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About Digital Art / Hobbyist Sudia GreycloakFemale/United States Group :iconshifting-kennels: Shifting-Kennels
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Sudia Greycloak
Artist | Hobbyist | Digital Art
United States
Previously(Part l): What Fools are We
Previously(Part ll):To Believe that the Weather
Previously (Part lll): Makes a Day Good?
Previously (Part llll): But Then Again
Current (Part V): Maybe it Does
Author's Note:

Soares uses Flirtation Attack: Them eyebrows 
Jarcelot uses Flail Protectionflail plz 
Jarcelot fails. Fangirl Flailing Emote  
Soares is very successful.

This also is a sort of overview of Jarcelot's reaction to the missing lieutenant.
At first I had thought he would be terrified and paranoid but then I realized-
He's got Soares, Req, and Calmadair around him constantly. All of which are bigger than he is.
Stronger than him too. He's going to feel as safe as ever with them around.
Irrationally safe at that 'cause he's also a colt and for as well-versed in paranoia as he is
(Blame Req) he's not immune to innocence and optimism.

Massive thanks to HayleyWolf for letting me RP my character's thoughts on her boy's disappearance!
I hope you like his point of view. I know it's rather vague in comparison to Req, but that has to do 
primarily with the fact it's hard to focus on anything when you're crushing hard. Giggle 

Featuring: Jarcelot & Hunky Lord Soares the Golden [NPC]
Mentioning:  Requimsal, Resholan, Anita, Lunemyr, and the terrible trio of fawns
Early Summer, Year 765 of the New Age
Glenwood, Glenmore

Word Count: 2,624
+3 speed
    Jarcelot wasn't counting. Nope. He wasn't keeping tally of the number of days that had passed since he had last saw Soares. Jarce certainly didn't know that it had been exactly 2 full moons and a fortnight since he had met the taller stag. The stag who had come to life in his dreams and haunted his waking thoughts. Jarcelot wasn't about to admit to anyone just what put the early morning and randomly sparking blushes upon his face. He wasn't about to admit why he was lost in his thoughts so often. He managed to do his duties and tasks around his wandering mind so thankfully not many asked outside of his father. Jarcelot shook his head as he stood carefully at the edge of his lord's glade, carefully maintaining a steady expression.

    He also wasn't counting the few times Jarcelot had spotted the familiar golden hide in passing. In Glenmore it was hard not to be seen when you were a Lord with lordly tasks which took you all over the Glenwood. In Glenmore it was hard not to be conveniently around when you were a glade-guard working privately and allowed time to yourself occasionally. Jarcelot didn't count these dozen times he'd encountered the stag since there had been no conversation or usually even a sign of the fact the other realized they were in sight. No he certainly didn't count the minutes he spent staring casually at the walking sun-born lord.

    The next guard who would take over for him during the night approached, his darker hide shimmering in the afternoon sun. Jarcelot's attention turned to him and he reported a few suspicious findings. "Slight movement on the eastern side. Nothing otherwise has bothered the glade." Jarcelot stated factually. The guard nodded diligently and Jarcelot moved. He said his nightly fare wells to those in the glade before beginning his trek back to his grandmother's glade. Carefully he picked through the trails at a steady pace, his mind wandering dangerously as he let his hooves move on auto-pilot. 

    It was illogical how much Jarcelot thought about the golden stag. It went from nothing to everything about this random stag who had decided the status quo wasn't for him. The stag who had cuddled a strange stag and made them a delicate den for them to keep them dry from the rain pouring down above them. A stag who had stayed and let Jarcelot attempt to gather his barrings. Who Jarcelot spent the afternoon getting to know and connecting with like they were old friends who had grown up together. In those moments Jarcelot had learned a lot and it was that bunch of information which remained stuck in his head.

    Sunsets were Soares' favorite time of day. The golden hues of his coat had come from Soares' maternal family line who had been known for their golden coat colors from hinds to harts. The family tradition of gaining trinkets for every lifetime accomplishment had spanned dozens of generations back. Soares' favorite fruit was a slightly overly ripe apple and he despised all fermented fruits due to watching one of his younger brothers fall from prestige to being a raging drunk. Soares loved to use his magic- he did so any time he had the opportunity. Soares was secretly as hopelessly romantic as it was possible to get. He had a close bond with all of his siblings and had grown up in a soothing and sweet home.

