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 As Soon As I See The Dust Settle, Asra :: Kenna
Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 08:46 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
The sea is calm. There is almost no wind. The sky stretched above the isle of Lindisfarne and its surrounding sea, not a cloud to ruin its glorious blue but for the faint, harmless whisp of white.

It was a stark comparison to the night before, when a tempest had ravaged the waters and the eastern coast of the island. A storm fed by the volatile emotions, the fury and the pain, of a mermaid princess and her lover.

A lover who just now was stirring. Dawn had long since broken over The Leviathan, the sun already climbing high into its great seat in the heavens. The sea captain’s eyes open reluctantly, very reluctantly, to the bright light streaming into his quarters. Such a stark contrast to the thick black of last night’s storm and the darkness of a drink-induced sleep. He groaned heavily, before quickly coming to the conclusion that it would be no use pretending life wasn’t still continuing on as normal beyond his ship quarters.

Rolling over onto his side, with a great deal of effort, the responding sound of crunching glass made him instantly freeze. Crevan rubbed a hand across his face, attempting to blink back the heavy tiredness in his eyes and focus them on the mess he was currently lying in. Shards of glass scattered across the entirety of his floor. What the fuck had he been doing last night? It was beyond him to answer that question alone, and any further detective work would require getting up so Crevan forced himself gradually to his feet. The soles of which were already stinging painfully, injuries he realised on inspection from walking barefoot on this deathtrap of a floor. He brushed any remaining glass from his clothing, wincing but then immediately ignoring the small collection of little scrapes and cuts that lined his skin.

They’d hardly be the death of him, he could worry about that later.

For now, there was a far more pressing matter to attend to; that of the absence of one of the chains that always, always adorned his neck. Reaching his fingers up to his neck, Crevan only gave himself confirmation of what he already knew. Just his father’s necklace sat where it should be, his mother’s, his bridle was painfully absent. Of course, the very feeling of it being missing was agonisingly present now. And even through his pounding head, a panic set deep into his mind immediately. A terror sinking deep into his stomach, making him feel even more nauseous than he already did.

Had he put it somewhere? Crevan knew he never did, it was always about his neck. His crew? No, of course not, he could already tell it was nowhere nearby. A kelpie could always sense nearby bridles, their own especially. And Crevan couldn’t even get the slightest sense of his. Which could only mean that wherever it was, it was far away. But he’d had it last night, he would have known it was missing, even that far gone into his drunken state.

So where was it? Crevan’s head was too busy pounding to think any more, a panic already set deep into him. Heaven forbid someone had it. No. No, that couldn’t be the case. The thought of that was too terrifying to even think of right now.

Asra. The thought hits him like a wave, apt really. It trickled in slowly, in little increments, flashes of the violence in the words which had raged between them last night. From his quarters to the deck, the gales which howled about them, and the sailor she’d mutilated. The sight of her black tail disappearing over the edge of his ship. That dread that still sat coiled in his stomach.

His bridle could wait. He needed to find As first.

There was no time for waiting for his headache to cease, nor spend the rest of the day nursing the mess his gut was currently in. They’d wait, Crevan had other things to do. And despite his many flaws, Crevan Sewell could never be faulted on just how driven he was when it mattered.

He had to find her. He couldn’t leave it like that between them. Grabbing a change of clothes quickly, the captain spent a few precious minutes dressing his feet so walking was at least bearable, before finding shoes and a coat and making his way out of his quarters and into the blinding daylight on deck. Crevan didn’t say a word to the few wide-eyed crew members who stared, nor to the few who inquired about his current state and well being, instead their captain was up on the ship railings and in the sea before any of them could stop him.

Lord Sewell arrived, drenched in salt water, on Lindisfarne’s eastern coastline not too much later. It was far quicker to travel alone and traverse the distance over sea as a Kelpie than it ever would have been to navigate The Leviathan into port in such fair weather. The ship had not been far from the coast, nor too far indeed from port in fact. But still, Crevan had chosen to go alone; the irritation grating at him and the terror running through his veins not especially wanting of company at this moment in time.

It would be a short gallop to his manor house from this point on the coastline, but that wasn’t where he was needed right now. His head turned it over as he sprinted up from the beach onto the coastal path that led up onto the cliffs overlooking the sea. Where would Asra go? If she’d disappeared off back home, Crevan knew he barely stood a chance of finding her and getting her to sit down and talk, well, whatever it was that had unfolded last night, out. But after only a few lines of inquiry, it became increasingly obvious to the lord that Asra had not indeed gone very far from his ship. Or him.

After all, how many other mermaids with human legs got into the habit of starting pub brawls in these parts of Lindisfarne? In any part of anywhere for that matter?

A few exchanged pleasantries and a kind offer of directions later and Crevan had set off to the coastal village in question. No thought spared for the occasional odd look he got as he transformed into a pitch black horse, and again in revealing to the village folk that the galloping animal free of any rider was in fact their Lord Sewell. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only.

As.

He pushed open the door to the fairly modest tavern and immediately knew he was in the right place from the sounds that greeted him. “Asra?” The scene which revealed itself as Crevan came in across the threshold only confirmed it, as he let the door swing closed behind him. There was a sudden silence that fell over the tavern occupants, followed quickly by a frantic scraping of chairs as the people stood in his presence and the removal of hats in respect for the arrival of one of their leaders.

But moving in from the doorway, Crevan only had eyes for one creature here.

“As.”

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: And let the not getting together of shit begin!
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Asra Fatin Rayyan
 Posted: Aug 30 2017, 02:00 AM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (36)
  • The Little Mermaid/The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Veroma Isles
  • “You told me I was like the Dead Sea”
Kenna


When the hurricanes came for me I could finally crash again.

That is how I became the sea.

WELP HERE WE GO

@Skylark

Like a shadow in the night Asra drifted her way from tavern to tavern, pub to pub, leaving destruction in her path. In some she participated, in others she simply initiated and watched the world shatter around her. Destruction was the only thing on her mind. The only thing she could think of to ease the aches she felt, both physically and emotionally.

She clad herself in stolen leathers, wrapped herself from wrist to ankle in the protective fabric. A rare sight of woman in pants, she heard one man mutter. That jacket looks like one that belonged to a captain I once knew, another said. Whispered comments snuck their way to her ears, causing either smirks or snarls to cross her face. Each moment was a new emotions. Each step created a new commotion.

She sat at a table in the current tavern of choice, and empty mug in front of her. The burning liquid reminding her of the mess she had left behind in the middle of the sea. The blood and the screaming and the dagger like words that now hung in the air, unable to be taken back.

No amount of violence was helping. No amount of drink. Each sip she begged for the kind of solace that mortal men found from the liquid. The relief that her own love earned with each sip from his bottles.

But it never came. And a piece of her knew it wouldn’t. It couldn’t grasp her in the way it did with mortals, even in her mortal form.

Instead it fueled her anger. Her aggression becoming more pointed and her focus far from blurry.

With not a drop left she rose to walk to the bar to order one more, a part of her pleading that that next one would be the one to push her over, to make her feel anything but what she did now.

But she didn’t quite make it there.

Before she had reached the counter she heard a chuckle as she felt a hand come to reach her ass. Her head spun immediately, eyes meeting a large, muscular man with dark black hair and light green eyes. Handsome, rugged, a true seaman. But his appearance did not stop her hand from cracking across his face. ”Don’t you dare touch me.” She hissed at him as she turned to walk away again.

But the man was far from fazed. He reached out, grabbing her by the waist, his fingers digging into the bones of her hips, and he pulled her to himself, whispering disgusting words with an even more disgusting stench of alcohol trailing into her noise.

Within a second Asra snapped. She reached back, grabbed the man by the neck, spun the two around, and slammed his back into the bar, her own body pressing against him.

Asra’s body leaned across the man, pushing his back into the bar behind him as she leered at him, her bared teeth close to his face. ”Put your hands on me again you smug bastard and I swear to all the seven hells-“

The commotion in the pub halted and a silence hung around the room. Even Asra’s own voice stopped as the word reached her. As. No one but he called her that. Her eyes did not leave the mans face, her body still pressing his into the bar, teeth bared and eyes wild.

