http://dragoonfreya.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] dragoonfreya.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] paixaorpg2007-05-08 05:36 pm

A dazzling place I never knew... [Active]

Character(s): Freya (and anybody else who might like to join)
Content: Intro post. You know the drill.
Setting: Muspelheim gate
Time: Afternoon
Warnings: None


This...definitely did not look like the interior of a tree of ANY sort.

Freya leaned on her spear for a moment, quite confused as to how she'd gotten here. This was most definitely not the interior of the trunk that led upwards to the city of Cleyra. She knew there'd been something odd about Cleyra's fabled sandstorm suddenly subsiding. Now she knew why.

"Zidane?" she called out, looking for them or anybody else who'd been with her. "Vivi?" She didn't see any sign of them. Which meant...

She was alone. Mentally alone, at least - definitely not physically, as there was a rather long line of people that spanned between her and the large gate that stood some distance ahead. But these were people she didn't know, people with whom she had no sort of connection.

She grit her teeth and stood back up straight. She had to make it back to Cleyra somehow, to warn the people of the Queen and her plans...but as she tried turning around and leaving, she found there was no way to escape this throng of people. The only way to go was forward, toward that awe-inspiring gate...and so she did, holding her head high, not letting anybody see the worry that she felt at the moment.

She had to be strong...of course she'd make it back there, she reassured herself. Somehow.

For a moment she wondered if all these people were going, or maybe coming from, somewhere, and then she noticed the booth that perched close to the gate. Whatever was going on in that booth, it seemed important, as it appeared that everyone who happened to be in line (if it could be called that at this point) had to stop there. An inspection, perhaps?

As she approached it, she heard: "Name please." This was said in a slightly bored voice from the man who sat behind the booth. He flicked his gaze towards Freya, showing nothing more than impassive patience.

"...Freya," she said after a moment. "The name's Freya Cre-"

What the gatekeeper handed her so suddenly wasn't too normal to her at all - a red rectangular thing that was something she'd never seen before. "Your journal," he said to her before she could respond. "Now go in and have fun in Paixao...or try to, anyways."

The forward surging of the line prevented Freya from asking the gatekeeper any questions. She hoisted her spear over her shoulder, tucked the strange red device somewhere under her coat, and strode in through the gates...with a good few questions still on her mind.

[identity profile] miss-briar-rose.livejournal.com 2007-08-06 06:07 pm (UTC)(link)
“Oh,” Briar murmured, pausing to read the entry. “Oh, my. That’s quite rude, isn’t it?” And also a little infuriating. “Really, does he think this is easy for us? New places – new worlds – are difficult at best, particularly when you’ve arrived alone and there is not a single Fable in sight! He could say something helpful, rather than blatantly calling us all idiots!” Delicate and quixotic, Briar was accustomed to being rescued by a handsome prince – not called an idiot. And, frankly, she had had just about all she could take of this world. She’d be happy to see her ex-husband, if he showed up!

“I spoke with the mayor-elect. Quite frankly, he was of more help, and he’s…” She trailed off, then waved her hand impatiently. “Some kind of rat, I think. It doesn’t matter.” With a toss of her head designed with the sole intention of angrily tossing her auburn curls over her shoulder (and rather unmindful of the fact the gesture meant little with her hair already in a tight ponytail behind her head) Briar added, “The absolute nerve of some people!”

Peering from beneath her long eyelashes, Briar smiled at her mysterious companion. “At least we’ve come across each other. Are you royalty, perchance? Oh, nevermind. You wouldn’t remember if you were, would you? It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve never been much of a classis—oh, we were going to find you a doctor, weren’t we?”