» // AFK Notice
// first of all - happy easter, my lovelies! <3
Second, i just want to say that i’ll be away from home since we’re having a family get-together with the rest of my visiting relatives and i’m not sure whether i’ll have any kind of working wifi in the village. Which means i might not be on skype or lurking on tumblr mobile.
I’ll be back soon, i hope! In the meantime, take care, little bunnies, and hsve fun gathering eggs, knocking eggs, or whatever cultural traditions your nationality/ethnicity employs!
Lots of love <3 from Tyb-mun
summoner-tybresa started following you
* The seneschal placed the flat end of his spear firmly on the ground as he gave a long, polite bow of greeting to the summoner.* Ma’am.
The Steward stopped from her stride, noticing the champion’s show of respect - be it to her status, or who she used to be, the reason was unclear - but nevertheless, she smiled and returned the bow with her own respectful curtsy, as befit such a dignified lady as herself to do, towards someone as esteemed as the Seneschal of Demacia.
"Champion." She greeted him back, her voice bearing a touch of reverence. "It is an honor to be graced with your presence, and more so a blessing for you to acknowledge mine." A smile formed across her lips, silently speaking many things, whatever one would wish and want to hear and listen, yet meaning nothing.
"Is there anything I may aid you with, as the Senior Steward of this respectful institution?"
// Hello everyone, this is a response to this post: http://summoner-tybresa.tumblr.com/post/83114739680
Now to the possible questions:
Yes, Tybresa is basically being uber brutal here, she chops off people’s heads and cuts them in half with lightning bolts, since i SUCK at anatomy i censored the parts with black, sorry :P.
Why did you changed your mind and entered the event?
Because Tybresa is dying in this AU, i don’t plan on leaving her die, i am in no mood to fall in depression like i almost did the last time when a certain magic thing happened months ago.
What is that black and white thing in one of the panels?
Tybresa is basically blind, the shock wave Renzus unleashed injured her and she is possibly bleeding from inside, this costed her all of her senses apart from touch, prior to that she attempted a spell and thanks to that she is able to see through colors but sadly cannot recognize people with them, in this case Rai appears like that in her eyes.
If there are more questions do not hesitate to ask.
*FLAILS AND CRIES AT THE SAME TIME*
This is … this is beautiful.
This needs no further explanation, save for …
'What he said. ^'
Stranded on tablet again
No signs of a Tybby flood anytime soon : /
On an off note
DWAGON BABIES(how do I link on mobile http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=44198 )
"I can’t help but wonder… Sometimes, just sometimes, if the Summoners have some kind of private joke going on when they summon Jericho Swain and myself to the same team. If I am right, and they are getting their laughs at our — yes our — expense, I don’t share in the sentiment.”
The Steward let out an aggravated huff - Maker knows how many times she had to deal with this kind of discussion.
"With all due respect … but get over yourselves. The both of you. You know it just as well that all that matters on the Fields of Justice is tactical expertise and teamwork, not political or personal relationships. While the Master Tactician of Noxus and the Exemplar of Demacia may not … agree, with one another, the majority of the summoners agree that your skills and magic work together in quite the match-turning consequences.”
She then shook her head and glared pointedly at him, brandishing her hand in the air like a scorned schoolmistress. “Now if I hear one more unjust remark from any of you in regards of the Summoners, I will make sure to change your minds by setting you in the Meet-and-Greet weeks - consecutively.”
» OoC: Dear Tumblr RP Community
Topic: Cliques, groups, and social status
With a little request at the end.
// you know you’re doing something right
When the dm of the rp doesn’t want to let go of your dying character
This makes me feel both guilty and yet proud at the same time
Mama, am i a good RPer yet?
// to the anon who wanted to know my tablet’s make and model
Here have a first-hand experience.
On my bed.
(Ahue aside), next to its super annoying touchpad keyboard, it also has a camera for me to use. Shenanigans anyone?
The knocks placed against the steward's door are frantic, albeit weak, though the perpetrator seems to want to make no hesitation about who they are as they draw a small breath in to speak. "Tybresa." Ezreal's voice is loud, though oddly shaky through the oaken frame as he continues knocking, the continuous thuds sounding hollow beneath his fist. "If you don't answer in five seconds, I'm Shifting in, so I hope you do. For your sake."