    Also he was well-versed with the Victorian flower language- there was indeed that as well. While the flower crown had since died, Jarcelot kept a small bed of forget-me-nots alive in his homeglade.  Jarcelot still couldn't believe it had taken him so long as to recall what the flowers stood for. Jarcelot felt a smile dawning to his lips and he let it show. A particularly lilting voice sounded from beside him, frightening Jarcelot half out of his hooves. "You shouldn't be wandering alone." Soares' appeared in Jarcelot's ears. Jarcelot jumped a good foot or two to the side, his head whipping around to get a look at the golden stag. Jarcelot gaped for a moment, shock evident upon his face.

    Soares, while he hadn't gained any new scars or changed from the handsomely golden pelt majesty that he was, looked different. In the fading afternoon light his golden coat looked like a golden sunset had given it's color just for Soares. His earthenly brown eyes were now a sea of bronze, amber, and light brown. A soft frown lit his handsomely cut face. Yet most importantly there was a new trinket- right upon the one braid that reached the lowest now sat at his chest- was a red bead of wooden make. It was so out of place upon his being that Jarcelot couldn't help but notice it. Soares stood there in all his might and glory as he radiated concern and disapproval. Jarcelot almost felt as if he ought to be ashamed of something- though of what he had no clue.

    Jarcelot felt then indigent. His ears fell back a bit and his posture cocked itself to match his attitude, "I'm perfectly well off walking back to my glade alone, thank you very much. I am no filly." Jarcelot packed as much sass as he could behind the words. His tail flicked with indigence and sass, fluttering back and forth like a wild cat's might if it was annoyed. Soares blinked a few times then smiled softly, a light chuckle escaping him.

    "Now, now, I never meant harm. I simply concerned those blackwoods might decide another handsome stag is worth their efforts." Soares soothed. Jarcelot's sass deflated like he'd had the wind knocked out of his lungs, his indigence out on the rocks not but a moment after the sass. Jarcelot stammered a bit, a heavy flush lighting his features and he tried to brush it off as he averted his eyes. He fixed his posture and flicked his tail a bit. Soares' smile only grew at the reaction his flirting received, a proper chuckle leaving him as he moved forward and nuzzled Jarcelot a bit. "Being entirely serious, however, I would prefer if you did not walk alone. We do not yet know why the Blackwoods took Knight Lunemyr. They may yet attempt an easier target."

    Jarcelot sighed and hummed, a smile lighting his face in appreciation over the fact Soares was concerned for him. Requimsal had bartered the same concept with him multiple times over the past week since the Knight, lieutenant, and friend of the King had been kidnapped. Jarcelot in truth, while vividly concerned that he might be next, couldn't bring himself to give too much care to his safety. He felt perfectly safe walking the glades of Glenmore from his Lord's glade to his home- what between his father patrolling the boarders and searching hard day and night, his lord being powerful with other powerful connections, and Soares somehow being there too. Jarcelot simply couldn't bring himself to be concerned for his safety despite logic telling him he ought to be as skittish as a filly.

    "While I appreciate your sentiments, I again must insist that I'm perfectly fine. Between my father, my lord, and you I hardly could be any safer than I am now." Jarcelot hummed as he moved forward again to continue the walk home. Soares kept perfect time with him as he shook his head. They walked perhaps closer than they should have, their tails just barely a flick away from being intertwined and their fur almost brushing up against one another. Truly Jarcelot couldn't believe himself to be unsafe when walking so close to a powerful and handsome stag such as Soares. Surely the golden stag could understand that?

    "I'm glad I make you feel safe. I would still prefer someone to walk with you." Soares insisted. Jarcelot frowned a bit and turned his eye slightly to him. Soares was deeply and genuinely concerned. Jarcelot hummed with confusion. He could understand why Soares might be a smidge paranoid, but Jarcelot was no hind. He knew how to fight and had been training among the guards since he was old enough to do so without his health fluctuating too much. Between being born to a Lieutenant and raised by an Officer- Jarcelot was rather confident he might be able to at least fend for himself long enough for the commotion to send some guards running. Plus he wasn't stupid enough to stick around and fight if the battle was clearly a risky one- Jarcelot would rather bare the shame of coward while alive than bare the pride of bravery but be dead.

