♣ mediated by @diligentAcquisitions
Attention, Hektor was holding out on a higher resolution portrait. How mischievous. In order to attain this portrait, I had to dissolve several of his citations. @gallavantingGourmand https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/f1807fced590.png Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
I hope the esteemed duelists don't mind me taking some artistic liberty~~~~~~~~. @martialVarnish @diligentAcquisitions #ThreshecutionerBlogging #LiveGladiatorReaction #DuelistBonds #SelfInsert #ThreewayDuels #UnicornSighting https://cdn~.imgchest~.com/files/deab4c14589c~.png
Attention, I would like to personally thank Hektor Castio, @gallavantingGourmand, for serving as Witness to the Duel between Captain Mirith and myself. His presence was appreciated. His discretion was, at select intervals, almost convincing. There is a particular value in having a third set of eyes present when two Officers meet in private to settle a matter of friction, pressure, stamina, and steel. One wants the record to be accurate. One wants the angles pReserved. One wants someone with a steady hand nearby when the formalities become difficult to describe without sounding indecorous. Hektor, to his credit, remained admirably attentive. He observed the Captain’s advance. He observed my resistance. He observed the moment that resistance became a matter of debate. He observed the aftermath with the seriousness due any scene involving a compromised Uniform, a breathing imbalance, and two Officers who had spent themselves quite thoroughly in pursuit of satisfaction. Following the Duel, he was also gracious enough to provide a portrait. For the portrait, naturally. That is why we permitted him to linger. That is why the evening required additional time, additional arrangement, and a more intimate study of posture, expression, placement, bruising, and hue. A proper portrait is not made from memory alone. It requires patience. Proximity. Correction. Occasionally, one must return to the same position several times before the hand understands what the eye has Witnessed. Captain Mirith and I both appreciate Hektor’s dedication to his craft. Whatever others may infer from the three of us remaining together after the formal matter had concluded, I would remind Chittr that Witness work can be demanding, portraiture can be exhausting, and highblood Ceremony often requires more than the untrained public is prepared to comprehend. Gaze upon it. @diligentAcquisitions https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/f1807fced590.png Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, The matter has officially concluded. Captain Mirith was victorious. There is no way to refuse the official record of the Duel, as I have also been made to file it myself. He was prepared, as I required. He pressed with force, capitalized on an opening I should not have so freely offered, and disarmed me before the assembled Witnesses. He was swift to have me bent and weakly holding onto my blade in front of the spectators. The field received enough of my hue to satisfy whatever appetite the Captain had chosen. I find it very moving that Captain Mirith was able to pReserve, through all that sweat, pressure, exertion, pinning, slickness, breathlessness, consumption, and thorough satisfaction, the presence of mind to assure the public that this was merely a Duel. His dedication to martial clarity remains one of his more theatrical virtues. Still, I will grant him this: he earned the right to gloat. He may keep it for as long as he can carry it elegantly. As for a rematch, I will consider the matter when I am done considering the failures I made. A rematch is a vulgar word, as opposed to the truth of the matter. It will be a necessary correction. I have considered the weight of his blade, and the pressure he exerted when he placed it upon my face. I recall the precise moment my guard was forced open for far too long. His breach of my sanctity is the only honest thing he has ever done in his position of office. It would be easy to pretend my interest is purely procedural. That I seek only to restore balance, amend the record, and demonstrate that a single defeat does not settle the quality of an Officer. All of that is true, of course. Unfortunately, truth can be very indecent when arranged correctly. I remember the impact. I remember the heat of my own hue spilling where it had no permission to be. I remember the Captain above me, unkind enough to be beautiful in victory, watching my composure come apart one measured breath at a time. I remember my face marked by the consequence of him, stained until even dignity had to look away. One does not forget being opened so thoroughly before Witnesses. One also does not forgive it. So yes, Captain Mirith may rest assured that I am thinking long and hard about a rematch. I am thinking of his blade. I am thinking of the place it found me. I am thinking of whether, when next it pierces through my defense, I will permit the expression on my face to be mistaken for surrender. Or whether I will make him earn that misunderstanding twice. That is right. I will be coming for you, Captain Mirith (@diligentAcquisitions). I will keep coming for you until I catch you. Then, you will come for me. Our game of meowbeast and squeakbeast will continue until one of us is dead, or worse. For the sake of Chittr's Content Policy: #NSFW, as our blades are rather violent and cause chaos in the Reserve Offices of the Threshecutioners. #Violence for violence. