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Rue McCay Daughter of the Smith
”Silent streets…”
As evening—imminent in its approach—crept nearer and nearer to Moenia, the activity in the Market District slowly began its decline. All around shop owners were making ready for the night; hiding their window displays behind dark velvet curtains, and extinguishing their lamps and fires. Occasionally, a figure would emerge into the shadowed outer doorways, closing their shop doors with a gentle tinkling of interior bells, their gloved or mittened hands awkwardly guiding tiny keys into tinier keyholes. Across the district the muted click and thunk of pins and cylinders inside the locks quietly assured the shop owners of the safety of their goods. While the sun gradually retreated behind the horizon to the east, harried citizens wrapped in scarves and thick coats pulled their outerwear tighter against their bodies—warding off the chill of the season. Everyone was heading in the same direction and thinking the same thing: Home, with its inviting warmth, where supper awaited the hard working vendors of Moenia. Only one person was just beginning their work day. Dressed in a well work black wool coat that hugged her figure and reached her knees, a pair of knitted wool gloves, and a matching scarf, Rue McCay was headed toward her family’s forge in order to take over from her elder brother, Rory.
Their family’s working schedule was such that there were only a few hours in the early morning that the shop was unmanned. From a few hours before sunrise to around one o’clock in the afternoon, Rue’s father Brighton, and her younger brother Caleb worked among the fires. As their shift was ending, Rory arrived to take over until sundown, the time he returned to his family and Rue arrived to work until the early hours of the morning. Growing up, Rue had experienced every shift—aside from the afternoon hours—but the evening was, by far, her favorite time to work. With the rush of the day done, the streets silent, and the forge empty of impatient customers, Rue could roll the day’s stress off her slight shoulders while she worked alone in the warm smithy. At this time of year, the shop was doubly inviting with its blazing furnace which offered a delicious heat to contrast with the bitter cold outside. This was the thought that caused Rue to pick up her pace, the chill wind assaulting her face. The sound of her feet on the deserted streets was exaggerated by the stillness of the evening, her steps chasing each other between the buildings. Rue folded her arms tightly against her chest, tucking her face deeper into the scarf around her neck.
The journey from her home to the forge was one that was long enough that one could bask in the sun for a satisfying amount of time in the summer, but reach their destination in a timely manner during the winter. Rue enjoyed the walk in all seasons and all conditions, liking the energy that it caused to flow through her muscles. She sped up, causing the friction in her legs to increase. Though she was still about ten minutes away from her destination, the blond thought she could see the black plumes of smoke that curled from the chimney of her family’s work shop into the darkening sky. No other place in the Market District produced a smoke so inky black. If she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and concentrated, Rue was sure she could smell the metallic scent of their furnace’s smog. She smiled to herself, the odor taking her back in time to the early mornings she spent as an apprentice in the forge, working alongside the giant of a man who was her father. A silent, imposing figure, Brighton McCay was a man of very few words and a huge stature. His large hands, calloused and blackened from years of manual labor, were nimble, despite their size. Rue’s two youngest brothers resembled their father so closely that when they stood next to one another, it was as though looking at the child, adolescent, and adult Brighton at the same time. With dark hair and darker, coal-black eyes, Brighton, Caleb, and Branson had the natural look and build of brooding soldiers. Only Rory and Rue had inherited their mother’s fair hair, chocolate-brown eyes and lean figures. The two eldest McCay children could have been twins. This was, most likely, the reason that Rue felt such a strong bond with her older brother.
The remainder of her journey passed by in what felt like only a few moments and soon enough she was unlocking the door of the forge and stepping into the smithy. The rush of warm air washed over her like a sudden downpour. Rue closed the door quietly, leaning back against it, closing her eyes, and taking a short moment to enjoy the welcoming air. The blond pulled the gloves from her hands, tucking them into the pockets of her coat. She opened her eyes and turned around in order to engage the lock once more, before advancing into the shop portion of the forge. After unwrapping the scarf from around her neck and unbuttoning her coat, Rue hung them on a peg on the wall near the door, next to Rory’s familiar winter wear. The pinging of a hammer against metal drifted rhythmically from the back of the shop, so Rue followed the sound. As she entered the spacious work room, the temperature seemed to rise ten degrees. She instantly felt a comfortable flush rising in her face, the redness turning her pink cheeks a rosy shade red. She looked across the room to where Rory was working and noticed the same color staining his fair face. How odd it was that only the two of them were affected by the heat this way. She had never seen the same heat in the faces of her father and two younger brothers. Attributing it to her mother, Rue smiled a little.
