John
Iver

A brothel in the Southern Isles


Iver pulled on his shirt, his nimble fingers sliding the buttons into place. He rolled his head back and forth, sighing as the pop of his vertebrae echoed in his temples. Groaning, he paused and closed his amber eyes, the air hissing past his teeth.


Delicate fingers reached up to rub the base of his head and neck, a sigh escaping the woman behind him.


"You don't 'ave to go, you know..." The voice whispered in his ear.


"I do." He responded shortly, finishing the buttons on his shirt and standing up. "...Sorry." He managed to mumble as he walked over to his boots that were haphazardly near the tainted window. 


"...I don't get you anymore, Iver..." The woman whined, laying back down on the bed and pulling the sheet over her nudity. Harumphing, she watched him with a pout. "When we were younger, you'd be wild, untamed, we 'ad *Fun*... And now you..." She sighed. "Well, I guess you don't look like you've aged... But the way that you—"


"I've aged." He cut her off, his eyes focusing on her as he turned around. "Just not the same way you all do."


The woman grumbled, sitting up and holding the sheet to her ample bosom. "*You all*... What do you mean by that?" She scooted to the edge of the bed and reached upward, her hand resting on his cheek. "Sometimes I think... You *Did* Die those years ago, and I've been fucking a ghost once a year or so."


-

Iver rolled his eyes, reaching up to pull the hand from his face. He held her hand gently but firmly, looking at her. "I was not the same man. No. I'm not. I died, I did, in a way.." He answered mysteriously. "But I don't think you should be questioning something you would never understand." He nodded, letting go and finishing his clothing before heading toward the chamber door. "So long, Violet." He whispered lowly, before ducking his head and leaving the brothel.


He marched slowly and methodically, since walking on land wasn't always the easiest for him anymore. He could play it off as sea-legs getting the best of him if someone asked, but they had *No* Idea how true that statement was. He made his way through the streets, making it to the visage of the coastline only about 60 yards away. It was like a tether, from his chest to the sea, pulling him back into its embrace. He was a part of it, and it was a part of him. His guide and guardian, and he, its rebellious child. 


A subtle nod toward the ocean distracted him and he stumbled, stopping where he was to catch himself and reorient his legs on solid ground.
Christina
Cecilia Lyanah 

She remained amused from her previous encounter with one of Bradai's men, learning that she would need to find out more information on Galt-Drake before he undoubtedly became a threat towards her. It wasn't that she feared him, if anything she had grown intrigued towards his carelessness regarding her nature and behavior. Then again, she always had the tendency to be drawn to things that could do her a lot of harm. 

Cecilia had decided to remain above ground, away from the tunnels as she left the seedier parts of Tonate Proper and moved along wandering aimlessly through the isles. She allowed her feet to lead the way, having nothing planned on her mind besides avoiding anyone who looked remotely similar to a mainlander and those she already knew. The shifter simply wanted to enjoy the little time she received in the fresh air with the intoxicating smell of the ocean breeze the further she grew to the coast line. It was far more superior to the smell of copper from the dried blood that would coat the surfaces of the dungeons she had grown accustomed to living in and the decaying scent of rotting corpses as they marinated the dirt covered floors before someone finally decided to dump them into an unmarked grave. 

A movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention as she brought herself out from her dissociated mind and noticed a man struggling to walk. Deciding she had nothing better to do, Cecilia began making her way towards him. Each step that drew her closer, the shifter was able to recognise he seemed drawn towards something in the direction of the ocean. Perking her curiosity, she continued to bring herself closer towards him. 

"Are you ok?" She didn't exactly care about his wellbeing but knew it was the easiest way to start a conversation without being to fuck off.
John
Iver

The coast of the Tonate Proper, Southern Isles


As Iver tried to reorient his feet, he was approached with... Concern. A woman's voice, not one he had heard before, approached him from his left. He turned his head but not his body, remaining still and his feet directed toward the ocean.


As he set his gaze upon her, it would be noticed that in his face, there set an odd pair of eyes. They weren't like others, the pupils thin lines, and the iris a bright shade of yellow. They were akin to a cat's eyes, or perhaps a shark's. "Aye," His rough voice replied. "Just sea-legs getting the best of me." He had the isles accent, but it was certainly more refined and articulate than most who lived here, giving him a strange sense of nobility, although he dressed quite common.


He didn't seem a social type, and being approached out of the blue was not a part of the plan he had for the day, but Iver told himself that there was no harm in conversing with a new person, perhaps the ocean had a plan for this. He took a deep breath, feeling the salt cling to his lips. "Been with the sea for months at a time, it can make you forget how to be steady when nothing moves or tilts beneath you." He gave her a curt smile, although some would say that with his eyes the way they were he seemed more predatory than kind.
Christina
Cecilia Lyanah 
The coast of the Tonate Proper, Southern Isles

She didn't believe the man for a second when he spoke, providing an excuse for the way he struggled as he walked. The woman was pretty well versed in bullshit herself. Infact, it was almost all she ever spoke when she didn't find herself threatening other people. Fortunately for him, she didn't find any interest in pressing further into his lie as her current distraction was towards his unique set of eyes. It was unlike something she had previously seen. Was he human?

As a brow kept upwards to give the man a look of doubt, the shifter did her best to be discreet with her inhales through her nostrils in an attempt to make sense of his scent. It didn't smell all that human. However, Cecilia chalked it up to the fact that his body had an overwhelming scent of the ocean which would have made sense if he was a sailor that spent months at a time at sea. 

"Why are your eyes weird like that?" It was blunt, but the shifter was never one for manners, that was obvious. Her left brow raised in curiosity as she waited for his answer whilst her eyes scanned cautiously over him.
Elissa
Mouse
The Court of Skulls

Mouse's eyes widened as the king spoke, every sentence seemed to make them wider until she thought they may pop out of her head.

"Ye're givin' me a job?" She asked in a meek little voice. Quietly, she swallowed a bubbling sob and smiled a toothy, brilliant grin before bowing low to her king.

"Fhank yew, yer 'ighness. But vhould y'no rather someone more... Grand?" She asked. She wanted this job, hell she was getting her hopes up over it! But a little streetseller had no business being elevated to a royal Ratcatcher.
Rhonda
The Pirate King, Bradai Maith
The Court of Skulls

When the girl fell to her knee and bowed her head, the Pirate King stood from his throne. 

"Let vhis be a lesson to you all, for you _murmurers_ and _snickerers._ Look." The Pirate King looked up at the balcony, where they were all looking back at him anxiously. 

" 'ard work is rewarded in my court. 'oo told vhis girl to catch rats? To save you all tha trouble? No one. Not me. My city 'as produced good men and women, and vhey should be recognized." 

When she spoke up from her place on his floor, to question his decision, his face grew stern.

"Grander?" He looked annoyed but from behind his beard, he was smiling. She was Tonati, of that much he was certain. 

"No," Was all he said in reply, and sat down. "Dismissed."

The guards at either side escorted her out of the court.