Author Topic: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin  (Read 50632 times)

Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #165: January 22, 2021, 02:49:27 PM »

Welcome back, or happy continuation of reading. Either way here's another rp chain albeit a much smaller one for the moment. Its a scene were Nemean and Pandora, a young noble lady from Perdan agreed to meet up to enjoy a simple joy, painting.

Roleplay from the player of Pandora de Pooh

Bescanon River

Pandora sat down with the empty canvas in front of her. From the stool next to her, her squire Tig had brought buckets of clean and murky water along with several thick brushes at her disposal. Unsure of what colors she wanted to use, she had squeezed out a teardrop of each tube and their color onto a used clean plate. The intensity of the colors worried Pandora and she attempts to spread out the knot of color on one side. Slowly, the coldness of the area and slight breeze were drying up the knots. They had set up two extra canvases underneath an incredibly old tree that brought shade on the largest hill, like a sentient overlooking the river’s longevity.

It was a sunny and rather warm winter’s day and she had on her oversized-cherry scarf. Perdan was at war figuratively and literally, but Pandora was at home. The stream pools water into a lake with the humming of gentle flaps of insects and their wings near the bank-side. Birds were heard calling out to each other loudly, almost longingly. Pandora sat with Tig in silence for a few moments before she made him pick up a brush himself.

Tig asked, “Lady Pandora, why are we out here in the cold anyway?”

Pandora smiles gently, “I am waiting for a friend.. he is a priest. Could you paint with me too?”

She dips her thin brush into the clear water and picks up the darkest blue and smudges it around the plate. A bruised purple starts to drip down across quickly before one of her strokes pauses its run, spreading the color back. A fond memory came to her as she fumbled with the idea of getting started. The words of the letter sent to Pandora were, “I urge you attend, and think not what you should paint, but how.”

The larger brush was picked up by Pandora and firmly pressed onto the bruised blue-purple color. Pandora gets closer to the canvas, becoming more familiar with its empty screen and the white shadow of the lines that bind together in itself. In a dabbing motion, she gently pokes around the right section of the canvas, unsure of what her creation will turn out to become.

--

Bescanon River - N1

The cobble was relentless. His steed was oblivious to the noise but Nemean was distinctly aware of the loud entrance he surely must cause by simple merit of riding his horse. The clatter heralded his arrival and yet, he couldn't quite decide which of these great trees was his destination. Seated up high he looked at each of the majestic oaks unable to come to any form of resolution. A frown marred his features. A tug on the reins informed the creature between his legs to move. Step by step it did so. Moving steadily from one great tree to the next. None of which proved to be the rendezvous he was looking for.

It was the horse that noticed it first.Its pointy ears pricked up and turned ahead, in the direction of a colossal tree that hung over the river's edge. Noticing that his steed had sensed something way before he had, Nemean wasn't too proud to admit that the old horseman's wisdom's still held true. Trust your mount. As they approached he could see barely a thing. Surely the horse wasn't playing tricks on him. Did it perhaps hear a squirrel? Unable to resist the urge he stood up in the saddle. Trying his best to gain more vantage, to no avail. The leafs that inhabited the massive limbs of the oak proved a jealous legion of guardians. They completely covered any would be meeting place. Except for, that rather inconspicuous pathway leading down. He couldn't help himself grin as he spotted the route down towards the river's edge.

Dismounting fluently he wasted little time tying the reins to one of the many arms, at least one of its legions would serve him. Wisely he kept the comment to himself though as he looked up at the impressive tree. Around its trunk and leading down from the cobble roadside the path led. Nemean carefully navigated its steps. Not wanting to slip on the invading moss that was steadily conquering ground. Before his very eyes a tiny but lush glade opened up before him. Overgrown rocks braved the water's edge. Before them again there stood a veritable screen of ardently growing reeds and lilies. Their feet wet and their crowns basking in the light given by the spring time sun. He thought he saw a dragonfly or two whiz through the reeds but he wasn't sure.

Before he could take in the rest of the seclusive location his eyes were drawn back to the broad trunk of the oak. Fairy beds lined its girth. That was the last of nature that he could take in before his attention was entirely and almost suddenly commanded by the presence of not one, but two people.  As he turned to face the presence his dark blond hair teased his sight as it fell before his eyes. Forcing him to rake it aside with his hand. Steadying his footing as he descended the final step Nemean rested his other hand on the pommel of his sword. Slung from his belt and perhaps entirely unnecessary but old habits died hard.

Before him stood a young woman. She as him, was not unarmed, for in her delicate hand she wielded color. Atop a brush. He held his breath a moment as if that would buy him a moment more before the spell would be broken. Three canvases had been arrayed, one next to the other. A man servant occupied space. His presence almost annoyed Nemean as rapidly as he acknowledged the man's existence in the most fleeting of glances. The river didn't care though. It bubble and swirled along as it worked tirelessly on smoothing out every boulder on its bed.

''Lady Pandora?'' A gingerly taken step found his boot upon the lush grass. ''For a moment, you had me confuse the oak for an apple tree. You shine with health having such rosy cheeks.'' The smile he gave was broad but could never rival the mighty oak itself. The place had made him feel at ease and perhaps his opening remark was likewise, too familiar. With the first words spoken, Nemean approached Pandora, wondering how much of a fool he'd make of himself today as he warily acknowledged the fact that there were indeed, three canvases.