"Tybresa." the explorer’s voice rang as he slowly ascended the stairs, opting to give yet another warning before he stumbled into her private quarters, honestly preparing to be met with another empty room. While his mind swirled with the ideas of various other places he could look for the woman, he abruptly found himself distracted by the scantily clad backside of the steward herself, and he quickly draped an arm over his eyes, his form freezing as the blood pooled in his cheeks, rendering the pale pigment in his face a bright coral.
"Uh…Tybresa…" Ezreal mumbled, ignoring the pool of saliva that had collected in his mouth as he gulped audibly, forcing the words out. "…I know it’s probably a bad time, but I need to talk to you about the shenanigans that the summoners have been getting into these last few weeks. What’s going on with the Rift magic? It feels like it’s been going haywire. You know exactly what I mean."
There was a sound - a noise, perhaps - that was accompanied with her bare skin prickling at unseen stimuli, which made Tybresa pause from her search for a more comfortable but also adequate garb. She fixedly stared at the door for several moments, her entire form frozen stiff as she waited to see whether the noise would happen again - only to dismiss it with a shrug of her shoulders.
I am simply being paranoid, she thought, absentmindedly running one hand across her bare arm to feel at her skin. And the cold must be having an effect on me. I had better get dressed soon …
And so, she closed the doors of one of the large oaken wardrobes she had in her bedroom with a loud thum, and went on to the chest set at the base of the bed, bending over it as she searched - ….
The knocks on the door echoed hollowly through the office, though there was nobody to hear them then - for the Steward herself was, in fact, upstairs in her bedchambers, having apparently decided to take a quick break from her paperwork to apparently …
Change her garb?
"I should take it easy with the chocolate cupcakes." Tybresa grumbled and muttered as she pulled her Steward robes off her head, leaving her golden hair in disarray and her underwear-clad form visible. "Maker have mercy, I wonder how long will it take to have these refitted?"
Tybresa shook her head to herself and began to fold her robes in a neat square before walking to one of three wardrobes situated in her room, searching for a more comfortable alternative until she had her robes done …
The woman let out a loud gasp of surprise as she heard the voice arrive from behind her, making her startle and hit her head against the chest’s lid. “Yeowch!” She yelped in pain, bringing one hand to hold the area where she had hit herself, then quickly scurry for something more decent - the outer coat of her Steward-summoner robes were airy and honestly, they would do. “Maker have mercy!” She said breathlessly as a carmine blush of embarrassment rose in her cheeks, turning to see Ezreal. “You caught me by surprise!” She added with a touch of disbelief, cursing herself several times over in her thoughts for having so carelessly dismissed the earlier signs of his arrival.
She wrapped the coat tighter and closer to her body, making sure every inch of her were covered, before she turned her attention fully to Ezreal - and noticed the poor state he was in. “Oh, Maker …” She sighed as she took a tentative step towards him. “You do not look good, not one bit.”
With one hand still holding the coat securely wrapped around her, she would place the other on Ezreal’s shoulder comfortingly. “You can look now, I am … decent. You should also take a seat - I have the feeling you might collapse any time now. And, ah - … do not mind the mess, I was in the process of a wardrobe change …”
She paused for a moment, pondering his words, when the lightbulb finally lit up. “Oh - you mean the Ultra Rapid Fire matches? Yes - that was part of my doing, at the behest of the Council. What is it you want to talk about?”
I have to say, you are rather intriguing. But how rude of me-never greeting the lady first, how are you today, Miss?
"Oh, pardon me, I hope that didn’t seem too forward of me to say." A sheepish grin crossed Jarvan’s face. "I find Summoners, as a whole, intriguing. If not magic in itself. I can’t help but appreciate it. You could say it’s an art!"
Tybresa blinked her eyes, a bewildered expression strewn across her features as she found herself staring up at the tall, armor-clad man, seeming terribly shocked to have been approached by the Prince himself.
