Post by Caroline le Fay on Feb 22, 2020 18:13:43 GMT
It had been a long time since Caroline had been on these streets, the capital city of Taras just as busy as it ever was. She was able to hide in one of the shadowed alleys, keeping her face from the eyes of the guards. She sat with her back against one of the brick buildings lining the alley, sharp blue eyes peeking through hair of blonde to locate what she was looking for.
Target acquired, Caroline quickly got to her feet and brushed off her plain gray dress. The target didn’t even see her turn the alley corner until they collided.
Her light, melodic voice could be heard exchanging pleasant apologies with another woman, and after sending the target on her way the half-fae returned to her alley hideout. She listened carefully, and upon determining she was alone for long enough a moment, she slid her hands out of the pockets of her dress to reveal jewels she had stolen off of the woman and others like her.
As if in a trance, she stared at the brilliantly shining jewels in front of her face, deciding to throw one of the plain (but pretty, and expensive) silver chains around her neck before snapping out of it and quickly hiding her spoils once again.
The rooftops were such a good place to get away from the world below. The chaos, the people, the voices that filled his ears like the insistent buzzing of a million bees all assaulting his senses at once. Sometimes the crowds were just too much for him to handle. There was serenity in being above it all, in letting his black wings spread their feathers wide like a giant raven blotting out the sky above. He couldn't do that in the world below, always holding them close to his body to avoid whacking someone in the face or knocking expensive displays over. Not that he minded doing those things when no one knew it was him, but he loathed direct confrontation, the yelling and screaming taking him right back to that small room he'd once been sealed away in. Sometimes he feared even closing his eyes, feeling like the walls began closing in around him when he did. It had made getting a good night's rest so difficult.
The young noble had been making creatures out of shadow fight out battles atop the roof across from him when he caught sight of a girl of a kindred species- partially, anyways, playing folks for a fool and looting their pockets of their valuables, chuckling to himself at the sight and hopping from one roof to another with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark colored pants that clung tightly to his frame, unlike his shirt which hung loosely from his shoulder and left his tattooed body exposed to the world for the most part. Knees bent, crouching from above to eye the glittering gems she ogled in her hands. "Heh," he couldn't help but let out the soft sound of amusement, rising back to his full height, his lanky body looming from above like some twisted angel of death. One long leg pulled forward, hovering in the air before him as if he intended to attempt walking on thin air only to step forward and allow his wings to slow his downward descent, gracefully landing before the fellow half-fae. "Stealing from the fine folks of Taras," he tsked, shaking his head as if he actually gave a damn or was actually going to get her into trouble just long enough to let her process the thought of it before flashing pearly white teeth in a wicked grin. to peer up at her through shimmering black strands of hair with his pale-grey eyes. "I'm only fuckin' with ya," his voice deep and gravelly as he spoke, "I couldn't give less of a care about those pompous assholes or their shiny trinkets." Ignoring the fact his "family" was among those 'pompous assholes', but then, he considered himself a part of that den of lions about as much as they welcomed him into the fold. Which was, measurably, not at all.
Post by Caroline le Fay on Mar 3, 2020 23:14:27 GMT
The half-fae woman was very conscious of being watched, and had felt the eyes of a presence above her almost immediately after pocketing her jewels again. She scolded herself for not realizing it sooner, knowing she had little control over anything else when glittering gems started to call out to her faerie blood – just another natural disadvantage of the little tinks. ’No wonder so many of them have died off.’ The woman snorted with amusement at the thoughts that ran through her head, having lost love for her own kind a long time ago. ’No wonder they need their own damn realm. Pansies.’
She fought her faerie instincts tooth and nail, but ultimately almost always succumbed to them. Even now, at just the thought of someone watching her, she couldn’t keep her iridescent little faerie wings from fluttering uncomfortably. It was written off as prey instinct - when it came to fight or flight situations, most faeries had the same mindset as the average bunny. But now it was hard for her to remember the last time she’d actually flown.
The blonde couldn’t say that she was surprised when the winged man fell in front of her- folks hardly watched just to watch, they always wanted something, had an ulterior motive, or, at the very least, intention to approach from the start. Impressed, would be the best word to describe her in the moment – those were wings!
