Arabelle

"i don't drink," she says automatically. then she blinks, no, she is more out of it than she thought, that wasn't the point, and soon amends, "but for today i'll make an exception." the last shot of energy is more forceful, almost painful as it shocks her body out of falling into a sleep state all at once, and she but pours it out of her before it could eat its way through her veins, feeling herself take a step forward and the scythe held by herself be poised for another strike. callisto and His very domain are in agonal breathing. a grander finale meant asking for one more shot. she does

"hm..." she lets the swordswoman and her shield wrangle the last of the smaller dogs. her eyes are on the bigger target and he has just emerged from the back of the cave. cerberus snarls, magma dripping from his jaws. he thunders forward and his heads thrash in wildly different directions as though he wanted to bite into all three of their surprise party at once. everyone wakes up a little ravenous sometimes. not often does dinner want to eat them back. arabelle slices off the one head angling to gore her. then at that point she stops caring about precision and thusly redirects

she is party to a kind of comedy or something and this is her cue to laugh. laugh. she doesn't. arabelle cuts and chops and hacks away at callisto's decaying body, ignoring the remnants of ghosts bahr had dispelled. confusion and cautious hope ripples through the raid, starting with a booming yell from a voice she doesn't recognize, and she's sure they'll all dissolve into a puddle of happy tears once this is all over. even the bear looks disgruntled. had she been in a less foul mood, and in any other team, perhaps the one involved, she might have dipped into the obligation to play a

the item changes hands over a pair of wineglasses. paradise lost [soundtrack: perfect (masterpiece)] Incarceration/Instant.

huh. did someone die? from the fog comes screaming. desperate rallying calls. rage. grief. arabelle, having earlier pried herself from the revenant to stand by lessa, bahr, and jomei's little cuddle pile to check on their tank's condition, quietly turns her head in the direction of the uproar, her expression blank. the world seems to have stood still in that moment, as on a side of the battleground invisible to her, pieces of light drifted to stilled waters. well, things had been rather boring around here. they even threw a marriage party at the raid meeting. her red eyes l

the knightly woman, light of her life, comes up to her. "another top off." "appreciate it." a rejuvenating force washes through arabelle's tired limbs. it is barely enough to stem the tide, but in the moment, it works. she has, what, three attacks remaining, if she budgets? four with their helpful support's little magic trick. "i might need to swap into doing something less consumptive soon," arabelle reluctantly warns the four gathered around her, "any of you need me on plant burning duty, give me a holler." but for now, with a stronger sword art in tow, she'll stick to the ro

[12/02/2024]

[12/01/2024]

the garden of proserpine. f10. | two story home. [location: the endless caverns.] Description: a sunken circle of land embalmed in artificial sunlight. Rooms + Upgrades: 6/10 room slots, 2/2 yard slots. floor 1: | living room, basic kitchen, storage closet, basement. floor 2: | master bedroom, master bathroom, guest room. floor 3: | attic (storage). yard: | extended workshop (storage shed), mega slime farm.

regardless of her own skill, an is still the luckiest girl on the block. and she hadn't been lying when she spoke her blessing over the lights. she promised it twice. so, with a new batch of curiosities from her recent trip, arabelle takes the convenient excuse to visit her friend. she waits around the corner for the last customer to finish their transaction, then she walks forward and places her spoils on the merchant's counter. a familiar motion. "hello, an," arabelle greets, "remember our old routine? please find me the shiniest things from these piles. i also want to buy some mys

paradise lost [soundtrack: perfect (masterpiece)] Incarceration/Instant.

[11/30/2024]

arabelle... accidentally drops her name? ["i'm borrowing it. i'll give it back when i'm done."] 1,318 Flower Petals | [link.] 32 Aarti | [link.] (sent to yue hua.)

[11/29/2024] # aarti: 2

stagger, stagger, stagger! the half health point is breached. the revenant beast is flayed open and melting, the fleshy and soft bits stripping away to bare the nebulous power driving Him far, far past His natural death. something like a tangible heavy fog presses her down and visibility dips. binding roots spring from the turbid water. He folds His hunters between sky and earth. as if that would stop their ascent. the music stops. bahr burns away the hindrances. there is a tickling feeling like the ghost of a maniacal laugh building up in arabelle's chest, but for appearan

thread summary. + 1,788 exp | 500 + (322 * 4 * 1) + 339,208 col | 2,000 + 400 + (1,788 * 0.15) + 336,540 + 114 mats + 1 mon + 6 demonic shards + 3 gleaming scales + 1,318 flower petals + (27) t4 perfect weapons + (22) t4 perfect light armor + (7) t4 perfect trinkets + (22) t4 perfect consumables + (7) t4 rare weapons + (6) t4 rare light armor + (10) t4 rare trinkets + (5) t4 rare consumables + (5) t4 uncommon consumables + (9) random dungeon maps

