Aurora
Peasant
Angelic
Parting is such sweet, sweet sorrow
Posts: 96
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Post by Aurora on Sept 22, 2009 18:32:19 GMT -6
Aurora sighed, tossing her braid off her shoulder so it hung down her back, swinging against her hips as she walked. For some reason, there had been no need for assassinations lately, or rather, no one for her skill. All the other assassinations that had come through the guild could easily be handled by the beginners and there had been no need for the Master Assassin to take on an assignment.
Perched on her shoulder, Chance echoed her sentiment, his keen eyes taking in everyone on the street as they passed. His talons were careful not to dig into the unmarred flesh of the Angelic, instead preferring to rest there. He knew that she was bored and he was as well wishing that they had something to do.
When Aurora saw the sign for the Fire Liquid tavern, she giggled, a happy sound as she entered the building. The cloak she wore swished against her knees as she entered, watching those already there with keen eyes. The short shirt she wore exposed a tanned and taught stomach, her body was perfect in every way and it often helped when she had to get close to a male mark.
Selecting a seat that put her back to the wall, Chance settled on the back of the chair next to her as she smiled at several of the patrons. Ordering an ale, she was soon surrounded by several of the older men there as the tavern filled up with workers coming in for a cool drink now that the day had drawn to a close.
It wasn't long before the Master Assassin was soon drawn into a game of cards, the calls and laughter becoming louder and louder as more alcohol flowed. Aurora made sure to win some and lose some hands, but always keeping a good pile of coins in front of her.
It was not long before trouble started and Aurora swept the coins she'd earned into the pouch on her belt, moving back out of the way as two of the obviously more drunk patrons began brawling with each other.
"Huh, maybe someone should break that up," she muttered under her breath, highly amused with with situation now but making no move to stop it.
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Post by wren on Oct 18, 2009 18:17:23 GMT -6
The last of the day's light filtered through the windows and hit the ring on Wren's right hand, setting the metal asparkle as she drew her bow delicately back and forth, wresting a plaintive tune from the instrument. A couple of the Fire Liquid's patrons glanced over at her seat by the empty fireplace, wearing frowns, no doubt disapproving of her playing such a melancholy song this early in the evening, but Wren ignored them and closed her eyes as she exhaled in time with her fiddle. She thought it was appropriate enough; another day was ending and soon the city would be bathed in the shadows of night. After the evening crowd livened up a bit Wren would be more than happy to switch to a jig and help those heavy feet tap up a storm.
The door opened and a feminine giggle drew Wren's attention up and across the room, where it fell on the figure of angelic woman. She was jaw-droppingly beautiful, and Wren couldn't help but wonder at the inequities of the world. The young bard wasn't exactly ugly herself, but this new arrival had Wren feeling like a tin beer mug next to a glazed porcelain tea cup. With a diamond-trimmed saucer.
So when the rest of the evening crowd entered the tavern Wren wasn't surprised when they were drawn to the angelic woman. Besides being beautiful, she was charismatic and brilliant at cards. As the evening wore on, the group of men surrounding her only grew, in both size and loudness. Poor Wren couldn't even hear herself play over the crowd. She had become background noise, a third string, as it were.
Ah, well. Sometimes luck wasn't on her side.
An angry yell broke through the chatter; Wren blinked as a bottle of wine flew over her head and smashed against the wall, showering her with essence of fermented grape.
And then sometimes luck really wasn't on her side.
The culprit(s) made no indication that they'd noticed Wren's indignation and were now shoving each other, exchanging drunken glowers. Wren wiped the wine from her remaining eye and looked at the angelic woman, who had backed away and was watching the imminent fight as calmly as any other innocent in the room. Hmph, she was probably the source of all this trouble. Very well, if she wasn't going to take responsibility for this mess, then Wren would have to show her how it was done.
The young woman set down her fiddle and marched between the two drunken men, holding them each at bay with an outstretched hand. She smiled disarmingly.
"Gentleman, please," she said, much too aware that she looked more idiotic than intimidating with wine dripping from her hair but determined not to let that hinder her. "Whatever the trouble is, I'm sure it's nothing a cup of the house special won't cure. A round on me! How about it?"
The man on her left ground his teeth in fury, though she didn't see it due to him being on her blind side. He seized Wren by the lapels and tossed her into the table behind them, scattering empty mugs and coins onto the floor.
Okay, that was a 'no.'
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Aurora
Peasant
Angelic
Parting is such sweet, sweet sorrow
Posts: 96
|
Post by Aurora on Oct 18, 2009 18:34:48 GMT -6
Eyes flashed in annoyance as Aurora finally decided to wade into the fight, swift moves from her laying each of the drunken brawlers low before she turned to the one that had tossed the poor girl aside. The angelic was far stronger than she looked and she hauled him up by his shirt lapels, holding him so that they were looking dead at each other in the eye.
"You will go apologize to her, ensure that she is alright, then you will get out of here and not come back, am I clear?" she said, casting a watchful eye at the rest of the brawlers who only nodded in their stupidly drunken state. Aurora casually dropped the man back down onto the floor.
