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[29387572]
[2013-12-17 16:10:54 +0000 UTC]
"fist so full of cracks"
(Austria)
# Statistics
Favourites: 25; Deviations: 1; Watchers: 170
Watching: 103; Pageviews: 3566; Comments Made: 196; Friends: 103
# Comments
Comments: 163
𝔏𝔲𝔦𝔱𝔭𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔳𝔬𝔫 ℌ𝔬𝔥𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔲𝔣𝔢𝔫
~ Imperium Romanum Sacrum
~ Heiliges Römisches Reich
~ Holy Roman Empire
Golden lions waited at the gate
He was lonely but it all looked great
A boy who held the world in his hands, & couldn't contain it all.
A child with eyes too wise, he has watched the world grow around him while he remained the same. A massive, unruly empire that failed to completely unite the peoples beneath him, he has not forgotten that those that now tower over him were once firmly under his fist. Once, he was great. Now, he is a wounded boy, slowly festering, his thoughts dominated by his inevitable fall. But he is not merely a child, he is power, he is empire. Levelheaded, pensive, and slow to forgive, Luitpold is a simultaneous symbol of monumental achievement and impending failure, with mighty vassals and relentless enemies. The powers of Europe will have to kill him to be rid of him.
"But, dearest brothers, you are still my vassals."
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“Ach, einst meine Erinnerungen mit die Blutwärme des Lebens g'pulst.”
Oh, long ago my memories pulsed with the blood-heat of life.
⏳⚔️ antiquated youth; please reply to this comment
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((Oh my I haven't seen an HRE account for years. ))
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((I can see this! My oh my. ))
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"Joyeux Noel, Luitpold~" she chimes, handing over a gift. Inside the box is a bottle of 'wine'. If he at all tries to drink it he will find there is no alcohol. A silly little gag gift disguised as something more enjoyable.
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On a recent trip to Austria[?], Marienne decided to pay Luitpold a visit. She'd gotten word from Julian and Roderick where his usual hiding spots were. Unsurprisingly, she found him at a local stable where they bred high-end horses for show. As Luitpold watched the trainers do their thing in the practice ring, Marienne snuck up behind the boy. "C'est magnifique, non?" she commented, leaning down next to him with a bright and innocent smile. "How have you been my dear?" she asks in French.
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Modern day:
Letter arrives in the mail, asking if he would be interested in a ride (on pony back) as Vive will be in the area returning with a string of ponies from a riding tour.
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[ 🥛 ] The response comes just before she leaves, his elegant sutterlin as familiar as it is nearly unreadable in its antiquated style.
Miss Focko,
I do hope this letter finds you in good health. I am in no need of minding, but if the ponies require some time to unwind I am certain someone in the village would not mind lending their parcel. The paths are good this time of year.
L
[ 🥛 ] Well....it isn't precisely a no.
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Her reply is dents with a box of marzipan sea animals, and thanks him for the advice, and tells him the date that the pony train will be through. Perhaps it should be no surprise then when one fine morning, he would look out his window to see her leading a ling of twelve tough little mountain ponies.
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[ 🥛 ] The figure that opens the door is about as small as she remembers, though not quite so thin as he was in his final years. There is colour in his cheeks, his eyes those same deep, haunted blue.
"A little far up the mountain, hm?"
[ 🥛 ] He seems half-pleased, half-annoyed.
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"It is the most direct route back, Herr." She explained, bringing the line to a halt. "I'm going to pasture them for the rest of the day, and we'll leave again tomorrow. " So he might enjoy looking them over this afternoon, if he so desired.
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feathers. ngl I'm like not 100% on how to start off
so do you have any specific location or theme you'd like to roleplay ? :0
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{ ah! no worries
a jumping off point maybe??:
israfel could be in the castle to attend to something/one? luit sees him and is basically 'holy fuck an angel. what has god sent you here for????' prolly expecting some great mission but nah isra's just....doin his thing
he's mildly religious so in any case just seeing isra would result in approximately the same reaction no matter the setting he's a simple lad
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feathers. ah yes
this works
and I hope this starter is fine !
