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Sent like lambs to the slaughter
Sent. But do not arrive.
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8th-Feb-2022 12:42 am - Contact Post
Sleeping not dead
Leave a message and Alistair will get back to you. Or act secretary to the school. Whichever you need.

Be careful if you say it's an emergency though. He might just appear right away, sword (or tissues) in hand.
3rd-Jan-2012 12:02 am - Sun, sand, and bestmistakeyet
Alistair | Exchanging compliments
Alistair couldn't help but feel extremely cheeky taking time off like this to go somewhere hot and exotic, to spend time with someone hot and exotic. That didn't stop him from going ahead and making the arrangements. As it turns out, the PINpoint is extremely useful. It was difficult, but he managed to reach a beach in Croatia whilst he was traveling. It's not like there was a shortage of people in need of his help, so it wasn't as if he abandoned his work, either. Besides, the traveling was going to be well worth the look on Julie's face. Once he had the co-ordinates, he had them forever, after all.

After he'd forewarned Julie, he packed a few things in a small bag and, at the arranged time, he PINpointed to her door and knocked cheerfully. A chill ran down his spine while he waited. But then, that's what you got when you wore a thin shirt and open coat. It would be warmer where they were going anyway.
8th-Oct-2010 09:51 pm - Ghostwhisperer lapetitmauvais
Sleeping not dead
Outside is pitch black. The world outside the stone walls has vanished under a solid black shroud. It draws the eye back into the confines of the castle. The abandoned corridors pitch black and then, in a seemingly random decision, torches light other hallways. Places carefully chosen for their frequent use and great importance to the skeleton crew. A maze of light and dark. Cold but warm where heat seeps out through the doorways of late night gatherings. Quiet and yet often very rowdy in parts.

Every so often, spontaneously, a soft pattering of padded footsteps comes from one hallway, or another. Sometimes running, sometimes not. Alerting other midnight prowlers to their presence, but never meeting.

Like so many nights, Sebastien is exploring the intricate passageways. It's as if the castle is specially made so that every night a new and fascinating area is revealed. Tonight a particular corridor has caught his eye. After a random set of turns, he's struck gold. The corridor is lined with alcoves of life size statues of magnificent figures. In robes, or chainmail. With a bow or a sword. Some with exotic items that he's likely never even heard of. Battlehardened or beautiful. Stone ghosts.

It's as Sebastien steps into this aisle a liquid soft voice speaks from behind him. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Some desperately assembled mausoleum in the hopes it will keep the glorious alive."

The speaker is behind Sebastien. A man in his mid twenties gracefully composed on a stone pedestal where a statue is absent. Clothes a soft material that's not quite black and seems to blur the edges of his figure. He remains statue still. Not moving a muscle as he looks past Sebastien to a sculpture beyond. Then his eyes suddenly snap to meet Sebastien's gaze.

"Made as if we needed proof of legendary figures that now rot in their graves." He smiles gently. Smoothly. "Well, while most lay buried. There are always exceptions."
Alistair | My serious face
It really is a perfect day to wander around. The sun is comfortably high in the sky. Light outlining the faults in the stonework of the castle. The large building doesn't stretch out amazingly far. It quickly peters out into courtyards. The entrance gate looms behind them and the wall continues to encompass the grounds around the castle. A few figures strolling atop the fortification with sheathed weapons. Looking none too worried about their job. The defensive wall doesn't quite match the stone of the castle. Like most things here, the buildings are a mismatch of new and old architecture.

Several group of students are taking advantage of the sun and the entrance space. A few young men pause their wrestling to whistle over at Julia. Teenagers messing about. In a smaller gathering, a couple of mages take a subtler approach and suddenly feel the urge to do little light displays. Spirals of light and small balls of fire. While another group loiters about the steps to the main doors in their shabby second hand clothing. None look over the age of eighteen.

Alistair sighs at their antics and offers an apologetic smile. It covers the nervous one, at least. "This is home. Well it's the front part. It's not exactly small and cosy. Some parts are, but... It's nice. It's... Do you want to go inside?"
Sleeping not dead
It's several hours past dusk when Alistair comes running. Predicting arrival times had never been a precise art. There's always the risk that the hero will come earlier or later than expected.

He had managed to change quickly before running to Sebastien's room. It had been a rowdy last class, and greeting the hero with mud stained robes was out of the question. Now the only thing that separated his simply cut tailored shirt and trousers from the students' clothes is the quality and the yellow sash around his waist. Not that he minds.

Despite his haste and excitement, the knock on Sebastien's door still rings out as a cheery tune. The healer unable to keep himself from bouncing on the spot. Sebastien may be excited to be meeting his first traveling hero, but Alistair is welcoming home a brother.
Alistair | The cure for pessimism
It's night. Just barely. Alistair scrambled away happily from preparing a lesson in advance to head to the lower levels. A globe of light illuminating the way. It was slowly becoming cooler but he didn't take much notice of it. His robes swapped for simple clothes. A pale shirt and dark trousers that must have been owned by several others before he became their owner. Boots and a battered coat as well. It occurs to him that it must be a shock to poor Sebastien. Once living among those fancily dressed aristocrats and royals to find himself in a place which must scrape for money so much. But oh to have lived among those people...

Alistair snaps himself out of his daydreaming as he sees the now familiar door. Automatically he smiles and offers a cheerful knock on the wood.
Sleeping not dead
Pick one and I'll write a drabble piece for Alistair or Lich (or Alejo) about it! 

1. Playful!
2. Murderous!
3. Flailing!
4. Incarcerated!
5. Deviant!
6. Ill!
7. Intoxicated!
8. Wildly Inappropriate!
9. Eloquent!
10. Cooking!
11. Over-protective!
12. Wanker!
13. Silly!
14. Romantic!
15. Silent-Treatment!
16. Bedtime!
17. Jealous!
18. Inquisitive!
19. Confused!
20. Sexy!
21. Angry!
22. Dorky!
23. Working!
24. Needs-a-Hug!
25. Choose-your-own!
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