    The question remained on whether or not Soares was mistrusting Jarcelot's ability to keep himself safe or the golden stag's own ability to keep others safe. Either way Jarcelot felt a twinge of hurt creeping into his heart- whether it was for his own sake or for Soares was yet unknown. "You suspect they might go after another pale stag? Surely you realize that the odds of them risking another kidnapping so soon to the last one are as small as an ant? I will be fine walking from my lord's glade to my home, Soares. Please have faith in me." Jarcelot pleaded, face softening considerably as he added, "Or have faith in yourself."

    Soares let out a stressed noise, "It's not that I do not trust in you or in myself, Jarcelot. It is I do not want them to take you away from me. I do not want them to force you away from my reach so soon after I have found you."

    The admission had Jarcelot pausing in surprise. The pause allowed for Soares to stop a step or two ahead of him and continue speaking, rambling off and stealing the silence before Jarcelot had a chance to break it. "You've occupied my mind and my worries for weeks. I cannot cease thinking about you, worrying for your safety when I do not know of where you are. I do not understand it, but I need you to be safe. The fear that you may not be, that you may be whisked away from me- it's caused me a sleepless night many a time already." Soares rambled, keeping his head ducked and away from where Jarcelot could see it. Jarcelot kept on gaping at him in surprise. Considering how hot his face felt, Jarcelot was genuinely surprised the forest around them hadn't burst into flames from the heat. Jarcelot could hardly breathe. Soares turned around and the rest of Jarcelot's breath left him. In the lord's eyes was fear, was affection, was need, and confusion. Jarcelot was moving without realizing it, coming to brush up against the taller stag in assurance. Trying to rid the multi-colored eyes of the fear in them.

    Soares seemed at a loss for how to continue, allowing for Jarcelot to sneak his own opinion in there. "I understand what you mean. You have haunted my own thoughts since we first met. I do not understand why any better than you do. What I do know, however, is that I do not like to see the fear I currently do within your eyes. If having someone walk with me back to my glade will soothe your fears then I will find someone to do this. For tonight you shall be my escort." There was a slight jest in the last sentence so that it might lighten the heavy and hard-to-breathe mood that had fallen over them. Soares seemed to relax at the sencerity within Jarcelot's voice and he smiled, warmth returning to his eyes. He bent down and nuzzled Jarcelot, giving a soft kiss to his cheek. Jarcelot wouldn't have been surprised if he could have felt the heat which had done what Jarcelot had thought impossible and increased in heat.

    "Thank you." Soares murmured. They stood like that for a moment more, continuing to relax and drive themselves away from the tension, before they started down their path once more. They walked in relative peace, talking idly about this or that. No topic in particular stayed long before they had drifted off again. It was calm and idle. It was content and Jarcelot loved the feeling of it. When they reached the glade they were greeted with a trio chorus of cheering bleats and tiny thundering hooves. A trio of gangly fawns with excited faces and unintelligible bleats appeared before them, moving to greet both stags as warmly as they would greet their mother. The trio shooed when Jarcelot and Soares moved forward to greet Anita, the nursemaid Jarcelot still hadn't quite learned the name of, and Jarcelot's grandfather.

    To Jarcelot's surprise, Resholan and Anita greeted Soares just as warmly as they would him. Anita dipped her head to Soares before positioning herself on Jarcelot's other side to rub against him lovingly. "Soares- it's wonderful to see you again." Resholan hummed. Jarcelot started a bit and turned an expectant look to his golden hued company. Soares had the sense to look sheepish as Resholan decided to explain for him, amusement tinging his voice, "Oh? You don't know, Jarce? Soares here has been popping by the glade every few days now for a good few weeks hoping to catch you. Sadly he usually stops by too early for your shift and he misses you. We've had a good number of conversations though since we can't let him leave with nothing since he walked all this way." Resholan teased.

    Soares looked as embarrassed as Jarcelot supposed he had looked earlier. Anita giggled quietly to herself and Jarcelot chuckled warmly, nuzzling Soares a bit. "Oh have you? When exactly were you going to inform me that you decided to meet my family without me?" Jarcelot teased. Soares laughed a bit and shook himself in an effort to release his embarrassment. Soares was interrupted from saying something when the trio of troublemakers decided they wanted his attention, dragging his willing self off to play some odd game before he had time to protest. Jarcelot had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't have protested if they had given him the time too.

