- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- Online Availability
- I have Thursdays off between two jobs. I am usually available on Wednesdays and Sundays, too. I will usually respond in the evenings, if I can, on the days I work.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Romance, Medieval, Futuristic, Apocalyptic, Sci-Fi, Modern, Action, Adventure, some High-Fantasy, Lord of the Rings, Pacific Rim, King Arthur, anything Game of Thrones-esque
He hated this place already. Maybe that wasn't wise to say of a sacred grove, but Niklomaus didn't particularly care at the moment. He didn't want to be here, doing this, going through this with these people. Sure, the grove was beautiful with the lanterns strung up between the trees, music playing, food on display and talk in the air, but there was tension, too. It was cloying, thick in the atmosphere and the white-haired male felt like he could choke on it even as he could also crumble with the amount of weight set on his shoulders.
He was to meet his betrothed tonight. Funny, he'd always thought that he'd be happier about something like that, but now that it was upon him, in this circumstance...he would have rather been fighting a mountain troll...three of them. It wasn't like this alliance was going to last long anyway. Why did he have to tie his life and fate to an elf for the sake of a peace that wasn't even going to persevere after this brewing war with the Centaurs was over?
He didn't want to do this.
But then, when had anyone ever cared what he wanted? Niklomaus smiled with a tinge of bitterness to the expression as he sipped the wine in his hand, pale blue eyes scanning the crowds of both Sidhe and Elves, all trying to get along in an obviously strained way. He could relate to that. He felt that way around his family all the time. After all, he was only Prince in name. The elves didn't know that, though, and his grandfather, the King, had made it very clear he was not to let it be known. Niklomaus didn't think it would be all that hard to hide. He didn't have anyone to tell anyway.
"You know, if you don't smile a war might just break out right here and now." The voice, subtly - or not so subtly - whispering in his ear belonged to tall, black-furred male by his side and Niklomaus smirked, glancing at the werewolf, his friend and guard.
"Tell me again why that would be a bad thing, Marsin?"
Gold eyes gave him a reprimanding look. "Nik, that's human talk. Behave."
The white-haired male sighed and took a longer drink of the wine before smiling widely just to prove a point, a point that made Marsin roll his eyes, and started out into the crowd. "I always behave!" he shot back and the werewolf growled to himself. If only that were true, his job would be a lot easier.
He was to meet his betrothed tonight. Funny, he'd always thought that he'd be happier about something like that, but now that it was upon him, in this circumstance...he would have rather been fighting a mountain troll...three of them. It wasn't like this alliance was going to last long anyway. Why did he have to tie his life and fate to an elf for the sake of a peace that wasn't even going to persevere after this brewing war with the Centaurs was over?
He didn't want to do this.
But then, when had anyone ever cared what he wanted? Niklomaus smiled with a tinge of bitterness to the expression as he sipped the wine in his hand, pale blue eyes scanning the crowds of both Sidhe and Elves, all trying to get along in an obviously strained way. He could relate to that. He felt that way around his family all the time. After all, he was only Prince in name. The elves didn't know that, though, and his grandfather, the King, had made it very clear he was not to let it be known. Niklomaus didn't think it would be all that hard to hide. He didn't have anyone to tell anyway.
"You know, if you don't smile a war might just break out right here and now." The voice, subtly - or not so subtly - whispering in his ear belonged to tall, black-furred male by his side and Niklomaus smirked, glancing at the werewolf, his friend and guard.
"Tell me again why that would be a bad thing, Marsin?"
Gold eyes gave him a reprimanding look. "Nik, that's human talk. Behave."
The white-haired male sighed and took a longer drink of the wine before smiling widely just to prove a point, a point that made Marsin roll his eyes, and started out into the crowd. "I always behave!" he shot back and the werewolf growled to himself. If only that were true, his job would be a lot easier.