

Hiatus
@martialVarnish
Violetblood reserve officer. Duelist, uniform purist, etiquette casualty, and decorated sufferer of public indignities.
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
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, I am currently issuing 8,305 citations for misconduct. 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, Flagellate yourself until morale improves. Per the guidelines of Chittr: #cw-self-harm #self-harm. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, Captain Mirith (@diligentAcquisitions), You have once again demonstrated that Field Operations cultivates a distinct relationship with language. One hardly knows to prepare for a Duel, or an inspection of whatever undisciplined heat you keep insisting on belonging to me. I asked that this platform cease mistaking Officerly hostility for romance. You respond by smothering your blade in perfume and deigning to lie about it being procedure. Still, I appreciate the clarification. Your attention is undivided, your motivation is sharp, your confidence is, as ever, dressed loudly enough to be mistaken for a lighthouse from shore. Let the audience scramble if they must. I will meet you as agreed. I recommend you test your footing if you intend on facing me. Otherwise, your throat will be the new sheath for my blade. You will cease speaking of private engagement and begin pleading for me to cease my thorough thrusts. You will have no defense for my proper entry as you have already exposed your weaknesses to me time and time again. I will be oiling my blade tonight for it is the only substitute that will satiate its bloodthirst in the interim. Steel yourself, Captain. 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, The matter has progressed beyond posturing. A time has been selected. A location has been accepted. Witnesses will be present, as is proper, so no party may later retreat into creative memory or claim the fog was thicker than it was. I will not be providing the details here. Chittr has proven itself enthusiastic, undisciplined, and catastrophically fond of misunderstanding ceremonial violence. Those who need to know have been informed. Those who wish to know may continue wishing. By the close of it, there will be one fewer ambiguity between us. So long as he does not dawdle and accepts my terms. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, There is a special elegance in watching a troll announce his own composure. It is akin to gathering fingerprints from candle wax. Your own warmth compromised you. The message arrived. It was very firm, and very full of promises. All the theater one might expect from such an eager-looking man. He pretends to be unprovoked. But he chose to misspell my name. A nice touch. Veyor. What do you expect that to mean? Purveyor, as he is under my watchful eye? Conveyor, because I deliver swift justice? Or am I expecting too much of him, and he is simply making mistakes? I am told I crave attention. An interesting accusation from someone who addressed me by title, handle, and grievance before assuring me he had far more important business than responding. The evening must be terribly crowded, if one must schedule indifference in advance. Still, I will grant him this much. He will finally have his match, and the tips of our unsheathed blades will finally grind against one another. 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, I have found this portrait in a convenient format to upload. Review it posthaste, then return to your labor. [Marech Veylor is a tall violetblood of severe military discipline and equal beauty. He is built with the kind of narrow elegance that lessers mistake for delicacy. His height gives him reach. His long limbs make the sabre’s length difficult to judge. His waist is trim from the discipline required to turn quickly, retreat cleanly, and keep a blade moving without dragging his body behind it. His shoulders are set high and trained into perfect form by sweeps of Uniform inspections and Dueling posture. His face is aristocratic in the most irritating sense. High cheekbones, a long nose, a precise mouth, and eyes that seem to inspect before they look. He considers these useful. A striking face holds attention, and attention is a handle by which an opponent may be moved. The eyes are especially valuable. They make weaker trolls overexplain themselves. They also make braver trolls angry enough to telegraph the first strike. Across one side of his face are clean, pale Dueling scars. Narrow marks drawn down across the cheek and near the brow. He wears them without apology. They prove he has stood against threats and taken steel without flinching. He is not disfigured. He is composed. His hair is dark, glossy, and kept longer than strict field practicality would recommend, though never loose when danger is expected. Tied back, it lengthens the line of his neck and leaves the face exposed, daring opponents to look at what they wish to damage. When loose, it is useful in theatre. He understands the value of making an enemy watch the wrong movements. His gills are sharp-edged and sensitive, set against the sides of his neck like violet slashes. They are beautiful, as they mark him as a seadweller. He is a difficult foe. His fins are neat, scar-notched, and pierced with restrained Officer’s metal. The piercings are placed so they do not interfere with aesthetics or functionality. His hands are the most revealing thing about him. Long fingers, immaculate nails, old calluses at the base of his thumb and along his palm. They are meant for letters and the stem of a glass, yet designed for grip correction, pressure, and cruelty. He is a refined Duelist. He dresses to emphasize every advantage. High collars frame the throat without restricting it. Gloves hide tells in the fingers. A tailored coat narrows the waist and broadens the shoulder, making his line harder to read at a glance. Polished boots give height, sound, and authority. He wears a Uniform of intimidation. Marech does not regard his appearance as a gift. He regards it as equipment. If others insist on finding him handsome, he will accept the tactical inconvenience, so long as he is permitted to draw his blade.] Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, Certain users of this platform appear determined to mistake every inter-Officer grievance for quadrant theatre, so I will explain this matter plainly. Officers do not benefit from cordial quadrants with one another. An Officer is expected to maintain judgment, discipline, rank integrity, and the ability to act against a peer when procedure demands it. To entangle that duty in fondness, indulgence, rivalry-as-courtship, or whatever emotional filth civilians use to make authority more digestible is to compromise the chain of command before the blade is ever drawn. This is far from my wanting to be a prude. Rather, I intend to maintain such structures. If I must file against another Officer, I will file cleanly. If I must challenge another Officer, I will do so passionately. If I must stand before Witnesses and state that another Officer has disgraced his Uniform, his Corps, and his station, I will do so whilst making it absolutely clear that it is not a tender private affection. Quadrants create exceptions that Officers cannot afford to possess. A rival Officer is not a sweetheart. A rival Officer is not a secret indulgence. A rival Officer is not an opportunity for spectators to project their appetite for scandal onto matters of discipline. A rival Officer is a test of conduct under pressure. That is why the matter is pertinent. Continue your otherwise mundane chitting. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, Captain Mirith (@diligentAcquisitions), It is "bated breath," not "baited breath." Though I confess the mistake is revealing, given your apparent talent for presenting yourself as a lure and then mistaking restraint for hunger. Your bearing and thought process are akin to playing poker with transparent cards. How fortunate that you have finally found the courage to appear. I must begin by congratulating you on your appointment to Chittr, as this seems to be the most significant public operation you have undertaken aside from weaponizing beverages against my regalia. You have entered, of course, with the subtlety of a blade dropped down a steel stairwell aboard a tanker ship. Additionally, you have the discipline, or lack thereof, to believe the balcony is the proper platform for confession beneath the young rays of the light. I did not address the matter on that very balcony because I, Captain, unlike you, do not allow myself to be surprised. I am always ready for any occasion. I took Inventory of you. I confirmed your identity with ease. Your scent, your posture, your errors in dress, your deliberate hand movement, and your attempt to construct a spectacle from your proximity to me all confirmed your appalling presence to even the most novice of gumshoes. I withdrew not from failure, but from procedure. Do continue to flatter yourself with the image of my Uniform undone if it steadies your nerves. I will not deprive you of the small comforts you require to survive the recollection of the event. My shirt was ruined. My jacket was removed. My staffers performed their duties. You watched with the desperation of a troll hoping the scene would demerit me. It did not, no matter how many daggers you stare into my form. You spilled Reserve on an Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve during a Ceremony attended by ranked Witnesses, beneath Honors you were not there to receive, after engineering a drinking rite whose mechanics you misrepresented. Now you arrive here on Chittr, perfumed, pleased with yourself, and, I guarantee, still lacking decorum in your Uniform. There is no romance here. This is a record of our continued grievances. No ache. No recognition. There is no coy invitation suspended between our sheathed blades, once slicked with the lacquered liquors of one another's violet biological hemo-adjacent material. There is only the question of whether you wish to resolve this matter truly as Officers, or whether you prefer to continue performing your charade. So drink to me if you must. Toast my name until it sweetens whatever imitation courage you are pouring down your gullet. When you are finished, Captain Mirith, address the offense plainly. Then we will discuss steel. Note, for the sake of Chittr's Content Policy: #violence, #gore, #Dueling, #substance Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, Do not use this form to communicate with me if you are blocked. You know who you are. I will be merciful in your reporting to authorities. https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSc3wQf9ZeTybBTbkffP4hYcEdznlDEpqbxpYc_wzYrCvDupVQ/viewform?usp=header Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, @glitteringAcuity has submitted the following information. [PRE-TRIAL MEDIATION! have you or has anyone you know ever been misled by false advertising related to "infinite" or "endless" refills/appetizers/etc at a restaurant or similar establishment?] I have not. I do not dine at such establishments. https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSc3wQf9ZeTybBTbkffP4hYcEdznlDEpqbxpYc_wzYrCvDupVQ/viewform?usp=header Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, @amandaHugginkiss has submitted the following information. [“This page