Advancing quietly into the forge, Rue pulled a bench over to the mouth of the furnace, the super heated air causing strands of her hair to float gently around her face. The sound of the legs of the bench scraping across the floor caused a pause in Rory’s methodic pounding. Looking up from his work and wiping sweat from his forehead, the older boy smiled at his sister. “Evenin’,” he said cheerfully, a crooked smile dancing across his lips. Rue returned his smile with an almost identical one of her own, and spoke affectionately, “Hey, big brother.” With this small exchange, Rory returned to his work and Rue turned her attention back to the fire. She watched the fire dance across the coals, the flames flickering this way and that as though playing a childish game of tag. As the two sat in silence, a peaceful air settled over the shop. Everything here was comfortable and familiar, from the sound of the fire to the cadence of the hammer against the anvil. A melody that matched the beat of Rory’s work began to play inside her head, though she couldn’t remember the lyrics. After a while the hammer stopped and Rue heard a hiss as the red-hot metal hit cold water. Looking around, Rue watched as her brother placed the now finished sword blade on a table with two other identical ones.
Wiping the sweat away from his brow again, Rory turned toward his sister, giving her the same grin, which she again returned. “How’s Charlotte?” Rue asked, referring to her new sister-in-law. Rory’s face grew a bit troubled and he answered, “She’s been ill for the past few days. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but she’s been sick every morning this week.” The young man brought a hand up to his head, running the dirty hand nervously through his bright blond hair. Rue felt something warm fluttering in her stomach and couldn’t help but wonder if the McCay family would soon have a new addition. Saying nothing of her suspicions, she stood and began using her hands to brush her own hair back into a ponytail. Using a length of leather cord that Rory handed her, the blond tied her hair securely into place. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” She said soothingly, patting her brother softly on his shoulder. Rory gave a nervous laugh and smiled again. “Go home.” Rue said, a little forcefully. “I can take things from here.” To stress her point, the smaller girl began to push her brother in the direction of the door. Chuckling a little, Rory began to walk toward the front of the shop. Rue followed, stopping in the workshop doorway and leaning against its frame to watch while her brother donned his coat.
While he was buttoning the garment, he asked, “When are you planning on leaving here tonight?” Rolling up the sleeves of her work shirt, Rue answered, a little absently, “I’m not sure… Why?” Sticking his hands in his pockets, Rory looked at her, his face growing suddenly serious. “It’s the Grand Lotto tomorrow, remember? You should leave early to get some sleep.” Rue looked up for a moment, meeting her brother’s gaze. “I will.” She spoke warmly. Rory nodded and turned toward the door, unlocking it and pushing it open. Rue began to turn away but turned back a moment later to say, “Don’t forget to lock the door as you leave!” Rory, just about to close the door, shot her an exasperated look before saying in a slightly sing-song voice, “Goodnight, Rue.” Rolling her eyes, the young woman replied in an annoyed tone, “’Night.” After hearing the satisfying click of the lock falling into place, Rue returned to the workshop.
Truthfully, she had forgotten all about the Grand Lottery. After Rue finished rolling up her sleeves, she began to work, picking up where Rory had left off on their latest order. She pounded fiercely away at the hot metal, the sweat beginning to form on her forehead. Her able hands fell into the same rhythm that her brother had been producing only a few minutes before and she began softly humming the melody aloud. For the rest of the night, Rue’s thoughts were focused on the events of the following day.
 Acaedia · Fri Jan 21, 2011 @ 01:29am · 0 Comments |
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The laughter of children, cooing of parents, shrieks of couples and faint music of stringed instruments drifted easily through the air, as though they were a feather caught on a lazy breeze. The streets of Chronopolis had become home to many an attraction, rows of stalls and colorful tents seeming to have materialized overnight. The whole city couldn’t have resisted anticipating this event for weeks, and now, as she slipped easily through the sea of people, Aidan could understand why. Humans never ceased to amuse and amaze the young Elf. With a light and easy step, she danced between members of the milling congregation currently gathered around a booth displaying colorfully painted masks and two dancing figures garbed in the wares of the small merchant, who was wringing his hands nervously and looking out for thieves.
Looking back over her shoulder as she continued to walk, Aidan’s dark green eyes were fixed on the dancing couple. Suddenly, as if by their own accord, her feet slid backward and slightly toward the right, easily avoiding an oncoming surge of school-age girls. Glancing forward again, the Elf let out a tiny sigh of relief. Many of the gaggle of girls were taller than she, and could easily have crushed her, were it not for her quick reflexes.
