death only knocks once
Sarya Daemenor
Thief / Assassin

Age: 27 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship:
Level: 0 - Strg: 8 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Rayo Offline
Change author:
Posts: 15 | Total: 19
MP: 0
#1

Sarya had always been more comfortable in the dark than anywhere else. The shadows cloaked her, embraced her, caressed her, inviting her to slip deeper within their grasp and be hidden from the world. Darkness had provided her sanctuary as a young girl hiding from the leers of her mother's patrons, had protected her from the wary eyes of her marks, had hidden her from the guards searching for her after one of her many hits. Darkness, to Sarya, was an old friend, and it was to the shadows that she now went, slipping away from the people gathered around the Spire and escaping into a blissful silence. Here, she could breathe. Here, she could think.

Where was here exactly? Well... truth be told, she wasn't sure. She had wandered away from the people and into the ruins, eventually finding herself alone at the mouth of some kind of cave, or tunnel, or something that descended into the ground. For a few moments, she had paused, unsure if she should explore the underground that stretched before her. But then she had shrugged off her worries and stepped confidently forward into the shadows. They had been her protectors back home; why would the same not be true here?

And so she descended, twisting and turning through the darkness. When it became so dark that she could no longer see, she stopped to light an old torch that she'd found in her wanderings from the Spire and carried on. The light from the torch flickered dimly against the pressing shadows, doing little to drive the darkness away. That was fine by Sarya. After all, if she could magically see in the dark without the use of a torch, she'd be even happier for it. But alas, her eyes were those of any average human, so for now, she would simply carry on with her tiny flame.

She wasn't exactly sure what purpose the tunnel-cave had once served. She wandered aimlessly, her fingers trailing along the damp walls of stone that led her further and further underground. She wondered if, perhaps, this had once been a mine of some sort. What other purpose it might have served, she couldn't say for sure.  She travelled on, carefully following the wall to her right. Even if her torch went out, she could find her way out by touch if she stayed near the wall.


"talk"

s a r y a
If I were dead
I wouldn't be sad
I wouldn't be glad
Because I wouldn't be


Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#2
The Darkness is an odd stranger. She was a child of the sun, bleached blonde and freckled by its vicious rays only a few weeks ago - and now? Now her tan lines fade, now she strolls about by the light of the moon and now she is in denial. Was it worth it? Wessex weighs the pros and cons in her dreams, loading up gilded scales before two Altars, eternally unable to make them balance (to get them right). She thought she knew what it would be like, how it would feel, what she would have to do after the transformation. She was wrong. And Wessex loathes being wrong.

For a woman who’s always been able to adapt and survive, this change in both body and confidence is… particularly unnerving.

The Ruins, however, are safe; darkness and colder temperatures keep most others out, giving infant Wessex time to figure shit out on her own. The last thing she wants is to run into another Ascended before she can play the young-but-fully-has-this-new-race-thing-under-control role and get some casual advice rather than desperate survival tips. She’s made it to thirty-five, a rare accomplishment amongst some circles, so she sure as hell isn’t going to start acting like an idiotic teenager just because she has to, you know, re-learn half her skills and adjust her thought processes.

Despite the perpetual darkness down here, she can feel the natural shift of the day in her blood. Sluggish and dozey before, Wessex’s body hums as the sun dips to the edge of the horizon. She can hear the footsteps of another in the distance and smell the vague odor of something burning. Her tongue runs over her newly sharpened canines in a self-conscious manner, but the unusual gesture slowly morphs into something slightly more devious, as Wessex realizes she can, perhaps, see what kind of effect she has on whoever is wandering these dark, dark corridors.

Wessex stalks the girl on leather-soled feet, allowing her heightened vision to guide her through the tunnel until she is hopefully in front of the girl, waiting patiently for the dim glow of the flames to light upon her pale face, which holds a slightly devious little smirk. It’s cliche, she knows. But she’s never had the opportunity to play like this before. Maybe it is all worth it.


