd seen before had returned more intense to his black eyes and reverberated like a majestic aura when he began to play and sing for her.

Road,
A bare sword
In the sky a huge yellow moon,
So round, is drifting,
As if floating,
Sailing the blue of the firmament
And in the slow silence
A troubadour, full of stars
Is now listening to the song I made
Just for you, Sigrid
I'm just a poor amateur
Passionate
An apprentice of your love
Wake up my love
For I know that underneath that snow lives a heart...
 
Come here, Sigrid
Give me your hand
Your desire is always my desire
Come, exorcise me
Give me your mouth
And the wild rose
Come give me a kiss
And a ray of sunshine
In your hair
Like that of a diamond that, splitting the light,
Explodes in seven colors
Thus revealing the seven thousand loves
That I've kept only to give you,
My Sigrid...
Now with the Skovgaard Family... and it's gone.
Serpentis again!