Aidan picked up her pace, long legs moving purposefully. A long sheet of russet-colored hair bounced against her back. It was shiny, corkscrewed and wound with tiny black ribbons that seemed to shimmer and strategically complimented the lightest tones in each strand. Her long torso was garbed in a light, fluttering dress, the color of spring grass. The waistline accentuated her naturally thin torso, making her look much like one of the girls who had just passed. Her face, however, seemed mature and smooth, youthful yet wise. The tips of her pointed ears—which peeked through her hair—explained this genetic anomaly. The Apothecary continued on her way, moving away from the center of the city and back toward her shop which lay on the outskirts of the town and which, should on this day of festival, not be attracting customers. Unfortunately for her, the small female would be forced to pass several small pubs on her way. For whatever reason, the local scum seemed to be endlessly fascinated by such an... Unusual young woman. Many days, the men stayed in the pubs, simply leering at her over dirty mugs and through grimy windows. Today, however, it did not seem likely that they would remain hidden in light of the recent merriment.
*For an RP in a guild from last year*
Acaedia · Mon Jan 17, 2011 @ 05:32pm · 0 Comments |
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Nova June Disciple of the Wind
"There's no place like home.."
This year, Nova’s annual visit to Sanctuary seemed to be taking longer than usual. Over the past years, the young woman had developed a system for always making it back in time for the anniversary of her mentor’s death. This yearly occurrence had not always been the norm, however. For the first 25 or so years after the death of her caretaker, Nova had always made sure to be as far away as possible from Sanctuary when his death-day rolled around. Despite being given longevity and super-human abilities, Nova had seemed to still be maturing at the same pace. As a result of this, her ability to deal with grief had been seriously impaired. Being stuck in the anger stage of the grief cycle for an extended amount of time had eventually taken its toll, though. After several long years of inward self-loathing and hatred toward the rest of the world, Nova had finally had the sense knocked into her—literally. In a scene straight from an epic novel, the young wind-user had come across a previous disciple of her own Master. In a drunken stupor, Nova had challenged the fellow disciple to a battle. After a grueling confrontation, Nova was finally cast down. Her opponent was more than happy to make sure that Nova understood just how imbecilic her actions over the past quarter-century had been.
And so, starting the year after the confrontation, Nova had made it a personal vendetta to arrive at Sanctuary early enough to have a good meal and a bit of a rest before venturing to the graveyard. On her journey, she always made it a point to keep the Master and fellow disciple in the forefront of her thoughts, treating the journey like a sacred pilgrimage. This occasion was often the only time she returned to Sanctuary within the twelve-month. This year, however, she was running behind. She had been employed in a coastal town to the south, in order to help eliminate renegades who were kidnapping young children in order to force ransom from the town leaders. Her mission had been a success, but had taken three days longer than expected. ”It figures…” She thought as she embarked on her journey,”That the one time I decide to play the Good Samaritan, it sets me behind.” Not for the first time, Nova was extremely thankful for the gift the spirits had bestowed up on her. The lightness and speed with which she had been blessed helped her immensely to catch up.
Presently, Nova was approaching the forests surrounding Sanctuary. And, quite frankly, the young woman was exhausted. Despite her fatigue, at this moment, nothing was more important to her than to make it to her destination. As she entered the forest, Nova was comforted by the fact that she would soon be in the proximity of Sanctuary’s graveyard—and a bed. The last legs of her journey were always the hardest, so Nova chose to activate a small portion of her powers. Tapping into her natural reserves, Nova called the winds to her aid. Her black-green eyes lightened a shade, so that the color now resembled the color of a dark emerald. The air around her picked up, causing the hem of her cloak to ripple and undulate. Her deep brown locks followed a similar pattern. The effects were instantaneous: Nova felt her body grow lighter, and her steps become more precise and efficient. She was barely touching the ground. The wind urging her on, Nova cleared the forests in a little over an hour.
Emerging onto the grounds, Nova slowed to an agile stop, resting for a few moments to catch her breath. Bending forward to place her hands on her knees, she took long, deep breathes to steady her racing heart. After a relatively short time, Nova stood up straight, taking in her old home. She observed the young men and women milling about in the grounds, and noted the rather interesting scene taking black about 500 yards away. Intelligent eyes sparkling, Nova began to move in the direction of Sasori and Kadia were situated.