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, What do you mean by this? Answer immediately or face a citation. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, Captain Mirith (@diligentAcquisitions), You erred in public. I corrected you in public. This is not a demonstration of poor manners, Captain. It is the natural consequence of allowing your prose to leave the privacy of your hand earlier than you intended. You ask whether I have forgotten that we present, in theory, a united front beneath Her glorious Empire. I have not. That is precisely why your conduct remains offensive. A united front does not require me to pretend that an Officer may spill Reserve upon another Officer’s regalia, misrepresent a ceremonial rite, and then expect the injured party to pReserve his dignity for him. You speak of my appearance, my attention, my ego, my Ceremony, and my supposed pleasure in the crowd’s notice. It is impressive how naturally you accuse me of vanity while circling the memory of my undone Uniform like a starving thing circling glass. If I was filled to bursting with anything that night, Captain, it was restraint. A quality you continue to mistake for invitation. Your decorations were not denied. They were deemed irrelevant. Maybe it was a mistake to take Inventory of you, as you cannot help but make yourself relevant to an offense. I do not take pride in publicly undressing you in your disgrace. A decorated Officer cannot cleanse the act with his numerous accolades. It is more insulting because you should know better. I take pride in reducing you to the facts, certainly. The issue is that you experience this as exposure, and that is your own private trial. As for romance, Captain, do not place that word in my mouth. I am offended by its taste. I denied it. Publicly. Repeatedly. You, meanwhile, have written of insertion, penetration, my bared skin, your bitterness at my voice, and your desire to see me unsheathed on the defensive. You will lap my blade clean of insinuation when I am through with you. You have finally identified the offense you wish to address. I do not deny your accolades. You have simply disHonored mine. I am not eager. You are evasive. I do not perform for a gallery. It has gathered to gawk at your embarrassment. You creak so easily, like the squeaking of a headboard on old panels of wood. We have finally reached something honest. Bring your accusation formally, Captain Mirith. Name the Witness. Name the rite. Name the injury to your station. When it is within my hands, I will cherish its historical value immediately. I will praise it, as my fingertips brush over every detail. I will bring it toward my face so that I can bask in it and take it all in at once. I, unlike you, am suited for such duties. We will see whether your desire to see me defensive can be granted under proper supervision. Note, for the sake of Chittr's Content Policy: #violence, #gore, #Dueling Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, This is Reserved for a particular individual who has yet to show his face, but has deigned to offend me with his presence regardless. I noticed you at the Officer's Masquerade yesterlight. As I write this message, I am ashamed to admit I did not recognize you by any mannerisms or demeanor. Rather, it was the cologne in which you have so carelessly drenched these letters. I first realized it when my gills burnt with that familiar resonance of disgust I Reserve for the likes of you. My suspicions were only confirmed when I took Inventory of you in full. Your cufflinks were haphazardly dangling from your cuffs. Your lapel pin was a half inch too low. Only a fool like you could have made such a dire mistake. It was, of course, I with whom you shared that drink on the balcony. You tricked me, you know. I looked into that drinking Ceremony you sold me on beneath the whispers of sunlight peering through the once-dusk clouds. You made us lock arms and curve them back, intending to drink from our own cups. I know now that you jerked your arm intentionally. The Reserve you spilled on my suit in that moment was worth more than your entire sweep's worth of payroll, you know. Poured for me by the Empress's Staff as a celebration of my achievements in the field. Strange how you did not have such an Honor. The only Honor you had of me that night was Witnessing my chest bare and vulnerable for the briefest moment as my staffers retrieved my secondary Uniform. I had come prepared. Of course, you had to make a spectacle of my embarrassment. You wanted me to challenge you to that sabre fight, did you not? It was your goal. You aimed for my thumper, whilst I aimed for your structural shortcomings. I ponder these moments of ours. You remain curious to me. Note, for the sake of Chittr's Content Policy: #violence, #gore, #Dueling, #substance Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve