every siren's symphony
Harper Quinn

Age: 25 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 0 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 8 - Luck:
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 32
Harper clutches a hand dramatically at his chest, gasping aloud and pulling a heartbroken face. "You wound me! I share my deepest insecurity and you taunt me. You'll have to kiss it better." Here he winks, foxlike eyes sly and bright with amusement. Slows his ambling pace to better stay at her side, adjusting for her shorter stride. Auni, unaffected by their teasing and taunting, skips ahead through fresh blooms and young grass, and Harper watches him go, envious of his freedom and joy. He has not had time to absorb the world around him, to come to terms with the fact that he has been torn away from everything he has ever known. It was what led him here in the first place. Though those thoughts still haunt him, still weigh on his shoulders, Kiada is a whisp of light that he happily follows out of the dark. Enjoying the distraction, the chance to indulge in the joy he seeks out of life, if only to even the scales. He has suffered enough to warrant his stubborn playfulness.

She is as sharp and quick as he is, and her flirtations feel like vines that wrap around him and lure him into her web. Far more sure of herself than any other girl he has showered attention upon. A fitting challenger, perhaps even superior to him in her intricate plots. It's a loss he's happy to take, if so.

"We could practice now, if you'd be so inclined." There is no music, but they don't need any. Not to aid them in this amusing game they have going. An excuse to get closer, to tighten the noise, and his blood sings and his heart skips as he realizes he is already in over his head. A romantic more than a Romeo. But whatever she wants of him, he'll give what he can. Pleasure is just another form of happiness, and though he guards his heart more than his hands, he's happy to let her life him in.

Her steps pause, as does his own, and his smile slowly fades. Turns to gaze upon her with blue eyes that suddenly show exactly how much he has seen. Parting the curtain so the darker parts of each of them can view one another. Find a kinship there. Harper's hands come up to trace a particularly deep scar on his wrist as he gazes down at her, a monolith draped in distracting pursuits of kindness and peace. "Can I not be both?" An indirect answer. "Justice is a subjective word. But you can call me a seeker if you'd like." Many disagreed with his vigilante lifestyle, those who preferred order and law, even when those laws repeatedly fail beneath the weight of corruption. His brand of justice is perhaps darker, but he has a feeling Kiada will not judge him for that.

Table Code by Sky!
Kiada Njovu-Reyes

Age: 23 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 10
AUNI - Regular - Luxere
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 534
it's 2am and i took 17 shots of vodka trying to forget your name
but the only name i forgot was mine. and sober —
She can’t help the curl of her lips as he turns dramatic at the toss of a hat. A charmer, that’s for sure. And in his heartbroken face, she can’t help but to laugh softly, breathy, before he winks to her and she rolls her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t have to do anything.” She teases him back, giving him a wink in response. She doesn’t have to do anything at all, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t entertain the idea in her mind, shrugging it off for later as Auni plows a path ahead, pausing when Harper mentions they could practice now.

Her steps pause again, and she turns to focus on him briefly, eyes sharpening as feathers sprout along her neck again, small puffs of white and black hidden haphazardly behind a scarf. “It certainly can’t hurt.” She says, tilting her head with a fiery smile to her lips. What harm was there in a dance? Absolutely none – despite the fact she barely even danced to begin with. She wasn’t like her mother who had learned how to dance for ballrooms and people.

She doesn’t really know where to start. But she’ll let him take the lead when he’s ready.

Still, she sees his smile fade and she wonders what she’s said that offended him some – but his eyes meet hers, shadowed and haunted, and her own icy eyes once held high with brightness and sharpness shutter slightly at the sight. And when he goes to rub against once of his own scars, she resists the urge to reach for her neck, for her spine, for hands that are flecked with scars, too. And a light frown reaches her face briefly before he offers an answer.

Both is acceptable.” She tells him, a slight break to her frown with the edging of a smile. “I can’t say I’m not a seeker myself.” Except her choices had been terrible, bad, full of dread and wounds that time couldn’t even heal. She was doing better here, somewhat. The lines blurred together at the end of the day. She finds that she doesn’t really know if she’s better than she was at the start, or painfully, terribly, the same.
— or drunk, you're the only thing on my mind

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