76th ♫ | give me a taste of blood and i'll want you some more

[ensiforme]

CMO/OC VOICETEST FOR EGLANTINE ROSEMOND

A voicetesty CMO for Eglantine Rosemond! plurk dot com i am so sleepy today ouy all saw my initial duo of plurks you know what its deal is. i will expand this eventually when i am no longer under curse of didnt sleep properly on a work night

This is a gen CMO but as usual, I'm happy to roll with assumed CR, AUs, setting transplants or w/e. Cliffnotes for those purposes are below!

EGLANTINE IS...

• An AFAB, female-presenting human in her early/mid 20s. Genderless, uses she/it pronouns. It purposely cultivates an attractive, highly ornate and harmless appearance; layers of frills, soft pinks, gold ornamentation, etc. Its eyes are pink as is its long, wavy hair. For additional visuals, these two images provide a good idea of what she is wearing at any given time and Eglantine's PB is Minami Kotobuki from Oshi no Ko.
  
• On All Levels Except Physical, It Is A Sword. Eglantine was raised to be the personal weapon/assassin of a powerful person in the Chantphare Empire. Eglantine does not conceptualize of herself as a human, but a living sword; a weapon to be wielded by an owner to kill enemies.
  
• Brusque without being unfriendly; generally, she comes across as reasonably friendly and unassuming, if a little blunt and overly direct.
  
• Confident and collected to the point of being overly prideful
  
• Immediately and murderously devoted to her owner but just as quick to switch allegiances if her ownership changes hands
  
• Solely truly loyal & devoted to her 'creator', the person who 'forged' it.
  
• Exceptionally skilled in swordplay, as you might expect. It fights to kill. It carries an ornate sword by the same name as Eglantine that she refers to in the first person ("I, my, me") when discussing and generally treats as an extension of herself.
  
• A magic user. Its magic is extremely powerful but has limited utility; Eglantine can heal most any injury to its body up to and including dismemberment. The more critical the injury, the longer it's out of commission after healing.
  
• A BIG fan of killing and violence <3
  
• most horrifying of all: (fantasy) french


EGLANTINE IS NOT...

• A senseless berserker, violent on a hair trigger, etc — it genuinely enjoys fighting and killing but she's also not interested in senselessly killing for killing's sake unless the benefits outweigh the potential consequences
  
• Afraid of pain or death in any meaningful way
  
• Unintelligent, book dumb, etc — it was specifically forged to be disarming and unassuming and most people will generally be able to hold a pleasant conversation with it

POTENTIALLY HANDY PROMPTS:

RP Scenario Generator #1 | RP Scenario Generator #2 | Random Scenario Meme | Jamjar CR Meme | Murdergame Meme | you all saw the arranged marriage as sword inheritance au pitch in my plurk so

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profile for murdergame meme purposes

[ensiforme]

Name: Eglantine Rosemond | Champion Imperial Blade
Age: 23 | Species: Human-passing | Occupation: Sword of the Empire of Chantphare
Likes: Red meat, classical music, her creator
Dislikes: Rain, hard bread, iron oxide
Traits: Refined, elegant, sharp
Trivia: Its hobbies include flower pressing, collecting wax seals and hunting.

this is so stupid but. murdergame meeting

[daughterofthemark]

[It's been easy, perhaps surprisingly so, for Arianna to accept Eglantine as a "sword," even if she doesn't really understand it and probably never will unless Eglantine suddenly decides to infodump on her (she doesn't have a big info post to read and she doesn't want to ask rude and likely offensive questions). As it turns out, though, this mental association isn't quite symmetric, and occasionally she trips over her words when she realizes in mid-sentence that her phrasing is about to accidentally include or exclude Eglantine inappropriately.]

...so I believe it would be best to take all the weapons to one of the locker rooms and secure them.

[This is the first time in weeks that she's been too late to stop herself from saying the thing, instead realizing what she's just implied immediately after implying it.]

Or rather--I--

[ensiforme]

[ Arianna has been one of the most agreeable people here — not quite fit to be a wielder and Eglantine suspects she would balk at the idea even if offered. Still, she's the closest thing to a noble this place has and failing any other qualifying factors in the others, it's gravitated towards taking... not orders but suggestions from Arianna over anyone else as to how it should be behaving.

Which is a very long winded leadup to the fact that the second Arianna says that, Eglantine begins casually rising out of her seat with no apparent ruffles as to this arrangement. ]

It would be wise, after Miss Ayaka reached her breaking point last week.