    Calmly he sat there with his grandsire and mate, watching the children play around with the stag that Jarcelot was under the impression was a gigantic colt. Watching how easily he interacted with them, Jarcelot was struck with the realization that he was falling in love with the stag. He didn't understand how he had gotten from obsessing over a stranger to the beginnings of love but Jarcelot had heard the tales of romance from hinds enough to know what the feeling was. He might not have been in love just yet but he was on the verge- so close to toppling down into the depths of love for Soares. It was a daunting prospect but he didn't fear it anymore than he feared walking around alone in Glenmore. He felt as if he would have a safe landing within Soares heart.

    Jarcelot let a grin adorn his face as he was next drug into the chaotic game of what seemed to be tag. Laughter escaped him and he felt as if he had dismissed a weight upon his chest- he felt lighter. Jarcelot threw a happy gaze to Soares as he frivolously ran, exaggerating each step and motion so that his children might find more pleasure in the game they played. Soares only returned the grin with just as much happiness as Jarcelot gave. Yes- he was so nearly in love with this handsome golden stag and Jarcelot couldn't find a problem with that at all.


Featuring Temeluch
Mentioning Mama-Fae, Papa-Mael, and Daddy-Dru
Year 764 of the New Age, late late Winter
Haven, Glenmore

Word count: 663
Crunch. Crinch-crunch. Crunch. Crinch-crunch. Sloooop!

    Teme let out a peal of airy giggles as he slipped in the snow for what was quite likely the fifth time since he'd taken to paying more attention to how much 'crunching' noises he could make instead of where his gangly feet were. Snow was still a new thing to him- something he was learning about but he knew quite well it was soft, cold, and wet-ish. It wasn't like water, but it wasn't like dirt either. The white-stuff held his interest, especially since most of the flowers and the bushes had since gone with it's coming. It was still perhaps the only thing that could hold his interest.

    He looked up to find his mother, ears pricked forward and looking for the signs of her. He had found out not long ago that it was very easy to go far in the snow, out of the sight of his beloved dam. He had only gone around the bend of the tree, but the lack of being able to see clearly his dam had left an impression and one that would stick for a while yet. He relaxed when he spotted her, nodding a bit to himself before going back to frollicing. Up and down, up and down, his legs responding wonderfully as he pushed himself higher into the air- closer to the great white fluffy clouds above him. Closer to the birds having long since gone.

    Another slippery patch had him on his backside, another stream of laughter leaving him. A new thought popped into his head- where was daddy and papa? He looked around, hoping to find either of the proudly standing stags he had come to know as his fathers, only to deflate and sulk a bit as he wasn't greeted with the sight of them. He pouted, remaining seated awkwardly in the snow. Why couldn't his papa and daddy stay like mama did? Did they not love him?

    Teme's ears went back against his head as he sulked, only for another new idea to pop into his head and shift his mood from their darkening path. He'd be like daddy! That way they would most definitely love him! They'd be proud of him and they'd HAVE to stay around then! He knew daddy was away a lot- keeping the scary things away. He was okay with that, but he wanted him and papa back too. He wanted them around so he can show them the fun things he found like the crunching snow and the flowers he picked. He wanted to show them that.

    And since they weren't around all the time so he could show them, he'd just have to make them want to be around all the time! He shot to his feet and puffed his tiny chest up. He took off running again, this time trying to mime what he figured his daddy looked like when he trotted about. In reality he looked silly- his head flopping as he tried to keep it to his chest, his knees going too high with every bounce- flailing as they extended again so the other side could do the same, his back legs looking more like he was swimming than running. He didn't notice though, he thought he looked like the most majestic stag there was- his daddy!

    He turned his prance towards his mother's side, throwing his head high in the air as he did so. See mommy, doesn't he look just like daddy? He came to a stop by her side, pressing against her with a coo of affection, and looked around the beautiful mess he'd made by bouncing through the snow. He sighed happily. Yes, he'd be just like daddy.

