Alignment:Thras would be a good fit for Arthur. A lot of things that he has encountered since leaving home have been dangerous and quite frankly terrifying. There have been plenty of moments where he has wanted to run back home and hide among his books, and he honestly still struggles with that. However, with the support of his friends and family, he’s learning to be brave. He might complain a lot, but he is learning.
Other: I would like Arthur to have his faerie with him if I could. Nymian faeries are sentient beings, but they don’t seem to be able to communicate verbally. Clover will spend most of her time in the soul stone unless Arthur calls on her, or if she decides to make an appearance to quietly sass him. She's very shy and cautious otherwise.
[ Ask any one of Arthur’s acquaintances about where his strengths lie, and they might toss out a few varied answers, such as his intelligence, or his skill as a healer, or the well-practiced way he’s able to roll his eyes and look absolutely put out over the most minor of inconveniences, but Arthur knows where his true talents are: in getting things from shelves. True, he’s much more adept at retrieving books from shelves, and all the better for him if there’s a ladder he can use, but he is not going to let this particular shelf best him.
Of course, why the exact cooking pot he needs is on a shelf far too tall for any human being to reach is beyond him. One more instance of the nebulous powers that be having a little chuckle at his expense, he supposes.
Well, there may not be a ladder, but there is a stool, which he fetches and positions under said menace of a shelf. However, and silly him for not testing it before hand, once he hoists himself up to stand on the stool, he finds it a bit… lacking. It wobbles worryingly, and Arthur casts a sharp glance downward. ]
You had better hold.
[ But even as he says it, he doesn’t feel the conviction in his words. It’s a funny thing, how mere uncertainty over the sturdiness of a gods-be-damned stool of all things can set the dominoes falling, because suddenly the stool seems to be just as uncertain as he is, and sets to wobbling something fierce. This, of course, startles him, and that sudden feeling like the floor has gone out from underneath him proves to be prophecy when the stool suddenly jolts and falls over, sending Arthur toppling to the floor with a none-too-dignified yelp of surprise.
He’s just… he’s going to lie here for a moment. Don’t mind him. ]
arthur inkwell | original (ffxiv)
Other: I would like Arthur to have his faerie with him if I could. Nymian faeries are sentient beings, but they don’t seem to be able to communicate verbally. Clover will spend most of her time in the soul stone unless Arthur calls on her, or if she decides to make an appearance to quietly sass him. She's very shy and cautious otherwise.
General Sample: Once upon a time in a magic steampunk western AU.
Emotion Sample:
[ Ask any one of Arthur’s acquaintances about where his strengths lie, and they might toss out a few varied answers, such as his intelligence, or his skill as a healer, or the well-practiced way he’s able to roll his eyes and look absolutely put out over the most minor of inconveniences, but Arthur knows where his true talents are: in getting things from shelves. True, he’s much more adept at retrieving books from shelves, and all the better for him if there’s a ladder he can use, but he is not going to let this particular shelf best him.
Of course, why the exact cooking pot he needs is on a shelf far too tall for any human being to reach is beyond him. One more instance of the nebulous powers that be having a little chuckle at his expense, he supposes.
Well, there may not be a ladder, but there is a stool, which he fetches and positions under said menace of a shelf. However, and silly him for not testing it before hand, once he hoists himself up to stand on the stool, he finds it a bit… lacking. It wobbles worryingly, and Arthur casts a sharp glance downward. ]
You had better hold.
[ But even as he says it, he doesn’t feel the conviction in his words. It’s a funny thing, how mere uncertainty over the sturdiness of a gods-be-damned stool of all things can set the dominoes falling, because suddenly the stool seems to be just as uncertain as he is, and sets to wobbling something fierce. This, of course, startles him, and that sudden feeling like the floor has gone out from underneath him proves to be prophecy when the stool suddenly jolts and falls over, sending Arthur toppling to the floor with a none-too-dignified yelp of surprise.
He’s just… he’s going to lie here for a moment. Don’t mind him. ]
Questions: Nope!