[ Ayaka Kamimochi killed. so many people. ]

Am I to be provided food during my confinement?

[daughterofthemark]

[Akaya, the Butcher of the PSLs and Meme Threads...

Aaaaand now here they are and she has to deal with what she said.]

Ah! My apologies, Ser Eglantine, but I misspoke. I meant--[what was the word she came up with last time]--the inanimate weapons. While you are certainly no less dangerous, I don't believe we could secure you in the locker room in any meaningful way,

[There. That clarifies her intent, explains why Eglantine is excluded without being disrespectful, and doesn't include any unnecessary comments that would lead to four weeks of jokes at Arianna's expense.

Wait. That's not a period, it's a comma. Oh no.]

short of tying you up or similar.

[ensiforme]

[ A thoughtful hum, as Eglatine mulls the idea over in the absolute dead silence that follows Arianna's words. ]

If you think it necessary, I wouldn't be opposed.

[ Erina Estival, Champion Sword Stan opens her mouth. Yuuri Wakasa, Champion Catherder, wisely covers it before she can speak. ]

I would need to be restrained quite thoroughly for it to be much use. Is there a way to prevent me from using my hands during my confinement?

[ Erina appears to be turning purple. ]

stab him fifty times

[verman]

[It wasn't unusual for Connor to encounter situations like this; through no fault of his own he was saddled with the filth a group of crazy noblemen managed to siphon off the corpse of a rotting god which had lead him to a rather...........

difficult existence, now.

So it makes sense people would want him eradicated. He gets it! He stopped being a human to everyone the moment he became a little difficult for everyone to accommodate (read: bouts of insane hunger) and instead is now a monster that needs eradicating. He used to always see marks like this in the odd tavern or hunter's guild...not that he'd know much about it, given he'd been a humble fisherman. But either way, he isn't surprised when people come rocking looking to off him.

What does surprise him is...]

Uh, little miss? [He's scratching his cheek sheepishly, in the way an older guy might do when a much-too-young person says they want to marry them when they grow up.] Wanna run that by me again?

[He was a normal ass guy, you can't expect him to understand someone so cute could actually be very dangerous.]

[ensiforme]

[ When the Empire has need to cut something down, it only follows suit that their finest sword would do it. She has no idea who he is, what he's done or why he has to be put down but of course she doesn't - a sword doesn't need to know why it's cutting any of the things it's put to.

So it won't ask questions. It will focus on cutting. ]

I've been sent to claim your head. Or whatever part of you remains once you die. [ Then with a quick smile, in the manner of a child remembering to say 'please': ] Sir.

[ Layered in frills and fine fabrics as she is, there's no way for him to see what she really is, so it seems prudent to warn him before she goes on the attack. A one sided fight is no good at all. ]

[verman]

[Huh, yeah. That is what it said.

Well, consider Connor stumped. He's had plenty of big burly dudes show up to demand his head, but this is completely different. He doesn't really want to offend here but he can't say he's threatened...and this has nothing to do with whatever supernatural abilities he himself possesses, even if he were a normal ass guy he'd feel the same. Connor's an NPC.]

I see. Uh, well...

[He gives a relaxed shrug.]

I surrender...?

[His tone rises at the end in a questioning way. Even he's not sure if that'll work.]

[ensiforme]

You... surrender? Just like that?

[ It blinks at him a few times. Glances from side to side, as if she's trying to see if this is a prank and someone's laying in wait. Its polite smile creases a little as her brow furrows and her smile takes on a look of confusion and disappointment both at once. ]

Without even putting up a fight?

[ It would certainly resolve things that bit quicker but it can't say it's not disappointed. ]

[verman]

Uh, well, y'know...I was kind of hoping we could do the whole "coming without a fight" thing...

[Frankly, if it were capable of killing his ass that'd probably be for the best, but he seriously doubts it. His hands are shoved into the pockets of trousers that look so dishevelled "well worn" would be beyond a joke to describe them.]

I mean, are you super married to the idea of killing me? You can just cut off my finger or something and say you did.

[ensiforme]

[ Spoken so fast that she cuts off the end of his sentence: ] Yes. Those are my orders.

[ Not that she looks particularly torn up about it... if anything, her smile and the look in her eyes is the sort of a person anticipating a particularly enjoyable task. Definitely not the grim determination of someone sent to collect a bounty. ]

I will kill you regardless of if you resist, of course. But it would be more enjoyable if you were inclined to fight back.

