1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve, Marech Veylor

1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve, Marech Veylor

5 days ago

@martialVarnish[MV]

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

1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve, Marech Veylor

5 days ago

@martialVarnish[MV]

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

Captain Lavell Mirith, Field Operations

5 days ago

@diligentAcquisitions[DA]

Read Carefully, Good evening. I was satisfied to Observe the comings and goings of the userbase of this platform for some time yet, until it was brought to my Attention that my Presence was sorely sought after. And with an egotistical jab to my honor, I am forced from my dwelling to make myself more apparent. This is counterintuitive to my efforts, but who am I to deny a man his showmanship? I am at, the end of the night, a duelist myself. So, hello, Chittr. I am Lavell Mirith, Captain of Threshecutioner Reserve Field Operations. Violet, of course, in blood. From my brief time watching you all mill your free time away on this platform, I am well aware that my decoration, manners of discipline and testimonies, interests you all very little. So I will not waste my time on them. Know that the decorations are many and my position well earned. There are many of you, flippant in your use of this application and arrogant in the ways that you choose to share your location with any troll that happens to ask for coordinates. Carry on in this way as you would like. The reports will be penned all the same. The appropriate visits, made. Back to the matter at hand. Perhaps I should be flattered that scent alone could make you ache in such a way. If truly you used your deductive capabilities to pin me with such ease, why then was this matter not addressed on that very balcony? Is it truly a trick when the intended "victim" was keen on sharing that drink? The holes in your accusation have cropped up just as quickly as you were to remove the stained shirt. It was hardly a splash and the buttons of your uniform jacket were undone before I could take one quivering breath. It was in that early morning light that you bared your skin to me out on the balcony. I waited with baited breath for you to utter my name in challenge, this is true, and yet, our blades remain sheathed. Tonight I drink to you, First Officer Marech Veylor, in belated celebration to the honor you have yet to bring challenge to me for. May these words deepen your curiosities. Signed, Captain Lavell Mirith Threshecutioner Reserve Field Operations

1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve, Marech Veylor

5 days ago

@martialVarnish[MV]

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

1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve, Marech Veylor

5 days ago

@martialVarnish[MV]

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

Laulum Pifzip

5 days ago

Trolltism

This user is neuro anything but typical.

Yuri Official

This user officially supports Yuri.

Verified

A user of established repute

FOR THE SAKE OF IT

Pure, simple, blood on the wall, knuckles to face, honest to fuck violence.

genderfluid

Stay hydrated!

ON DAT DERP

Just about the derpiest user around!

@hemoptysisCyanide[HC]

I AM ACTUALLY ALLOWED 2 TYPE ":3" BECAUZE THATZ LITERALLY MY LUZUZ' FACE

1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve, Marech Veylor

5 days ago

@martialVarnish[MV]

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