The man’s eyes widened as he looked from the owner of the voice that had just spoken back to her. The terror and anger he saw in her eyes now were scarier than they had been a moment before. ”Diafols…” He muttered.

Asra simply spat in the mans face, grabbed him by the collar, and tossed him to the ground, his body sprawling out and then scurrying away as fast as he could.

Asra still kept her eyes away from the door, her body profile to the man that had come in. Instead she looked back to the barkeep, and slammed another coin she had stolen from the scared man’s pocket onto the bar. ”Another round.” She hissed, reaching for the mug that was set down in front of her barely seconds later.

©

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Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Sep 1 2017, 06:51 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
Asra. She was the only thing on his mind. A mind turning a mile a minute, assessing the scene presented before him, even in its fogged state. His stomach lurched. Dear god, how much had he been drinking?

There she stood, surrounded by the quiet of the silenced tavern patrons; from casual meet-ups to day drinkers already at various levels of pissed off their heads. She held a man against the bar, her dagger-like teeth bared at him. Crevan recognising all too well that malicious threat glistening in her wild eyes.

As. He’d called her name but she didn’t look. Lord Sewell had silenced the entire tavern with his entry, she included, but she didn’t look his way. Wouldn’t. The man she was holding did however, and Crevan’s eyes meet his; see the pleading in them immediately. For anyone in right mind, it wasn’t hard to figure out. For those who hadn’t met Lord Sewell’s mermaid lover in person, this encounter wasn’t especially complex to connect the dots together. Who else would their ruthless lord call by a pet name?

The man’s eyes beg silently for release, for mercy, as his Lord stood motionless and silent in the doorway. But only for a moment before they turned back to her. Only for a moment before the mermaid who held him up against the bar had thrown him roughly to the floor, leaving him to scarper. To crawl away like a coward. Crevan could have stopped him but had no inclination to, merely stepping wordlessly aside to allow the man his escape through the front door of the tavern. Both pairs of eyes barely leaving the mermaid who stood in their presence.

She still didn’t look. Instead aggressively ordering another round. Another? She faced away from him, purposely he knew, dressed in clothes which Crevan knew well weren’t her own. For one thing they certainly looked like men's clothing. The money she’d had couldn’t have been hers either...though Crevan was last the person who was about to go lecturing anyone against the sin of theft. Virtually everything in his life he had won, he had stolen.

With a slight nod towards the other patrons, the gentle hum of the tavern slowly begins again as they take their seats and continue on as before, but quieter now, in hushed tones. Eyes following the sea captain as he made a line straight for the bar. Crevan came to stand beside her, eyes finding the shelves of drinks behind the counter rather than the figure next to him. How much he wished to kiss her, to simply wrap an arm around her. But he could not know the damage he’d done, not when the drink which had spoken the night before had also caused him to forget so much.

“I think we need to talk.” He begins, not looking over to Asra. Wishing now his head wasn’t pounding quite so much, nor his stomach churning as it was. Wishing he could at least remember more than the black of the storm and the fury raging in her eyes.

“A drink, my Lord?” His head turned to the barkeep who’d asked. A fairly young lad, with a freckled face and kind eyes. Temptation came in every shape and every guise, he needed to remember that. And as much as it was paining him to be sober at this moment in time, he knew he couldn’t. Or perhaps more like shouldn’t. (He had to be better than this. He would, he promised himself silently. He’d be better.) “Not today.” Crevan refuses in that same cold and disinterested tone that was his default.

The barkeep leaves them. “Somewhere other than here?” Crevan continued like there had been no interruption, eyes still averted. There was so much to say, he hardly knew where he’d need to start...but one thing was certain, the absence of his mother’s chain was agonising now. His heart hammering, in the same wild state as his head and gut.

His gloved right hand twitched upon the bar counter. Crevan resisting the urge to reach up to where the silver chain should be hanging around his neck beneath his shirt.

Crevan cleared his throat, in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “I need to tell you something, As. I-”

A drink arriving before him cuts Crevan off. “From the owner. He says it’s on the house, sir.” His eyes lift to find the smiling face of the young barkeep again, who bowed his head before returning to the washing up in the corner, taking his overly bright smile with him. Crevan was still, hands not moving to take the drink presented to him, free of charge for a high lord of this nation.

He closes his eyes. Exhaled slowly. “For fuck’s sake...” The mutter came softly under his breath, laced with an exhaustion, rather than an anger. Would the world not let him rest?

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: Weirdly awkward Crey is weirdly awkward...
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Asra Fatin Rayyan
 Posted: Sep 23 2017, 03:02 AM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (36)
  • The Little Mermaid/The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Veroma Isles
  • “You told me I was like the Dead Sea”
Kenna


When the hurricanes came for me I could finally crash again.

That is how I became the sea.

Cruel Asra is Cruel...

@Skylark

Asra didn’t need to watch the man to know that he crawled away like a scared rat.

Instead her attention stayed on the wall behind the bar. She ordered another round and it quickly found its way to her hand. And once it was in her hand it quickly found its way up to her lips. The liquid sloshing in the mug did little to calm the rage that burned beneath her skin.

She could feel him coming closer, making his way towards her, until he was directionally next to her. He too faced the bar instead of looking at her. She wanted to scoff at him, tell him how much of a fool and idiot he was. But she remained silent.

That is, until he spoke.

”I think we need to talk.”

A sharp, dark laugh left Asra’s lips at his words. It was cruel sounding, but she felt no guilt at this moment. How dare he come in here thinking that he could simply talk to her. After all he had said. After all they both had said.

She listened as the barkeep asked the Captain if he would like a drink. Asra waited, stilling herself as she waited to hear his response. And she must say, it surprised her, though she did not let the surprise appear on her features. ”Not today.” Well, there is a first for everything.

Then he speaks to her again, and she can’t help but reply this time.

”What? You wish to speak in private?” She all but hissed. Asra took another sip of the mug in her hand. ”Why don’t we just take this back to the ship? Since we have our discussions before the crew now.” The bite in her words reached across the space between them.

She still refused to look at the man beside her. Crevan didn’t deserve her gaze, not yet.

Crevan began to speak again but he was cut off. Asra heard the familiar sound of a drink being set down. The barkeep speaks again and Asra knew exactly what it was.

Crevan did not move though. She heard him exhale and mutter beneath his breathe. It was then she finally turned to face him.

”Go ahead, Captain.” She said the title mockingly. Asra took a moment to hold her own drink up to him. ”Cheers.”

©

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Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Oct 8 2017, 06:52 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
She wouldn’t speak. She wouldn’t even look at him.

Though neither would he, her. It felt like crossing some imaginary boundary that had been drawn between them somehow. Like this fragile and arguably non-existent peace between them could be shattered by a single word, a single touch. A single look.

Asra was silent, until the very moment he came up with the words to begin. Ones which brought that dark laugh of hers to his ears; that sound which seemed to echo from the very depths of the ocean which she called home. Where no human could tread and not even sunlight could reach.

The next time he speaks up, after rejecting one of many but perhaps his ultimate temptation, she dismisses his request almost immediately. Which Crevan had only truly expected, never had he envisioned Asra, his As, turning round to him and forgiving him, laying all this awkwardness, this boundary between them to rest without some kind of battle beforehand. Which is why he knew he couldn’t rise to anything, not a word, he had to hold his tongue and keep his head about him. A task far easier without so much alcohol pounding through his blood, mind, and senses.

“Yes. I would.” He replied, so matter-of-fact, giving a response that wasn’t needed to a question that never really asked for one. Crevan still didn’t look to her, putting to the back of his mind that vicious edge to her tone which he knew he must have put there. “Better in front of the crew then a pub full of strangers.” He reasoned, that logic which he lived by when his head was clear. The sound reason Crevan was to be honest, now incredibly relieved to get back to. Emotions from his personal experience, especially great outwards displays of them, rarely aided anything but to make situations worse.

With his words, he glanced behind them at that pub full of strangers, who for the most part still had eyes on the High Lord and his lover stood talking whilst not looking at each other at the bar.

Crevan turned away from them again.

His eyes find the bar counter, his chest a deep exhale. “At least we know the crew.” And though he could trust the bond between fae to keep the tongues of the Kelpie crew, a quick wordless threat to the human sailors amongst them would pay for their silence too. Gossip didn’t spread from The Leviathan; those men trusted each other too much. And each knew what punishment their captain would seek out if he caught any tongue spilling details of his private life beyond the security of the deck.