Her step was unintentionally languid, body moving with an inadvertent ease. As she walked the gray traveling cloak that shrouded her comely figure was brushed away from her body, displaying the long tunic and trousers that encased her torso and legs. At her waist was belted and sword, and a polished bow and quiver where slung across her shoulders. As usual, her forearms were covered in the customary jewelry that was her trademark. The multiple metal earrings in her ears glittering in the sunlight and a mischievous smile was dancing on her lips, Nova called out as soon as they were within earshot ”Having fun without me, eh? Shame on you all!”
*
*For an RP in a guild from last year*
Acaedia · Mon Jan 17, 2011 @ 05:28pm · 0 Comments |
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The Twins d’Bristow
The door to the attendance office opened, for what was probably the thousandth time that day, and a warm breeze slipped through the doorway, bending its way around the people who stood in the doorway. The two figures were not imposing. On the contrary they seemed rather average in comparison to a number of the student body who already passed through this particular section of the school.
The first, who had opened the door, was tall and rather hansom. His dark hair was messy, standing out in unusual and random places. The glasses perched upon his nose were reflecting the light shining from the inside of the office, partially obscuring his eyes. A black oxford shirt graced his thin torso. The sleeves were haphazardly rolled up to just above the elbow, displaying a pair of thin forearms. The top button of the shirt was undone, exposing the neck line of a white t-shirt, and the cool, blue colored tie was secured loosely around his neck, as though it had only been an afterthought. Most of the hem of his shirt was hanging out of his waist band, the exception being at the buckle of his belt. The buckle was a simple rectangle; brushed chrome in color. His pants were cut close to his legs, the light blue material looking worn in places, a hole at one of his knees, and his shoes were simple black slip-ons, with a white soul.
The second was in deep contrast with her brother. Her long hair reached the middle of her back and was smooth and shiny in the light drifting from outside. Her eyes, unlike her brothers, were perfectly visible. The almond eyes were surrounded by a smoky halo of grey, making the green stand out. Her soft figure was draped in a white, one piece shirt dress. It floated a little at the hem, which fell just above her knee. The top portion of it looked much like her brother’s shirt; though it was unbuttoned much lower than its black counterpart. Beneath the buttons was a lacy crimson camisole, modestly covering her décolletage. At her thin waist line was fastened a wide, black belt, tied in the back and finished with a generous bow. Her long legs were finished with a pair of shiny black pumps.
Each of the siblings had an identical black messenger bag slung over their shoulders.
After his sister had entered the office, the boy let the door fall closed behind him. They moved into the room together, movements perfectly synchronized. Approaching the desk, they both gravitated toward a dark-haired young looking receptionist. At precisely the same moment the twins stopped before her portion of the desk and spoke in unison,
“We were told to come here in order to register.”
Together, their voices harmonized, producing a sound that was very pleasant.
The receptionist looked up, a smile on her face, and spoke “May I see your registration letter, please?”
The boy moved on his own this time, removing two papers from within his bag and offering them to the receptionist. Lulu looked over them, before looking up again and asking, questioningly, ”You’re… Ryleigh and Raegan d’Bristow? May I ask which is which?” Her smile turned sheepish as she waited for introductions.
Rye spoke first, gesturing gently to her brother. ”That’s Raegan.” Ray spoke next, producing the same movement, but with the opposite arm, ”That’s Ryleigh.” Lulu nodded bouncily, looking down at their letters again for a few more moments. In this small amount of time, Raegan looked around the room, the movement of his head throwing his eyes into sudden contrast. They were quite similar to Rye's. The same, bright green color, and the same shape. The spirit behind them however, was very different. Where Ryleigh's eyes displayed confidence and strength, Raegan's were calm and peaceful; almost apathetic in expression. He took in the spacious office and its inhabitants. His attention changed as Lulu began speaking again. "Well, everything appears to be in order here, do you have any questions?" She moved the papers to the side of her desk, placing them among a stack of their fellows, and Ryleigh answered "I don't believe so. Ray?" Ray took a moment to think before saying, "Nothing I can think of." The receptionist nodded, and began taking them through the procedures of the school, and soon they were given two separate stacks of paper to fill out. "After that's all finished, you'll be issued an I.D. card, map, and other relevant documents. So, if there's anything you need, any questions concerning this rather boring task, don't be afraid to come back and ask." Lulu smiled charmingly, and the twins smiled back, thanking her for her help. Turning on their heel, the two began to make for their own, secluded section of wall to finish up the paperwork. After finishing the stack of rather tedious forms, the Twins made their way back to the receptionist. Handing the clipboards over with identical smiles, the two turned and made their way for the door. Rye slipped on a pair of overlarge sunglasses, and Ray pushed the door open for her, hesitating to follow after she had passed through into the sun. Casting one last, curious glance around the room, Ray finally followed after his companion, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.