Heart Teme cuteness. Now this isn't to say that Dru and Mael aren't around frequently- just that Teme wants all their time ever and never wants them to ever leave.. Also for the lack of mention of his siblings it's simply because he's lost in his own little realm 90% of the time.Hug 

Featuring Phobos
Mentioning Lord Pietro & Princess Helena directly, Vague mentions include King Rafe, Crown Prince Riddick, Lord Annar, Lord Ciardair, Lord Adrian, Lord Barnaby, Lord Virgil, Lord Clyde [NPC] , Lord Griffith [NPC], Lord Cassius [NPC], Princess Angelique [NPC], Princess Selene, Princess Adalyn, Princess Lucille, Lady Ainnir, Exiled Lord Rhydderch
Spring, 765 of the New Age
Glenwood, Glenmore

Word Count: 1,753 (+2 Magic)

    Phobos rose far earlier than he normally would have. Far before the sun had risen, at the darkest hours of the night, Phobos shook himself awake in the nearly sightless darkness that his glade was covered in. Thankfully, though, the fireflies were still out and twinkling about to give enough light to see by. Phobos adorned his fancier decorations and looped his bags around his shoulders, filling the pouches with things he would trade. Meaningless trinkets to him and a few clippings from his herb supplies that would be good for trading.

    On silent hooves he stepped out of his small glade on the offset of his lord's, placing the few branches back in their places so the entrance was mostly concealed. Phobos checked himself over to ensure he was in a stately composure before swiftly going about his morning chores on silent hooves. His magic seeped out to liven the grass as he would do every morning before his lord awoke to ensure he ate the best. He drifted his magic to the flowers so that their nightly slumber was over. Finally he woke the servants for their morning chores, rousing them easily and inspecting their glade to ensure it was top-notch.

    At long last, when his morning chores were through, the sun was rising enough to begin the side tasks that Lord Pietro had assigned him. He turned to the servants who were still trying to gather their bearings from the wake-up call. Phobos snorted in disdain, "I will be out today. Ensure all the chores are done by the time I get back." The underlying 'Or there will be hell to pay' was clear in his curt voice. The servants all balked a bit. Phobos turned abruptly and walked with purpose from Lord Pietro's glades.

    His head was held just low enough to still be begrudgingly considered a servant's proper holding but it was certainly higher than any servant dared hold themselves. Phobos' strides were awkward but proud, his ankle troubling him if he placed it a certain way. A faint lopsided smirk darkened his features and captured the shadows of the night in his eyes. A surge of joy was in his gut as if he'd just taken a strong drink of nectar. Fear was an intoxicating drink to Phobos and he feasted on it like a King every day between the servants and the common-borns he interacted with. Of course Lord Pietro didn't fear him and Phobos was fine with that. Most other royals, however, tended to at least be skeptical of his presence.

    Glenmore knew the trial that had taken place five years before. They remembered the trial of the murder-maddened Lord. They remembered the trial's unearthing of the deaths of multiple others, the murders of young strong colts of families who had wronged him. It was a stain on Glenmore's pristine royalty and it was one none of them would forget for decades to come. In their memory, however, it tended to paint a ruefully claimed fear of Phobos. A fear that none openly spoke about but shown true in the eyes of most sensible stags and hinds. Phobos never gave them reason to put words to those fears, nor would he. However if there was one thing his idiot of a father had ever managed to teach him it was that fear was a wonderful ally, a horrible enemy, and a respected friend.

    Phobos spent the entire day scoping the Glenwood, trading a few items for information or for trinkets for the object of his inquiring. Receiving thrice what he paid for and leaving with a sense of euphoria from the high he felt from the fear radiating from those he spoke with. He walked back to his Lord's glade laden with gifts and knowledge that would surely please all parties involved. Personally Phobos felt as near to the term 'giddy' as he had ever come in his life. Oh how he loved being a butler. As a Lord he couldn't quite do this sort of 'involvement' with the commoners so readily. This though? This was great! The largest perk of it all? No one dared question why he was snooping for information, if it was obvious at all since most of it simply sounded like inquiring.

    Princess Helena, daughter of Lord Annar and Princess Angelique. Promised to Lord Griffith but the Lord died in the Fall of the Great Oak before the wedding could take place. Married to an older Lord Cassius, no fawn produced and three years later he died in his sleep. Described as a good princess, overly emotional, but apart from her widowed status she was a fairly good princess. No history of being rebellious, involved directly in heavy scandal, or other discrediting values.

    Her family, though, was interesting. Lord Annar had sworn his fealty to his nephew, Lord Ciardair, in the Tournament of Kings. However since Rafe won the tournament and was crowned, the family had done well to adjust accordingly and keep their heads low. Rafe had been relatively kind, however, and the daughters of Annar - four princesses and a lady, were all treated in favor of laying no grievances between the families. The eldest two, Helena and Adalyn, were treated and assigned to dark lords of proper standing and were again when they were both widowed the first time. Princess Lucille, the middle daughter of the princesses, was betrothed to Lord Barnaby who was a neutral party. Princess Selene had been betrothed to Lord Adrian who was again a neutral party. Princess Selene, however, was later widowed with the murder of Adrian and was reassigned to the pale Lord Virgil.