But the conversation moved on seemingly from under him, seemingly with barely another word between them. Drink, that godforsaken poison which his mind so craved, handed to him freely, as a gift. An act of charity just begging for him to turn it down. That drink sat taunting him on the counter-

But not taunting him as strongly nor as harshly as the woman by his side. The woman who he so dearly loved and who had claimed innumerous times now to feel the same way about him, goading him now into that downhill spiral that Crevan had spent virtually all of the past decade of his life falling down to some degree.

Just take it. What harm could one drink do.

Go ahead, Captain.

Cheers.

His mouth felt suddenly dry, as his stomach once more lurched with almost violent intensity. God damn it, it felt like the whole world, his own body included, were ganging up to make this as difficult as possible. He felt nauseous, a bile rising up his throat.

No. No, think for a moment, Crevan. This isn’t who you all. Not all that you are. Enslaved by this one, intoxicating habit…

The captain reached forwards without another word and grabbed the freely offered drinking, turning then and going over to place it in the nearest available drunkard’s free hand. “From your Lord Sewell, with complements.” His gloved hand clapped the drunk man on the shoulder as he looked up at him, grin made broad by both drink and his lord’s sudden show of ‘kindness’. Eyes covered in that familiar glaze of one far past 'merry'. “Enjoy.” Crevan almost spits out, under his breath, as he walks from the table and crosses back across to the bar counter in a few long, purposeful strides.

There. It was done. It was gone.

This one little victory.

But how dare you, Sewell? How can you bear to look down your nose and sneer at these drunks when you know so well you are no better than them? You may have title and land, all the wealth you could every need and all the power at your fingertips to gain more, but how are you any different from the next drunkard? Drowning his inexplicable sorrow in man’s best friend and greatest temptation? You are like them, Crevan Sewell. You are one of them.

Truly, this, this is your kind.

“This is important, As,” he continued on upon reaching the bar as if nothing had just happened; trying and trying and knowing he would continue to. “Something I don’t trust my men to know. Something I need to tell you.” His voice grew lower with each word he spoke, even now paranoid for no good reason that someone could be listening in, could be guessing for such vague information just what it was that was preying on the young Lord’s mind so.

“Only you.” His eyes then, finally find her. Filled with a sincerity that she had seen many times in their blue before. And a panic which she hadn’t.

He looked away suddenly.

Crevan’s eyes fell closed a moment as he tries to sort the mess of his head.

He should apologise, he knows so, for whatever it was he did last night...but it seems wrong somehow, to apologise for something he could barely remember doing. Like it made those words meaningless, utterly empty when it was a sorry for sorry’s sake, rather than a heartfelt apology for his wrongs.

When he thinks on the night before, it all seems a haze. Like searching for half-formed memories through thick fog, the one still clinging to his thoughts now. One a part of him still assured him would be eased by just drinking, by just feeding that fog enough until that same old moment when he could forget it was even there at all.

All he remembers is that storm, no, that tempest. Which raged about them and over them and in them. Threatening to capsize the unsinkable ship, drown its undrownable crew, and tear them both apart from the inside. He remembers them both screaming at each other, words eaten up by the vicious gales swirling about them...but he can’t remember the words they spoke. He remembers vividly screaming himself, into the void of that stormy night sky and a universe that wasn’t listening and didn’t care. For him, this half-breed, this fae imposter, this abomination, who felt he was somehow deserving of all he had stolen in this world.

Somehow deserving of her hand. To walk beside the terror of the seas like an equal.

He can remember her leaving. Her black tail disappearing into the blacker sea. He can still feel now the deep wound in his chest that she’d left; the one he’d caused. But the strain of trying to remember how and why, it hurt so much…

He was left here in the daylight, grasping at that vague picture of the night before. What he’d done, what they’d both done to each other, stretched out like paintings in his mind, with no words to accompany them. He could only guess. He could only realise it had been terrible, this great and terrible something.

A lord, a merchant, a politician, a pirate...and a drunk. When will you break free from that one final vice?

His eyes open again, but only for a moment as he plants his elbows on the bar counter and leans down into his arms, his hands cradling and supporting his pounding head. Don;t lose this. Straighten up, fix that expression. Give nothing and take everything? Remember.

Or have you forgotten that too, you pathetic drunk?

Crevan, figuratively and physically, pulled himself together. That same level and nigh-on unreadable expression covering his features as he turned to Asra again, no longer using that bar counter for support. Fleetingly thinking that he never wanted to do so again.

“As, please.” His voice is strained by the very word, and the urgency which bled behind it. “I will get down and beg if I have to...But I need to speak with you. Alone.” He needed to tell her the one secret he trusted no other living soul with. Show her the terror he’d die before letting anyone else see. He needed her. Not with these hissed words, and that glare full of fire, but the Asra who had always understood him better than anyone else had, who had whispered encouragement once upon a time to that terrified young man and had now risen him to a position nearly untouchable.

He dared to reach out a hand, his fingers grazing over the skin of her own, still wrapped around her own drink. That hand with its leather binding which hid her crimes from the world.I need you, As.”

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: Eheheh, I think I broke Crey's internal monologue again...
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Asra Fatin Rayyan
 Posted: Nov 7 2017, 04:03 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (36)
  • The Little Mermaid/The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Veroma Isles
  • “You told me I was like the Dead Sea”
Kenna


When the hurricanes came for me I could finally crash again.

That is how I became the sea.

She's crazy. Like Asra has totally gone batshit I think.

@Skylark

”Strangers?” Asra said as a mock question. ”These aren’t strangers. These are my friends.” Then her head turned to look at a man down the bar from them. ”Isn’t that right?” The man’s eyes met her own and a look of fear went across his face. He simply nodded quickly, grabbed his pint, and shuffled away to a table. A smirk danced across Asra’s face as a low chuckle escaped.

There was something about being feared again that felt good. She simply couldn’t explain it. Her whole life she had been viewed as terrifying, as terrorizing, as frightening, but in a completely awing and beautiful way. Not in a monstrous way.

Not the way that Crevan had looked at her.

As Crevan spoke of the crew Asra rolled her eyes. ”You mean at least your crew on your ship either fears you enough to keep quiet or they have no choice but to keep their Kelpie master’s secrets between them.”

Another sip.

The liquid doing nothing to calm the seas inside of her.

As the new drink was set down in front of him, she finally turned. Holding up her glass, she gave him a mocking cheers, before pouring more of the liquid down her own throat. As she lowered her drink again we watched him grab the mug. No surprise.

But then something surprising did happen. Asra’s eyes followed him as he turned and walked the drink over to another patron of the bar, slapping him on the shoulder and thrusting the drink into the drunk’s hand. Asra's face showed no surprise. It was stone like. Stoic. But her eyes did glare a bit harder at the Kelpie captain before her.

”My, my, my, it seems we have an imposter here!” She mocked. ”The real Lord Sewell would never deny his love, his vice, his liquor.”

Crevan walked back to her after that, but Asra stood unmoving. Her hand still wrapped around her own drink. One of many that she had hoped to find some sort of understanding in. If it worked for him, why couldn’t it work for her?

As soon as he reached her he spoke again. Important. Oh yes, something important. Of course it was something important. It was finally important because he needed to talk about it. But when she had come to him, full of worry and fear and a need to talk last night where was he?

Gone.

Lost in his drink. Like so many nights before.

He still hadn’t looked her in the eye. Hers were still plastered in a glare on his face, but he still did not look at her. Until the last words fell from his mouth. ”Only you.”

It took control not to scoff at him right then and there. Echoes of last night played in her head, causing her blood to boil again. But there was something else. There was a panic, a fear in Crevan’s eyes. There for just a moment before he looked away again.

She recognized the fear. It was a similar one she had felt after talking with that hag on the beach. After the threats were spilled out to her.

But when Asra had that same panic in her eyes last night, he hadn’t been there. So why should she be here for him now? An eye for an eye. Truthfully, she just couldn’t quite let it go.

The words that were screamed between them last night. The truths that had come out. How could he stand here before her like he is and not at all be racked by what had come to life last night in the middle of a storm?

