Prince Pallidus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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diatu2019-12-29 03:44 pm
princepallidus) wrote in diatu2019-12-29 03:44 pm
♫Purify the colors, purify my mind♫
Who: Pallidus and YOU, or maybe YOU and SOMEONE ELSE
What: It's time to play in the snow, so suit up and get to it, kids!
Where: School grounds, or possibly in town (if you're playing with Pallidus, it'll be evening time)
When: Later in December
Warnings: TBD, but probably some light angst for Pallidus at least
A little reminiscing...
Somewhere, under the darkened sky of the Diatu campus stands a lone figure with horns spiraling up towards the sky. Cloaked in slacks and a green wool sweater, Pallidus tips his head back and reaches up to collect softly drifting snowflakes in his dark hands. He's easy to spot; it's dark out and he has three floating lights dancing about him to light his path (not that he needs them to see, but he likes the way the light glints off the snow).
His jaw sets with a determined scowl and Pallidus closes one hand into a fist, trying to draw in the power he had felt in the floating arena earlier that month. He could almost feel it, the ice in his veins surging to force a solid shard before him... but try as he might, that sort of magic was locked away, unreachable within the confines of this world.
Sighing, Pallidus shook his head and continued on his way, maybe just a tad bit less joyful than he had been before.
Time to attempt seriousness
Pallidus has found a bench to sit on now, and still the fairy lights waft around him to illuminate the book he has opened beside him. A wand is held precariously at the tips of his fingers, and he spells out the correct Osmarius sigils but the words he speaks are stilted, unpracticed on his tongue. It comes as no real surprise when the ground before him hardly stirs, only a few aborted sprouts lifting from the snow before dying almost immediately.
"Damn," he hisses with a tightening fist. It's just an elective course, but he was hoping that a month or two of study would had raised his talents in at least some way. Best to try again.
This is WAR
Do you notice someone behind a tree, or sense the presence of eyes upon you? If not, then too bad. Regardless, you're the target of an expertly aimed snowball, so if you're not prepared it's probably going to hit you in the shoulder or the back of the head. Pallidus doesn't have the power to instantaneously summon balls of pre-packed snow into his arms here, but he's still got good snowball crafting instincts from his years playing as a child. I hope you're ready to get rekt!
[OOC: If you want to play in the snow with any of your other CR, don't let me stop you. Just mention in the subject if you're expecting someone in particular who isn't Pallidus.]
What: It's time to play in the snow, so suit up and get to it, kids!
Where: School grounds, or possibly in town (if you're playing with Pallidus, it'll be evening time)
When: Later in December
Warnings: TBD, but probably some light angst for Pallidus at least
A little reminiscing...
Somewhere, under the darkened sky of the Diatu campus stands a lone figure with horns spiraling up towards the sky. Cloaked in slacks and a green wool sweater, Pallidus tips his head back and reaches up to collect softly drifting snowflakes in his dark hands. He's easy to spot; it's dark out and he has three floating lights dancing about him to light his path (not that he needs them to see, but he likes the way the light glints off the snow).
His jaw sets with a determined scowl and Pallidus closes one hand into a fist, trying to draw in the power he had felt in the floating arena earlier that month. He could almost feel it, the ice in his veins surging to force a solid shard before him... but try as he might, that sort of magic was locked away, unreachable within the confines of this world.
Sighing, Pallidus shook his head and continued on his way, maybe just a tad bit less joyful than he had been before.
Time to attempt seriousness
Pallidus has found a bench to sit on now, and still the fairy lights waft around him to illuminate the book he has opened beside him. A wand is held precariously at the tips of his fingers, and he spells out the correct Osmarius sigils but the words he speaks are stilted, unpracticed on his tongue. It comes as no real surprise when the ground before him hardly stirs, only a few aborted sprouts lifting from the snow before dying almost immediately.
"Damn," he hisses with a tightening fist. It's just an elective course, but he was hoping that a month or two of study would had raised his talents in at least some way. Best to try again.
This is WAR
Do you notice someone behind a tree, or sense the presence of eyes upon you? If not, then too bad. Regardless, you're the target of an expertly aimed snowball, so if you're not prepared it's probably going to hit you in the shoulder or the back of the head. Pallidus doesn't have the power to instantaneously summon balls of pre-packed snow into his arms here, but he's still got good snowball crafting instincts from his years playing as a child. I hope you're ready to get rekt!