    Not even the vines Phobos listened to could distinguish why Selene was put with a pale-face for her second betrothal when her elder sisters were given grace with theirs. Phobos presumed there was a political reason behind it- likely Rafe trying to garner fealty from Virgil who had stayed neutral during the tournament. Lady Ainnir, the only note-worthy non-princess daughter out of Lord Annar, had even been taken in by the High Standing Lord Clyde and then was won by the Crown Prince, Riddick, when Lord Clyde ultimately passed to the Sky Kingdom. All the daughters had been treated fairly, the only son wasn't noteworthy just yet. He had just turned three.

    Rafe had been relatively forgiving and kind to those who had stood by fealty with Lord Ciardair. The only major scandal that had occurred within the family was the Trial of Lord Rhydderch which resulted in the exile of the once proud Lord. Phobos wasn't quite sure where anyone stood on that matter since unless one outright disowned him, no one spoke very openly on the subject at all and quite frankly seemed to pretend it hadn't happened. Phobos did make note, however, of the rumor that Rhydderch had mentioned making Glenmore pay. That might not truly effect his lord in the future since Princess Helena was his niece and Rhydderch was likely to go after the crown relatives instead of a meager princess niece of his.

    But it was still a possible concern so thus Phobos would be passing the information on. Phobos took a heavy sigh as he stepped back into the glade of Lord Pietro, adjusting to late afternoon sun and noting with pleasure he still had time to do his evening chores without having to make great haste. Phobos took a moment to himself to recalculate his to-do list and nodded a smidge to every thing he checked off.

    He'd gotten his lord's betrothed two gifts- four beautiful blooming roses carved into a rare stone to be set around in various places through the gardens of the Glades as the princess might please them to be set. A trope to her clearly favored flower for she wore roses every day without fail and a gift in secondary for Phobos would also be asking his lord if he could quarter off a small section of the gardens, perhaps the size of a small or medium bushel, to which Phobos would attend for her demand so that she may look upon whatever flower she chose. Two gifts in one.

    The second gift was a decent sized assortment of different colored beads since it was also noteworthy that the princess adored wearing beads. The beads would have otherwise been a mundane gift, but what made them special was their design. A fire-mage renegade from Silverthorne had collaborated with an earth-mage from Glenmore to make these precious beads which had tiny crude burnt designs carved into them. It was an intricate job and definitely worth the price. Something so intricate and fashion-ready would definitely appease the princess if the rumors were anything to go by.

    The next on his list was obtaining the rumors, gossip, and more about the Princess and her family. As soon as his lord could spare the time of day to listen to all that Phobos had dug up, that would be checked off entirely and not partially as it currently was.

    Next was speaking with Lord Annar to inform him that Lord Pietro wished to speak immediately. That would be checked off in the morrow for now it was too late and priority had set that Phobos wanted his lord walking into the conversation knowing relatively how to play the lord into whatever it was he wanted. Knowing everything there was to know about the Lord would benefit that.

    Lastly was a list entirely of itself- redecorating the glade for parties to celebrate Pietro's betrothal. That would be a headache and likely result in Phobos losing his ability to speak for how consistently he would have to shout at the servants in the glades to ensure it was all exactly as it was to be. The glades had to be perfect otherwise his Lord's standing would go down and there would be hell to pay for all of them. Phobos nodded to himself, assured that they would get it done. His eyes spotted his lord's hide and pride filled him, leaving him in a wave of greening grass which conveniently checked off one of his afternoon chores.

    With a composed gate but a gleam in his eye that was almost predatory in nature with how victorious it was, he approached his lord with a smirk on his face and a purring voice. "My Lord, do you have a moment to spare? There is much I need to inform you of."