Sarya
Sarya Daemenor
Thief / Assassin

Age: 27 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship:
Level: 0 - Strg: 8 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Rayo Offline
Change author:
Posts: 15 | Total: 19
MP: 0
#3

Darkness was no stranger to Sarya; it was an old friend, the kind of friend that comforts simply by existing. To be wrapped in shadow was, to Sarya, to be enveloped in safety. As she wandered the tunnels, she found herself reminiscing on days gone by, nights spent dancing in darkness, swathed in shadow, a silent and deadly wisp of the night. Some in her homeland had worshipped the moon, hoping for the favor of a goddess who cast light into darkness; Sarya had prayed for moonless nights, reveled in the disappearance of a starry sky behind cloud cover. To be seen was to be remembered, and that simply wouldn't do in her line of work.

The light from her torch flickered along the tunnel walls as she turned right down another empty hallway. The exposed rock of the walls glowed amber in the torchlight, each flicker of the flame bringing with it a new array of shadow and light. Despite her love of darkness, Sarya could watch fire dance for hours. It never seemed to flare the same way twice, and the way it swirled and flexed made her feel... more alive, somehow.

So enamored was she with the glow of the torch on gleaming rock that she nearly missed the first appearance of a pale face in her circle of light. There was a flicker of something out of the corner of her eye, and the woman stopped, snapping her head towards what she'd imagined as a ghostly figure, only to find nothing there. Her eyes narrowed slightly; she had the uneasy feeling of being watched. Slowly, she stepped forward once more, then twice; and it was then that, out of nowhere, a smirking face appeared. It surprised her, and she lifted an eyebrow, muscles tensing beneath her comfortable clothes.

Still, she had spent years perfecting her emotional control, and so her reaction was, perhaps, disappointing to any who would prefer their prey to jump, or shriek, or run. Her surprise was in the subtle quirk of her eyebrow; the way her free hand just barely twitched, as though itching to reach for a weapon; the tiny bobble of the torch as she considered dropping it to free her hands. But, in the end, she merely stood, staring at what appeared to be a disembodied head, and returned the devious smirk with her own mischievous smile.

"Imagine finding someone else down here," she purred, her voice soft and silky in the darkness. "One might think a foray into the dark depths of the earth would indicate a desire to be alone, but it's really rather cozy down here, don't you think?" She kept her voice light and conversational, though she did not relax. She had few positive experiences with strangers appearing in the dark, and she very much doubted that this new world would be much different in that regard.


"talk"

s a r y a
If I were dead
I wouldn't be sad
I wouldn't be glad
Because I wouldn't be


Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#4

Wessex clicks her tongue in a mock chiding sound. Tsk, tsk! “Should have knocked first.” she says, with a little shake of her head. “I’d have made tea.”

The Accepted, the Abandoned, the Attuned - they can have the world above - the sunlight and everything the light touches. They can have the scorching summers and dying plants and the desert, the rocky wasteland and the mutant creatures. They can have the heroic deeds of the day and the squabbles of mortals. Leave her the moonlight, the darkness, the hidden tunnels and the secret sins of the night, the velvet caress of dark cloaks and moving chess pieces. What is done in the day can be undone at night. This is the world of the real power-players and back-alley deals.

Wessex takes a step into the small pool of light, revealing that she is far more than a disembodied head. Blue eyed gaze looks down at the young Sarya as her smirk slowly shifts into something half-motherly. She reaches out to brush away a stray lock of the girl’s hair back behind her ear,  revealing a worn forearm guard and the barest hint of muscular arms. It is a gentle movement for such strength. The chill of the Underground doesn’t affect her, but the cloak is awfully useful in the dark (and Wessex was on her way out). She wears little but her usual leather and cloth ensemble underneath, nothing quite as civilized as what the Outlander wears. “What are you looking for, my dear, besides solitude?” she asks quietly.

And what makes you think you’ll find it down here?

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Sarya Daemenor
Thief / Assassin

Age: 27 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship:
Level: 0 - Strg: 8 - Dext: 10 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Rayo Offline
Change author:
Posts: 15 | Total: 19
MP: 0
#5

"Should've knocked first. I'd have made tea."

