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Welcome to the idyllic town of Addersfield, located on History Island in Auradon, home of Illedale University.
Students here are children of some rather famous faces. And some have made fame in their own right, like King Ben or the Lady Mal. We’re proud to boast a diverse student culture and a rich history–
[–and that’s enough of THAT broadcast! Is this thing on? Hello? Can you hear me?
Good. I’ll warn ya right now, everybody– if you thought Auradon Prep was wild, you ain’t seen nothing yet! Illedale is bigger, meaner, and with the past not so distant to us, tensions can run pretty high around here.
‘Course, you probably know the story by now. When preparing for his coronation, King Ben declared his first royal proclamation to allow over 4 VKs from the Isle of the Lost to come to the city. After a whole showdown about good and evil, the four integrated into Auradon society pretty well, and then after drama at Cotillion, Mowgli rallied the Auradon people to fight for the disbandment of the Isle, sending the villains to rehab and their kids to Auradon Prep.
Catching you up since graduation, pretty much all of us ended up moving to Addersfield for higher education in Auradon’s system– cuz man, I gotta tell ya, it’s a lot better in Auradon than it is anywhere else. Well, ‘cept for all the evil takeovers, I guess.
But not everyone’s cut out for college itself. The nice thing about Addersfield is that it’s all a pretty tight-knit community based around the school itself. More of a college township, as it were. So some of AP’s graduates moved to town to work with a crowd they know well.
I can’t stay much longer, but don’t let the stuffy advertising fool ya about this place, folks! We’re a lot more than what the surface wants to pretend. I’d drop your application while you can if I were in your shoes! This is P. Warner, sending you right back to your regularly scheduled programming!]
–and enroll in your future today at Illedale University, where the story starts anew.
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Open Starter: Jungle Room
“Don’t touch that,” Emma says from her desk without turning to see whoever was trying to look into her room and figure out what was going on in here. With her small forest on her half, it’s no surprise, but she knows that particular rustle all too well. “It’s highly toxic. There’s a specific way of going about handling it.”
She finishes reading her current line and turns around, standing up to be seen by the other.
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untxld-stxries​:
"Life's a party and I'm the piñata."
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“...none of that makes sense to me.” Emma pauses, cocking her head. “Then again, I’m from Camelot Heights, there’s much I still don’t really understand here.”
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askthekingofnowhere​:
He hugs her back just as tight. “Some sort of diplomatic mission. Camelot wants to send some of its ‘less fortunate’ to Auradon Prep to give them a better life and give them a foot in Auradon’s door. I got here months ago, but there were some things back home that got a little out of hand so I had to go back. Just got back here a few days ago, really.”
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“Oh, so you’ve just been avoiding me, is that it?” Emma teases, chuckling. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been taking to talking to my plants because I seem to be having trouble connecting with the other students here.”
She shrugs. “Other students seem to find me a bit strange or hard to talk to or something. I don’t mind, though, it’s just been rather... quiet.”
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untxld-stxries​:
Mara flipped through her envelopes, nodding to herself as she read through the names on the backs and remembering what was inside each. She hoped sending seeds to friends back in Deverre would make her miss them less, and make them miss her less. She squeaked and looked up, laughing.
“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled. “That’s a beautiful plant. Do you know what it is? I think I want one for my garden.”
“I’m not entirely sure yet. I was going to take it back to my room and go through my journal. I log all the plants from the Forbidden Forest, track their growing patterns and such. I need to double check that to be certain with you.”
Emma smiles warmly. “I’d hold off on your requesting it for any garden until I know whether or not it’s friendly with other plants. Some things back home grow in isolated locations for a reason. I’m Emma.”
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Closed Starter: Express Delivery
Emma comes out of the mail room with a potted plant.
It was brought from Camelot Heights-- her parents had insisted on its rapid arrival and had done everything to make it so it would happen. It was apparently something they’d found in the forest that they were pretty sure she didn’t have, and they were correct.
She’s rushing it back to her room when she nearly bumps into someone. “Oh!” She pokes her head above the leaves. “Sorry!”
