Teresa would not even have attended the tournament, had her liege not commanded her to compete. The whole affair seemed rather meaningless to her, who much preferred to ride the skies than to engage in such political grandstanding, but such were the bonds of service. And, if she were to be honest, she wished to see her old compatriots again, to weigh their skills, rejoice in their wins and commiserate over their losses. Political shenanigans aside, Sir Teresa, Lady of the Faint Smile, welcomed to chance to reconnect with her old comrades. Perhaps once the Queen was found...
But that was a meaningless thought. The Queen was gone. This was the order -- such as it was -- that remained.
a. Soon Teresa's turn on the field of battle will come. The staging area, where various knights prepared for their events, was a hive of chaos and noise. Her young squire, a small girl with long dark hair, was run ragged helping Teresa prepare. Teresa herself seemed unperturbed by the bustle, her keen silver eyes fixed on the other knights and squires around her, searching out familiar faces. And she, with her tall build, platinum hair, and waiting broadsword, is a familiar sight herself to those Knights who remembered the Queen.
b. Even as one of the tournament's prime fighters, there's only so much fighting she can require. In the old days, Teresa would have vanished as soon as the tournament was complete, relieved to be free of all the pomp and circumstance. However, in these new days, she has a squire to consider, and so the market is treated to a rare sight: Teresa, plunging into the heaving mass of spectators and visitors, rather than striding off into the wilderness with her gryphon. Her squire can barely contain her excitement.
Teresa, her form limned in white, arrives pre-confined. Her first thought is to get free -- waking in confinement during a Jaunt is never a good sign -- and without thinking she draws her sword and tries to break down the glowing bar. All to no avail, though the noise of her blows echoes through all the surrounding cells.
The noise stops as abruptly as it began, as Teresa realizes that the sword in her hand is not the sword she once knew. Instead of the familiar five-foot metal blade, the sword she holds is a sleek construction of white light. (A Function, though she doesn't know that yet.).
Distracted, Teresa pokes the blade with her free hand, frowning. She's seem quite a bit as a veteran Traveler, but even this is a new one. "Where did this come from?" she mutters, testing the blade of light over and over.
Teresa had wandered into the funhouse mirror hall out of boredom more than anything. The distortions the mirrors throw back at her are like nothing she's ever seen, and she examines each one with obvious amusement. This one tall and wobby, that one scrunched close to the floor. But then one mirror shows a reflection that draws her to a dead stop, brow creasing in confusion.
Instead of some distortion of herself as she is, this mirror reflects a young girl in worn, patched clothes. The girl's features are recognizable as Teresa's, but the reflection differs extraordinarily. Instead of silvery eyes and platinum hair, the girl's long hair is dark brown, so dark it seems nearly black, gleaming despite the girl's shabby appearance. Her eyes are warm and hazel.
"I haven't seen you in a while," she murmurs, drifting closer to the mirror without thinking.
Teresa of the Faint Smile | Claymore
Teresa would not even have attended the tournament, had her liege not commanded her to compete. The whole affair seemed rather meaningless to her, who much preferred to ride the skies than to engage in such political grandstanding, but such were the bonds of service. And, if she were to be honest, she wished to see her old compatriots again, to weigh their skills, rejoice in their wins and commiserate over their losses. Political shenanigans aside, Sir Teresa, Lady of the Faint Smile, welcomed to chance to reconnect with her old comrades. Perhaps once the Queen was found...
But that was a meaningless thought. The Queen was gone. This was the order -- such as it was -- that remained.
a. Soon Teresa's turn on the field of battle will come. The staging area, where various knights prepared for their events, was a hive of chaos and noise. Her young squire, a small girl with long dark hair, was run ragged helping Teresa prepare. Teresa herself seemed unperturbed by the bustle, her keen silver eyes fixed on the other knights and squires around her, searching out familiar faces. And she, with her tall build, platinum hair, and waiting broadsword, is a familiar sight herself to those Knights who remembered the Queen.
b. Even as one of the tournament's prime fighters, there's only so much fighting she can require. In the old days, Teresa would have vanished as soon as the tournament was complete, relieved to be free of all the pomp and circumstance. However, in these new days, she has a squire to consider, and so the market is treated to a rare sight: Teresa, plunging into the heaving mass of spectators and visitors, rather than striding off into the wilderness with her gryphon. Her squire can barely contain her excitement.
Prompt #27: Living in a Digital World (Investigator)
Teresa, her form limned in white, arrives pre-confined. Her first thought is to get free -- waking in confinement during a Jaunt is never a good sign -- and without thinking she draws her sword and tries to break down the glowing bar. All to no avail, though the noise of her blows echoes through all the surrounding cells.
The noise stops as abruptly as it began, as Teresa realizes that the sword in her hand is not the sword she once knew. Instead of the familiar five-foot metal blade, the sword she holds is a sleek construction of white light. (A Function, though she doesn't know that yet.).
Distracted, Teresa pokes the blade with her free hand, frowning. She's seem quite a bit as a veteran Traveler, but even this is a new one. "Where did this come from?" she mutters, testing the blade of light over and over.
Prompt #15: Mirror, Mirror (Liminal Space)
Teresa had wandered into the funhouse mirror hall out of boredom more than anything. The distortions the mirrors throw back at her are like nothing she's ever seen, and she examines each one with obvious amusement. This one tall and wobby, that one scrunched close to the floor. But then one mirror shows a reflection that draws her to a dead stop, brow creasing in confusion.
Instead of some distortion of herself as she is, this mirror reflects a young girl in worn, patched clothes. The girl's features are recognizable as Teresa's, but the reflection differs extraordinarily. Instead of silvery eyes and platinum hair, the girl's long hair is dark brown, so dark it seems nearly black, gleaming despite the girl's shabby appearance. Her eyes are warm and hazel.
"I haven't seen you in a while," she murmurs, drifting closer to the mirror without thinking.