She’d never seen another person with marks like the ones she had; not that she hadn’t put on them anyway. But there he was loading cargo onto his ship. He didn’t see her coming; she didn’t try to get his attention and though she probably would have lashed out at some strange person touching her, he simply froze and then slowly turned his head.
She was beaming up at him by then and without saying a word she took a step back, stuck her leg through the slit in her skirt and pointed his gaze toward it and then her arm. He gave a broad laugh and for a while they talked.
She helped him load his cargo and at the end of the day there were two strangely scarred people watching the sun set over the water while they drank. She left not long after that, never asking his name and he set sail the next morning.
She stood near the burning remains of the bridge and stared, her eyes finally flooded with tears. So long she had been without a real home but then she had come here and she had this place after a fashion. She worked here and she played here, she shopped here and she ate here and she pretended that she had people here when she’d never had anyone at all. She had the lions and the lanterns and the sea air and now it was all in ruin.
She’d been sitting on a hillside painting in water when the first strike came. She’d not thought much of the sound at first but it didn’t take long for her gaze to find the problem and then to travel upward to it’s source. And it kept coming and the city was falling. It was burning. People were screaming.
There were people who needed help.
And so she ran.
And for days she dug people out of the rubble and ushered them out of their crevices to safety. At least she tried to. Sometimes they were too afraid to leave and sometimes they were too big for her to make them go. Sometimes they died before they reached the edge of the city and sometimes they came under attack and her charges ran off during the fighting.
Sometimes she couldn’t save them. Sometimes she brought their bodies out. And sometimes they died in her arms just after reaching safety. Sometimes she listened to dying whispers and made promises she wasn’t sure she could keep but would spend the rest of her days trying to fulfill. And then she went back and sometimes they came out alive and sometimes they died and sometimes they were so lost in their fear that they fought her; she’d been punched and even stabbed once but that only made her more determined.
And now it was days later and it felt like centuries and the world was on fire and the distance she could still hear their screams. She wiped the tears from her eyes and pursed her lips in stubbornness and pride because she wasn’t done yet; she wasn’t going to let them chase her away and it was time to try and save someone else.
There was a skittering of stone, a shift in the rubble that came from within. And then for several moments it was still until one final shift saw a crack opening between the stones. Fingers that had been scraped raw and bloody wriggled through the gap in the stone. Fingernails torn and missing the hand felt around, latching onto a bit of rock here, feeling out another there until with careful shifting the rubble began to move and slide once again. In a cloud of dust and ash it collapsed and a figure slowly pushed itself up and wavered there in the gloom.
Her face was caked with dirt and blood. Her hair was matted, her clothes so dirty it was impossible to tell what color they had been. Her lip was split and all of her was a mass of scrapes and bruises. One eye was glued shut with what she hoped was blood from the wound to her head but she wasn’t going to go feeling around. That whole side of her body hurt and if she was missing an eye she would deal with that later. There were more pressing matters just now.
But ever the lady she took a moment to dust herself off. And then she saw the clouds of gas, green and swirling. Poison.
Frowning in distaste and annoyance she tore a long strip from her skirt and moved to a puddle left by some elemental fountain to soak it in. She wrung it out quickly and tied it around her head to cover her mouth and nose.
And then she saw him coming out of the haze.
He was unsteady and already injured. Maybe he was dying. She didn’t care. She did not siphon anything from him, did not send anything after him. But she was good with an axe. Oh, she was very good with an axe. And in two more steps she gave an enraged shout and he had one those axes embedded in his skull.
It was only as she moved to retrieve it that she realized she was being watched and looking across the path between the piles of rubble and ruined buildings she saw them huddled under the remains of an archway. They looked at her in absolute terror, she doubted the oldest could have been more than ten. Beneath her mask she frowned; she wasn’t the one to save people but she could not leave them there alone either.
Sighing she gave a jerk of her head toward where she hoped they would find a portal and then held her bloodied hand out toward them. “Let’s go.”
They did not hesitate and soon enough she was leading three children out of the ruins of the city. She watched them leave through the portal but did not follow. No, she was not a rescuer nor was she the type to seek help. She was going back in and she was going to kill everything she came across that had anything at all to do with Scarlet Briar. And she would make sure they suffered while she was at it.
Her eyes did not widen but her eyebrows rose as she looked at the Rat (king would never enter her mind). Alaia didn’t know what had set him off but she had her doubts as to it being anything real; the gods only knew what got this one going.