Vague jamjar setting

[1stepatatime]

[Noah and Eglantine have no profound or dramatic bond. Mostly, Noah just finds her really interesting! So, he sometimes swings by to chat about philosophy, or try and fail to learn how to swordfight (he has never come close to beating her, even once).

The place: An out of the way plaza that Eglantine has been using to relax (if swords need that). Here Noah comes again, bringing his training sword with him just in case she gets bored.]

Eglantine Rosemond! How's my favorite sword doing?

[ensiforme]

[ Being dropped into this place and left utterly directionless as to what orders to pursue has been... an interesting experience for Eglantine. On the one hand, it's provided a good lesson in adaptability and reinforcing lessons in going with the flow, allowing itself to be passive and agreeable until it learns how this place works. It's remained sheathed for the time being but Eglantine certainly isn't stupid enough to imagine that might last forever.

This place has been tolerable, though. And there's been all manner of interesting flowers to catalogue, if nothing else. She's making a few notes in the little journal she's been pressing her flowers into when Noah approaches and she regards him with a bemused smile. ]

The same as I am at any other time. Has something come up?

[ which is eglantine's way of saying 'fine, and you?' for everyone playing along at home. ]

[1stepatatime]

Something has!

[ Noah swoons dramatically, pirouetting in place before leaning against the side of a gazebo as if fighting to stay conscious. ]

I've been afflicted by a terrible disease! Its name... is boredom. The truth is, I'm actually a mysterious organism that dies if it doesn't get enough mental enrichment, so I could perish at any moment.

[ensiforme]

That sounds inconvenient. Would you die in your sleep if your dreams weren't entertaining enough?

[ She adds a few more lines to her notes. Annoyingly, she has very good handwriting even when she's not even looking at what she's doing. ]

Or it is like food? You can stockpile enough that it keeps you going even without actively taking in new stimuli.

[ It could also, of course, argue that this is not to be taken seriously but Eglantine has seen Noah eat sawdust so the inner machinations of his anatomy are a mystery to her. ]

[1stepatatime]

[ Eating sawdust is normal for seekers!! Okay it's not that normal. It's very low energy efficiency, and doesn't taste very good. That was a learning experience. ]

Yes, that's exactly it! Every fall, I have to go on a series of wild adventures so that I can hibernate through the winter. Why do you think I'm learning how to swordfight? [ "Learning how to swordfight" is a very generous description of what he's been doing. ]

[ensiforme]

[ With a pleasant and sympathetic smile: ]

Because you're not very good at it, was my assumption.

[ DID SHE REALLY HAVE TO KILL HIM LIKE THAT??? ]

[mortidineux]

[ soon, Eglantine – the sword that he has never once thought of by that name – will no longer be a fixture of his tower. it's something he's caught himself thinking about often in the past few weeks, as time ticks down towards its departure. he isn't bothered because of any emotional attachment, of course, but—it's annoying. a blade he has spent more than a decade forging with the utmost care, honed its sharp edges, decorated its hilt with a delicate and artistic guard... all that time and effort, and she's simply to be handed off to some war hero or noble supporter of the Emperor. (he didn't care to listen when he was first told who his masterpiece would be given to; he hasn't bothered to ask since then.)

perhaps he should think of it as being for the better. the longer he spends with it, the more he risks growing attached, regardless of how much he might try to avoid it. already the tower will be different in her absence: it will descend into stillness and silence once more, a coffin that houses a living body.

there really isn't much time remaining, now. today was the sword's first inspection, a meeting to demonstrate its worth and skill to the Emperor before it can be handed off to its new owner. the mage had declined to attend, but he's here now to meet Eglantine outside of the city walls and bring it back to—he could hardly call it home. the forge? his workshop? either way, there's no way up to the floating tower without his magic, which means he has to collect her himself. ]

Was the Emperor pleased?

[ he doesn't seem to particularly care about the answer; he sounds exasperated, if anything. it's never been a secret from Eglantine that his relationship with the Imperial Family is not one of choice, nor does he have any respect for them. ]

[ensiforme]

[ Eglantine has known since she was little more than raw materials what she was meant for. Every year under the forge's hammer, beating the metal into shape and scraping it to precision has been little more than preparation for its actual duty — or rather, in preparation for this single day. More than a decade of work for the sake of a single day and the chance to prove herself to the man who had commissioned her creation to begin with. If she failed to live up to his expectations then what? Her component parts are beyond recovery now. There would be no way to start over. Would she have been left in the tower to gather dust, unable to see to her duties? That might not be so bad, it it came about.