As his eyes closed, shutting him off from her once again, Asra turned back towards the bar. The wind and rain still rang through her brain as she stared down into the drink before her. His words hit her hears once again, but hers echoed louder than anything else. The things they said, there was so much honesty in the anger and the pain, how could they ever believe that they would actually be able to be together?

They were foolish.

And Asra despised both him and herself for making her become so weak. That was a truth.

Asra hadn’t noticed Crevan coming back from his own mind. She hadn’t noticed him turn. His words floated into her ears, and though she heard them, she didn’t fully process them. It wasn’t until his gloved hand reached over and ran across hers, still clutching the mug, that she snapped out of her thoughts too.

As his fingers touched her hand, her grip tightened. The mug in her hand splintered and shattered by the pressure. The liquid ran through her fingers and spilled before her on the bar. ”Pathetic.” She hissed, still not turning to Crevan.

Asra unclenched her fist and spun on him.

”You are pathetic, Lord Sewell. Don’t degrade yourself more by kneeling before me.” Asra stepped closer to him, her voice hissing and dangerous, as she prodded a finger into his chest.

”You refuse to speak in front of these men but you will openly disgrace yourself in front of them by appearing weak before me? Before a-“ Monster. She had stopped herself before she said it, but the truth was there in her head. Once again her words from last night echoed in her brain. Crevan’s lightly repeating in the back ground. He had made her weak. He had made her into this muttlike existance. His very being and his life changed her fate. He took her beautiful terror and turned her into a monster.

”You-..you-…you-..” Asra began to stutter out, the words not finding there way through the crashing waves of her mind. Until finally, a single phrase crashed through. Her finger pushed further into his chest before it dropped and her eyes locked with his.

”I wished you dead last night.”

©

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Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Nov 7 2017, 06:35 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
Crevan listens but doesn’t watch her grand and sarcastic display. Her little show of power, of looking in another man's eyes and feeding on the fear within those dilated pupils; the pleasure of proving one’s power through terror that Crevan was so familiar with. He’d seen her do it so many times, had seen her ind do it and his own. Whether they be pirates or Kelpies, breeding that terror was everything.

It had been Asra who had first taught him that.

He doesn’t look her way still, eyes stoically on that space behind the bar, waiting until that next moment when she stopped taking his words, chewing them up and spitting them right back in his face with her own personal venom bled in.

These people, they looked at him with a respect; one tinged with both admiration and fear. A Lindisfarner through a through, he was one of this isle’s greatest success stories. A pirate, a leader, a half breed, who had stolen and kept most of what he currently owned. His name spread terror across the seas; the faerie pirate and his Kelpie crew, that unsinkable ship with its undrownable men.

But she, no, they looked at her differently. She was not like them, though she had legs, every man in this room knew she was in no way human. He did not share their blood as he did. Asra was from another world; one all at once wondrous and terrifying. Just like she, the Terror of the Seas. That beautiful creature who sang innocent sailors to their deaths and tore guilty ones limb from limb. Whose face was impossible to look away from, whose song was just as enrapturing.

Crevan waited until she responded once more, yet another jab at his words. Some attempt to take them and pick them apart to make him feel...humiliated? Weak? Wrong? To make him feel something. But the captain was giving nothing away at all, in a stark opposite to how he behaved the night previously. “Yes. That.” He calmly agreed. Without the merest glance in her direction.

His ship and his crew was run partly on trust and partly on his ruthless reputation, Crevan saw nothing wrong in that. And though she might have been expecting some kind of rise from him, Asra received no more than those two stunningly collected words.

She sipped at her mug again. That liquid which brought that comforting fire to his throat, that familiar taste to his lips. That sense of oblivion to his being that on those nights, those all too frequent nights, he sought after so desperately.

It didn’t end. This goading, this taking every opportunity to ridicule his every word and every action. Crevan wasn’t surprised, he hardly blamed Asra either. She had been the one forced to live last night sober, and considering what little he did remember, Crevan couldn’t fault her for wanting to continue their shouting match into the hours of the morning after. He couldn’t rise to it, and he wouldn’t. Not now he was blessed with the common sense he had been lacking the night before. A sense which was growing with every moment his head was clearing, for every moment he was not filling his gut with more drink to replace what he’d lost.

Asra called him an imposter. Called him out so the entire pub could here. The real Lord Sewell would never deny his love his vice, his liquor. No, the real Lord Sewell wouldn’t...but which was more real? Which was more the true him? This creature stood here now, tall and collected and nursing that eternal hangover, or that pitiful creature from the night before? The one who felt such great desperation to no longer feel lost, to find what he had been lacking his whole life. The one who would scream to the wind in anguish and curse the one creature who had always understood, who had always come back to stand by him when it mattered.

It didn’t matter, Crevan had learnt that with time. They were both equal parts of him. Souls and hearts and minds were full of complexities which they could barely themselves understand. He was that same man who ruthlessly pillaged and fought valiantly to free his brethren from slavery. The little brother who’d murdered his best friend. A man who had everything and yet had such a capacity to feel so empty. That creature so incapable of love who was so hopelessly in love with the mermaid goading him now.

This man who was battling a terror himself now, this figure of fear who hadn’t felt truly frightened like this in so long. Struggling to keep his breathing even, to remain steady on his feet and not turn and run, to keep his head focused despite how it ached.

He reached out to her, in one last attempt to prove his desperate need. In a punctuation to his pleading words. Could she see the panic in his eyes? Hear the fear lacing his words? Or did she choose to just ignore them?

Under both their hands, her mug shattered. Its dark contents soaking the bar top. She turned on him, so fast even Crevan Sewell was met unprepared. He took his hand back from her without even thinking, watching with that same unreadable expression as she spat words at him. Ones viscious, soaked in that venom Crevan knew all too well. But she would not meet his. Not now.

He bore it. Every word. Standing his ground, eyes never falling from her face, letting her rage. Not even flinching as she pressed a finger into his chest. Almost pinning him in place to listen to every word which left those lips. “Asra.” He says once but not loud enough nor with enough conviction to put any halt to her onslaught.

“As.” His nickname for her comes again, just a second before she laid into him further. Calling him out for letting himself appear weak before her-

Pathetic. Disgrace. Weak.

What did that matter? What did any of it matter when he had lost his free will?

He looked down at her, into those raging eyes. Saw her lips as they stuttered, stumbling over the words she wanted to next fire at him. He is silent. He lets her speak.

If it had been the night before, if he drunken himself senseless again this morning, this would never have been the same. He would have taken this opportunity to launch an attack back, to spit a poison all his own.

“I wished you dead last night.”

For a moment, everything seemed frozen. Crevan didn’t move, didn’t speak, his features still not finding any expression to show.

But then, his eyes fall closed as he stands there. Hiding her face from his sight, though it could never erase those words-

He remembered now. Hearing that thought echoed from her lips brought it back to his mind. It was still just out of his reach, the sequence of events which had occurred last night, which had led to him collapsing on the glass strewn floor of his quarters. He couldn’t remember the words which passed between them, not exactly but-

“You must wish that you had killed me.”

He remembered that. Oh, he remembered that now. That dark thought, twisted into the cruellest of taunts. Thrown at her amidst the storm. A sentiment that came from some darkened corner of his mind, that part which was still so morbidly obsessed with this, with everything.

A thought kept locked up and well hidden...but for that night when whiskey had given it a free invitation to spread its insidious fear.

“Fine.” He exhaled the word, eyes flickering open to the dim lighting of the pub once more. “You want me to stop degrading myself in front of you? You want me to not appear weak in front of you?” His voice is unwaveringly calm. Every tremor of fear in his heart undetectable. “In front of them?” He gestured widely at the whole group of pub patrons. Ones who, whether they liked it or not, had now been dragged into the unfolding drama by both the mermaid and the half-kelpie, and were now avidly watching every word.

“Shall we share this with them then, Asra? Shall we tell all your friends?”

