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HelpOf course! (M)
in reply to a message by Fingaernith
Just post your sign-ups here, and I will reply with the namebank for your first son(?).
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
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Username: Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio]
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
"Kalila, I love you," Breccan Toril, prince of all of Sidonie, whispers, his voice breathy against her ear. Kalila turns to him slightly before returning her eyes to the sky, hands on the controls, fingers dancing across them as she flies the craft. A scoff breaks the brief silence. "Kalila, there's no reason for us not to be together. I love you. Don't tell me now that you don't love me."
Keeping her eyes forward, Kalila slowly replies, "Breccan, honey, you know I love you. I just don't think it's a good idea for us to stay together. Not now that your father passed away and you're supposed to rise to the throne. I never wanted any of that. Besides, you're a prince. Princes aren't supposed to marry pilots. And that's what I am. A pilot. Other than you, my only love is the skies and the stars through which I fly. And if life is going to keep us apart, so be it. But you can't marry a mere pilot, sweetie. No matter how much you love me."
"Screw tradition!" Breccan shouted in outburst, his face glowing red with anger. His eyes glared out of his royal face. "We're not in the golden age where tradition was everything anymore. We're here. We're now. This is the modern age, Kalila. The modern age! I'm the prince and you know what I say? I say screw tradition, let's get married."
Kalila sat in silence. Her mind worked best when focused on her flying and the beauty and peace that brought. Breccan shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot, waiting for her to answer. Patience was not a strength of the young prince. "So?" he inquired demandingly. Kalila, keeping her composure, shushed him. Despite how much Breccan disliked this habit of hers, he knew that she required time for thought. She was not the impetuous type to make a decision in the blink of an eye. That's one of the things he loved about her. They were so very different in that way. His impetuosity when paired with her caution resulted in many beautiful adventures and he knew--he just knew--that they would make a wonderful pair, both as a husband and wife and as a king and queen.
Username: Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio]
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
"Kalila, I love you," Breccan Toril, prince of all of Sidonie, whispers, his voice breathy against her ear. Kalila turns to him slightly before returning her eyes to the sky, hands on the controls, fingers dancing across them as she flies the craft. A scoff breaks the brief silence. "Kalila, there's no reason for us not to be together. I love you. Don't tell me now that you don't love me."
Keeping her eyes forward, Kalila slowly replies, "Breccan, honey, you know I love you. I just don't think it's a good idea for us to stay together. Not now that your father passed away and you're supposed to rise to the throne. I never wanted any of that. Besides, you're a prince. Princes aren't supposed to marry pilots. And that's what I am. A pilot. Other than you, my only love is the skies and the stars through which I fly. And if life is going to keep us apart, so be it. But you can't marry a mere pilot, sweetie. No matter how much you love me."
"Screw tradition!" Breccan shouted in outburst, his face glowing red with anger. His eyes glared out of his royal face. "We're not in the golden age where tradition was everything anymore. We're here. We're now. This is the modern age, Kalila. The modern age! I'm the prince and you know what I say? I say screw tradition, let's get married."
Kalila sat in silence. Her mind worked best when focused on her flying and the beauty and peace that brought. Breccan shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot, waiting for her to answer. Patience was not a strength of the young prince. "So?" he inquired demandingly. Kalila, keeping her composure, shushed him. Despite how much Breccan disliked this habit of hers, he knew that she required time for thought. She was not the impetuous type to make a decision in the blink of an eye. That's one of the things he loved about her. They were so very different in that way. His impetuosity when paired with her caution resulted in many beautiful adventures and he knew--he just knew--that they would make a wonderful pair, both as a husband and wife and as a king and queen.
1
Your round 1
Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio]
Son?: Bran Calum Severin Ariel Nikolai Petros Uriah Mihai Dillon Tybalt
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio]
Son?: Bran Calum Severin Ariel Nikolai Petros Uriah Mihai Dillon Tybalt
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
1
Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus (30)
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio] (27)
Son?: Tybalt Petros Uriah (3)
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
The morning after Breccan and Kalila's beautifully simple wedding, a page showed up at their bedroom door with a soft rap on the wood. "My king, there is a lady here to see you. She claims to need to speak with you. She says it's urgent."
Breccan called back, "I'll be there in a minute! Thank you." As soon as he heard the page's footsteps fade away, he rolled back over and fell back to sleep. Ten minutes later, the page had returned. Once again, Breccan informed him that he would be there in just a minute before returning to sleep.
On the page's third visit, Kalila mumbled sleepily, "Just go, Brec. Make him leave us alone. Besides, what you're doing is rude."
Reluctantly, Breccan rolled out of bed, snatching his clothing off the chair upon which they sat. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "But then again, so is waking someone up so early the morning after they wedded the love of their life." As he spoke, he dressed for the day but Kalila stayed in bed. "Come on, Kal, you're coming, too," he laughed, diving onto the bed and pulling her to her feet as she fought back. "It's your first morning as my wife. You go where I go."
Kalila put on her pouty face before breaking into laughter, having cracked herself up. "Fine! Fine! But only because I love you so much," she insisted.
Once the couple was fully dressed, they left to meet with the woman who had "urgent" business with them. As they entered the throne room, a young, sickly woman stood, holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about three. He looked nothing like his mother but resembled ever so slightly Breccan. The woman bowed her head and spoke: "My king, four years ago, I worked here in the palace as a maid. I was fired four years ago when I became pregnant. This is the child to whom I gave birth. But now I am sick. The doctors estimate that I won't survive past six months. The boy has no one else. No one but you."
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus (30)
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio] (27)
Son?: Tybalt Petros Uriah (3)
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
The morning after Breccan and Kalila's beautifully simple wedding, a page showed up at their bedroom door with a soft rap on the wood. "My king, there is a lady here to see you. She claims to need to speak with you. She says it's urgent."
Breccan called back, "I'll be there in a minute! Thank you." As soon as he heard the page's footsteps fade away, he rolled back over and fell back to sleep. Ten minutes later, the page had returned. Once again, Breccan informed him that he would be there in just a minute before returning to sleep.
On the page's third visit, Kalila mumbled sleepily, "Just go, Brec. Make him leave us alone. Besides, what you're doing is rude."
Reluctantly, Breccan rolled out of bed, snatching his clothing off the chair upon which they sat. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "But then again, so is waking someone up so early the morning after they wedded the love of their life." As he spoke, he dressed for the day but Kalila stayed in bed. "Come on, Kal, you're coming, too," he laughed, diving onto the bed and pulling her to her feet as she fought back. "It's your first morning as my wife. You go where I go."
Kalila put on her pouty face before breaking into laughter, having cracked herself up. "Fine! Fine! But only because I love you so much," she insisted.
Once the couple was fully dressed, they left to meet with the woman who had "urgent" business with them. As they entered the throne room, a young, sickly woman stood, holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about three. He looked nothing like his mother but resembled ever so slightly Breccan. The woman bowed her head and spoke: "My king, four years ago, I worked here in the palace as a maid. I was fired four years ago when I became pregnant. This is the child to whom I gave birth. But now I am sick. The doctors estimate that I won't survive past six months. The boy has no one else. No one but you."
This message was edited 8/29/2015, 6:03 PM
1