But it's with a smile that Eglantine meets him — and blood all over her hands, all up and down the elegant dress she'd been decorated in before being sent out to introduce herself to the Emperor. And by way of explanation, all she says is: ] He was pleased.

[ That isn't quite right. Afraid is more like it — it'd seen his expression when he'd called it off from the so-called spar and it'd looked up from the limp and unresponsive captain of the guard, fingers fisted in his hair to expose his throat and seen some uncertainty there, too. As to whether it was obedient and controlled enough to obey an order not to kill.

With some disappointment, it had. ]

You should praise me for my hard-won victory.

[mortidineux]

[ was he pleased? the mage has forged a fearsome weapon, one that surpassed even his own expectations. no one so protective of their authority as the Emperor could be happy to see such a thing in another's hands. perhaps he'll feel more secure once Eglantine is passed to its owner, where he can be assured that it is under control; seeing it today, rather than simply hearing about the success of its missions, the Emperor must have been nervous.

ah, well. it's good for young ones to fear for their lives a little. so long as none of them are fool enough to destroy the mage's work, he'll leave them be. ]

Yes, yes. [ the mage gives an easy smile, and he pets the top of Eglantine's head, careful not to muss her hair. ] You did very well, mon petit sabre.

[ without a doubt, the smile he shows her is only superficial, no warmth to be found in his eyes – and yet, even this is an expression that is only ever given to Eglantine. as though he had crafted it himself just for her, the same way he would conjure her food, weave her clothes with magic, fetch whatever she desired. another spell etched into his tomes to be pulled out as needed, not for any particularly grand reason. ]

Should I reward you, as well?

[ rather than playful teasing, he poses it as a genuine question, awaiting her denial or demands. since it was a child, he has raised and educated Eglantine in everything. but in moments like this, it seems to be as much a teacher as it does a student. ]

[ensiforme]

I certainly did. It was my first time permanently disabling an opponent without killing them, but I did so quite gracefully.

[ Eglantine never goes soft, but something about it does brighten in moments like this, sunlight catching on polished steel. The emperor's approval had been a secondary concern, much lower on its ranking of priorities than pleasing the mage — as it always had been. It may have been at the emperor's demand that she had been forged but it certainly wasn't by his hand. His thoughts as to the end result are ultimately trivial.

But the mage is smiling. Their hand in her hair is gentle and a world away from the rough, grabbing hand of the knight whose wrist she had shattered. Eglantine smiles as well. ]

As such, you should reward me. On a day like this, a celebratory meal is called for.

[ Of course, in Eglantine's book, most things call for a fancy meal. It's a consistent and easy to please little creature, if nothing else. ]

[mortidineux]

Ah, another dinner party?

[ dinner party, as though there were guests for the two of them to entertain. it was a term he began using for the sake of Eglantine's etiquette lessons when it was young, deciding that the best way to make certain impressions on the base material would be to immerse it fully in the desired shape: they had banquets, grand balls, and hunting tournaments, all with an audience of zero. like a pair of children playing house.

but the outcome was perfect, so it doesn't even cross the mage's mind to be embarrassed by their methods. these days, the vocabulary is simply habit. ]

We'll need to go hunting, then. [ he doesn't ask whether Eglantine is up for it, whether she is tired after the day's events. of course she can do this much; he made her himself. ] Let's fetch a deer. If you aren't in the mood for tracking, I'm sure I can find us one.

[ a large tome appears in their hand with a flash of light, the particles dispersing like snow. they're already flicking through the pages in search of a particular spell, though they do know it's entirely possible Eglantine will take the initiative. if the Emperor got its blood rising and failed to satisfy it with blood in kind... ]

[ensiforme]

[ Like a dog hearing the first shrill horns of a hunt, Eglantine at once perks up. ]

I can track one easily.

[ It speaks with the kind of haste that betrays eagerness, despite its efforts to keep its expression level.

A hunt would be just the thing. She'd gone to the Emperor's meeting with the understanding that she would be proving herself as a weapon and with that in mind, she had gone with the anticipation of a fight, a hunt. What she had gotten was little more than a tussle, the playfighting of children who were entertaining themselves by acting out the roles played by adults. Even before its magic had seared through its veins, it hadn't gotten any worse than a bruise and even most of that had been on the fist she'd struck the captain with over and over.