When he spoke, she blinked her eyes again, her expression now shifting to a blank mask on the outside, remaining utterly still and frozen like a statuette …
… though the sudden turmoil that stirred underneath said mask, was utter chaos as Tybresa suddenly found herself panicking within her mind.
"Ah -…" She stammered out like the intelligent creature she was after several long moments, during which an awkward silence had settled - she flinched alive, her first instinct to raise her hand and hesitantly hold it up, as if trying to fight the urge to cover her face in shame, settling to placing it on her chest instead, feigning theatrical surprise. The woman rapidly blinked her eyes, like she was trying to awaken from whatever dreadful, panic-induced nightmare her mind seemed to have concocted right on that spot at the sight of the golden Exemplar of Demacia.
Her city. Her home.
No longer, she thought sadly to herself, the blanket of melancholy that settled across her thoughts helping her to gather back her composure, and focus on the situation at hand. She shook her head, as if trying to clear her thought, before she flashed a sheepish smile - and with it, a blush appeared on her face, tinting her cheeks in a pleasant, if not childlike, rosy hue.
"My apologies -… champion!" She finally found her voice, as she willed her body to move and curtsy respectfully before Jarvan. "Certainly, my deepest apologies - I have been … lost in thought, and certainly did not expect you to honor me with your esteemed presence. Clearly, I am blessed."
She straightened up and folded her hands before herself, just as her social upbringing beckoned - and for that, she was thankful, for she was unsure how she was supposed to stop her hands from fidgeting out of anxiety.
She cleared her throat as she tried to steady and steel herself inwardly - Steady now. You are the Senior Steward of the Institute - not the General’s daughter. Not … anymore, no. The thought tugged at her heart painfully, the memory of it all now rising and lingering in the back of her mind - but with practiced stoicism, she banished it down.
"I am fine, thank you for asking - that was very thoughtful of you." She spoke out with a practiced voice of cheerfulness and an exercised warm smile spread over her lips, concealing the true turmoil hidden beneath. "I would ask about your own well being as well, though I fear I must ask …"
She swallowed dryly - for once, she actually spoke truth. She did fear asking. “What exactly prompted you to call me ‘intriguing’? For curiosity’s sake, of course.”
With the Prince’s following reactions, Tybresa oddly found herself growing more comfortable - in the sense that, her initial shock and panic gradually diminished, leaving place for her usual confidence to settle back in, finally rebuilding her lost composure and reclaim her lost dignity. She straightened her pose and slightly lifted her chin up, as befit a person of importance like herself - even more so, she was somewhat relieved to find out that the Prince did not make any allusion of knowing her under that identity, or perhaps he was simply pretending - nevertheless, it still came out as a relief, lest the conversation would have turned awkward very soon.
Now, her smiles seemed to form themselves with less restraint and more genuinely so, as she chuckled and nodded her head. “With all due respect, champion, but you would not be too far off with statement - not one bit, at all. Magic, in itself, is just as much art, as it is science and math. Do not let yourself assume that magic simply happens - all things happen for a reason, and with a source, and magic is no exception. It is simply … more spectacular than other things.”
She paused from her speech to clear her throat politely and avert her gaze for a moment, congratulating herself with a heavy dose of sarcasm at the quick recovery she has made - after all, she was no longer a Demacian, not officially. She was the Senior Steward of the Institute of War, and all ties, be them old or new, held no power or sway over her - not even the monarchy. She belonged to the League now, and the Institute was her home. And under the institution’s roof, the Prince was but a champion of many. There was no reason to lose her cool so unceremoniously and so stupidly so. She had been a fool, oh yes - but at least, she managed to quickly redeem the situation to her favor.
As long … as the past remained in the past.
All of these thoughts, in just a single moment - for in the next blink of the eye, Tybresa would raise her gaze to meet Jarvan’s once more, and once more she would smile that polite smile of hers, and continue conversation as was socially acceptable.
"Nevertheless, you would not be the first to show fascination towards magic, and I am sure you are not the last - and certainly, there is no shame in it! But what people need to understand that not everything is possible with magic - it has its boundaries. Albeit far wider than conventional methods, but they are there, nevertheless. I dare say, the Rune Wars has certainly helped us see … I can only hope we will learn, and we will do better in the future, for the future."