Inquiring for Gifts
Featuring Phobos
Mentioning Lord Pietro & Princess Helena directly, Vague mentions include King RafeCrown Prince RiddickLord AnnarLord CiardairLord AdrianLord BarnabyLord Virgil, Lord Clyde [NPC] , Lord Griffith [NPC], Lord Cassius [NPC], Princess Angelique [NPC], Princess SelenePrincess AdalynPrincess LucilleLady AinnirExiled Lord Rhydderch
Spring, 765 of the New Age
Glenwood, Glenmore

~Tagging for mentions~

Pietro (c) Dyrin 
Helena, Griffith, Cassius (c) Wistfully-Dreaming 
Rafe(c) ForrestFawns 
Riddick, Lucille (c) templarknight94 
Annar, Ciardair (c) ScunnyElse
Barnaby (c) HaniHunni 
Virgil (c) DatNachtmaehre 
Adrian (c) halloweendonkey 
Ainnir, Rhydderch, Clyde (c) BrokenFawnHill 
Selene (c) HayleyWolf 
Princess Angeliquie (c) ???
Whoops by Grilygril787
Jarce and Soares get into their first fight and it's over arguably the most pathetic reason in the Isles. Also if Jarce was a girl and Soares was a PC- this would 100% be a breeding proof. 100%. I'm not even going to hide that. Also if it was in the autumn. But it's not. So nothing actually happened despite the hinting. Nothing but cuddles. :| (Blank Stare)

Featuring Jarcelot and Lord Soares [NPC]
Summer, Year 765 of the New Age
The Glenwood, Glenmore
Word Count: 1,276
+1 herbalism ~ Art
+2 herbalism ~ lit
Jarcelot had been out searching for herbs for his lord. It wasn't an unusual errand to run- more a task for an apprentice but Jarcelot wasn't going to complain. He was learning herbs more and more every time his lord sent him out for something. Jarcelot was actually pretty proud of himself- he'd gotten the herb and he'd found it on his own the first time around instead of having to go multiple times to the herbalists nearby to ensure that he had the right plant. It was a grass-like plant, which made it hard, but the texture and the smell were distint. It was rough but sticky on the tongue, sour to the taste, and grew shorter than grass would and only in the shadier parts of trees. Typically it was mistooken among the glades and their upkeepers as a weed but though visually unappealing it was exceptionally well off for stopping the bloodflow of minor cuts and if combined with tree sap acted as a good adhesive for keeping pastes and leaves to healing wounds. It was a fairly useful plant and Jarcelot was fairly sure it was one of the many used upon him in his youth. 

However nothing ever goes perfectly right in the life of Jarcelot. It hadn't since he was born, it wouldn't years from now when he was old and gray. While plucking the grass, he'd gotten some dirt in his eye. It was a simple thing- usually water washed it out thus he had easily made his way to the nearest stream. However the pain had lingered and had left his eye burning for a little while after so Jarcelot had stopped in to a healer and gotten it checked out. He simply wanted to ensure if he was hurt that it wasn't serious- the usual. The healer had only stated that the dirt had irritated his eye, given him an eyepatch, and told him to come back in a few days so they could take the eyepatch off. Jarcelot had nodded dutifully, having long since been ingrained with the know-how of appeasing irate-healers, and had taken his precious cargo on back to his lord.

His grievences weren't done, however, as earlier that day he had bumped into Soares on his way to run the errand. The golden stag had said to take care and be careful, the usual Jarcelot would expect towards adventuring anywhere without him. Nothing large and their ways had parted quickly. However their paths had crossed yet again, nearly the same spot, and they had noticed one another from a distance. Walking towards Soares, Jarcelot had noted that the stag looked to be growing more and more irate the closer Jarecelot got. Jarcelot flicked an ear back and kept the other one forward with curiousity, lessening his posture in wonder of what he'd done wrong to evoke the ire of Soares which was hard to come by as it was.

Soares took a deep breath as at last Jarcelot stood before him, "You're hurt." Soares breathed. Jarcelot blinked a few times as his confusion only mounted. He tilted his head to the side, giving Soares a bemused expression. Jarcelot put his token down in a pile at his hooves as he addressed Soares' response.

"Yes- I got some dirt in my eye-" Jarcelot attempted to explain, wondering if perhaps that might remedy the problem. It only seemed to make it worse as Soares let out a stressed noise which cut Jarcelot off, taking to pacing back and forth like a fretting parent. Jarcelot suddenly felt like he was a colt who'd done wrong and Req was getting after him again. A bit of his own ire sparked in his heart- he wasn't a colt for Oganach's sake. He let his posture rise a little bit as he quirked a sassy eyebrow at Soares. "And why exactly is this such a large deal?"

