Knights of Anathaeum Well, Hello Boys...

[Farren Lóthlindor]

Farren had turned to giggle alongside Aarno at a joke they had shared, but when she turned to answer him with another quip—she was distracted. Her grey eyes catching on the bright glare of sunlight that backlit the hair he tossed about his crown like a halo. A few white strands draped fetchingly across his dark forehead and a distinct pang echoed softly in Farren's chest.

But she was saved from her suddenly dry mouth by the appearance of one of the many event helpers. In a flash her hands cradled a small missive with curling script.

Syr Theros, it read.

"Huh." Farren wondered aloud. "I don't exactly remember signing up for this?"

Aarno's curses had her leaning against his side to peer at what his note said— only to snort a moment later and match his strained smile with a gleeful grin of her own at his torment. "My, my. And you say fate is for fools."

Farren bounced forward and twirled in a small pirouette to face Aarno, idly enjoying the feeling of her skirts billowing around her and the music of bells as she walked backwards. "But you know? Something tells me I won't mind participating so much." She wiggled her eyebrows at her friend, altering their new path towards the new event area. Her eyes peeled for her dark and mysterious partner of Dusk, her smile ready and bright from the festival's infectious joy.

Aarno Bebin Theros

 

[Monroe]

"Name's Gunner! Looks like we're paired up for this one. Don't worry, I won't drop you-- I've got a great grip!"

There was a coldness to her stare as they traveled over the overly friendly participant, and straight past him to look at Saskia at her left side. The dawnling was quite, for her scowl spoke more than words ever could, and was too ticked off to enjoy the satisfaction of making another person nervous with just a stare alone.

The golden haired dusker took in a breath and steeled herself, turning to meet Monroe's gaze. "Right, I know I said that I was going to put my name in but... It would have been too difficult to create obstacles and have fun being carried in the event. I put your name in the mix because you could look like you need some muscular arms around you." Saskia gave her a pointed look, a brave endeavor but one that paid off.

Monroe took the slip of parchment with the participants name, snatching it from Syr Kerraelas' fingers and scrunched it into her own fist. She didn't look at it, not really caring to learn it. She may have been the mastermind behind such an event, but the true curse was giving Saskia autonomy with planning. Monroe was happy just sitting on the judge's panel, but to be part of the event and trust some gaudy, muscled men to carry her? Well... there certainly would have been worse options out there.

"If you drop me, don't bother showing your face round these parts again." She all but grumbled to the unlucky pretty boy that was paired with her.

Gunner Valenntyne

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Ophelia had mad it her mission to attend the Himbo even so graciously planned out by Petra and other organizers she was yet to meet. It had been a good few weeks since Ophelia had seen new handsome faces aside from those who rised in the monestary with her. She had been hauled up in a pile of scrolls in the library for almost a month now researching specific herbs. Fortunately Kallias had let her know because he to would be competing, beautiful idiot he was. Hopefully he would introduce her to some of his fellow himbos as they so put it.

But today...oh on this lovely, sunny, sweaty day she felt no better then a male in a less respectable establishiment. Gobbeling up the beautiful views before her.

Trusty wine in hand she say back and admired the competitions and competitors in all their sweaty glory.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

Skuld drew close enough that even she could see the event while keeping Friga atop her shoulders. The partial gambeson she wore easing the bite of her daughter's bony little behind as the girl pulled on the kerchief around her head.

"Momma! They're gonna carry people next!" As if her mother had missed the announcement prior to her excited words. "Oh? That'll be fun to see."

The excitement and hubbub around them pushing them both closer to the stage as people began to adjust themselves to watch the sight better. Putting them well within the view of the little man that had been running about handing out slips of paper as he cast an eye their way.

The sharp grab about her neck distracted her from the dwarfs approach as Friga tried to keep from falling backwards.

