Private Tales Blood is thicker than...Paint?

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Alistair Krixus

The Rune Knight
Character Biography
Vel Lameus, also known as Vel Lame for short, was not the most impressive of Anirian towns. It was partly why had been shocked to receive a letter from this place. Well, technically, it had been his father who received the letter, which meant it could only be bad for him. He had been proven correct. This was the second letter claiming some sort of blood ties. At this point, Alistair should just expect every orphan on the street was a sibling.

The letter had asked to meet his father at the market at roughly this time. Alistair would of course be arriving in place of his deceased father, he had also arrived two hours to get a read on the place and put in some guarantees in the surrounding area. One could never be to careful. For all he knew, he was about to be robbed.

Alistair entered the market in simple, maybe a little on the underwhelming, noble attire with no weapons in sight. No reason to wear his Dreadlord uniform and scare them off. He took a seat at the indicated cafe and ordered a drink while he waited for the next arrival.

He had been considering exactly what to say when he got here, this never got easier. Hell, the fact that he had to have essentially the same conversation twice was seriously messed up.

  • Wonder
Reactions: Mariana
The slight and underfed girl with a few smudges of bright,speckled paint on her cheeks watched from behind the edge of the taco cart as she saw a dark-haired stranger sit down at the exact table where she was supposed to meet her father. Strange. He looked nearly her age.

Was that even...possible? Did she just have good genes? Dios mio, she'd look good middle-aged.

And if it wasn't her father...well. Perhaps she could at least get some coin out of this. Fingers clutched the items she had in her pocket for a moment as she hesitated. Head shook and her chin jutted out, thin shoulders set in a determined line. Large earrings swaying as she walked. A quick glance around to make sure this wasn't una trampa.

Mariana strode over to Alistair Krixus and instead of taking the seat across from him, she perched right on the edge of the table, huffing the brightly colored strands of her bangs away from her eyes. Twisting at the waist, she half turned to him. Her voice had a heavy-accent, clearly growing up in a mixture of places and not in any of Vel Anir's major metropolis.

"Are you my dad?"
Alistair spent the next several minutes scanning the crowd, from his seated position. He knew it to be a girl because of the letter, but that was about it. She could look like anything, but Al found him looking for really anyone that remotely looked like his father.

A lone woman finally walked up. She was thin, not the nicest of clothes, an orphan like the letter had said. She did have the hair color, although, her skin was on the tan side. Not surprising since his pale skin primarily came from his mother. When she finally turned and looked at him, she had blue eyes although less harsh than his own or his father's. Unfortunately, he could see the resemblance.

Then she spoke...not the smartest individual, Alistair supposed he had the Academy to thank for that.

"Mariana, I presume? My name is Allistair Krixus...Unfortunately, your father is dead."

"¡¿Qué?! ¿Quién eres tú? Mierda. Mierda. Nunca debí haber escrito la carta, qué desperdicio." Mariana went off in a different language at the news. Her annoyed and upset tone very clear. Pushing off the table and she began pacing in front of him, looking wearily around.

He shared the last name as her supposed father. And it was clear he got her letter. He knew her name. Worn and ragged boots stopped suddenly, paint-splattered hands falling to her hips.

"Yeah, that's me," she finally answered. "Who're you? My Uncle?" A dark brow arched on her forehead. Taking a breath, she forced herself to calm down. Perhaps there was still coin in this somehow. She tried a pleasant smile but it looked more strained than anything.
"No, no soy tu tío. Soy hijo de Amadeus Krixus y heredero de la Casa Krixus." He explained.

What a strange language for her to have just picked up as an orphan. It was a language generally found in the tribes of the northern savannah. For her to know it, maybe her mother had some connections. Why did Alistair know it? Well, he had a passion for languages. Mainly for this very reason, so he knew what others were saying when they thought he had no clue.

Unfortunately, his knowledge of this language was less than fluent, only able to understand the gist of what Mariana was saying.

"Also unfortunately for you, your so-called father was not the best of men. I doubt he would have even acknowledged your letter had he received it."

  • Wonder
Reactions: Mariana
Surprise painted itself across her face as he responded in her language. Looked like he was more than just some hoity-toity noble. In fact, if his words were true. He was her brother.

Mariana's blue eyes flickered down to her chipped and brightly painted nails. Pretending to study them even as her heart thudded unsteadily in her chest. Eyes flickered up back to Alistair's bluer eyes. No surprise that her father was a dick. He'd left her mother pregnant and never looked back. She doubted he even knew she'd been pregnant and if he had known, she had to wonder if he would've cared at all.