[OOC: If you want to play in the snow with any of your other CR, don't let me stop you. Just mention in the subject if you're expecting someone in particular who isn't Pallidus.]
Snow Angels because I had to
"I find Osmarius is a language best pronounced with clear enunciation, lest you end up with the wrong subject entirely." His experience is largely with High Osmarius, having pursued that knowledge for Sundering purposes, but it's similar, if a bit like transitioning from Classical Latin to the Latin in contemporary usage. Aziraphale dusts off the spot on the bench next to the young prince and invites himself to a seat.
Only to give a bit of a start as he makes contact. Oh dear, it had been a while since he had to sit on a bench that neither he nor Crowley had not already miracled to a comfortable temperature for one's behind. If he looks a tad put out, it's because he's not used to risking a wet bottom to sit on a bench. That's just not done.
"And there's a bit of a diphthong on that last word that might be tripping you up. What were you trying to accomplish?" He didn't recognize the spell.
(Snow) Angels & Demons -- OPEN
(This got long, sorry. I didn't intend for all this introspection. I just wanted to make angels)
He's taken a stroll this evening to enjoy the stars and hope the chill will help his mind settle. The last month or so has all been a wild, rambunctious rush and he's very happy, of course, but also... Well, it's different, being able to be free, to not have to cloak himself in lies and secrets. Being allowed the things one wanted most--moreover, being allowed to celebrate those things. To have Crowley. To have friends. It's not something the angel is accustomed to, though he has always made an attempt to enjoy the littler niceties of existence. The bigger things, the important things...he's had to enjoy those like a child squirreling away cookies from the cookie jar, knowing always that someday someone would catch wise.
Liberation is frightening and he doesn't know how to discuss it with Crowley or Yotsuyu without feeling very silly. Choice: what a ridiculous thing to be unsure about. How do humans enjoy this choice when Choice is such a momentous and monstrous beast? The menu is limitless, the world his oyster. How has he achieved this without repercussion? Without Falling? Without (very much) guilt? (Oh, but no, that last part was a lie)
He lets himself fall gracelessly into the snowbank; a puff of loose dusting rises around him, the crunch of packed snow tickles in his ears. It's cold, frigidly, punishingly so, and it prickles his skin where it touches and leaves his ears, nose, and cheeks pink. Like so many very human things, it is invigorating. How ALIVE he feels with the snow at his back and the stars overhead. He is a small angel in a big universe--
A small angel... Oh, now there's a thought. Aziraphale shuffles his arms up and down, fans out his legs. Then he gets up, dusting off his clothes to examine his handiwork.
...But that's not right at all. The Snow Angel looks entirely too lonely; a bit like making Adam without Eve. One needs a companion, after all--same, but different; made from the same stock.
So with great delight and a sense of purpose, Aziraphale sets to making the little angel a horned* demon friend, with wings just touching those of the angel. The snow's a bit thinner here and the result leaves the demon with a bit of a blackish hue to his robes and wings. How appropriate.
* (he cups his hands over his head to leave an impression of curved horns in the snow and thinks that's very clever of him)
Such a jolly face, Az~ So cute!
"Yes, I'm starting to gather that," Pallidus responds a bit dryly, but he softens it with a smile. Mr. Fell is always good company. Picking up the book, Pallidus sets it in his lap and angles the pages towards his benchmate. "Instant wildflowers. This text is supplementary, suggested by the Botany instructor."
He cringes, the tip of his tongue worrying a bit at the corner of his mouth. "I'm afraid my, ah, teeth and tongue don't get along very well when attempting to speak Osmarius."
no subject
He hmmms and considers the words and Pallidus's teeth himself a moment, then wrinkles his nose in mild frustration.
"I'm afraid I don't have a great deal of experience with that," he admits. His corporation is fairly standard issue human-shaped, with a nice set of teeth and a normal sort of tongue--rather perfect for the largely human-like languages of this world, but terrible for any insight into how sharp teeth and a different tongue might work at forming the words. "I wonder if Crowley might be able to make any suggestions, given his experience with ...other forms." Awfully different, that whole serpent thing, from being a horned demon prince, but still it might provide ideas that Aziraphale's limited exposure wouldn't. "I'm sure he would be delighted to help. He is very fond of--well, maybe fond is not the right word. Crowley likes maintaining his plants. I'm not sure he actually...likes plants." Aziraphale gives a nervous, awkward laugh, as if unable to explain this inside joke of sorts.
"But I can show you how the words are positioned in the mouth, if that helps at all?"