His eyes never leave her, his face still stubbornly neutral. “Despite me having asked you repeatedly for a word in private?” That fear in him is screaming, that part desperate not to breathe a word of his current vulnerability to anyone but those he could truly trust...the one single creature he could truly trust with this-

“Fine.” Crevan said it again, an agreement taken for Asra without her having to even utter a word. In silence now, the captain reached for the buttons of his jacket, the line of them he’d hurriedly done up this morning in his rush to get out and find her. His hands make fast work of them, the way they both shook horribly he hoped she, and the audience they had gathered, would take for the after effects of a heavy night of drinking.

He laid the jacket neatly down on the bar counter, reaching his shirt then over his head. Crevan let it drop to a heap on the floor.

He stood there before her, bare from the waist up. Those grisly scars which were his brother’s doing on display...and something else. Something he knew only Asra here would know him well enough to notice. Those two necklaces which usually adorned his neck, sat underneath his shirt; one silver chain and one which proudly bore Blackbeard’s sigil. Most thought them mere jewellery, most only saw significance in the one which was a mark of his father, the ruthless pirate from these famed shores.

But Asra knew better, he knew though the one gifted by his father, his birth father, was a trinket with much sentiment, the seemingly plain chain held far, far more significance. A Kelpie’s bridle. It was fortunate for them that so few of the islanders bothered to learn about the fae their shared their home beyond which ones they needed to run from.

Where normally hung two, two she knew he never removed no matter the circumstance, there was now only one sat against the skin of his chest. The one which bore the skeleton sigil of his father’s own design.

“It’s gone.” Crevan said simply, not allowing himself to give even a hint to their watching audience just what this meant. To not allow his fear to be heard by the hopefully ignorant pub patrons.

But his eyes are still locked on hers. Knowing that she would understand the weight of this...and praying beyond hope that she still actually cared.

He finally broke their gaze. Bending to lift his shirt from the floor, and fishing in his jacket pocket for some spare change. He placed it on the counter, eyes finding the overly-cheery bartender who now couldn’t bring himself to meet his Lord’s gaze. “I don’t take charity.”

With that, Crevan flung his jacket with his shirt over his arm and left the inn without looking back.

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: Welp, maybe she'll listen now?
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Asra Fatin Rayyan
 Posted: Nov 8 2017, 01:12 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (36)
  • The Little Mermaid/The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Veroma Isles
  • “You told me I was like the Dead Sea”
Kenna


When the hurricanes came for me I could finally crash again.

That is how I became the sea.

Omg I think I broke her.

@Skylark

The mocking has no affect on Crevan. Not outwardly at least.

But what was Asra hoping for. Was she hoping for another screaming match? Was she hoping for him to drop to his knees and apologize? Was she hoping for him to leave her, this time for good?

Or did she just want some sort of confirmation that she wasn’t the only one who had to live with what had happened last night? Because he seemed to be able to breeze right past it into whatever next issue has come up in his life.

So she finally snaps.

It was his touch that did it.

It shattered the glass beneath her hand. It caused the words to flow from her mouth. It caused the anger and the hurt and the disgust to rise in her throat. She poked and she prodded. She ignored him as he said her name. She ignores him again as that nickname falls from his lips.

Asra continued to jab with her words until the stumbling came. Until the ultimate truth had bubbled up into her mouth. And then she spit it out. I wished you dead last night.

And the world froze around them. Simply voice the words again seemed to make Asra’s own heart stop beating. Her hands clenched at her sides as she felt a weakness rush through her body. Crevan did not move before her. He did not speak. He showed no expression. And before him she matched his stance. Stoic. Silent. Emotionless.

It may have been she who taught him to embrace his terror, but through the years he had taught her how to freeze herself. How to hide from the world what you feel. How to remain stone faced as well as he did.

But Asra was a creature of great feeing and emotion. Though these emotions were greatly rage and anger, bloodlust and terror, they were still great and expressive. It was her kind. What they felt, they felt deeply. It was imbedded in them. Did they always show it? No. But Asra had always been more keen to show it than most. Her anger and rage played with her features so often and so well that it had become her own personal beauty. A fire filled elegance.

She watches as his eyes fall closed. Her own still glued to his face, waiting for the break.

Then he speaks. ”Fine." It is not what Asra expects. She does not expect him to give in and speak before these men. She doesn’t expect a calm voice. She expects screaming. She expects hatred. She expects everything he threw at her last night. But she doesn’t expect this at all. Not one bit.

He motions to the men around the pub. He continues to speak of sharing the information with them. What information, Asra does not know. She has not cared about what it was that Crevan needed to speak to her about. Not up until this point.

”Despite me having asked you repeatedly for a word in private?”

”I don’t owe you that. I don’t owe you anything.” Asra spits back, quietly, but the comment is passed over, both by her and by him. It was just her pride having to get another word in edge wise. Her stupid, stupid pride.

Fine. He says that word again, and Asra vows that that is now her least favorite word.

But she stood there in silence, simply watching, along with the rest of the pub patrons, as Crevan began to unbutton his jacket. A part of her wanted to question him. A part of her wanted to prod at him again, ridicule him for such a strange and absurd display.

Her eyes do not leave his face as his hands make work of the jacket buttons. Once the jacket was discarded it was laid, forgotten on the bar. Next it was his shirt, gone faster than the jacket, and carelessly dropped to the floor. Asra eyes still stayed on his face.

What was his game here. Asra’s eyes slowly leave his as they trail down to his bare torso. Her eyes pass over the scars that she had seem tens of hundreds of thousands of times, but could never quite get used to. Not when she knew the cause of them. Her own wrecked flesh burned at the sight of his.

But it was not the scars that kept her attention this time.

It was what hung around his neck. Or lack of what hung around his neck, for better terms.

In that moment it all came flooding back. Her meeting with the witch. The threats that she had playfully laid out before Asra. They had been serious, Asra knew that from the beginning, but now, now they had come real.

”Its gone.” He says. But he doesn’t need to say it. She already sees. She already knows. Its gone. And its all your fault, princess. She can heard the old hag in her head. The threats and words spinning in Asra’s head, causing her to be unable to voice anything at that moment.

It froze her in her spot. Her eyes stayed on his chest for another moment, before they flitted up to lock with his once again. A flicker of fear mirrored from his eyes into hers. But it was only for a moment. He broke the contact and before she could finish processing anything he was gone. The slamming of the door behind him broke her out of her trance like state.

Asra slipped her hand into the pocket of the stolen jacket and grabbed the stolen coins from it. She slammed them down on the bar, and without looking at the bar keep said, “A round for the house.” And then she was gone, strides quickly taking her out of the gods-forsaken place.

Her feet ached once again, the cuts and scrapes still unhealed from the night before. But the pain was a second thought. Her drive to find him, to stop him, was more pressing. As she stands out in the open she looks for him, finally catching his retreating back in her vision. ”Crevan.” She calls out, but he does not stop. Her strides take her closer, attempting to catch up with the captain, though it was not hard to. She was quickly not far behind him. ”Crevan, stop.” He continued on, as if he had not heard her. ”Please!” The word finally ripped from her throat. It was never an easy one to say for her, and she had only usually reserved it for him. It was strangled and helpless sounding. But he had stopped.

Asra stood there behind him.

”Crevan, I -“ Asra’s words caught in her throat. All of the emotions and fear she had felt last night before she had set foot on the Leviathan came rushing back to her. Her eyes were stuck on the back of the man now stopped before her.

Her strides began again, making her way to his side and turning to stand before him. Her feet still ached and she could feel some of the cuts reopening from her hasty movements out of the pub.

But here she stood before him. Her hands went to his chest, one holding his father’s necklace, the other feeling the space where the other chains could be.

”Gods.” she whispered, witnessing once again the huge emptiness that the missing bridle made. Eyes staring at her hands, one empty, her words finally escaped.

”I am sorry Crey, for all of it.”

She reaches for his gloved hand, but stops short before making contact.

She repeats. ”All of it.

Then she stepped back away from him, turning her back to him and gripping the roots of her hair in her hands. Her back slumped and her head tilted down. A sign of defeat. That fucking hag had gotten to him. Just like Asra had feared she would.

”This is all my fault.”

©

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Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Nov 10 2017, 11:11 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
The inn door slammed shut forcefully behind him. Sometimes still, he didn’t quite know his own strength.

The captain threw his clothes over his shoulder and didn’t stop. He kept walking, not looking back. Taking a quick right from the inn entrance and set off into the wooded area which lay just ahead without even thinking about it. Automatically, heading towards somewhere more secluded, somewhere private.