{ Castles were an aspect of human design Israfel was fairly unfamiliar with. }
{ Though in his own land such things did exist, they were typically abandoned as humans were scarce- yet here he saw what castles were genuinely more like. }
{ Bustling scenic landscapes, at times filled of holy imagery or artifact- what God wouldn't be pleased with such thoughtful people? }
{ While he dare not question his own Lord, the angel did briefly wonder why such endearing people would ever be let to perish. }
{ But wondering of things outside of his purpose was useless, he reminds himself of that clearly, as he simply slips into the castle's cathedral. }
{ Initially he had traveled as a brown dove, a much easier and more inconspicuous means of getting around and watching these people. }
{ Yet spying that he was seemingly alone here, he changed his form effortlessly to what he truly was. }
{ From here the angel would take a small tour of the church, looking astonished at the craftsmanship in such wonderful things. }
{ But of course such attention given to religious imagery would make him become oblivious to the existence of any people nearby. }
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luitpold 'would stab as a warning'
julian 'would stab without warning'
emese 'would stab as retaliation'
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luitpold is mean but at least he's mostly straightforward about it
julian's just like ' oh sweetie ' smiles and ruins your reputation over a bottle of wine with the court gossips
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meanwhile herczeg 'i punch all my problems' emese-
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luitpold: don't you dare pity me because i'm ailing i'll throw you in jAIL
also luitpold: i'm ailing don't be mean to me i'll throw you in jAIL >:^(
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luitpold: why aren't people nicer to me??? :^(
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( if luitpold isn't already confused by modern christmas just wait until someone tells him about christmas in july )
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{ it's noT HIS FAULT not even julian knows about that lmao :'^)
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( oh boy time to burst some bubbles lmfao )
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( it's a bit late for easter but, here we go, holidays round 2! )
How on earth he managed to find whatever hole in the ground Luitpold lived in was beyond him. He had some vague directions, sure, but whatever, it was a miracle he supposed. After finding the man in question, Alistair begins to drag him out. "Oi, come out here. You're gonna help decorate. Farmer down the road gave me a bunch of eggs for Easter, so we're gonna give them to the wee ones in town for the hunt. You're going to help me decorate." This was his attempt at trying to include the old man in yet another modern tradition, but he fully expected resistance, ignorance, and more arrogance than usual after being forced into this.
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[ ⏳ ] How Luitpold had scrounged together the means and documentation necessary to take up residence in a quiet cottage on the outskirts of this village in the Salzkammergut is uncertain, but likely it had something to do with one or the other of his various connections. It was tucked away from the hubbub, but not too far, a short walk to the village and pleasant drive to a city that was like an old friend, though it had changed much in his....absence, if that is the right word for it.
[ ⏳ ] He is surprised to have a visitor, because though the main body of the village is sometimes overrun by tourists not many other than locals who know their way wander up here, and no one has sent word that they would come. The assault is even less expected, so much so that poor Luit is dragged halfway to the road before he can gather up enough wits to compose an indignant attitude.
"Mary and Joesph, who did you terrorise to get my residence!"
[ ⏳ ] That's...the first question that comes to mind, though maybe it isn't the most pertinent. He really doesn't mind guests, just wishes they would....send a letter, call, something first. But he seems....oddly unruffled with the actual activity proposed.
"Are we Hungarians, now?"
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"Terrorized Santa himself. Stop dragging your feet, you're making me work harder. You're no dead yet, so get up and walk you bugger." The response was instant, without skipping a beat. "Me? Naw, am Scottish. Got the red hair and the accent, lad. You, on the other hand, could pass for Hungarian." Whatever Hungarians looked or acted like, that is. He hadn't visited the lady herself in quite some time. "Like I said, we've got a billion eggs to decorate before Easter and I'm gonna need help. Monika's busy looking after Thomas' dogs while he's out on business." Luitpold was hardly the top pick to help decorate Easter eggs. Hell, Julian was close by and he would have been delighted to help, no doubt. But Luitpold needed the exposure. And the sunlight...Yeah they were gonna paint these eggs outside so the house didn't get dirty.
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"You didn't tell me he had addresses!"