"But, ah! I prattle and I preach, and nobody around to tell me how rude I am being!" She interrupted herself with feigned surprise, theatrically placing her hand on her chest. "Surely you have better things to do, than to speak with one such as me - by all means, Champion, is there anything I may do to serve you? Perchance, there was something you needed from me when you first approached me? I would hope you have not forgotten it, in the meantime."
✄ - The woman was panting heavily as she stood over the body, her right hand clenched around a soft ball drenched in blood. Her dress was viciously torn, with bruises showing where the man attempted to pin her in place to have his way with her. Hearing the locked door open behind her, she turned her head, her eyes flaring with magical power, only to fizzle in recognition, terrified blue eyes looking back at him. "I ... He ... he did not listen. I would -not- let him ..." She sneered defensively.
Darius had business with the steward and entered after a knock. He found the door opened and entered, he was expected after all, upon a rather strange sight. Tybresa looked as if she’d just fought for her life. The Hand of Noxus knew this look; he’d seen it in the eyes of many men and women before. She defended her words as he began to approach with a disturbing lack of expression on his face.
“Good.” His statement was blunt and was stated with approval. A stream of smoke rose from the corpse and the fatal wound as the assailant lay face down. He kicked the corpse over to see if he knew the man at all, the odds were no but he had to make sure. He turned to Tybresa and looked over her, her dress was ruined and this delicate woman was injured. Maybe she wasn’t as delicate as he thought?
“I am going to escort you to the infirmary. The corpse can be taken care of later. It’s not going anywhere.” His attitude was all too casual.
“You were simply there in the right place, at the right time - nothing more and nothing less, no? Unless you had a reason to seek me out - in which case, it would make the travel to the Infirmary less wasteful to the both of us.”
“I do not need the Grand General’s permission to wipe my ass, contrary to some beliefs.” His retort was on the sharp edge and he left it at that, not bothering to indulge her of his reasons at this time. He allowed himself to settle down slightly with a pause. His attention was once again diverted to their trip.
“You are correct. I came on personal business. My timing just happened to coincide with the event. If you must know. The information I was seeking is sensitive. We can talk about that later.”
Tybresa simply pursed her lips in displeasure at the crass quip Darius had let out, slightly biting her tongue if only to avoid from unleashing her sharpness once more, and as such pass on and continue the clash unnecessarily so.
However, she found herself narrowing her eyes and looking at him with a touch of doubt in her expression. “Sensitive information? I will help you, as you wish, but I hope you realize that while my duty is to serve the champions, my first and foremost loyalty stands to the League. I will not betray them, and neither will I betray the secrets of the information confined in the Archives, or myself.” There was an apologetic touch in her voice as she said this, but otherwise, she remained quiet …
For they soon reached the Medical Wing and with it, came a pair of the attendees on duty rushing to meet them. “Senior Steward!” Called one of them. “Are you all right, my lady? That bruise looks bad.” Questioned another - and as soon as it seemed like the nurses would begin their incessant fussing, Tybresa silenced them with a raise of her hand, turning to stare at Darius for several long moments, her gaze and expression hardened and unyielding, only to shortly soften in gratitude.
"Thank you - for escorting me." She added, bowing her head in thanks, before she turned her back on him and seemed intent on making her way to the sanctum of the Medical Ward, now ready to leave herself in the care of the attentive nurses, doctors and healers that were more than eager to help.
» Dinner with the Steward (Closed RP with Summoner-Tybresa)
She then shook her head again, her eyes having been pinned to the keyboard set before herself and now, she raised her hands to hover over them in anticipation, only to glance at Suk-Taan with a smile. “Would you care for a short song with me, before the kitchen beckons you once more?”
"Gragas is a special case of champions. He doesn’t seem to get here through wanting of powers, or political advantages, or much like the common goals. He just wants to showcase his brews in… Very destructive ways…" He didn’t even know how that WORKED. It was alcohol, was it perhaps just the shock of the blow that hurt people? Or the shrapnels of wood? He never really quite understood it.