"So why are you here? Listen. I don't want any trouble and I"m not looking to claim your inheritance." Well, she'd been hoping for some but was he here to make sure nothing stood in his way? "I'd settle for lunch."
With perfect timing, one of the waiters at the cafe brought to the table a drink for himself and a plate of bread. He motioned for her to sit, and not on the table but in a chair. His eyes never moved from looking at her, like he was trying to read something there.

"I came to determine if I had to worry about someone that would only serve to harm the Krixus name. Tell me, how old are you?"

From what he could tell, she was only a bit young than himself. How long had she been like this? When had her mother died?

The sensible thing here would be to walk away and just forget this girl ever existed. That is what his father would have suggested. It was for that very reason that he hesitated to do so.
She huffed and lowered her hand as she stared right back at him. After a moment of hesitation, she finally eased herself into the chair across from him. Perched on it like she was sitting on a bunch of needles and ready to bolt at any second.

That was until that big loaf of bread was placed between them.

Gods and it was still warm. Much better than the day-old stuff she found in the dump-bin behind Vinny's. She didn't hesitate to tear in, eating like she was worried it would be taken away at any moment. Between fistfuls of bread, she'd answer him.

"Pretty much sixteen." Only a few more weeks and she'd be there and she was muy orgullosa. A snort as she swallowed more bread. "Harm the Krixus name? Do I look like I could?"
At that last question, Alistair's eyes looked her up and down with more than a little bit of worry. Yes, she very much did. All that it would take is her getting caught one time and then he used the 'do you know who my dad is card'. Not that their name carried that much influence, but she did not know that.

The young Dreadlord seemed to be deep in thought when he froze and his eyes zeroed in on something about Mariana.

"Where does a street orphan get enough money for paint on her fingernails?"

Even if she did say that she had stolen it, then it just seemed like a waste of time. She could be stealing food or money, so why paint?

  • Nervous
Reactions: Mariana
She just couldn't believe...he wasn't having any bread. "Oye gringo, I do pretty good for myself, thank you very much," Mariana quipped. With one hand holding a slice of bread, she dug into her pocket, bringing out a bright pastel orange piece of charcoal. Instead of looking at his face, she began to draw on the surface of the table.

Yeah, yeah some yips would call it graffiti but in her mind it was art.

"I make money," she muttered. It wasn't a lie. He just probably didn't realize that she magically made it. She finally looked up from her doodling. "But I'm not answering any more of your questions unless I get some more food. And a drink." Answers for food. That was more than fair in her mind. Especially since she wasn't going to be whisked away to live some cushy-noble life like she'd hoped. She'd really hoped she could've convinced someone to be her patron. Sipping margaritas all day while painting.

"So what's it like growing up as a noble?" She was curious. And whatever. It's not like they'd see each other after this.
Alistair raised an eyebrow as she took out the writing supplies. It seemed this was a girl of many talents. A thief, an extortionist, and an artist. It was even more of a surprise as he looked to the doodles and realized that they were good.

He looked over to the waiter and raised a hand beckoning them over. "A drink for the girl, and a platter of bread and cheese, thank you." The worker moved off quickly, beginning to guess that this young man was from the upper crust of society.

"It's tiresome and boring." He said without much thought. There was no reason to explain that Alistair was a Dreadlord, in the reserves. For the past few weeks, he had been living as a noble, and he absolutely hated it. He would much prefer that the answer to all of his house's problems was the sword, but it often involved monotonous paperwork.

"I suppose you do not eat often."

Eyes shifted to the waiter. "I'll have the biggest tankard of beer you've got." He shot her a look. Mariana stared him down and then folded. "Okayfine. A mug of spiced cider." She'd never had alcohol before. Okay, that wasn't true. She'd stolen a few sips but it always tasted realmente mala. With a harumph, she went back to her drawing. She was working on a small phoenix.

Gaze would flicker back up to her brother's face every now and then. Still getting used to calling him her brother in her mind. Would she ever get used to it? Did it even matter?

"I eat when I need to," she finally offered. "But it's not usually...very fresh." Dumpster diving and all. And she had to be careful with using the coins she drew because they never lasted long and it always alerted the authorities to where she was. So, she only used them when she absolutely needed to. The rest of what she needed, she stole or ate what others were throwing out.

"And tiresome and boring," a sharp laugh. "Sounds like what a rich and well-fed person would say."
"Correction, you eat when you can by the looks of it." Alistair retorted with barely a hint of mirth as he took another sip of his drink.