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@untxld-stxries​ (Mara)
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“The truth is... we have forgotten how to be good guests, how to walk lightly on the earth as its other creatures do.”
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ofstcriestold​:
“Then let’s end this.”
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Ailwin takes Emma’s wrist and slams it against the locker, careful to keep the blade outstretched as far as her arm would allow. He moves up to look down into her face even as–perhaps to the surprise of the onlookers and perhaps not–he slips his own sword back into its scabbard. Let her yield; let her refuse to yield; let her do as she will. He’s made his point enough to himself. She could not best him. And more….
“Your honor is a joke. You pulled a sword on a man who kept his sheathed–and for what? I didn’t raise my hand until you did.” He bangs her hand again against the locker again, harder, and draws back. He pulls himself up squarely, gives her one last look, and then turns away with a sneer. “Behold the honor of Camelot and its knights: behold how easily it crumbles against a worthy foe. There’s more shame on you now than ever there was on me.”
“For what, other than a strange boy cornering and immediately verbally attacking a small lady because he knew he could physically impose over her?” Emma raises an eyebrow, refusing to let him rattle her, masking her pain.
“Yeah, dude, everyone saw you attack her,” another girl says from her locker, slipping over to link arms with Emma. “Probably the security cameras did, too.” She smiles at Emma. “Let’s get you outta here, okay? My name’s Ginger Gad.”
“Thank you, Ginger,” Emma says politely, and Ginger gives Ailwin another scowl before leading Emma off quickly.
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ofstcriestold​:
Ailwin takes the blow to his legs without grunting or flinching–a momentary snarl and he’s back to pressing his advantage. On an Isle of ingrates and cheats, one learns to adapt to all manner of fighting, including blows below the belt. Emma is not the first–nor will she likely be the last–to go for his legs, assuming them unsteady.
He’s since learned to keep them under him and balance his weight that much better.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he says, laughing.
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But he breaks the hold, realizing it is not enough to collapse her, and swings for her side instead.
Emma rolls her eyes and blocks his incoming swing. “I do not yield unless in a draw. However I daresay you need reminding that schools in Auradon are far less lenient about these sorts of things.”
She’ll get out of it. Anyone can collaborate that he had cornered her first, that her reaction had been in self-defense. And she was the good, quiet girl in class. No, Emma would not get in nearly the same trouble he will.
Still, she’d very much like to get on with her day...
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ofstcriestold​:
With a sound that’s almost joyous, childlike in it’s own way, Ailwin knocks aside Emma’s incoming blow, but he recognizes it for what it is: an olive branch. A warning strike. She thinks to leave this battle aside and call it a draw.
Ailwin does not accept draws. He swings his sword back around and attacks from above, bearing down on her, using his height to his advantage in forcing her down if he can. “Tired already?” he grits out, face becoming an ugly mask of the smile his father so often wears.
She blocks him and does her best to push back, but in a show of strength, she is certainly no match for the other.
But she doesn’t need to be. She smirks, her head still cool. “Hardly.”
She times her next shove up with a hard sweep of her leg at his own legs in an attempt to knock him to the ground. His focus is on his strength bearing down on her, after all. She’s used this tactic on some of the boys she’s trained with at home. No one expected someone so small to have such strong legs.
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ofstcriestold​:
Ailwin brings his blocked blade back around and thrusts again, short and sharp and right for the neck: easy to block, too easy. He laughs, the old exhilaration filling his limbs, joy in battle and bloodshed–the only time his father ever praised him, learning to move and strike–HARD, fast–in the heat of battle.
It’s a thrill that never gets old.
His other hand comes around in a fist, moving just seconds behind his blade to pay back her blow to the stomach tenfold.
She sees his motion too late, letting out a slight hiss when his punch lands, but smirking when she looks back up at him nonetheless. It seems neither of them would go down easily.
Emma has seen that before. And she is much the same. So she straightens back up with ease and finally goes in for her own strike-- only meant in warning. They're still at school, and Emma still is an honorable person. She has no need to even wound... but she will if she must.
