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

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

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

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[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

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. ]

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... ]

[ 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?

[ there's a thought that the mage has had before: perhaps the reason why Eglantine accepted its transformation so readily is because of the voracious appetite that has always seemed inherent to her. they learnt early on that anything they could feed into the forge would be readily consumed. it isn't a flaw that weakens her, no starving need to fill some pit inside itself. it is simply the desire for more. in this way, he thinks, Eglantine is—very much alive, more so than most other living creatures. vivacious, hungry, unafraid.

the mage has lived as a ghost for so long that they can't recall the sensation of hunger at all. ]

Well, if we're to have a feast, we'll have to get some variety. [ it's an easy routine to fall into, the words of a familiar script. to anyone else, that might seem like a negative. but in the mage's long, bleak life, devoid of even the daily habits of self-maintenance, this is the only entertainment. ] What do you think, a wild boar? I'll shoot us down some birds – pheasants, or perhaps a swan...

Would you like anything more?

If it's a case of variety, it seems right to round out our dishes with fish. Bourride, perhaps, with bream. So the rest of the meat can be served as is.

[ It isn't a cook any more than any of the other noble ladies of Chantphare would be expected to cook - it can prepare tea, arrange elegant dishes for tea parties and the like but its knowledge of food preparation stops at carving meat into servings. Not that it stops her having a great number of opinions on the topic, of course. ]

You may pick whatever vegetable dishes please you. [ so gracious...... ] So long as there are potatoes. Would it be too heavy to have fresh bread as well, I wonder...

[ Even if it was, she'd eat it all and ask for seconds. On a day like today, when her blood seems to flow that much faster through their veins, it takes a surprising amount of fuel relative to her size to leave her satisfied. ]

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

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