Corvidae

Starless

@Corvidae hey up for a collision of wind and fire soon :3 ?
also I give the witch full permission to hit on Ki'ira. Though she will probably tease the witch to no end xD

@rivaan

At some point soon, yes! @Vigfast and I may have something planned first, but after that, absolutely!

Starless

By the way, is everyone okay with the mythological shutouts to their charries?

@Dawnscroll

I'm not sure how far the stories of the Windwitch's exploits might have spread, but by all means!

Starless

<Snipped quote by Corvidae>

Kittens, I'm not sure why you people haven't understood that yet.

@Vigfast

Me? Coy? What ever could you be talking about?

Starless

Decisions, decisions! Now, whom might the Windwitch stumble upon next? I can see I'll have to send a few PMs, soon!

Starless

Responses will be up today. Hope everybody is ready.

@Transience

Oh, boy. Buckle up, chumps.

Starless

@Corvidae We all have different ways of putting pen to paper, no? Plus, your writing is awesome, so don't second guess yourself! This RP isn't supposed to be a chore, so just post when it feels right for you, I don't want you to feel like you have a deadline to meet or anything. RP's are supposed to be fun and relaxing!

@Transience

It's been a long time since I've been in such a tolerant, patient environment - the shit I pulled with the disappearing act wouldn't have gone over well nearly anywhere else.

This extends to everyone, by the way: you guys are incredibly chill.

Starless

Speaking of posts, look who's finally keeping her word? This bitch, right here.

So, yeah, I think I've really got to work on honing my dialogue - it's never been my strong suit, particularly where NPC characters are concerned.

...I tried, though! That counts for something, right?

Starless

A F A I R T R A D E

The heavy clunking of unwieldy boots further encumbering an awkward, uneven gait announced the newcomer's approach, and the dock squealed its protest in a series of low, shrill creaks. Crow's fascination shone on her face, a wide, radiant beam lighting up her features, as, utterly enraptured, she watched her fingers, wholly ensnared in the hem of her shirt, give the fabric an experimental twist.

She could move. She hadn't come back all withered and rotted, nor chafed or infected - why, it was almost as if the skies had transcended most mortal planes of existence to pluck her from the very day she'd died! And she'd never been one for higher thought, because who needed solitude and hard, rigid boundaries when you could find companionship in the form of soft curves and softer words, but maybe, just maybe, she was onto something?

Really, she figured there was only one logical conclusion: she was so mighty and awe-inspiring that the universe itself had beheld her magnificence, cursed its own inadequacy, promptly shat itself in fright, having witnessed her power and grace, and then declared her a god. Wouldn't have been the first time someone had dropped to their knees to praise and worship, so wasn't she doing that whole process a favor by lending it some legitimacy?

...Wait.

The intensity of contemplation furrowed Crow's brow, slender slashes of brown cutting low across alabaster skin. ...Nice try, jackass. Gods aren't real, the heavens are a conspiracy, everything is dumb and pointless and whatever the hell else Arianna used to funnel down your throat, blah, blah, blah, so getting to the point: the hell does that make you? One hand darted up to cradle her chin between thumb and index finger. Unless the concept of godhood kind of fucked right into being just to cater to your whims?

Huh. Actually, that didn't seem too far off. In fact, that argument seemed pretty logical! Which was incredible, because she, death-defier extraordinaire, was pretty damn great, if she did say so herself!

Which she would.

Loudly.

Once her throat stopped stinging like she'd swallowed several buckets of sand, mind you. Shelving that not-so-nefarious scheme, because she reckoned any bold proclamations would have to be delayed until certain basic provisions were obtained - namely water, because sweet, merciful hell, her throat was fire - she decided to give standing up the most valiant effort she could. Her core tensed, strain searing at her abdomen, and she threw all her weight into her upper body with all the force she could muster.

Her shoulders twitched almost pitifully, her head lurched forward, bobbing dangerously close to the dock, and then she fell still.

...Ha. Haha. Shit. A beat passed. Several subsequent successors soon followed. A sudden swell of heat crawled up her neck, and, funnily enough, she was beginning to suspect it wasn't a symptom of the dehydration. Frustration scrunched at her features, face contorting into a truly impressive grimace, and her eyes screwed shut as she came to terms with precisely how pathetic this entire shitpile situation was.

"Um. E-excuse me, miss. Are you... are you okay?"

Crow's eyes snapped open, and eyes as murky as the open seas peered steadily back, gaze equal parts concerned and perturbed. A narrow, gaunt face - pretty, she noted, in an almost incidental sort of way - darkened by what must have been years' toil under a merciless, unrelenting sun. A stocky frame, corded with lean, functional muscle - probably earned from fish-hauling, or slave labor, or even (and she shuddered to think it) honest work - reasonably sturdy, practical garb, and some cloth-swaddled bundle tied to her back that Crow sincerely hoped wasn't a baby.

(Babies were, after all, pointless and evil. The corrupt little bastards - imp-spawn, she used to call them - were just plain unnatural.)

The woman's brow furrowed, and, looking both cautious and a bit miffed, she waved her unoccupied hand in front of Crow's face. Evidently deciding Crow was either ignoring her or laboring under some sort of mental impairment, she sighed, and grumbled out a, "Not worth the gods-forsaken effort, I swear."

Crow's nose twitched. Something salty wafted through the open air, and it wasn't accompanied by the sea's distinct tang. Something hearty and meaty - pork, maybe? It was then the Windwitch's roving gaze settled on the package clutched in the peevish woman's adjacent hand. The key to her salvation was bundled in oily parchment and tied with some ratty old twine.

The twinkle of mischief alighting in Crow's eyes, her lips curved into what she desperately hoped was a dashing, roguish grin. "Not nearly as fine as you, I'd wager." Leaning back and propped up on her hands, the supine Stormcaller epitomized loose, airy insouciance. "Hey, speakin' of - wanna make a trade? You feed me, and then you can also tell me what the hell's been happening in this rotting hovel while I was gone. See? Fair, ain't it?"

Did she mean a single word of it? No. Would the ends justify the means? ...Okay, probably not. Would it keep her alive? Absolutely, and she was a scavenger, wasn't she? A survivor.

And that meant doing what she did best.

Punctuating this bargain - and really, it was kind of a steal, if she did say so herself - with the best half-lidded smolder she could muster, Crow offered the skeptical refugee a coquettish, hopefully winsome grin. If you do, it promised, as coy as it was earnest, it'll be damn well worth it.

Starless

@Transience

As we've all seen, I take forever to accomplish anything of note. It's not that I don't have the inspiration, it's that I tend to second-guess myself. It's like a bizarre, self-deprecating form of perfectionism. 0/10; would not recommend.

Starless

Responses should be up at... i'd say... The morning. I've got all my plans for responses down, it's just a matter of filling it all up with some prose! :)

@Transience

I'll have mine up within the hour - I'm just trying to figure out a decent stopping point. Hopefully I'll meet your deadline?