RP MEME: MEDIEVAL TIMES

[cerebel]

Pick a scenario, post with your character and roll for the scene. Or just pick. That's cool too.

For the setting:

1) CASTLE. Throne rooms, private chambers, long hallways.
2) TAVERN. Rough-hewn tables, rough-hewn clientele.
3) DUNGEONS. Iron bars, rusty chains, and terrible food.
4) JOUST. The knights of the realm are battling.
5) FIELDS. It's a hard, long day working to grow food.
6) MARKET. There's a well, there are some craftsmen selling things. It's a medieval mall.

And once you've decided the setting, decide your role:

1) ROYALTY. You are a King, Queen, Prince, Princess or close relative.
2) KNIGHT. You are a warrior of the realm.
3) WITCH/WIZARD. Official court magician? Crazy old lady with a lot of herbs? You decide.
4) PEASANT. Yeah, your life sucks.
5) CRAFTSMAN. Blacksmith, woodworker. Apprentice or master is up to you.
6) SERVANT. Your life is utterly devoted to the one you serve.
BONUS: 7) TIME TRAVELER. ???

Comments

[mactaggd]

[No, no, no. Now is the time to be practical, not emotional, and she doesn't accept that sorry. Doesn't let it land and ripple into her thoughts.

She links her fingers together, to give him a place to step.] Just step up and swing your leg over. I'll help.

...you'll have to ride behind me.

[godxavetheking]

[He winces a little at the closing off that happens after his fumbling apology, but... the rest of her mind remains open to him, and certainly practicality is of the utmost.

He sets his bare foot in the warm cup of her hands and... gets on the horse, more or less. It's not the most dignified maneuver he's ever performed, but the horse doesn't actually move out from under him while he's doing it, so he'll count that as a victory.

And only then catches her next words.]

Dear me. That doesn't sound like protocol, Highness...

[mactaggd]

[She's not blushing.

That's because she has excellent self-control.

She steps up and mounts in front of him (oh, bad mental phrasing, and now she is blushing, damn it all). Arranges her skirts, partially to cover the saddlebags. There's a bow and a quiver that she hooks on in a convenient place.

And then she leans forward and murmurs to the horse. It nickers at her, and she gathers the reins, and they're off.]

I wouldn't trust you with a horse.

[godxavetheking]

[As if one could tell, in the faint, silvery light of the moon! No, the secrets of her complexion are safe from prying eyes.

Less so the secrets of her brain, though. Not that Charles would dream of taking advantage of his access. Ever.

He lets out a yelp of what is 95% genuine terror when the horse sets off, and wraps an arm around Moira's waist, more tightly than is strictly justifiable even in the interests of not falling off like a telepathic sack of potatoes. Especially since, after he gets used to the rolling gait, rather than easing off he leans closer and rests his chin on her shoulder.]

Your mistrust pierces me to the quick, madam.

[mactaggd]

[And here there's a hand firmly repositioning his arm to exactly her waist. Ensuring that it hasn't strayed either upwards or down.

No one stops them as they leave the walls.]

You're a terrible flirt, Charles.

[Her heart is beating quick. Half from the danger they're in; she's acutely aware of their surroundings, listening to every noise of the forest. She's out here so often, she knows it well.

The other half... well. His proximity isn't so unwelcome.]

[godxavetheking]

Ah, that would be the stress. Near brushes with disaster make me slightly less effortlessly charming, you see.

[He's murmuring directly into her ear, looking at the near curve of her cheek- but his mind is stretched out around them in a shivering web that stretches and snaps around the movement of the horse, scanning for dangerous thoughts.

He does nevertheless reserve about half his attention for the warmth of her back against his still-sore torso; the solidity of her shoulder under his jaw. Anything less would be a waste of a remarkable opportunity.]

[mactaggd]

[She makes a quiet scoffing noise.

It's hard to believe that this man managed to charm her out of her castle. That he managed to inspire her loyalty, on top of her--

Not finishing that thought.

She focuses on the road ahead.

...though she shifts both reins into her right hand, moving her left to cover his hand.]