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The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Ciarán
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Posts: 10
Joined: Tue Apr 19, 2016 6:49 am
Race: Aukari
Profession: Seeker
Renown: 0
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I See Fire [Qaerris]

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4th of Ashan, 716
The Bathhouse

As much as she was a child of fire, Ciaran disliked the day. To the people of Andaris, and truly much of the world, she was known only for the color of her hair. When she'd first escaped her prison with Jaedus, the Aukari had not been aware of the prejudice against her kind. Ironically, she'd been shielded by it, though still treated as though she was a beast more than a person. In much the same fashion, she grew to learn that the human kind despised her people and what they stood for. She still remembered the name on her parent's lips when she was young; Faldrun. His name was a weight she could never escape from, no matter how much she proved to others that she was not like them.

This prejudice and hate had not deterred the Aukari, however. It emboldened her. She was determined to be looked at as more than just another cog in the machine. Her life in the Seekers had afforded her more ways to learn and to grow. Her introduction into magic had not been an easy one, but it had been the drive she needed to discipline herself, and to reign in the fire that burned in her veins. Often times, that fire was expelled in different ways. Chasing, seeking, hunting. Andaris was a vast city with a vast array of people, which proved both a blessing and a curse. With a simple shawl, she could hide her hair and assume the guise of a simple bookworm. But today had been more than just scouring the depths of libraries and alleys. Today she had hunted for Pene Bout, a traitor... and a former friend.

Nothing came from her struggles and her searching. Street rats had bitten their tongues and scurried like mice in the fields. When the sun began to fall and her feet ached from walking, she parted ways with Aelius who had preferred more scholarly pursuits for his leisure. Ciaran, instead, diverted toward the Bath House. It was here where she'd come a few times a week, more for solitude than anything else. As much as the Aukari attempted to reign in her demons, she couldn't help but have her thoughts wander toward Pene's fate, and what would become of her when she was finally apprehended.

Thankfully, the large, regal baths were relatively empty. Ciaran truthfully preferred it this way. Small talk was something she didn't particularly excel at, and she did well without the blatant stares her sun-touched locks afforded her. The steam here was thick and the only sound was the gentle lap of the water against the marble ledges. At only five silver, this was the extent of Ciaran's luxuries and damned if she wasn't going to enjoy it. Sticking one foot into the water, she eased herself down to the seat, letting out a satisfied sigh. Aelius' loss, she thought smuggly, sluicing water along her arms and into her darkening hair.

She only hoped the silence would remain.
word count: 526
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Qaerris
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Joined: Wed Mar 30, 2016 4:52 am
Race: Naerikk
Profession: Harlot
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I See Fire [Qaerris]

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Daylight. It was truly a wonderful thing to afford the time to allow the darkness of sleep to fall over the Mortalborn. Though there was half of Qaerris' blood that was ageless, the other half demanded the rest that he gave, particularly now, so readily. Late nights were oft a problem for the Mortalborn, though in the wake of his injury at the end of Cylus, he had given himself a chance at convalescence. Three days he had gone without seeing his most consistent client, and tonight was to be the fourth, for the fifth was not to be a reality. Evelyn had contacted Qaerris through her servant, informing him of this particular, unexpected opening in her schedule and of course Qaerris was slotted to replace whatever humdrum event she chose to deny an invitation to. Letting a chuckle escape his lips, a shrug moved the harlot's shoulders as he decided that, this day, he was going to offer himself the one thing he so rarely took advantage of.

Rest and Relaxation.

The Mortalborn found amusement cast upon his features as he looked in the mirror, his bare body exposed before him. The contours of the ageless body he prized so dearly were revealed in exquisite detail, his skin devoid of blemishes or markings that would so taint the tapestry of his physical perfection. Was it arrogance for him to believe in the validity of his own perfection? That, of course, depended on one's definition of arrogance. To him, arrogance was kindred to embellishment, where one's perception of their own flaws was skewed and rendered inert, and the resulting departure in turn inflated the positive qualities that they held in such regard. No, arrogance was not the prerogative of Qaerris. Rather, this was the confidence he so rightly deserved. After all, he was more god than man.

When, at last, Qaerris finished admiring his own visage, he at last felt it appropriate to do the next best thing, leave the comfort of his Midtown cottage in order to visit the Bath House. It had been far too long for the Mortalborn's taste, and his skin, though flawless, would not remain so for long if he did not release what modicums of grime settled upon it as part of living in a big city. A shirt was thrown over the Mortalborn's bare chest, his undergarments and pants slid into before he donned his boots, leaving his coat at home before making his way out of the cottage. Locking the door behind him, Qaerris ascended. First he took a light pace, long legs stretched out with each stride. Then, Qaerris' arms began to pump, his legs following the pace until the man was running, his lean musculature carrying him forward as an impressive pace.Tipping his body to the right he avoided a small group of people, turning twice as he wove through the streets of Andaris. It was ten minutes of jogging, backtracking and pacing again before he found his way to the Bath House.

At this point, Qaerris' rest was very well deserved, for a single bead of sweat was the sole betrayal of the exertion he had let loose. A grin cast upon his features as a servant abandoned her task at hand to assist the Mortalborn, a nod moving his head as he reached into his pocket. He'd pay his admittance to the steam room, loosing five silver nel from his grasp and giving it to the woman, fingertips in contact with the woman's hand for perhaps too long, for nervous giggles and rapid blinking soon followed, a gesture that encouraged Qaerris to head his own way. When the opportunity presented itself, Qaerris rid himself of his clothing, leaving the garments where they would not be stolen from him. Covering his lower body in a provided towel, he advanced. Of course the Mortalborn passed the men's steam room by, instead, allowing curiosity to grip at him and encourage the man to step inside the women's instead. When he advanced, he found there was but one inhabitant, a smile set upon Qaerris' lips as he took a seat across from her.