Letting out a low impressed whistle, she raised an eyebrow when he ‘tsked’ at her like she was some naughty cat. She couldn’t say she was intimidated by the man in front of her either – intrigued though, definitely, wondering what it was he wanted. As his demeanor turned to joking and the curses left his mouth, she understood….what he wanted was his own entertainment.
“Why -," she began, but then took the time to really look at the fair face in front of her. Pale. Symmetrical. Prominent, angular bone structure. Beautiful. Just like her own. “Oh you’ve got to be joking…” her words were broken up by laughter, “Of course. Another fucking faerie.” He almost had her fooled with the “not liking shiny trinkets” bit, but perhaps his fae blood wasn’t as strong as her own. He was obviously a hybrid of some sort as well – never in her time in or outside the faerie realm had she seen wings like those.
But, apparently, the call of mischief still sang to him. It would take a lot to dilute that out of a bloodline.
It was true, shiny things had never held much intrigue for the half-Fae noble who found them to be of no more use than a glittering paperweight. His Fae blood was heavily masked by the strong and pure Witch blood that flowed through the Branwen line. His father's blood might be what took control the most, but it was not the side of himself Asher was the most keen on. He'd always felt far more connected to the Fairy side of himself, not that he knew much or really anything about the ways and inclinations of the Fae, but he knew he was his mother's son. Not his father's. No matter how much he looked like that brute of a man, his eyes were his mothers and his wings the gift she'd given him even if they were of a very different breed from any other wings of a Fae he'd seen in all his life, not that he'd seen many mind you. The only thing he could assume was that their unique appearance had something to do with the family line of 'fair ravens' he was spawned from.
Another fucking fairy? Someone wasn't fond of her own bloodline, but then who was he to speak. He was just as much Witch as Fae and he'd not bat an eye if the Witch bloodlines were annihilated by a divine retribution. All he could do was respond with a rumbling chuckle in the bowels of his chest as he let his relaxed gaze draw along her form, taking in just who it was he'd come to be speaking with, though his gaze was one of curiosity, not lustful intent. There was no heat to his eyes, only stone. "Afraid so," he remarked, flaring his wings out once more for emphasis before pulling them against his back. "Not like I have much say in what I was born as though," Granted the fairy part was certainly not the issue, "Any more so than you did." He let his hand slide from his pocket to gesture to her own wings protruding from her back with a piqued eyebrow. His back arched with a long stretch upwards, his body languid like a feline in the way he moved to draw up along the other half-breed. "So what's with the thievery?" He couldn't help but question, clearly not knowing that it was a trait of their half-blood creature that drew her to them. Even the fairies he had seen, he had never before spoken to. "Is it a matter of boredom or destitution?"
Post by Caroline le Fay on Apr 15, 2020 1:27:11 GMT
More and more fae seemed to be popping up in the mortal realm in recent times, for whatever reason. They were becoming accepted by the common humans, awed and revered for their beauty and magic. Her father crossed over twenty years ago, and after growing up in the faerie realm, Caroline couldn’t imagine why he would have wanted to. She wouldn’t have left, had she not been banished; never to return. There was no poverty, no murder, no darkness. In fact, she was the “darkest faerie” (in tendencies, anyway) her realm had seen in generations – hence the aforementioned banishment. If only those fae could see the true dark faerie that stood in front of her now, in all of his glory; the tall pale figure with wide black wings.
”Not like I have much say in what I was born as though, any more so than you did.” The words caused a rather unladylike snort to come from the blonde, her wings immediately snapping to rest flat against her back. She barely considered herself a faerie anymore. The cold eyes of the man standing opposite her did not intimidate her, and so she stood casually with a raised eyebrow, allowing and patiently awaiting for the other half-fae to have his fill. In the meantime, her sharp green eyes did the same.
“Never seen one like you before,” she stated, head tilting curiously. “What realm are you from where they have wings like that?” Immediately the half-fae felt envious of them, as they exuded a power her smaller translucent wings just could never convey. "You answer my question and I will answer yours." She would never give an answer freely, no matter how trivial and stupid the question may be. Her bare feet, which surely he noticed in his perusal of her, would normally be an indicator of destitution, however one could never be sure with the fae. ’Truth be told, it’s both.’ She had nothing, and so she stole whatever she needed, or things she could sell/trade for those items. The stealing of jewels – well that was just some fun faerie mischief. ’For who does not love pretty things?’