[ ⏳ ] Disbelievingly, though now that it escapes his lips it makes sense. Alistair had said something or other about him visiting? Right? Down the hatch? Still seemed like a load of nonsense. Then again, Christkindl was also a load of Protestant nonsense so really who was he to start getting so picky over it all? (Christkindl did become Kris Kringle, though, so there was some connection. Luitpold had done a little bit of reading after the whole affair, since there really wasn't much else to do in a village like this.)
"Ugh, fine, I'll humour it. Have you brought something to prod the shells with? And paints?"
[ ⏳ ] He's not sure the kids in the village will really appreciate it, but whatever, clearly Alistair is in need of company. Poor man must be desperate if he's seeking it out from me of all people.
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"How do you think he gets to all the houses in one night? Lad's gotta have addresses, yeah?" Really, Luitpold is far too ignorant. Yeah the exposure is definitely gonna be good for him. They're gonna paint in the motherfucking front garden where he can see and talk to- gasp- actual people!
"No, but we're going to the pound shop to pick them up. What colors do you think we should use?" He's going to use normal water color paints because he's definitely not an artist. Also they're going to get eaten in like a couple days so why go crazy?
Seeing as Luitpold is being cooperative, Alistair decide dragging is no longer necessary and lets the child walk on his own. "Now, important question: How much paint and crayons do we need?"
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"Red and green, of course."
[ ⏳ ] Without a second thought, huffing slightly as he lightly kicks at the gravel of the road. It's...mostly a distraction rather than a protest, he likes the walk well enough and the clatter of the little stones is pleasant to him.
"We haven't a Euro shop in the village, though. There is just a little Supermarkt-"
[ ⏳ ] Sometimes he takes things a little literally, or maybe he's just not quite sure when Alistair is being serious given his tone. The British in general have a sense of humour not terribly like Austrians, which he is fairly used to, but Luitpold struggles to identify the patterns in English.
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He's surprised at how much more modernized Luitpold sounds than the last time they met. This will make things a bit easier. So long as the teens don't start using slang and talking about memes this kid will probably do just fine.
"Yeah? It's probably a bit small. Maybe I'm too used to the city, though." He shrugs. The walk to the pound shop wasn't long, and soon enough he was walking down the arts and crafts aisle to pick out various colors to paint eggs. "Do you want any sweets while we're here? Don't ask me to make them unless you enjoy eating charcoal." He didn't even look at Luitpold as he asked. He was looking at different paints, markers, crayons, and intended on buying some cheap towels to use as rags in case things got a little messy. Eventually he picked up a few things and put them in the basket.
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[ ⏳ ] He's settled somewhat comfortably into the quiet life that had been arranged. Admittedly, there are many things that still baffle him - the plastic rectangles used in place of money is one - but the village is small and comfortable and it gives him a sense of control, as if he is learning things on his own terms. People seem more willing to put up with strange things. And he's....a little willing to bend, if that's the price for whatever this might be called. A second chance seems too generous. He's not sure if that's really it at all.
"I will fetch some."
[ ⏳ ] But if Alistair looks up later he'll find the boy gone, the bell of the shop door ringing as he hoofs it - it is nice to run, to breathe, to feel the cool mountain spring bloom around him - to the little bakery a few doors down. Thankfully the grocer can speak a little English, so Alistair isn't entirely out of luck when he needs to check out.
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When Alistair finally look up and down the sweets aisle, he didn't find the wee German [Austrian? I still don't know]. He let out a heavy sigh, and trudged up to the register. He offers a badly-accented 'hello' in German, and an awkward smile. Much to his relief, a few fixed phrases in English were enough for him to get by with the cashier.
Once he checked out, he stands outside the shop and decides to wait a few minutes for Luitpold to show up again. It's not like he can text him and be like 'yo where's your dumb arse at?' Hopefully this kid shows up soon or he's getting pelted with leftover eggs as punishment and retribution. Also, crash course in Halloween? Even though it's Spring? Maybe. That seemed to be more up America's alley.
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[ ⏳ ] Frankish by origin, though he'll never admit to it. German is as close a label as he'll put on himself, though that's not really right either. It's complicated.
[ ⏳ ] Luitpold turns up soon enough with a paper bag in one hand and bottle of milk in the other. He does not look in the least bit apologetic for having effectively abandoned Alistair at the shop, though he does look plenty pleased about whatever he's got.