"Ah, miss! We actually need another volunteer if'n you don't mind? Little'un can sit with the judges while you're busy." There was a strangled objection to the request with her daughters hand choking her while trying to keep upright. And the man took the sound as agreement rather than objection as she was pulled from her spot in the crowd.

Friga, with less grace than a drunken cat, was plopped on the judges stage with a stern look to mind her manners.

"But I wanna be carried!" Narrowed eyes settled on the girl as Skuld was prompted to hurry. "O'er my dead body will I let anyone as cloud-brained as these fellows carry my daughter. Off with you now."

A quick ruffle of hair followed after a point to the judges above found Skuld plodding along to find the one that she'd be dropped by.

 

[Kallias]

Kallias had been late, as in two events late. Jumping straight out of bed and getting dressed in a scramble he half jogged over to the festivities in-between pulling on his boots, curly brown locks in complete disarray. He had spent the previous night playing cards and talking about topics, with some of the other squires he bunked with - unfortunately the festivities had continued well into the early hours of the morning.

Only three or four months in the Knights of Anathaum and he was already having the time of his life - yes that was not the reason he had joined but it was most certainly a happy coincidence.
He was not to sure on what to expect until everything began, the young man had simply scanned over the flyer and after hearing that a few lovely dames were to be expected, Kallias was all in so he made his way over to the judges table, he needed some way to schmooze them over to make up his already lost points.

Making sure he was in there eye-line, Kallias found himself a nice bucket of water and a half dim light bulb turned on in his pretty head. Poured it over his head in a manner he had definitely practiced before the squires white tunic now see through and sticking firmly against his chiseled torso and strong chest, he placed the bucket down and slowly tuned to the judges panel.

"Good morning darlings," He smiled charmingly, dimples on full display.
"Miss Petra as beautiful as well ways," with a wink he turned to her companions, flexing his muscles slightly.
His eyes strolled over to the brunette women close by, "Hello, I believe ive seen you around the monestary, I'm Kallias." Now dripping wet he offered her his hand, smile still bright and eyes light with interest.

Petra Darthinian Skuld Zajac

 

[Bebin Theros]

Bebin made open his piece of parchment. His eyes scrawled across the lettering. Sloppy. By his estimate. But legible enough.

A bit of luck then. That he would be paired with one so easy to carry.

His hands folded the parchment, quick and sharp. Handed it to some squire he was on their way somewhere.

The youth blinked. Stared at the piec of paper, and made a sound of confusion. A drawn out. Uuuuuuummmm.

Bebin parted ways, and wove through the crowd like a snake through grass. Until he found his pairing.

"Lothilindor," his voice broke through the din. Low and sure. "While I am surprised you would volunteer yourself to such a position, I cannot say that I am displeased by this turn of fate," he smiled, a wicked thing. "Well, my princess," he played to the part, and bent low to her, with an offer of his broad hand. "Shall we?"

Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Hector]

A grumble came from Hector's throat upon hearing Syr Faramund's report. "Gee," he said, flat as stagnant water. "Thanks," how utterly unhelpful, thought the young knight.

He huffed, and shook off the thought. It was, after all, for a good cause. No matter the task, he would see it through.

How and when Hector had found the Captain of Dusk was a mystery unto its own.

Through the shouts and cheers of the crowd, and the pounding of his own heart, he couldn't quite put together the steps he had taken. Only, that he was now before the most mysterious, Captain Selene, Lady of Dusk. Author of An Emergent History of Curses and Their Bearers! Protege to the former Captain of Dusk, Silvan Hawthorne.

He snapped a salute. Upturned fist pound against his chest as his heels clicked to together, and the flaps of his makeshift kilt smacked against his legs.

"Captain!" he called out. Blinked. "Princess," he shook his head. "Ma'am... Miss- uh.. Syr!" he straightened up once more, nod. "At your leisure- I'll uh," he eased up. Looked her in the eye. Blushed. "Carry you, I guess," he smiled, sheepish, and scratched the tip of his nose. "There a way you... would like to be carried?"

Selene