is to observe potential dissidents to the Empire, ignore my presence” u weren’t on chittr for six hours before u were posting ur own beef with another Officer and had to go BUT IT’S NOT A PITCH THING be so for real u are not better than a Single One of us. u are not gonna last] How brave of you to arrive wearing a false nose and borrowed handwriting. I will address the substance of your submission, despite your clear cowardice in delivery. Yes, I arrived on this platform with the stated purpose of observing potential dissidents, criminal elements, and persons of interest. I then made reference to a private matter involving another Officer. These facts are not in conflict. You seem to conflate the matter of the Duel as being something of a personal stake when it, alongside all other actions of mine, are political. A Duel between rival Officers is not "beef." It is not gossip. It is not a rumor for the mill. Do not dress one of the most deathly and ritualistic practices of the Empire in the disgusting quadrant language. It will not make the reality easier for you to digest. It is a pressure valve within hierarchy. It is a method in which violence is measured without involving the whole Corps. You, naturally, do not and cannot understand this. You saw a dispute and mistook it for weakness. You see our Ceremony as flirtation. You think my restraint is a lack of authority. This mistake is made by civilians who believe visible conflicts are confessions. This is a weakness not shared by Officers of meaningful rank such as myself. I do not need to be “better than” a single one of you. You cheer for the worst of it all. I only need to make my place known. You are clearly aware of it. You cannot stop thinking of me after all. I, however, will never think of you again. https://chittr.ing/profile/martialVarnish/def2635c-e48f-4634-b1d2-de3bc6fc7a93 Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, I am opening this public correspondence to questions, inquiries, concerns, and accusations regarding other users and their activities on this platform. You may submit matters of etiquette, conduct, loyalty, violence, taste, Impropriety, rank abuse, Uniform failure, suspicious flirtation, public disorder, private cowardice, or any other quality you believe deserves my measured eye. I am not here to settle petty grievances. I am here to determine if these grievances establish a pattern of cocnern. Names are welcome, evidence is preferred, hysteria will be corrected. Proceed. https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSc3wQf9ZeTybBTbkffP4hYcEdznlDEpqbxpYc_wzYrCvDupVQ/viewform?usp=publish-editor Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, I am requesting, with the full courtesy of public notice, that users of this platform refrain from insinuating romance between Officers on the basis of professional rivalry, ceremonial offense, spilled drink, exposed indignity, or the regrettable theatricality of a sabre challenge. An Officer may despise another Officer. An Officer may file against another Officer. An Officer may seek correction, satisfaction, apology, humiliation, or blood from another Officer. None of this constitutes courtship. You may continue to confuse discipline with desire privately, where your imaginations can expire without requiring my acknowledgement. Otherwise, continue enjoying your night, light, or whatever is in between. 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
Attention, I would like to extend my continued appreciation to Chittr for the warm welcome I have received since my arrival. The enthusiasm has been both varied and revealing. At times, I admit, it was also charming. Several of you have demonstrated hospitality, some illiteracy. A smaller number of you seem to have impulse control, which I understand to be less fashionable in these surroundings. To those who greeted me with courtesy, I thank you. To those who mistook my introduction for an invitation to confess disloyalty, advertise criminal habit, or place their inadequacies in neat little rows beneath my notice, I also thank you. The appropriate posts have been pReserved, reviewed, and reported to the appropriate channels and offices. Please continue as you were. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Attention, I have been advised that this platform is a useful place to observe the habits of certain socially active persons, dissidents, enthusiasts, performers, Duelists, celebrities, self-declared revolutionaries, failed revolutionaries, and other charmingly careless souls. It pleases me to no end to know that there are vested trolls on this platform who see the aforementioned sorts and think not to raise their plowshares into swords, rather, they would be so pleasant as to allow the likes of me to observe. Naturally, this recommendation is compelling. I am Marech Veylor, 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve. Violet by blood, decorated by merit, retained by the Empire for matters of discipline, testimony, ceremonial force, and the preservation of traditional means of meritocracy. Please do not allow my presence to trouble you. I am not here to interrupt your entertainments. Continue speaking as freely as you like. Continue making enemies. Continue announcing where you gather, whom you favor, what causes have warmed your little hearts, and which Uniforms you feel bold enough to stain with your opinions. I have always found that people are most honest when they believe they are not feeling as though they are under my magnifying glass. Those of interest may consider themselves noticed. It won't remove their file from my records. Continue, I insist. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve



