She was not a drinker, he could tell that just from looking her over. His eyes scanned around the market once more, determining that there is no one here that rose above his rank here. It was just Vel Lameus, after all.

"Does it? Tell me, do you speak with rich and well-fed people often?" His deadpan eyes indicated he already knew the answer and he continued on.

His eyes trailed down to her drawing as it took a moment to figure out what the drawing was from this angle.

"A phoenix, a symbol for new beginnings. Of course, they have to die and start over to do that. Seems unpleasant."

She made a face when he corrected her. Look at them. Already bickering like true siblings. Lips pressed thin. "I'm speaking to one now, aren't I?" She couldn't help the retort that left her lips. A small trill on her tongue. The waiter came back with an assortment of meats and cheeses.

And thank the heavens, more bread.

And her mug of cider. Free hand reached over, taking a sip of the cider. Putting that down, she went to pile on some meats and cheeses onto a slice of bread. Though it was clear she was excited about the food, she kept one hand on the piece of colored charcoal. As she continued the mythical bird.

"Yeah. I mean I wouldn't want to have to do it. I just think they're...," voice trailed off as she took a bite of food. Swallowed. Another beat. "Beautiful." And as she finished off the bird, she found herself so lost within the piece, she failed to notice the warmth that spread down her arm and into her fingertips. The sign that her magic was being ignited.

The drawing on the table suddenly moved. Feathered-head shaking. Then it pulled itself free, expanding out of the two-dimensional world and into a very real, small phoenix as it took flight and swooped toward Alistair.

"La Mierda," she swore and jolted to her feet.
Rich and well fed...Well, he was certainly one of those things. Alistair just smirked at the comment and left it at that. He did not much care what she thought of him.

The arrival of more food, and Mariana aggressive eating, brought a small frown to his lips. He had no problem feeding her, but if it went on like this then she would eat him out of all his coin.

He removed himself from his thoughts but nodded in agreement, the bird was indeed beautiful. Pity he could not enjoy the image more before he felt to prickling along his neck. A rune he had placed there meant to alert him to the use of magic.

His eyes darted around suddenly on alert. He would have missed the now living drawing if it was not for Mariana's surprise. He fell back in his chair, and all the while a rune erupted on his arm. Arcane electricity shot out colliding with the bird, one of his many defensive runes.

As soon as Alistair felt his back collide with the ground, he rolled backward and once again onto his feet. He held out his hand as runes began to draw themselves into the air. The entire cafe went silent as he looked at her in alarm, at what he thought had been an attack.

"Never mentioned you could use magic. Thought you could steal from me?"

  • Scared
Reactions: Mariana
Blue eyes of hers’ widened in alarm. But this time not at her own magic. His. The palm-sized phoenix squacked in alarm as it was shocked.

“No, I didn’t mean t- I wasn’t-,” panicked gaze looked around. Dios mio, everyone had seen. She couldn’t stay here anymore. And her brother? Hells bells. He suddenly seemed a lot more dangerous than she’d ever imagined.

And also.

She was mildly insulted that he’d think if she wanted to steal from him, she’d do something like THAT. As the phoenix spiraled downward, it exploded into a small cloud of bright orange charcoal as it hit the ground. And Mariana used that moment to turn and run.
"Don't even think about it."

His warning must not have been heard, because Mariana took off. He considered shooting off the bolts, but he did not want to hurt her...yet.

Alistair waived away the gaping on-lookers before rushing off after her. Runes lit up along his boots as they enhanced his speed to more than keep up with her.

So she could manipulate paint, or bring drawings to life? How ironic, his father had wanted magic in the family for decades, so much so that he had experimented with Alistair and his mother to ensure he had the capabilities. Yet, here Mariana was with the natural gift.

"Hey STOP!" The shopkeep yelled as the food went unpaid for and he was left with a painted mess. That got the attention of the local authorities, albeit the local authorities weren't much. Two skinny-looking lads that looked like they'd just gotten over puberty.

Mariana glanced over her shoulder and swore at the proximity of her very, scary brother.

Must be using magic again or he missed his calling as a track star. The thing was, though? She knew this small town better than her paintset. If she could make it to her hideout, she had no doubt she could disappear. If she coul--


She went down in a tangle of limbs as she turned around just in time to collide with one of those minor authorities as they both hit the cobblestones.
Alistair heard the yelling, but ignored it, he would come back and pay for the meal once he had caught her. She was not faster than him, but she moved with a smoothness through the market that made Alistair want to finish this as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, he got his wish, as it seemed Mariana did not do a very good job of being away from her surroundings. She collided with one of the guards in a pitiful display. He casually slowed down next to them and reached down to grab her.