The stranger's voice was cool and calm, the voice of one as accustomed to darkness as Sarya herself. In response, Sarya smirked. "A tea party! I'd have worn something more fitting for that." Despite her discomfort with how the stranger had managed to sneak up on her, Sarya appreciated the woman's wit. Taking a closer look, she saw that Wessex had short, light-colored hair and pale skin. She couldn't tell the color of the woman's eyes in the dark, but she was intrigued by the way they flickered in the torchlight. They were almost... menacing. She wondered if people had ever felt that way about the way she looked at them.

Though Sarya didn't know it, she was at a disadvantage. Accepted, Abandoned, Attuned... she had heard of none of them, and even if she had, she wouldn't have known what they meant. In truth, she had yet to discover her own power, having come from a world without magic (or, at least, not accessible magic--how did she end up here, if not magic?). Still, magic would have been easier to swallow than the enhanced abilities of the Ascended. As an assassin, finding something immortal would make her very uncomfortable. What kind of freak can't die?

But alas, Sarya remained naive to the ways of this world. That would be something to worry her at another time.

When Wessex reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Sarya's ear, the women stiffened. Again, she fought the itch to reach for her weapons; she would never get to them in time, not with the stranger standing so close. But Sarya wanted no part of this... touching. In an already uncomfortable situation, the stranger's movement felt somehow predatory to the assassin. She was not accustomed to people invading her personal space without invitation. Her mind flashed briefly to Edrei; but that had been different, a mutual flirtation. Flirtation required a certain amount of physicality. Meeting a stranger in the dark, damp underground? Not so much.

Wessex was still too close, but Sarya stubbornly held her ground. If she backed away, that meant that the stranger won, and Sarya couldn't have that. She tried to analyze her options, but struggled: the stranger was clad in leather and cloth, an ensemble that suggested she had at least some understanding of combat. Arm guards told Sarya that the stranger knew how to use a bow; she wondered if Wessex had any training with other weapons or hand-to-hand combat.

"What are you looking for...?"

A moment passes before she answers the stranger's question. Truth be told, Sarya doesn't know why she entered the underground tunnels. She liked the dark, but she had no real purpose. Finally, she shrugged. "I'm not looking for anything. Just exploring." She shrugged, not wanting to give away too much. Trust was hard to come by for the young thief, who was used to living looking over her shoulder. A beat passed, and then: "Aren't you cold?" Sarya wore more clothing than the stranger, and even she felt the chill. What was Wessex doing in the cave, and why had she not come more well-prepared?


"talk"

s a r y a
If I were dead
I wouldn't be sad
I wouldn't be glad
Because I wouldn't be


Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#6

Good question: What kind of freak can’t die?
(Ha ha ha, oh the irony of ironies!)

Well, Wessex can, it just isn’t likely to be by any method Sarya can think of, unless she unintentionally leaves her for dead in the sun… which assumes a lot in the first place, including a hypothetical scenario where the tables are turned. But for a freak like Wessex, one must often think outside the box in order to keep up. If she could control the Spire Monster, that might be a neat thing to consider, too.

Her gaze lazily drifts up and down while the girl takes her in. Menacing or not, she is observant, inquisitive, and bold enough to be so without apology or warning. It’s more than taking what she wants, it’s a blatant disregard for others’ sense of comfort. She likes that the girl holds her ground beneath such a subtle assault. Most would take a step back, do anything to put a little bit of space between them and the creepy woman in the dark tunnels. She shifts to one side allowing a little bit of room to her left (these aren’t wide tunnels, but two could scrape past each other) as she leans lazily against the wall on her right. Arms cross in front of her as chuckles lightly.

“Exploring dark tunnels at dusk, in a land you hardly know? Seems…. unwise.” For such a young, pretty thing like yourself. But no, this one won’t stir the flirtations in her the way another will. Not many do, anymore.

Aren’t you cold?

Wessex shrugs, pulling herself upright again. “Eh. I don’t feel the weather much anymore.” And in a fit of inspiration, she pulls her lips back in a wide smile, revealing her fangs. Her tongue runs across her top teeth before her mouth closes again, and she continues as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Perks, you see.”


WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm


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