1. Hector

    Private The Ballad of the Blighted Shore

    Out ride Syrs Hector and Willard. Hector gives the reciprocate hand sign to his Sworn Kin. Quick flicks of wrist, and scrawl of finger through the air. All-clear. "Take it you didn't have trouble finding the way?" They dismount as they get closer to the hut. "Nothing once we caught wind of...
  2. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    The squeeze comes fast against Hector's hand. His eyes drawn back down to their hands so cupped together. Then she's up and gone, and his eyes follow just afore she drops Syr Sando's cloak. Averts his eyes, all red in the face. "When we move again, Ah’d like if’n Ah were to ride...
  3. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    "...who’s to say ’ow things would’ve turned aht otherwise, now.” A nod from Hector. A lick across his knuckle then brought his eyes down again. his lips turn up at the wee Guffers' new-moons-for-eyes. Hector nudges the little dog's little snout with his knuckle. Scratches easy his muzzle...
  4. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    "I," she's still there beside him. Even after all she'd seen. All she'd said. And he looks to her. A long and full moment. Looks down on that the little landscape there between them. Lets it fall back down to his lap as he leans his head back against the tree. "I simply acted, Syr Osytha," he...
  5. Hector

    Private Forced Divide

    Hector's brow quirked. "Fighting them?" his lips slanted lopsided. Weight of his sword at his hip, all to felt then and there. "Did she stutter, half-ear?" Rimebol stared down at dawnling. How he managed that when he was just a few inches shy of being taller than Syr Rookheart, well, that was...
  6. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    "...We're a reight sorry bunch, en't we?" A huff. A roll of his head. Neck stretching the glass marbles he feels rolling about inside of his skull. Almost a laugh there in his throat. "Sa word for it, en't it," he mumbles back. “Ah… honestly don’t ken ’ow Ah’m belike to end up feelin’ about...
  7. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Nothing. Stylus point tap taps. Just to feel. Something. After feeling so much. Scribbles at first. Swirls. Spirals. Scratches. Feels how tight it all is as he rests against bark of a great old elm tree. Folio with its leather binding, and chord looped pages, there upon his lap. Stiff enough...
  8. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Twas a dark swirl in which Hector found himself. Not adrift. Not set sail. Or pulled along like fish on a hook. Sinking. Down and down into the drink. Shattering through black star painted glass like a stone let fall from cliff side to shatter thin ice. His mouth sealed shut. His eyes burned out...
  9. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Hector finds himself watching as she paints the seal of death. Eyes on the brushhead and how it quicks across sinew and vein, just there beneath the skin. Soon as she shifts toward The Nose, he blink blinks and clears his throat. Looks out toward some blinking chickadee. The little bird cocks...
  10. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    The ink, a technicolor wash against the raw umber of his skin, sinks into his pores. Feeds into the flesh of his belly and chest, into the bone of his skull. Its sensation shifts betwixt cool and hot. Sting and sooth. Bleeds, what catalyst it carries, into him. Feels as if it ignites like so...
  11. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Hector nods. "First, we will prepare the sacral ink," points to those places where the next step would take. First, forefinger and pointer touch betwixt his eyes. To the well of Loch. "Then we will write the seals of communion," He goes on. Touching his heart, then just below his naval. Left...
  12. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Hector cast his eyes away, lips downturned, and brow furrowed deep as Grenmerrie huffs and stomps after Syr Sando. A quiet settles across the moss beds where in Hector and Osytha are left tending to Landonsera. Everything turning. So much, Hector's stomach as it coils to knots. Hands clenched to...
  13. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Still sealed up in the metal of his plate, bevor lowered, and kettle helm left on the saddle, Hector sets to a knee over Syr Lando. Feels the weight of his kit bare down. Edges of metal bite, no matter how well he had fitted them. Still. The steel holds him up, as much as it has him sinking into...
  14. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    "Think'st me blind?" Something in him eases as she hauls herself into the saddle. He turns the glowing ember of his eyes away. "Blind as an owl is deaf, maybe," he says in the tense quiet that falls between them. Turns Ronja about, and sets her on the trail. He is attuned to the two beat trot...
  15. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Heat rose in him. Eyes still painted by the flame glowing midst the shade neath steel kettle and hind bevor's mask. A quiet inhale. Nose full of the iron stink of horse blood. "Mount your steed, Syr," he said cold. "'fore you cost us another Knight," he said without give. Legs urged the mare on...
  16. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Lando gasps. The steel of his plate the only thing that saved his bones entire from being beyond fractured. But the air is squeezed out of him like a bellows pump slow to give out the last of its breath. Wheezing all the more as the broken beast atop him thrashes and flails. He screams along...
  17. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Screech and teeth born clacks pierced and snapped sound through the speeding thunder beat of Hector's charging roan. Her hooves loudest in his ears. Along with all the tearing of earth neath and afore him. His eyes wide on the hill as all the world rattled and shook with all their daring to meet...
  18. Hector

    Private The only brew for the brave and true

    Hector said little in reply to Willard's affirmations in regards to Hector's correctness. Using his legs, Hector guided his roan mare to the trail. "We are but mortals bound to our coils, Willard," he sounded quiet. "We do what we can, and the rest," he led his horse on into the night. "Well...
  19. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    "...Should the twa of us speak et, might be enow to send Syr Grenmerrie right barmy." A huff. and a curl of the lips he couldn't quite hide from himself. Warm as his cheeks felt, even underneath the shade of his kettle helm's wide steeled brim. "Well then," he said, summarily. Laughed...
  20. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    The bit of movement does the trick, and Hector's gaze finds Syr Osytha there spying on him. Eyes wide with that daring curiosity he had come to know of her. He shrinks into himself under its scrutiny. Looks away entire. Maybe she had not seen him looking back? Maybe she was just looking at...
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