"You like walnuts?"
[ ⏳ ] At least he got enough to share, it seems. Does it occur to him he might have been rude? Absolutely not.
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He stares. "Where'd you go and get your messages? What's in the bag, a piece?" He's gonna make Luitpold's life more difficult, now. Yay passive aggressive!
He adjusts the shopping bag in his hands, and starts walking back to the lil cottage. "If you're a braw lad maybe I'll let you join the wee ones and hunt for the eggs. I'll get your photo taken with the Easter bunny, too. You can bring it home to mummy Julian and daddy Roderick [or, the other way around. Whichever works best]." He pretends like it's completely normal. Dry humor for the win!
( messages = shopping. piece = sandwich )
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"The post offi..."
[ ⏳ ] Luitpold trails off and blinks, once, slowly, realising he doesn't understand the questions at all. But he's too proud to ask, and Alistair's resumed mocking make him grit his teeth a bit.
"And maybe I will just go home and eat the strudel on my own. This is my home. You do not have to be a...a...slapping-face."
[ ⏳ ] Oh god, he doesn't know the proper word in English. But that's what it means, right? It just doesn't seem to carry the same weight...
[ ⏳ ] But the fact that he doesn't really bite back? Or even asked about the whole rabbit thing? Oh, Alistair, you've hit a nerve. He's actually, genuinely a little bit angry, not just riled like you usually get him.
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He has to hold himself back to keep from laughing at the initial response. The second one, however, makes him roll his eyes. "Calm down, now, it's no that big of a deal. We both went and got our messages done, aye? All you're gonna do is paint some eggs and say hi to the wee ones. I don't speak German so I'm taking you with me." Alistair really doesn't see why Luitpold is ticked. Something in the back of his mind, though, makes him think explaining Santa and the Easter bunny a little more thoroughly might not be a bad idea.
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"Sit sind jünger als ich."
They are younger than I.
[ ⏳ ] Softly, mumbled, though that he says it in German assures he does not want it to be known. It's still a sore spot, even after all these years. He is older, he should be older, he remained as he was so they could be as they are. He lives with the knowledge of that injustice, that the ones he now extracts his tithes from (for he refuses to view it as a dependency) were in many way the ones responsible for his fall. And yet he cannot blame the Austrians for only doing what is in their nature. Ambition builds nations. Ambition fells empires.
[ ⏳ ] Falling hurts so much more when you wake back up again.
"Fine. I'll play interpreter."
[ ⏳ ] He trudges ahead, though, pointedly, letting the unwarranted anger fizz off before he says anything regretful.
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He's more than willing to let Luitpold take the lead, despite the boy not really knowing where to do. Oh well. The little German phrase is most definitely not understood, but he doesn't press for translations at this moment. "That's a good lad. I'll warm up some cock-a-leekie soup and you can have some with the piece you bought at the store." Along the way, he shift the bag to sit in the crook of his arm while he lights up a cigarette. They're outside so hopefully nobody loses their shit over one measly cigarette.
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welovecatsandkittens.com/
Although this is really more for Julian.
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{ fun fact luit is a dog person and he would take full advantage knowing julian was skittish around them
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((Good thing he does not know.))
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{ ehh he learns much sooner than julian would like
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((Vive isn't going to discover a pack if hunting dogs in his chambers is she?))
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{ he usually has a couple of dogs at any given time the main difference is the size
though towards the end he's likely to have a large hound as a guard
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(oh my heart ;;; so beautiful )
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{ thanks sm!!luit's doing his best :'^)
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"Happy Birthday ya daft bawheed."
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“Thank you, really.”
“Guess San-ta is obliges to bring me presents, huh?”
[ ....is that a fuckign jOKE ]
[ he’s trying ok he’s not always a stick in the mud ]
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"Aye, sure. 'N maybe the toothfairy will come after ye knock the poor man out of his wits."
Pats his head
The poor guy has no idea what's even going on anymore
Alistair is just gonna make it worse : )
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“...tooth fairy? What sort of nonsense do they tell children these days?”
??????????? Rip in pieces Luitpold
Kinda...swats away the hand, but he’s more confused than annoyed
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