The angelic assassin turned to reclaim her seat, ignoring the stunned silence that usually followed when she managed to get involved in fights and someone usually recognized the mark upon her arm. She casually sipped her drink, her animal shifter companion perched on the table's edge, watching the drunken brawlers, as if ensuring they actually followed the angelic's instructions.
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Post by wren on Oct 18, 2009 19:11:51 GMT -6
Wren groaned, her vision waving back and forth like a boat on the sea. Her chin throbbed something fierce, but her mouth still worked and the rest of her seemed fine. The young bard pushed herself upright and thanked the gods for sturdy tables.
She turned over just in time to see the man who had tossed her approach with unmistakable sheepishness and fear in his expression. Sensing no danger from him, Wren let him step over and her eye widened as he apologized.
"Oi.. I'm r-really sorry 'bout that, Miss. Are... Are you alright?"
The man cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at the angelic woman and Wren followed suit. There was still that utter calmness about her, a supreme and superior air. The other patrons who had been all over her like dogs on a steak moments ago had backed away, anxiously watching her as if afraid she'd reach over and yank their tongues out, or possibly a much more precious part of their anatomy.
Wren rubbed her jaw and kept her attention on the woman. "I'm fine, yes, but-"
The man spun around and all but flew out the door. Confused, Wren watched him go, then swiveled her gaze back onto the angelic, her face crafted into one of careful neutrality.
Hm, odd turn of events, that. It was her doing again, wasn't it? Wren wasn't stupid, she could guess why her assailant had a change of heart and why the other patrons were now scared witless of their object of desire.
The angelic lifted her cup to take a drink and her cloak shifted, revealing a familiar mark on her upper arm. Wren's eye narrowed a perceptible fraction of an inch. One of the Assassin's Guild. For the life of her she couldn't recall which rank exactly, but she was definitely among the upper tier.
Wren wriggled off the table and approached the woman; the tension in the room thickened and an even deeper silence permeated the room as if waiting for violence to break out. The young woman ignored them and brushed a hand through her hair, pushing the wine-soaked strands away from her forehead.
"I thank you for the help, but it wasn't necessary to threaten that man. He was drunk; the blame didn't rest solely on him."
And whose fault was it he'd been making too much merry this night? But of course Wren didn't say that part out loud.
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Aurora
Peasant
Angelic
Parting is such sweet, sweet sorrow
Posts: 96
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Post by Aurora on Oct 19, 2009 13:07:40 GMT -6
"There were no threats issued, merely what in one's mind was perceived as a threat, in his inebriated state. Perhaps he will think again before drinking that much, no?" the angelic smiled, unperturbed by the silence in the tavern.
Well, the relative silence, if you count the bartender who was laughing, however well he was trying to smother it.. He knew Aurora rather well and was hardly surprised at the turn of events, however that she had almost drawn a blade was a bit surprising. Things could not be helped where she was concerned.
Aurora tilted her head to the side, regarding the bard with an interested, yet childish gaze that belied her true personality. She smiled, shifting again so that the mark was once more hidden. No need to flash it anymore than could be helped, she supposed as eyes scanned over the girl in front of her. "But then again, I suppose tavern brawls with losing card games are common place," she mused aloud.
The tavern tentatively returned to it's previous state, loud calls and laughter soon erupting from the patrons as they began to blow the tale well out of proportion, as was common place. Aurora brushed a few strands out of her face as blue eyes took in her surroundings in one sweep. "You are more than welcome to sit with me," she offered.
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Post by wren on Oct 19, 2009 13:59:06 GMT -6
The woman smiled. Wren thought she looked rather pleased with herself despite (or because of) the powerful reaction she'd induced in the people around them, much like a cat instilling the fear of the gods into a pack of mice. The angelic tilted her head and Wren mirrored the action, regarding the woman with an expression of polite puzzlement.
Hang all, she just didn't know what to make of this woman. Beautiful, calculating, a high-ranking assassin; all qualities that, if Wren prodded her the wrong way, screamed of trouble landing on the young bard's doorstep faster than she could blink. Yet, she was undeniably drawn to this woman like the other patrons had been, though probably for different reasons. This angelic threw masks to the crowd, blinded them with choice words, all while keeping her real self close to her heart. Shame on Wren if she couldn't recognize a master performance when she saw one.
It hinted at a potential gold mine of tales to unearth, albeit one likely riddled with all manners of death traps. Ah, well. Wren wasn't one to shy away from the making of a good story just because of a little danger.
The woman's voice broke Wren out of her musings and she blinked, suddenly aware that the other patrons had returned to their usual festive mood. Was she the only one still so bothered by recent events? Her cheeks colored in shame and she considered slinking back to her corner, but then Wren realized the woman had invited her to sit.
This time she couldn't conceal her look of surprise. For what reason could one as stunning as her want the company of some meddlesome little bard?
Oo, gold mine of tales. Very tempting. Perhaps her luck was changing after all.