Not enough blood. Not enough of a challenge. And nowhere near enough satisfaction. ]

But if we're to have a feast, will just one do?

some extremely vague murdergame setting

[kire]

[ "i'm not starting new threads with claire until i do all my tags" i said, lying

towards the middle of the week, they are given a gift. A reward for your efforts, their captor says, and offers them the choice to regain something significant they've lost. for some of their fellow participants, it's an ability that was somehow stolen from them, the thing that makes them more than human. a few make more sentimental decisions, and others request utility rather than power. Miyamoto Iori doesn't need to spend any time thinking over his answer. what else is there? his capacity for magecraft? even if he wanted that, it would be of little use, especially without the gems for katon. a trinket from Kaya? as much as he misses her, the best thing he can do for her sake is return home.

no. whether or not it has a use, there should be a blade at his side. the weight of two katana (Gee, Iori, how come you get two? someone had joked, and he had laughed along with the others) on his hip is familiar, not comforting so much as it is necessary. he feels more himself now than he has since he first woke in this strange place.

some of the others are likely unsettled by his choice, he knows. calm, gentle Iori with a blade in his hand, in the midst of a situation where they are pushed harder every day to see each other dead. no matter how much he spoke of being a ronin before now, these people are from another time, and it's different for them to see him so confidently wield a weapon that they can only see as dangerous intent. he tells them, plainly, that he means no threat to them; this is a choice made for self-defence, and for protecting others. it isn't a lie. it's not a lie, but—

dawn the next day finds him in their enclosed courtyard, going through the motions of kata like steps in a choreographed dance, a blade in each hand. at first, his movements are fluid as water, one sword following the other as it slices through the air – and then he flips the katana in his left hand, blade pointing back, catches it and slides it into its sheath. it happens so quickly that there's hardly a scraping sound, just the click! like punctuation. the remaining katana he takes in both hands now, his next strike more brutal as he brings it down and his breath leaves him in a shout.

he stops. turns to regard his audience. ]

...?

[ Iori straightens, and the other blade is sheathed. as he said: he doesn't mean to be viewed as a danger to anyone. he won't keep his sword drawn in front of others unless he has a reason to do so. though, this is one person he probably doesn't need to worry about that with. ]

Eglantine. [ as always, Iori's gaze is clear and collected. despite his stoic expression, his stare never feels heavy. ] Did you need anything from me?

[ it is not a guarded question, neither suspicious of her motives nor bristling with hostility. he asks with pliant sincerity, offering himself the way one would any other tool.

out of everyone here, Miyamoto Iori was perhaps the quickest to accept Eglantine at its word when it identified itself as a sword. no, more than that – Iori is perhaps the only one who understood, in a way others could not. while she may not be something familiar to him, far from the path of the warriors he has always followed, he knows what it means to be a blade. everything she says makes perfect sense to him.

on that matter, at least. she is strange in plenty of other ways that surprise him. ]

[ensiforme]

[ Eglantine knows what it will ask for before their captor has even finished speaking. In an ideal world, of course, it would demand the oppportunity to earn its return to its rightful place but in an ideal world, Eglantine would not be here to make demands to begin with. So instead, it requests the return of its other half and seems no more grateful or surprised upon their reunion than she is when she takes in a breath and draws air to her lungs.

It is also entirely unsurprised when Iori asks for the same boon. The two of them are from entirely different worlds and yet Eglantine sees something of someone forged in him, a gleam that can only come from light striking on honed metal. The others might quail at the sight of gentle, composed Iori with those blades but Eglantine thinks that he looks perfectly complete for the first time since they'd all woken up here and wonders if he, too, feels as though he's been reunited with some vital extension of his flesh and bone.

It sleeps that night shamelessly curled around the sheathed blade, like a child reunited with a beloved toy. It wakes early with the vague surprise that the blade is still in its arms, still tangible and sharp and bright and it thinks for the first time about killing someone here like this. It would be unsatisfying - quick and one sided, the consequences hardly worth the dregs of satisfaction she would draw from it. And once again, for the first time, she wonders if Iori perhaps feels the same way.

It doesn't go to the courtyard with the intent of seeking him out but finds itself unsurprised to see him there anyway. This is precisely what she came here to do herself, after all. The techniques are foreign to her eyes but Eglantine more than anyone knows a master when she sees one - violence doesn't so much as strike out from him as it does flow, as naturally as a river gives itself to the ocean. Watching Iori with those blades, she feels more certain than ever that he, too, is a thing forged. ]

It is not so much a need. Call it idle curiosity.

[ Not that there's anything idle about her gaze. It would be easy to mistake her expression for something blandly pleasant if not for the gleam in those eyes. ]

I wanted to see your swordsmanship for myself.