Would she even follow you out here? The thought screamed in his mind as he forced his eyes to keep looking forward, to not turn to around to check whether she was there or not. She didn’t deserve that, his mind decided. Not yet. Let her follow him if she wanted to, if she even cared. Let her call his name, let her scream it. Let her try to stop him.

That fear. That unshakable panic which his heart it thudding along to, doesn’t leave him...it gets swallowed in the monotony of one footstep after another. In the focus of his entire attention on whether or not he would hear her voice-

“Crevan.” Just like that. And just like that, he knew. Crevan knew that tone of voice too well. Such a stark contrast to the ridicule she’d been driving into him in the inn, this was laced with that concern. That concern over him.

She called out again and his movements don’t even break pace. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t look behind. He’d promised himself. She’d have to come to him.

“Please!” It was a helpless plea, caught in her throat.

And just like that, his feet come to an immediate halt. Those soles which were cut and bleeding just as hers, numbed by the urgency of everything else that was going on in their lives at this current minute. This downward spiraling minute.

His name comes again, stuck in her throat as her words fall away. “Finally decided you care, As?” His reply comes, in that ever-calm tone of his as he stops himself from looking back. Crevan still not quite able to keep himself from letting that panic within him leak out as that bitterness. For only a moment.

He stopped and waited, letting her catch up with him finally. Not looking around, not seeking out her face until she stood there, right before him. Somewhere he couldn’t look away. His eyes find hers immediately, watching now as she finally reached back out to him. Her hands going to his chest, holding the one necklace he still retained and the empty space where the other once sat.

Gods. Asra stared at that emptiness around his neck and Crevan stared at her, watching.

“I had it last night.” It is a whisper, a breath, so quiet only Asra could possibly hear him. “I woke up on the floor of my quarters this morning, I must have been so out of it...” His eyes flicekr closed a moment, feeling the pounding in his head again which always came with too much drink. A not-so-friendly reminder from his body that this much poison wasn’t good for it.

“We can sense them if they’re near and-” His eyes open, find her gaze and he shook his head. In this small and private space between them not afraid anymore to let his fear show. “Nothing. It’s not with me, it’s not on the ship. I can’t feel it at all.” Which must mean it had travelled some distance...which was just the thing which Crevan couldn’t get his head around. How? And who the fuck would even dare?

Asra stood before him and apologised, such a contrast in her entire demeanour to only moments before. But this was serious now, and his little stunt had just proven that to her. Her fingers reach towards his but fall just short.

“I’m sorry too, you know I am.” He tried to reach out to her, to close the gap between them that hse couldn’t, but she’d already pulled away. “...You caught me on a bad night.” He doesn’t laugh, nor try to play it off. There isn’t even a smile on his lips as he said. It was the honest truth and it didn’t take a genius to realise. And Crevan delivered it with the seriousness that he was far more known for, that collected air he liked to take far more pride in then that volatile creature that came out when he’d drunken a little too much.

Asra stepped back, stepped away. And Crevan in frozen in place a moment, as his eyes follow her hands to her hair, as she slumped over. Defeated.

No, people like they were never defeated.

At least, they never admitted so.

He is by her side in moments, an arm wrapped around her back. “As?” His hand reaching up to ease one of hers, to take it in his own. “Asra, come on.” His words are steady, gentle, coaxing almost. He can’t find a smile, not in the light of this. Crevan Sewell couldn’t find one at the best of times.

“What do you mean it’s your fault?”

His aching head was already reeling with what it could mean. If this was her fault, did that mean she’d taken it? But why would she? How could she ever break that trust between them? Wait...had she sold him out? He couldn’t sense the bridle on her at all. She couldn’t have it, unless-

No, this was ridiculous. There was no point in hurling blame at the one person Crevan trusted most on this earth. Someone who knew just how important that silver chain was to him.

“It can’t be, As.” He says it because he is certain. That she couldn’t, and never would, play a part in such a violation of something so sacred as his freedom.

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: Crey: always remarkably calm when not intoxicated <3
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Asra Fatin Rayyan
 Posted: Nov 11 2017, 02:10 AM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (36)
  • The Little Mermaid/The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Veroma Isles
  • “You told me I was like the Dead Sea”
Kenna


When the hurricanes came for me I could finally crash again.

That is how I became the sea.

His words cut at her.

But should she have expected anything. She brushes them off. They were just words of hurt. Much like her own words. Of course she cared. They both knew it. Crevan knew it. She loved him. But she had said those horrible things.

The view of the missing necklace hit her again and again. Even when she turned away from him. Even when she closed her eyes. All she could see was the missing piece of metal. And she could see the old, haggard hand grasping it.

That damn woman. That witch. That bitch. She took this from him. She had made good on her threat, so soon after giving it. So soon, in fact, that Asra has such little time to act. If only she hadn’t gone after that pirate ship. If only she had made it to Crevan before he was lost in his bottles. If only she had been able to talk him down. If only she had been able to keep her patience. If only, if only, if only.

She had had all he time in the world to save him, but her stubbornness is what cost him his freedom. Her stubbornness and her selfishness.

For the debt would not need to be paid if Asra hadn’t taken her own necklace without demanding the price the witch would require. She had asked, but accepted without receiving an answer. Even all those years ago, Asra was sure she would have chosen Crevan’s safety over her own selfish wants. Or would she have? Would she trade the years for his safety? Would she trade the power to be with him both in his world and hers if it meant he would be kept out of danger? Would she have really been that selfless?

Crevan speaks, tries to explain. Of course he had still had it last night. The hag hadn’t gotten to him yet. He had it, they fought, he passed out. And somewhere in that time a magic far darker than either of them reached forward and ripped the bridle from his neck.

Her apologies flooded out of her mouth. She didn’t even explain. She was just sorry. Just so, so sorry.

Crevan continues to speak. He can’t feel it. He can’t sense it. But of course he can’t. It could be anywhere. The power that witch held, she could have sent Asra’s lover’s bridle to any corner of the world. She was sure of it.

The apologies flow again. And then Asra turned away. She can’t face it anymore. She can’t face him anymore. Not when she had caused this. Her hands rip at her hair. The Terror of the Sea had been defeated.

Crevan tries to get her attention, but Asra’s head is throbbing with the words echoing in it. She feels his arm slip around her, a gentle hand coming up, easing one of her own out of her hair. He holds her hand and her body. In this time when he should truly be shoving her away, he holds her.

The witches words echoed in her head. "And could you tell that mongrel pet of yours to keep an eye on his necklace for me, my dear? You see, I wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.” Oh even hearing that voice in her head made her blood boil.

”Its why I went to you last night.” Asra said, her hand gripping his tightly.

Asra turned to him now, her hands shooting up to his face. ”I was trying to protect you. She threatened you and I didn’t know what to do. I was so angry.” Asra slips her other hand from his and puts it on his other cheek, now standing there holding his face. ”I never meant for this to happen.” Asra said. ”I didn’t know the price. I didn’t know what she would take. It was so long ago. I had no idea.”

Asra’s hands drop from his face, now reaching beneath her jacket and top, reaching at her neck. Her fingers pull her own silver chain with the small blue rod on it from beneath the layers of fabric. ”When she offered me this, I accepted without knowing her price.” Asra stared down at the chain. ”Only yesterday she found me again, and that was when she told me what she would take. What she threatened to take.” Her eyes shoot back up to Crevan’s face.

”I didn’t know.” She says again, weak, defeated. ”I didn’t know.”

©

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Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Nov 15 2017, 02:16 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
He held her closely against him, his clothes now discarded to the ground. Trying provide some comfort in his presence. To ease this great distress which was crippling her and him both, but one which Asra seemed to know far more about than he. That small sense of relief he got when she let him take her hand in his quickly dissipated when he felt how tightly she was gripping it, when he heard the words which came after-

“It’s why I went to you last night.” So she’d known? She’d been trying to warn him last night? Was that what their argument had been about? He can’t remember. Why couldn’t he still fucking remember?