Hopefully, she wasn't the type to cause a scene. Though, even if she was, surely the Mortalborn wouldn't mind it too badly. The woman in front of Qaerris was an Aukari, an oddity in it of itself in these parts, where Faldrun's influence was so readily ignored. This woman did not have the severity to her that he was used to from those people, a curious thing that led the Mortalborn to speak aloud.

"Good day, milady." The words were kindly spoken, a vibrant smile set upon Qaerris' flawless features.
word count: 801
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Ciarán
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Posts: 10
Joined: Tue Apr 19, 2016 6:49 am
Race: Aukari
Profession: Seeker
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I See Fire [Qaerris]

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Ciaran was more than content to sit and watch the waters steam and mingle with the cloud above her. It was almost tranquil here, and though she was a child of fire, water was a welcome respite from the dusts of travel. Holding her breath, she dunked her head beneath the surface and came up again with a quiet exhale, water running down her neck and shoulders in rivulets. The Seeker wasn't much of a swimmer, but at least she could enjoy the illusion of swimming by paddling her legs idly on the ledge.

Her thoughts were just about to wander into the mundane when she heard the telltale sound of footsteps on polished marble. Instinct made her shoulders hunch and her gaze flick toward the source of the sound and was rendered momentarily surprised and aghast by what she saw. She had expected a lone woman, not a man. Did I go into the wrong area? She glanced around her, as if she expected more men to crop up like daisies from glistening, damp floors.

"Are you supposed to be in here?" Ciaran asked him sharply, ignoring his greeting and the unnerving smile. The Aukari's amber eyes narrowed suspiciosly. He was irritatingly attractive, which made passing judgement that much more difficult. The Seeker prided herself in her logical acuity, but there was something about this particular intruder that made her want to pinch herself. She cleared her throat, and came to realize that she was much too exposed because she swiftly moved her arms to cover herself.

"I think you should get out now," She said plainly. Like hell was she going to leave. She'd rightfully paid for her daily hygienic sessions and she wasn't about to let a lecher intrude on that. Even a stupidly handsome lecher.

The Aukari moved to the furthest edge of the pool, shuffling almost awkwardly on the ledge, still submerged. Her eyes never left his, as though she waited for him to do anything so as to justify whatever rash action she had planned. Her conduit was always on her person, no matter what she was doing.
word count: 365
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Qaerris
Approved Character
Posts: 82
Joined: Wed Mar 30, 2016 4:52 am
Race: Naerikk
Profession: Harlot
Renown: 0
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Wealth Tier: Tier 1

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I See Fire [Qaerris]

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Was Qaerris supposed to be in this particular pool? No, but in his eyes, the answer depended entirely on perspective. When the Mortalborn's oh so charming greeting had failed to elicit an equally pleasant response, Qaerris couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. Followed by an equally amused grin, the harlot watched at the Aukari woman retreated to the opposite edge of the pool. There was, of course, no pursuit. Qaerris did not approach her, instead, when he settled into the pool, letting a satisfied sigh escape his lips as he leaned his head back. His body, following the sudden shift in weight, began to tip backward. From there, his chest rose to the surface, wisps of steam cast from his body as his eyes and nose submerged. Air bubbles escaped his nostrils freely, the Mortalborn fully intent on not having water seep into them as he basked in the glory of the pool's heat. In the bit that Qaerris had spent in the water, he'd utterly ignored the woman's words, addressing neither her question nor her demand to be rid of his presence until he rose from the heated waters.

Qaerris' features no longer featured a grin, though his flawless visage portrayed an utterly relaxed expression. Of course he would be relaxed, his interruption one that entirely suited his taste, with Ciaran's reaction triggering a sense of amusement rather than any sort of surprise or disappointment. It would seem that the Mortalborn was mocking his current companion, though the notion was quite far from the truth. Truly, he admired the woman, who still had the sense of pride in her expression that behooved a self-importance that Qaerris no longer felt. Three centuries into his existence and the Mortalborn's cares and ambitions had, in truth, withered away. There was little else for him to truly care about, and it was the shock and astonishment of others, along with the pleasure and satisfaction he earned from his current profession, that kept him fully away from the gutter that his drinking habit was so close to pushing him towards. What was it that motivated the Mortalborn aside from the coin he needed to fill his gullet?

Rather than assign any of his time in the pursuit of the answer to the thought that had manifested within him, he decided to address both of Ciaran's statements. The Mortalborn rose high enough from the water to expose his mid-section, the contours of his toned form fully present for the woman to bare witness to, steam rolling from the sun-kissed flesh of his body as his lips parted to loose an answer,

"Hm... am I supposed to be in here? Yes, though, perhaps not in this particular pool? I figured, my dear friend, that a lone woman was in need of a companion. Or, at the very least, someone to talk to."

A noncommittal shrug moved Qaerris' shoulders as he combed through the soaked locks of his hair, the other hand suspended atop the water. Once the Mortalborn addressed the woman's question, he then continued to answer her demand,

"Leave? But it would be soooo cold. Surely you, an Aukari, wouldn't dream of subjecting a poor soul to the rigors of cold!"

Of course Qaerris couldn't help the teasing tone in his voice, nor the false pout that had settled upon his lips. There was no reason for the man to threaten violence, and there was no intention to do so. In truth, he wouldn't approach the woman at all, entirely content to stay far from her until she calmed herself down. After all, upon seeing what exactly the woman before him was, he dared not underestimate her. Whatever she hid, she was one of the fiery ones, and thus capable of far more than met the eye.
word count: 656
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