Suk’s eyes widened a little, anxiously looking back to the kitchen doorway, fingers fidgeting a little. “U-Uh, sure.” He said, before getting up his seat to take a single step and then sit on the stool. “What did you have in mind? I-I can follow your lead with ease.”
Tybresa found herself chuckling softly, only to nod her head in wholehearted agreement. “Oh, yes! In quite the varied array of destructive ways! Gragas has been a champion longer than I have been a Steward - a summoner, even, but even so I know the amount of grief he has caused us all throughout the years, and I find myself experiencing it first-hand.” She laughed again and shook her head. “Still, I reckon I have managed to outlive my predecessors and survive with great success.” She smirked as she turned her gaze to the keys, keeping the touch of melancholy from being visibly seen.
"Oh …" She interjected softly as her fingers would begin pressing each key in turn from one side of the piano to the other in a melodic crescendo. "I had nothing of particular in mind, save the thought of composing music for the sake of music." She glanced at Suk-taan briefly with a sheepish smile. "It is one of my guilty pleasures, and one I do not have the chance to indulge myself into. Feel free to call me a sinner, if you so wish." She quipped.
It did not take long for her fingers to seek out choice keys, however, to chain the notes together and with it, form a new melody, one unheard of before by either of them, but even so - Tybresa’s confidence to simply play on with no actual purpose or tempo to follow, it was an amazing and quite infectious trait, soon urging Suk-Taan to partake in the creation process.
"… the letter. What was it about?" She raised her gaze to meet Maurice’s, the soft glimmer in her blue eyes pleading for an explanation.
“…does any of this ring any bells, Tybresa?” the question was also careful, soft spoken as he tried to make certain she was following his words, not wanting to overload her with too much at once.
As Maury began to answer her question, Tybresa couldn’t find herself able to keep his gaze, instead averting her own to seemingly rest on the lavender-tinted sheets, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as she listened, adding more and more pieces to the puzzles - some fitting, but the rest only made it even more complicated. For all the surprising things he was telling her - about being married, for one - she did not seem to react in any way, her expression remaining constant throughout the whole reminiscing. In the depths of her mind, she found them quite outrageous, but somehow she felt - she knew - that they were true, but …
It did not match much with what she seemed to remember - and it was made worse by the fact that she did not remember anything from the past several months. The only sign she received was the occasional painful throb of the lingering headache she had experienced earlier.
Only after several long, thoughtful moments of silence had passed did Tybresa finally raise her gaze to look at Maury, her lips half-parted and prepared to say something, but nothing came out initially.
"… I remember …Piltover’s Bell Tower. From the center of the square." She found herself saying, her blue eyes boring into steely eyes, as if trying to find the answer in them as she scattered all the pieces of information she had. "I always heard it whenever I walked past it on my way to … to …"
And again, a pang of pain shot across her brain, making her suck in her breath, if only to avoid blatantly hissing. Tybresa shook her head, however, trying to banish down the pain, vehemently clinging to the sudden flurry of knowledge that the blurb had revealed - perhaps, if she would follow the trail, it would lead her to the truth.
"I remember snow - that it was awfully cold. That it was winter, and that I left. I left … I left." She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes now focused on an empty point as she tried to focus on her train of thought. "But where did I leave? Where have I been? I have been at the Institute this whole time —…"
She let out a short gasp of horror - something was not right. She looked at Maury with a terrified expression, her hand reaching out to grab him by the arm. “Were I not?” She demanded. “Was I not here? Snowdown, the Night of the Dying Year, the announcement of the new Season -…”
"Was I not here?"
» And yet not the truth (Tybby!)
"Please do not assume so poorly of me, Xerath. Please." Her voice was pleading, yet it had a sharp edge to it, as if she had taken some offense in his assumption - at the corner of her eyes, a small particle of glistening liquid formed, visible for even the Magus to see. "It just pains me to see you so miserable. It kills me to see you dying so. Please - let me help you. Talking at length will not help - just tell me what it is I need to do, and by the Maker, I will do it! I walk to the very edge of the world if I need to.”