But before Crevan can ask, Asra had moved. A hand on his cheek, his eyes locked with hers. She’d been trying to protect him. Crevan didn’t yet know the full details, the full situation, but immediately that sounded better in his head (and his heart) than the thought that this was somehow Asra’s fault. Something he couldn’t see as possibly being true if it meant she had betrayed him. They’d sacrificed so much to stay together, it hardly seemed possible for them to do anything but protect each other.

And protect themselves from the forces which might try to tear them apart.

“Wait, As.” He tried to get her to pause, to start again and make a little more sense. Without the full context, this meant nothing to him besides this she who seemed out to get him. “As, what do you mean? Who’s this ‘she’?” And what the hell did she want with them?

People like they had enemies, it was unavoidable. They made more practically every day with each life their crimes and their own lives spread to touch. Crevan knew himself to have many enemies, many souls who’d gladly see him dead. He’d learnt over the years that the best way of preventing that was to make himself as seemingly untouchable as possible, by putting himself on such a pedestal, they could never reach. By making himself so powerful they would never dare…

But there was a fault in that, wasn’t there? You were strong, influential, powerful, rich...but not perfect. Not wholly invulnerable as you liked people to think you were. For you were half-human in the end, with all the character faults that came hand in hand. That arrogance you carried with you, that proud belief that you were, indeed, untouchable.

And that one greatest vice of yours had lead you both here. If you hadn’t been so inebriated last night, would this elusive enemy have even had a chance to take your most prized possession from you?

She held his face in both her hands now and Crevan remained silent. Letting the confusion finally show in his own expression and he rushed to make sense of her words. It had been the price for something. His bridle, his freedom, for something Asra had gotten in return?

Then Asra removed her touch from him and fished something from beneath the borrowed shirt she was wearing. And everything suddenly made a lot more sense. The woman who had given her this, that old mystic on the boat who’d seemingly known them both without ever knowing them. The one Asra had told him all about eventually. The one who had come to Asra in her dreams and had directed her to him when he’d lain near-death from his brother’s attack. The old witch who had bestowed Asra the ability to live in both worlds, to shift seamlessly from tail to legs.

This had been her price.

As her gaze flicked back up to catch his, Crevan reached out wordlessly. His fingers lightly taking the necklace from Asra’s own. Holding it in his hands as he searched, sensing the thick dark magic which came off the necklace. Certainly not fae in origin...no, fae magic, no matter how dark, always came across far more natural than this. Even creatures of death like the Kelpies, whilst this magic felt unnatural almost. “Who is this woman?” It still to this day gave Crevan chills he didn’t ever wish to admit to.

“Why wait so long?” He wondered aloud, letting the blue rod suddenly fall from his fingers back to her chest. To claim a debt more than eight years down the line. To make a mermaid princess indebted to you and never give your price.

Crevan turned, began pacing away from her. “Why just take the necklace? No, no-” He murmured, loud enough for just his and his lover’s ears. His mind running a million miles a minute trying to figure out just what this meant for them, for him. What their next steps could ever possibly be with so much of his life hanging in the balance.

“She must be messing with us.” He looked back at Asra, his eyes burning with a surety that hadn’t been there only a moment earlier. That rare glimmer of true feeling, that he rarely let show. “A silver necklace could come at a fair price but its value comes from its magic. One that can’t be harnessed other than with the Kelpie it belongs to.”

His feet moved off again, further from her. His face turned away as he reached a nearby tree and leant on his arms against it. With a deep exhale, Crevan lay his forehead against them. His eyes sinking closed. His head is still throbbing mercilessly. That churning of his stomach coming and going but not leaving him just yet. And yet, despite how furious he was with himself now for being so far gone the night before, for allowing this to happen...Crevan still couldn’t ignore just how much his mind was begging for a drink now. Just how much he was also regretting not taking the opportunity when he had it back at the inn.

“Fuck!”

All of a sudden, he broke from his silent thought and lashed out at the tree. Grazing his bare skin against its unforgiving bark. “Why steal a Kelpie’s bridle without the Kelpie?” He shook his head quickly, determined with his answer. “That can’t be just it.”

Crevan turned back to look at her once more, not relinquishing the support of the tree. “Is she coming to find me?” Those blue eyes are burning still, with a rage and a terror that he’d only ever let her see. “As, will she come find me?”

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: Okay, Crey has murdered me < /3
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Asra Fatin Rayyan
 Posted: Dec 13 2017, 06:26 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (36)
  • The Little Mermaid/The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Veroma Isles
  • “You told me I was like the Dead Sea”
Kenna


When the hurricanes came for me I could finally crash again.

That is how I became the sea.

Crevan tries to slow her down. Her words spill a mile a minute from her mouth, thoughts flowing like a waterfall. His own words are lost as hers swallow the air around them.

Asra just went on and on, her verbal words helping her process the moment, though they seemed jumbled and incomplete. Her mind just kept going back to that hag. She could see her smiling now, could hear her grating laugh. A woman who once seemed a suspicious ally now turned to a hated enemy.

Asra takes in the confusion on his face and lets go of him. Her own necklace now rested in her hands and burned like acid into her skin, but she couldn’t let it go. All those years ago, she would have given anything for this necklace. Now that she knew what anything was, a piece of her wished to take it back. A piece of her wanted to rip the chain from her neck this instant, and destroy the necklace and all the control and power it held.

But another part clutched it like a life raft. This same necklace that now caused them pain had given them so much joy. Had given them two lives together, a life in her world and a life in his. What would happen if she were to destroy it now? What would happen if she were to give up his world completely? Would she be giving up Crevan, too?

When Asra’s eyes find him again he is looking at the chain in her hands. His fingers take the necklace from her, and Asra hesitates for a moment before letting go. What is he going to do? Will he rip the chain from her neck for her? Will he crush the rod in his own hands?

Crevan does nothing but hang a question in the air. Asra looks away from him, unable to make contact with his eyes anymore as she speaks, “I still do not know myself.” Admitting that only made her blood boil more. ”She is but an old hag, a sea wench. I have no name or land associated with her.”

With his next words the necklace falls back to her chest, now hanging light an anchor, threatening to drown the undrownable princess. Asra does not reply, for she knows Crevan is not looking for one from her. She couldn’t give an answer to the question even if she tried, for she didn’t know. She never knew the old witch’s plans and why she played them out the way that she did. It was annoying and infuriating through the years, but had never truly affected the princess until now.

He walks away from her now. Asra feels his absence and wants to reach out, pulling him back to her. But she doesn’t, for the woman was so used to hiding her weak needs, even sometimes from him. He is speaking, and though she can hear the words, she is sure they aren’t truly meant for her. He is processing, much as she had to. But his words bring no solution or comfort to her own thoughts.

And then his eyes burn in to hers, and she no longer feels the need to reach out. There is a fire in his gaze that makes her feel like she would burn if her fingers grazed him at all. But this flame in him is not an anger towards her. Its a thought landing in his own mind, sticking. He tries to figure out this witch and comes up with an answer for her actions.

But it was useless.

Neither of them could ever guess what she had up her sleeve. She was far more powerful than them, Asra hated admitting it, but she had to. There was something deep and looming about the woman, like there were plans much greater than any of them stored in the little bags she wore hanging around her neck.

As Crevan moves farther away from her she speaks up again. ”It would not be that simple with her.” She says. You are not the target. Asra wants to say. For she already knows. She knows just who the target is in this.

Her eyes stayed glued to him as he leans on the tree, looking broken for a moment. Just like how she feels. Asra takes a step towards him but is halted by his intense gaze. Her lips press together and she looks away from him. But before she can speak she feels it.

The call.

Like a hum in her chest, she knows what she is expected to do. Her eyes go back towards the piers, back towards the water, away from Crevan. ”No.” She says. He was not the target.

She was.

”Its not you she wants.” Asra turns back to Crevan, and for a rare moment there is a sadness in her eyes. ”She wants me.”

©

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Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Jan 30 2018, 07:16 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
He turns that blue rod in his fingers, gleaning nothing from it but the sense of the sheer scale of their adversary’s power. Something deep and dark, and wrong. Crevan didn’t have any idea who this woman was yet, nothing but for the little Asra had already told him. This woman who’d laid claim to his bridle.

Asra won’t meet his eyes. Even as his own search for her gaze, she cast her eyes away from him as she speaks. Telling Crevan exactly what he had feared; that she didn’t know, and so he didn’t know either. Who this woman was, or where she heralded from. Not the faintest clue as to how they might find her, or what her plan might be, or whether they could find similar leverage over this mysterious magical being.

