38th ♫ | No time like the present! Let's set out on a quest!

[mytarget]

THE FANTASY SLICE OF LIFE AU MEME

"Okay, you know how every RPG has the grand heroes chosen by fate to become wonderful friends and stand up to the evil sorcerer/empire/corporation/monster and keep it from destroying the world? This game is not about them."

It's not always about saving the day. For every fate-changing hero running around and saving the world, there's a hundred perfectly ordinary people living out perfectly ordinary lives.

Well, for a given definition of "ordinary" anyway.

This meme is basically just an excuse to play out characters living their lives in a nice, relaxed JRPG setting along the lines of the Atelier or Etrian Odyssey series. There's no hard setting details other than "low fantasy JRPG aesthetic" so feel free to go nuts with the details!

Just drop a toplevel below with some AU details for your character (you can even pick out a character class if you're really into that), tag around and LET'S DO THIS

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[enleonne]

[Her fingers still for just a moment on the strings, mutely surprised that the man should remove his mask. Diora, on her part, leaves hers where it is; she wants to be free, tonight, and the only freedom she will ever know is not to be who she is.

But, though she's never seen him before, he still feels like an old acquaintance--someone she's known distantly all her life. A neighbor, perhaps, or a servant's child. But she knows he is none of those things.

(Diora's mother died in childbirth. Her death still haunts their home, hanging over her father. Shadowing his sister's steps. A ghost named Alora stands between them like a wall in the dark, impenetrable, but reliable, something they know will always be there.)

Diora finally returns his smile, gracious and perfect, and dips her head modestly.]

It is only song. It cost me nothing but a moment to give it, and the moment itself has been boon enough. I came out tonight to sing.

[She doesn't often have the opportunity. Not when her father fears the backlash should others discover the power of her voice. Marrying into the Leonne family, she'll have even fewer chances, she knows. She smiles a little more, lowering her chin.]

Though I do find myself curious what boon you would offer a stranger in the night, milord.

[withfriendlycare]

A friendly sword, perhaps, is the likeliest answer. But I admit I've never been much of a commonplace person.

[He takes a half-step to the side, sweeping out his arm in an elegant gesture, putting on a touch of a show; it's enough to move his cloak away from his side, revealing a distinct lack of a sheath and sword belt about his waist.]

So, then: perhaps an answer that no one else could offer you — assuming you had the right question to ask.

[Why. He gets that question a lot, and sometimes it's meant for him, and sometimes it's meant for Life, but it's never as rhetorical as it should be. Why, why, and sometimes the only answer there is is simply, "because."]

Or perhaps an ending, to something you wish would end. I have a great deal of influence over endings, though less so with what precedes them.

[enleonne]

[Her hands finally leave the harp, its song stilled.

His words don't make sense at first. All this time, she's seen before her any other festival-goer, if a cleverer and more intriguing stranger than most. But Diora di'Marano is the daughter of a mage. When she realizes what he might be, she pales behind her mask.

On nights like these, men are not so different from other creatures. Their worlds are not so distinct.]

Who are you?

[She asks softly, lifting her fingers to her mask, though she doesn't lift it yet.]

[withfriendlycare]

A kindly stranger. Or at least kind, though perhaps not so much of a stranger as it may seem.

[He sees the way her face goes paler, of course. He sees all sorts of things, knows where and how to look for them.

He doesn't step away, doesn't offer her the comfort of retreating to put more distance between them. But he doesn't advance, either, and his features stay as soft and open as they'd been before she'd started to recognize who and what he is.]

Men fear me because they forget that it is within me to be kind. You won't forget, will you?

[enleonne]

Never.

[She says it and she means it. She's still not sure of his identity, but she hears his voice and the truth within it. Whoever, whatever he is, she does know him. And what he offers, he can offer in kindness.]

Never, as long as I may live, should a whisper my voice outlast the eldest of songs, will I forget this night. Milord.

[And, sitting as she is on the lip of the fountain with her harp before her, still her bow is graceful and perfect. And true. She's not one to fear gods or spirits, but this man... she is but a girl, and even she can feel the awe of the oldest things.

She straightens, dark hair slipping out of her hood, and lowers her mask for him.]

I... will not ask why you have come to me tonight. But I do not fear you. [She pauses for a beat, a quarter rest.] Will you... be at the wedding?

[Diora can't imagine what else might draw one like him to speak with her on this night.]

[withfriendlycare]

[He can't help it; the mention of the wedding amuses him, and though it's not at all appropriate to smile at the question, he can't help but let his lips turn up in a grin.]

If I were to come to the wedding, milady, there would be no wedding at all.

[It's so funny, really. He's never invited to weddings.]

Welcoming me there would undo your vows from the moment they're made. After all, you'll only swear your hand to that man until the moment I part you from him — no more, no less.

[But that's his cue to take a step back, respectfully, because it's also the moment when she'll have just enough information to put together his identity if she tries, and that makes it a good moment to emphasize to her that he has no intention of extending his own hand to her, not now and perhaps not for a very long time.]

I've known many girls who've sought me out instead of their bridegrooms. Forgive me when I confess that I hope you won't be among their number.