*For a guild RP I took part in last year*
Acaedia · Mon Jan 17, 2011 @ 05:19pm · 0 Comments |
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The sounds of the forest engulfed Niahm as she moved silently in its midst. The group she was tracking was not difficult to follow; their path was loud and sloppy, actions writing a veritable novel of their movements. Subtlety, it appeared, was neither their forte nor their objective. Nia had easily mirrored their route from several hundred yards behind and seventy or so feet above. Her small body, thin stature, and abnormally light weight made her the perfect skywalker. Staying easily on the pathways created by the branches of close-set trees, any sound that Nia produced was camouflaged in the standard cacophony of woodland noises. As her quarry slowed below her, Nia paused, arms outstretched to either side of her, nimble feet placed strategically one slightly in front of the other. Unconcerned about the distance from her perch to the ground, Nia watched curiously as her prey began to prepare for an assault on their own target. Even after having followed these men for several days, Nia remained unsure of what was guiding their path. She had initially chosen to follow this group in hopes of robbing them—the men carried several beautiful weapons that would fetch a high price to the right buyer—but had quickly become distracted something else. The patterns in which they traveled were abnormal. She had planned to liberate the weapons on the first night of her pursuit, but had been jilted in her attempt. That night, just as the men had been preparing to bed down—and Nia had been preparing to execute her plan—something had caused them great alarm. Not ten minutes after stopping to make camp, they had risen again and resumed their trek. A few more examples of this sporadic behavior had convinced Nia of something. This was no ordinary journey. Apparently, they sought after a chase which needed no rest. Puzzled and intrigued, Nia had since forgone several chances to complete her original purpose. If these men lost their weapons, how would they ever accomplish their goal—and how would Nia discover what that goal was? And so she had followed after them, acting as a sort of bizarre sentinel. Now, she could tell now by the sudden change in the group’s overall air that they would soon reach their objective. Finally deciding to find out what the target was, Nia continued to move forward. She slid easily between the branches, hardly rustling a leaf as she passed. Nia was only a passing whisper in the forest. She moved swiftly, bypassing her guides without a second thought.
What could it be? She thought idly, What could require so little respite?
The mystery spurred her on and caused her pace to quicken. She was so focused on the forest beneath her that when Nia finally spotted the lone figure below, she had nearly flown out of the trees and into the open field below. Quickly adjusting her trajectory, the sylph aimed instead for the main body of a tree to her right. Unsheathing her dagger with incredible speed, Nia dug the blade into the surface of the tree. Course now effectively altered, Niahm began a slight rotation around the timber, dagger boring a shallow gash in the wood’s surface. The dagger provided enough resistance that Nia hadn’t even spun halfway around the tree when she had finally slowed enough to land safely. She selected a branch, and carefully aimed her body toward it. In order to reach this arm, however, Nia was forced to let go of the handle of her blade. She dropped a few feet, still propelled by the last bit of her forward momentum. Landing carefully upon her perch, Nia took several precarious seconds to find her balance. Breathing heavily, she glanced upward, ensuring that the blade remained safely embedded above. Heart racing, the sylph gazed down through the treetops beneath. What she saw caused her brow to furrow. Below, a single figure strode out of the forest.
Surely, she thought, that man cannot be their only target…
Her distance from the ground served as both a help and a hindrance. Its advantage was that those below her would have a hard time distinguishing her from the surrounding foliage, unless they were searching for something specific. This also meant, however, that discerning detail was just as difficult for her. Curiously, Niahm squinted at the figure below. There didn’t seem anything abnormal about the man from what she could see, but she would need to take a better look in order to be sure. She remained aloft, however, waiting for the group behind her to catch up. When at last the bounty hunters exited the forest, it was not long before the confrontation began. Their target, now nearly halfway between the outskirts of the woodland and the town, surprised her by nimbly moving to avoid an oncoming projectile. Nia leaned against the thickest part of the tree which served as her personal observation deck, hidden in its branches. The scene that unfolded below her both impressed and stupefied the girl. It was, needless to say, a short encounter. Letting out a soft laugh, Nia watched as the ‘victim’ began to drag the attackers toward the town. Her next decision was instinctual. She had to learn more about this traveler. So, after hopping up to retrieve her weapon, Nia descended and followed the trail left by her new target.
*For an independent RP I took part in several months ago*
Acaedia · Mon Jan 17, 2011 @ 05:12pm · 0 Comments |
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