At any rate Wren fetched her fiddle from beside the fireplace and pulled up a chair beside the stranger. She breathed out slowly, the tension oozing away from her slight frame, and then she smiled. "I'm sorry if I seemed ungrateful. I'm not usually caught unawares by drunks, so I suppose my pride was a bit injured. But I do thank you. I'm called Wren, by the way."
Wren's eye flicked to the woman's upper arm, but her cloak had hidden the tattoo again and she returned her gaze to the woman. "You're the first angelic I've exchanged more than three words with. For some reason or other I don't see many of your people around, nor do I know much about them in general... and considering I'm a bard, that's pretty unacceptable."
The corner of her mouth tugged up in a self-deprecating smile. "So what brings you to Temarra?"
An unspoken plea from a tale-starved bard. Tell me about yourself.
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Aurora
Peasant
Angelic
Parting is such sweet, sweet sorrow
Posts: 96
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Post by Aurora on Oct 20, 2009 9:23:49 GMT -6
Aurora smiled as she watched the bard settle down. She didn't mind indulging in the curiosities of others about her and knew that she looked exactly like an angelic, despite her wings being well hidden at the time. "You may call me Aurora," she said lightly as blue eyes swept the scene again, as she was prone to do.
People were now ignoring them, more focused on the food and drink as well as the attempts at dancing that made the angelic giggle in amusement as she pushed some hair out of her way. "What brings me to Temarra? More like boredom," she said as she turned her attention back to the bard.
Smiling softly, she shook her head as Chance took this time to shift into a chipmunk, sitting on the table and curiously investigating everything there before trying to climb into the angelic's drink. Arching a delicate eyebrow, she picked up the shifter by the scruff of his neck and gave him a firm look before setting him back down on the table.
"You'll have to excuse Chance, he doesn't get out often," she said, indicating the shifter who was now running laps around the table. "But ask your questions, I can see them lingering in your eyes," she said with a gentle smile.
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Post by wren on Oct 20, 2009 16:36:19 GMT -6
Boredom could be a crippling problem, Wren knew that much from firsthand experience, but it seemed odd to her that a high-ranking assassin like Aurora could actually be bored. Was the killing market slowing down? Was she on vacation? Did assassins even get benefits with the guild or was it a mission-by-mission arrangement?
She chuckled softly at the shapeshifter's - Chance's - antics, but stopped short when Aurora stated rather bluntly that Wren was failing at being discreet about her curiosity. Fortunately the angelic didn't appear angry with her, but Wren had the good grace to flush anyway and fiddled with her... fiddle as her gaze fell onto the tabletop.
"I'm sorry, I can't help myself sometimes. An interesting person comes along, and wham! It's like sunlight flashing in my eye, I can't possibly ignore it." She smiled sheepishly. "Anything you're willing to share, I'd be more than grateful to learn about. Like I said, I don't know much about angelics besides..."
Wren's expression shifted to one of thoughtfulness and she counted off her meager knowledge on her fingers. "Your people are famed for their spearwork, for their wind magicks, and in the past were hunted in order to harness the venom in their bite," though only the shadiest of the shady knew if that practice had diminished any, "and... Well, that's about it. See? Pathetic for a bard, no?" She shrugged and smiled again.
"But I suppose it would be asking a bit much for you to condense your people's entire cultural history for me. How about you tell me where you're from, then?"
Wren leaned forward eagerly, just barely managing to stop her eye from wandering to Aurora's arm, where she knew her cloak was hiding that tattoo. Questions about that could always come later.
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Aurora
Peasant
Angelic
Parting is such sweet, sweet sorrow
Posts: 96
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Post by Aurora on Oct 20, 2009 17:03:36 GMT -6
Aurora laughed lightly as she reclined, the picture of perfect relaxation with the bard. "I suppose I can see what I can do about my race," she said, tracing a pattern on the table top with slender fingers as she composed her thoughts.
"The majority of us reside in Abourno with the Harpies. The mountain city is home to most flying races and very few others, but sometimes we have other races living among us. As for how we are, all angelics have wings and the color differentiates between the females and males," she said, watching the bard with interest.
It had been a while since Aurora had been asked about her race out of pure curiosity rather than wanting to know weaknesses. "Females have golden wings and males have white wings," she continued. "And yes, we are known for our wind magics as well as our poisonous bites and spearwork. Every angelic, regardless of their position in society can use a spear well and has their own spear that has been crafted specifically for them. It is one of the first things we are taught to do in this world."
Aurora paused then, taking a sip of her drink as she decided on next what to tell the young bard. "Our magics differ among us, as they do among all races. Some are barely able to summon a strong breeze while others can form a tornado or hurricane winds. Healing is much the same way with the strongest of ours wanted for healing and the strongest wind magics become warriors," she said with a laugh.
"I was trained as a warrior at first until I drew the attention of others and pursued a different trade. However, I am still an angelic and that comes before any other obligations I have," she said with a smile as she looked about the room, noting a few new patrons that had entered.
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