Her gaze flicked to his chosen weapon and then back to his eyes. Her own hands were loose at her sides and empty but there was a subtle twitch of her fingers; one you had to be looking for to see, one you had to be familiar with to know what it meant.
She probably should have been afraid but she wasn’t. People never scared her. Not like this. And it was only knowing that Cris still needed the guy that kept her from doing anything. There were so many points of contact, so many places she could get to and have this whole thing done with. But she didn’t. Instead she sighed; deflating, calming and kept her eyes on his.
”You’re going to want to put that down,” she said quietly, “and think about why I’m here.”
She held her hands up, rings flashing, so he could see that she had no weapons (he didn’t know that she didn’t require one if it came down to it) and leaned back against the wall.
Her voice floated in over his shoulder: “You want a side of bacon with that whiskey?”
She’d been in the kitchen (wasn’t she always?) and was busy pulling the long, loose curls that made up her hair free from their sloppy braid when she saw him at the table, alone, with his bottle and his glass.
She had no problem reaching around him to pick that glass up and take a drink herself. Her eyes closed as the whiskey rolled down her throat; she had a way of savoring the little things that most people took for granted and did so in a manner that was so obvious without her meaning for it to be. Somehow she seemed to manage to find a way to enjoy everything just a little bit more.
A little sigh left her lips when her bright eyes opened again and putting his glass back down in front of him she reached for the bottle. She did not pour him more but dropped herself into the chair across from him; she figured if he wanted to be alone he wouldn’t have sat right there where he knew she would inevitably find him. Besides, he could always just tell her to go away.
She tilted her head a little and her lips spread into a smile again. “There is bacon though, really.” Suddenly she had the most comical frown on her face. “You know, I didn’t actually come here to be a cook.”
With a shake of her head she got herself back on track and her eyebrows rose as she looked at him; waiting for a response about the bacon or why he was drinking alone and a handful of other things she left unsaid.
Aislynne is a fairly well contained person; she doesn’t get very emotional, noticeably, most of the time. She has a great depth of feeling but she has always kept those things to herself whether the feelings were good or bad. She’s been forced into the presence of people she could not stand on several occasions and learned to hide her opinions and her feelings at a very young age. And while she knows she doesn’t necessarily have to do that now old habits die hard.
Faced with someone she did not like she would plaster on a polite smile and excuse herself from their presence at the nearest opportunity. Assuming they were in public and/or there were other people around.
If she disliked this person because they’re rude/mean etc. she would either disappear as soon as she saw them or wait for them to say something. She’s ok with arguing and/or putting someone in their place if it’s deserved.
Were the disliked person close to someone she cares about she’d stick around to make sure her friend was alright. She might aim a few masked jabs if that person didn’t like her either but she wouldn’t start any trouble outright unless it was well earned.
Basically she’s careful. Just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean that you should do anything about it. Sometimes personalities clash and it’s no more than that. She would happily tuck herself out of the way in such an instance. But sometimes there are people, or groups of people, who need to taken down a peg or two (or, you know, slaughtered if they’re trying to take your home but whatever).
So she’s careful and she’s calculated and her hostility and her dislike will only come out if she finds it necessary that they do. It really depends on the person, the situation and just what sparked the dislike. She’s got a hot temper but luckily it’s not too easily drawn out. So far. Maybe. <.<
This is your chance. The chance to rise among the heroes, to take hold of your dreams, and to make a difference. We live in a world where tragedy will never miss a chance to strike us where it hurts us most. We as a people have learned to endure - but that isn’t enough. Azeroth needs…
Ooohh … So, so tempted for Aislynne.
Well if Aislynne joins….
Yuusssss, let’s do it! Or try to do it. They might not like us. XD
How could they not love Aislynne? She’s adorbs!
I don’t know, I don’t make the rules! XD
Guys the petition to recognize Fibromyalgia as a disability ends this month and it needs 97.5 K signatures still please sign this petition its extremely important. Fibromyalgia is ‘a common syndrome in which a person has long-term, body-wide…
Because having this SUCKS. Because between this and the diabetes I would chose to lose this one first. And because people who have this are treated like crap and it’s not fair.
And no one is signing. :(
I met this twerking, albino Raven named Pearl today. It is only one of four known albino Ravens in the whole world.
Pearl lives in this woman’s house. The handler has a permit, and the bird is property of the government (like hawks and falcons). She is affiliated with the California Wildlife Center. Every time the handler stopped petting Pearl she started cawing. She really likes affection.