Thinking it through, however, Xerath looked up again hesitantly, his exhausted eyes apologetic. “I suppose… dying on my feet. Would make a mess.” He offered after a moment, blinking slowly. “Perhaps. I should. Eat something.” It was a start, and a distraction from the true cause for his pain. But equally, he did have to eat, and his burnt out body all but cried out for sustenance. If it distracted from the current train of thought, all the better.
Tybresa found herself staring with such intent at Xerath as she waited for him to speak, to tell her the answer, a reaction of any kind, to the point that she almost forgot to breathe - and it was only with the hope-smashing answer of him not knowing how to break the curse sooner, that her breath hitched in her throat in a forced exhale, like something had just punched all the air out of her lungs.
She cleared her throat, if only to avoid from full-out coughing, noticing the telltale signs she had been taught to look after should someone attempt to lie - and while it pained her to realize that Xerath was holding back from telling her by lying, there was no true reason to pursue this any further, not with his current state.
But it only seemed to hurt her more, to realize that he did not trust her enough to tell her the truth.
"Never mind, then." She dismissed it with a surprisingly chilly voice as she loosened her embrace to stand at his side instead, one arm draped protectively over his shoulders. "What is important for now, is to get you something to eat, and some warm clothes - Maker, I do not need you to catch a cold, the Institute is dreadfully chilly until summer truly settles in.
She looked down at Xerath with a hopeful smile, though there was a pained glimmer in her blue eyes, confirming that the smile was quite forced. “While having you meet an unfortunate and unseen demise would certainly cause more than enough paperwork to keep my desk swimming …” She began with a mirthful tone, trying to make light of the situation as she urged him to move forward, slowly but steadily so - only to raise her other hand to reach out and gently stroke his cheek as her expression now showed its true colors of melancholy.
"It would grieve me even more so, knowing I had lost a true friend to such … carelessness."
It happened quite subtly, if not suddenly so - first it was just the silence, the coolness of the hallways creating an atmosphere of supreme loneliness, making one believe they were forgotten, forsaken even, save for the rhythmic tapping of a distant sound, seemingly approaching -... In the next moment, however, Maury would find himself being gently stirred, a pair of warm hands helping him up, a familiar and concerned voice calling out to him. "Maker have mercy, Maury!"
Maury was adrift in a deep slumber induced by the many stresses of the hours and days before, perhaps finding a bit of rest in this state of torpor. However, he soon felt dainty hands gently shaking him, trying to pull him out of the depths of his unconscious mind and back into the world of the living. Slowly, silver eyes opened and his limp form became somewhat alert once again. The tags caught his first glance and acting on instinct he reached out to pull them by the chain into his trembling fingers before working with Tybresa’s careful and insistent urging to get to his feet.
The summoner still wasn’t all there and a dull throbbing throughout his skull remained persistent. The coolness of metal in his palm helped to solidify his mind into the present and he slipped the necklace into his robes, turning his somewhat distant gaze to the Steward. Clearly the man was still s bit out of it and somewhat unsteady on his feet.
"Ah…Tybresa…" he murmured, giving the woman a light, though strained smile. "Fancy seeing you…heh."
The woman’s expression was marred with worry and concern as she looked over the man, having brushed away the strands of raven-black hair that fell over his eyes while he had been unconscious, though it felt more like … a force of habit, from happier times perhaps.
Despite the contrary, Tybresa had indeed spotted his first reaction by grabbing the lying dog tags by their chain and palming them in his hand, but she found no reason to dwell on it for she knew they were harmless, with no real lingering magical aura.
"Maurice …" She called him again softly as he finally moved in accord with her urging, though never actually taking her hands off him, for fear that he might fall down and hurt himself in the process - she firmly held his shoulders and stood at his side, ready to catch him in any eventuality.
Her blue eyes would soon meet his steel-grey pools, boring through them like piercing needles as she desperately sought for an answer, an assurance at least, that he was fine. Despite his answer, she did not seem any more relieved, her features never softening from showing her worry.
"I should be the one saying that," She retorted with a slightly sharp edge. "seeing you sprawled out on the Institute’s floor like that. Maker have mercy, Maurice, you had me worried sick, I-I thought you were dead - it turned out, you were simply knocked-out cold. What happened to you?"