"I told you not to get hurt!" Soares snapped, "You promised me you would be careful! If you're going to be getting hurt on these mindlessly useless errands I do not want you upon them! I cannot have you prancing about getting into things you are clearly too inexperienced to handle without getting hurt."

Jarcelot had been at a lack of words since Soares had snapped. While admittedly it was initially the mild-tempered Soares snapping at all, the more Soares ranted on about Jarcelot getting hurt, the more ire grew in Jarcelot's heart. Jarcelot's posture shifted completely when Soares made the crack at Jarcelot's ability to fetch grass. Jarcelot fixed his posture back to what it ought to have been for a stag and he let himself cock a hip, off-balancing himself but visibly getting across the sheer amount of sass radiating in Jarcelot's body. While a destinctly doe-ish posture, Jarcelot had adapted it on his own as simply there were times words could not express his need to be sassy.

Jarcelot let out a snort of disbelief, "You've gotten your tail in a twist about absolutely nothing- it's dirt Soares! I haven't gone and gotten myself poisoned or fallen off a rock-cliff!" Jarcelot snarked, "You'll also be rethinking whether learning herbalism is mindlessly useless when you're off bleeding after getting beaten in Rut. Also what exactly do you think you can do about my going off and participating in herbalism? You are not related to me, you are not my Lord, and I am not your hind like you seem to think I am."

Soares flicked his tail about in a mirror of Soares' sassiness, "Dirt can blind." Soares bickered, "Herbalism can be taught without having to send you off on mindless errands which you get hurt on. Also I have more influence than you think. As for the hind part- you certainly act like one sometimes so you could hardly blame me for treating you as such."

Jarcelot's eyes narrowed and he sat there sputtering for a moment. How dare Soares call him a doe! He might have had a taste for stags but he was very much a stag thank you very much! He gave a frustrated half-strangled yell and picked his herbs up in a fury, forcefully pushing past Soares. Before he was completely past him, however, he proved himself a stag as he paused to give a hard kick to Soares' rump. Soares yelped more at the shock than pain since he was a walkign wall of muscle, but the point had been gotten as he seemed to calm down. Jarcelot kept walking though, a brooding tiny storm-cloud near visibile over his head with how angry he was. He strode on, keeping his posture as stagly as he'd ever managed in his life. He kept his head high, his ears pinned, and his tail firmly in the right spot.

It would be a week before Soares managed to corner Jarcelot and apologize as the younger and darker stag had managed to find a way to blatantly avoid Soares the entire time. They escaped off for a night alone together, to rekindle their relationship after the fight though mostly for Soares to shower Jarcelot with apologetic flowers, poetry, and other things in an attempt to make up for his bull-headedness. By the end of the night Jarcelot had forgiven Soares though if Jarcelot was being honest he had forgiven Soares when he'd first saw him earlier that week. However Soares had made a rather large point on the whole 'hind' aspect to which Jarcelot had caved and agreed with.

Jarcelot was a completely part of Soares' harem, however unofficially it is, and he was perfectly alright with it.
Why do we love the ones who hurt us most? Why is it this human thing to be so loyal to the ones who burn us the worst?? I don't get this phenomenon of the human race to love the ones who leave bruises on our skins, who scream at our faces the words we wouldn't take from anyone else, who are like poison to our systems. I don't get it- it's like a horrible circle that thousands of humans walk. Again and again. Always choosing the worst humans to love, to be loyal to, to die for. I don't get any of it. I truly don't.
It Ain't Easy by Grilygril787
It Ain't Easy
I was playing around with shading and produced feels. Send help. I can't.

Featuring Jarcelot
Mentioning O Death Characters; Lord Soares [NPC]
Early Autumn, Year 765 NA
Outskirts of Glenwood, Glenmore
+3 Magic - Accopanying Lit Piece
+1 Magic- Art

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fish-in-fridge Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much for the faves💐
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Oh not a problem dear! You deserve a million delightful things more than simply a handful of favorites for how wonderful your artwork is. Hug 
May your muse never run dry. :D (Big Grin) 
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thanks so much for the watch <33
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Thank you so much for the watch! <3
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:D <3 No problem! You're quite worth the watch and deserve several thousand watches that give away money like it's a free sample of their new product. 
EquineLineArts Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2015
Creepin on yo page :stare:
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
EquineLineArts Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2015
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
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