"Stop running for just a moment. You are making a scene."

The two guards were...not intimidating, to say the least. Completely unimpressive. Hell, he was pretty sure that if he asked her to beat them up then she could have. Likely two youths were chosen because they were old enough to hold a spear and had nothing better to do.

"I'll take it from here gentlemen. Alistair Krixius, Dreadlord of the second level in the reserves." The Dreadlords were no longer an official branch, as he was technically a part of the army, but it was a good name-drop when he wanted to scare people.

Before she could scramble away, she felt Alistair's iron-like grasp on her upper arm and haul her to her feet.

Shit. shit.shit.shit.shit.

Blue-eyes that almost looked more green in this light widened at his declaration. She'd guessed as much. He was an Anirian who used magic. That could only mean one thing since he wasn't in hiding like her. He was a dreadlord and his words only confirmed her earlier hypothesis. Another reason she'd bolted.

Mariana did file away how he used his voice. And that title. And that cursed last name that got her in this situation in the first place. If he could be authoritative, she'd have to try it sometime, too. If she ever got away.

The guard looked like he was about to pee himself or poop his pants in surprise and fear. "Y-yes, s-sir," his voice squeaked. Maybe he wasn't all the way done with puberty. "I'll be-ahem," he wheezed, "over there if you need assistance." Then he scurried away like a cucaracha.

"Let me go!" And even though he was taller than her. Stronger. And magical. And she was half grappled, she swung her free fist at him.
Maybe the Academy could actually teach her how to punch, as Alistair casually brought his free hand up to intercept the blow. He looked into her eyes for a moment before dragging her back in the direction of the cafe.

"I will not...You attempt to use your muddied bloodline to attain some sort of charitable donation from my house. You have this magical talent, yet you choose to be nothing more than an urchin..."

He fell silent as he decided if he really wanted to do what he was considering. They made it back to the cafe where he paid for the food and extra for any inconvenience.

"As annoyed as I am about the situation, you are my half-sister. I will not be leaving you out here to lie, cheat and steal until the ripe age of 20 when you are stabbed to death in some gutter. You are coming with me."

As he caught her fist, she squeezed her eyes closed preparing for a strike across her face. She’d had worse done to her. But after a few moments when nothing came, her eyes cracked open.


Then annoyed as he refused to LET GO.

“Excuse you, an urchin! I am nearly sixteen and doing FINE. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was five.” She took a breath as she dragged her feet. Tried to wrestle free from his grasp.

But he was SO STRONG. And if he got tired of fighting with her and just chucked her over his shoulder, he’d find that she weighed less than what she should, skinnier beneath clothes that hid her malnutrition.

“YOUARENOTmyDADortheBOSSofME!!” She yelled in a panic as she saw the scraps of her ‘freedom’ and everything she knew slipping away. Even as her mind paused on the last part he said.

He didn’t care. Why did he say something like he did?!
Mariana's resistance was less than adequate as he continued to drag her. He ignored the looks from passersby but eventually sighed as he lifted her up onto his shoulder to continue carrying her. She felt light, but that might be his runes.

"Yes, and urchin. Although, take my compliments for being a long-lived urchin." From what he could tell of her, taking care of herself really just meant that she had not died, yet.

"You are right, I am not your dad, because the difference is I actually care at the moment and he never would. Sadly, I wouldn't be so sure about the second part because I am your boss for the moment, so get used to it."

Last edited:
She kicked and flung her elbows. “Help me I’m being kidnapped!!!” But no one stopped. A few folks gawked but scurried on. This was Vel Lameus. No one cared. And they all knew better than to cross a dreadlord.

A grunt of frustration left her lips. More curses in her mother’s tongue.

“Where are you taking me?” And a quick switch to bargaining. “Heyheyheyhey. What if I promise never to use the name Krixus? Will you let me go, then?”
Alistair continued to carry her through the city, paying no mind to her constant flailing. He locked eyes with a few of the people watching, but they would turn away after a few seconds.

"I don't believe you for a second. Instead, I'm going to help you be someone that won't have to use my name. You will be coming with me to Vel Anir."

He would leave out the part where he planned to drop her off at the Academy because that would only serve to make her fight harder.

"This would all be much easier on the both of us if you just calmed down."