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ofstcriestold​:
He hadn’t come with the intention of a fight–but he always came prepared for one. Emma’s punch to the stomach was a cheap trick, but it did do enough to give her the space to draw her sword. He straightened up and followed suit, a familiar, maniacal glint in his eyes. There was no one here to put a stop to things, no disappointed sister looking on, no reason not to smash her skull in the way his father ought to have smashed in her mother’s.
“A gutless wench–just like your mother,” Ailwin growls, and no sooner is the word MOTHER spat out than he lunges, thrusting his sword as he goes.
Emma blocks with ease, keeping herself together and contained. She's seen a number of fights in her time, with a number of styles. This is no different to her.
She defaults to her father's lessons, learning how to hear even his footfalls, though her eyes stay focused on the most important aspect in her opinion- the actual weapons. She sticks to defense, seeing no need to attempt an attack of her own when he had started all of this.
As she has always done.
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ofstcriestold​:
@lady-xfthe-rxundtable​
It takes little time if any to find her: the daughter of the girl and the blind man, his father’s conquerors, though Ailwin has never thought of them as such. (His enemy, his father’s downfall, his own personal tormentor, to his own mind, is none other than the King and his offspring–but this lady knight is nothing to be underestimated.) He doesn’t think twice when the chance is upon him: he swings out into the hallway in front of her, towering over her, and corners her against the lockers, looking down on her.
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What a sad, small little thing she is.
“…I thought heroes were supposed to be more intimidating,” he says, softly. It’s the only thing he says, one hand bracing against a wall, though the other hands limp at his side.
Emma, for her credit, seems undisturbed by the sudden assault. "What use do we have for it when the villains are trying to make up for it?"
Though she be but little... Emma punches him in the stomach, hard, shoving him away while he responds to that and drawing her sword. "I find little need to appear intimidating in looks, when my actions speak for themselves better."
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askthekingofnowhere​:
We have a what now?
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I have no idea what’s going on here, and now that I know that you don’t know either I’m even more confused.
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I hear all these Camelot Kids have a secret rating system to judge all the other AKs. Spoiler alert, Hannah doesn’t even rank.
Oooh, this got interesting. Can I get a physical copy, in like, a list form? That’s some tea and I want it spilled. -V
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askthekingofnowhere​:
Bash walked down almost every hallway of the castle looking for her. Fairy Godmother wouldn’t tell him what her room number was, something about ‘student confidentiality’ or other. Her door being open was a lucky surprise, and he stopped for a second to admire her old journal. They both were a sight for sore eyes.
He finally knocked on the frame to announce his presence and put on a friendly smirk. “Miss me?”
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Emma pauses only momentarily before she lights up excitedly, jumping up out of her seat and rushing to greet him. “Bash! When did you get here?!”
She’s thrilled at seeing her old friend. She’d missed him terribly... he was the only person she’d ever felt she could be herself around. And now he was here. Wait.
“Why are you here? Not that I’m not ecstatic to see you.” She hugs him tightly.
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Open Starter: Still Growing
Emma smiles softly as she sprays down the plants in her windowsill with water, turning a couple of them and inspecting them cautiously. Setting the spray bottle down in a minute, she opens to a page in an old leatherbound journal-- one she’s used for years to keep notes on the plants in her care, in the woods at home... in her life, no matter how brief.
She goes to the part where she started keeping a daily update log on the ones in her windowsill here at AP, starting to make notes when there’s a knock at the door, which she’d left open. Turning from her desk, she looks back at the other person in her doorway. “Yes?”
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Open Starter: Stay In Your Place
Emma sighs to herself, as she closes yet another history book and shakes her head a bit. She needs to get out and think. Getting up, she picks up her bag and walks out of the library, stopping in the hall and looking around a moment.
How is she supposed to handle Family Day? It’s coming up way too fast. And she doesn’t think she has the guts to tell her parents the truth. That she doesn’t want to be a knight, that she’s never wanted to be a knight.
Sighing, she turns to leave only to walk straight into someone. “...sorry.”
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