vision and mobility is quite the understatement for how the only afflicted member of the party had looked, but if arabelle were to take cordelia at her word, she really wouldn’t care at all. the physical discomfort – she’ll deal. this boss is so massive and consequently so loud that she could project all of its attacks blind. look, here is another one to compete. the party had switched tanks briefly, she had glimpsed, and now the original is back in the running and he is starting up the old racket. arabelle spins around, grit teeth, her back facing their knightly support. perhaps she

it takes a great amount of an-typical stammering and fumbling, 'no, it's fine, really!'s, for her friend to let arabelle hold on to her baggage as she rushes off into the stable with ashvini to prepare. waiting, arabelle slightly indulges her curiosity. the bag is made out of cloth, closed at the top with a drawstring. it would be rude to open it outright and poke about an's things, but nothing stops arabelle from trying to feel out the shapes of its contents through the fabric. these are... bowls? more additions to the dragon hoard of items an likes to keep in her shop? the clop of

…excuse me? she’d gathered one thousand? so caught up was she in the most aggressive farming she had ever done in her entire life that she had forgotten to keep tabs on what ordinary players killed mobs for: the spoils. (not the fun of killing things, like some psychopath. but she isn’t a psychopath. she’s aincrad’s best girl with one (1) questionable hobby. as a treat.) arabelle is certain, though, that she had not actually physically picked up above one thousand petals. her loot finder trinkets must have absorbed them while she wasn’t looking. she is in genuine awe, scrolling up her sys

…except, she thinks as she stares blankly at her interface, she is forgetting something extremely important. arabelle swaps over to her equipment and buffs loadout, almost expecting to see that she had been mopping up trash all this time with the same setup she uses for boss battles, and huffs out a sigh of relief when she finds that isn’t the case. (four mobs leap out from the bushes at her, and without taking her eyes off the window, she flicks her weapon with her free hand and sends them flying back out of sight. or rather, they fly a short distance before they disintegrate midair. fun

unless they are the flowers in her garden she doesn’t like her possessions too colorful. her food too tasty. her weapons and her armor mainly possess muted tones. and her only reason – old habits die hard. still, looking by itself isn’t unpleasant. arabelle gets a little caught up in her window shopping. she forgets to check her energy bar. by the time she notices it is already full, it must have already been about a couple of minutes. shocked back into action, the woman elbows her way past queues of people doing the same thing as her. she rubs her thumb impatiently against her scythe’s k

“thank you!” arabelle tosses over her shoulder as she tucks the braid into her inventory, because she is a good and polite girl. she takes to aimlessly walking about ylvon as she waits for her energy to regenerate. this city is not so abundantly decorated as dagans, which had been brimming with banners and paper lanterns and flowers. like ronbaru, ylvon’s festivities are largely concentrated at its center. a couple of npcs the curious player asked told her the people of this city dedicated themselves to building altars inside their shops. they displayed both their prowess at their crafts

so: she is perfectly fine. arabelle stretches her arms behind her head, bending the muscle back to its limits, a groan passing through her lips as she strolls past srona’s gates. there are fewer wagons here, moving slowly along in a queue for inspection, and she, walking on foot, is entirely unhassled. she sleepily follows the movement of the freight to the delivery point, where another npc pops up to talk to her, and the woman amuses herself in watching it visibly recalibrate to accommodate her unusual method of travel. the option was surely open to them – but was the game just expecting

her ears are sharp. she would hear, of course, the branches snapping and being twisted every which way to accommodate the movements of bodies, the soft chirrups from behind. coordinating? she does not care to discern whether there is any meaning to the sounds. at the last second, as the leeches break out of the shadows with their thorns stretched out like claws, arabelle whirls around, her scythe primed for one last shot. three bodies drop. the last, almost appearing daunted, sets itself farther behind but meets the undiscerning blade all the same. arabelle, in the quiet, harvests the loo

she has enough stamina left for two more shots. she gets far into srona without seeing another mob. as she spots the city in the distance, arabelle stops and redirects herself. she walks back and forth atound the outskirts, her eyes sharpened for her last group of mobs. the vale is quiet for a couple of minutes until the game coughs up an answer: light flashes and four leeches spawn out of nowhere, already wrapped around their flowering plants. her expression twists, half in sympathy, half in frustration. how unsightly, and how unfair that the game was dooming these blooms at the point of thei