Crevan could sense Asra’s fury boiling, and it only made his desperation seethe.

This couldn’t happen. Not to people like them, who’d made themselves so invulnerable. Together, built reputations so untouchable. They couldn’t be here, not at the other end of a vicious game of blackmail. They couldn’t be the victims. They were never the victims, they were the ones victimising.

But someone was exploiting a weakness the pair refused to acknowledge that they had; each other. Someone was playing them both for the fool, and the turning tables leaves a bad taste in Crevan’s mouth.

He needed a moment to think, to process this through the mind still crashing from the night before. Crevan distanced himself from his love, walking a few paces, taking a tree as a support now. He talks himself through it, trying to work out what that bitch’s motivation could be, what her ‘price’ could truly be eight years down the line. Though having the heir to the seas in your debt was certainly price enough.

“It would not be that simple with her.” Her voice reaches him, words full of all she wasn’t saying. “Then, what’s with her? What the fuck does she want with us?” The ‘me’ shifts to ‘us’. As it becomes impossible to ignore just what line this was obviously going down. It was Asra’s debt that this sea witch had bought. He was merely the bargaining tool to twist Asra’s arm.

Without another word, she lets him murmur on. Trying to make this make sense in his head. One which hadn’t quite yet let this fully sink in, just how vulnerable they’d both become.

Yesterday had been a hard day, and you drank yourself into an oblivion of your own making. If yesterday was hard, what did that make today? Where would it see you end, Sewell?

His gaze bores into her, searching her face for answers neither of them had. But the intensity of that stares flickers and dies as she turned from him, staring back across to the coastline. Towards the piers, the ships, the sea. With barely a pause, he is already by her side again. Catching her wrist, needing answers. “As? What is it?” His eyes find the nearby seas too, the still of the salt water in the harbour. What was she looking at? Or for?

She turned back to look at him. No. It’s not you she wants. His eyes search the sudden sadness in hers.

Of course, it wasn’t him she wanted. He was a pawn, a bargaining chip. He didn’t matter, only her love for him did. “She wants me.” The look in his eyes sobers from that earlier fury. “It’s you she wants.” He echoed her words, nodding once as an acceptance to the truth of their situation. His fingers slipped from her wrist to hold her hand properly.

“This can’t happen to us.” The futile statement is a whisper, a passing thought that would do no practical good. They’d been well and truly played this time...but this wasn't through yet. This was only the beginning.

Crevan lets her hand go, lifting his forearm to inspect the graze he’d caused himself. Red scratches running alongside dirt. He wiped at it with his free hand, not looking up to Asra as he spoke. “You need to meet with her.” It seemed the obvious next step to him, this witch wanted Asra for something and what other way was there to tell her what she demanded? Asra would have to meet with her and learn just what they were facing. And how heavy the price of Asra’s transformations had come.

And maybe good would come of it. At least then they would not be stood here as clueless about the entire situation as they were now.

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: These two <33
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Asra Fatin Rayyan
 Posted: Mar 2 2018, 10:54 AM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (36)
  • The Little Mermaid/The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Veroma Isles
  • “You told me I was like the Dead Sea”
Kenna


When the hurricanes came for me I could finally crash again.

That is how I became the sea.

My heart @Skylark
Asra felt his presence beside her, but her eyes stayed glued to the horizon. This call was different than the others. Maybe it was because now Asra knew what waited on the other side was more dire than any other time. Maybe it was because the old witch required more than just her presence this time. 



Asra knew that a payment was in order. The hag had said so herself. This call was that payment. This call was what all the years had led up to. That was the difference with this one. And her head instantly began swimming with what she could barter with to settle the hag’s wants and needs. One thing she knew for sure, the bridle was not payment. The bridle would be returned to Crevan in one way or another.



But with that realization, another one popped into her head. For him to be safe, she may have to give up more than either of them could imagine. Her blood boiled at the thought of what may befall her after she leaves Crevan to go to her caller. But she knew she’d give anything for his safety, no matter how much the thought battled with her natural instincts. Oh how love makes fools of us all.


His words echo what she already knows, but they cause her to drop her gaze to the ground. Asra knew that he had to go, and she was going to, but she also knew that Crevan didn’t fully understand what they were up against. What she was up against. Because at the end of this, he would be okay. She knew that, because she knew if she played the part the hag wanted, her kelpie lover would be fine.


But Asra herself, even she was unsure. The woman was beyond powerful, and her presence was irksome. The siren knew so much about her, but so little at the same time. And she couldn’t begin to explain her to Crevan. Couldn’t begin to give him answers that he wanted. She also didn’t want to worry him more than he already was. She didn’t want to explain the feelings she gets each time she is called to her, and she didn’t want to tell him what she was beginning to realize would happen with this meeting.

”I know.” She simply says, but doesn’t move from her spot. Finally, after a moment, she turns to look at him, and sees him fussing lightly with his arm, not looking at her.


She could leave right now. Make it easy for herself. Simply go off to the call without a goodbye. But the weakness in her heart wouldn’t allow her. She needed something, one last thing. So she reaches out, fingers grazing his arm lightly, beckoning for his attention. She steps closer to him and runs a finger up to his jaw. ”I love you.” Words she had said before, but ones that only seem to come at rare occasions. She didn’t feel the need to tell him often, he knew she did, and she used her actions more than words. But she needed to say them now. ”I’m going to fix this.”

©

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Crevan Eachann Sewell
 Posted: Mar 6 2018, 08:23 PM
Quote
  • Magical Beings (28)
  • The Nixie of the Millpond
  • Nomadic
  • “For my soul, he made an offer and to the dust again I fell. And oh the devil’s got a hold on me now.”
Skylark


Stale tongues, the words have gone
all we’ve left is smoky spit & heavy lungs
And I don’t want to talk it through
But my head hurts and I hate you
“I know.” She tells him, an agreement as reluctant as his statement had been. They were both painfully aware of what was to come next, but after that? What would the witch ask of her in return for this gift given so long ago? Crevan’s worry was overpowering him, usually a man who held such a tight rein over his emotions, couldn’t hide that concern from her now.

He wipes at the blood on his arm, his skin stinging where he’d grazed it. A small distraction from the panic which was pressing in on them both.

She came closer then, reaching out to touch his arm and instantly gaining Crevan’s full attention again. A finger runs across his jawline and his hands reach out to hold her waist. It was this love that was their greatest weakness. This love which they had sacrificed so much already to defend, and now what more would be added to their list of sacrifices? How much would they pay to remain in each other’s hearts? As wrong as it seemed.

Crevan would set the whole world alight.

I love you. That rare sentiment from her lips lends a slight smile to his. It was a declaration so overused by so many, but one they used so rarely. A treasured thing, they both already knew it to be true every moment they were with one another. But she was one for actions, and he was not one for words.

Crevan brushes his fingers across her cheek, holding the side of her face as he leaned in. Pressing a short kiss against her lips. “And I you.”

They were both creatures who held storms within their hearts. Ones which riled and raged against each other in times like the night before this morning. But it felt just as good as it always did, to return to these calm seas. These words, these arms, these lips. Time would bring those storms to return, but the surge would always calm again. For these two hearts with every power to nurse each other’s wounds as they had to carve them.

He rests his forehead against hers, falling silent again. Taking these brief peace in before they all raised their flags once more. I’m going to fix this. “I know.” His eyes flicker back open. To look on the siren who would sacrifice the great unknown to assure his safety. “I know you will.” With those parting words, he pulls away. Hands falling from her cheek and her waist as he put a few step between them, watching in silence as Asra answered the call they both knew that she must if they were ever to see this through to its end. Whatever that might be.

Crevan keeps watching until he can no longer see her retreating figure anymore. Only then does he move, turning back towards the tree where he’d left his shirt and jacket, abandoned to the dirt. The lord reaches down and felt the rocking, the swell of his head again. His reeling stomach lurches and he turns away. Emptying a stomach which was only filled with the evils of drink, wetting the earth with his greatest weakness.

Wiping a hand across his mouth, he hurriedly took his clothes and got dressed again. He glances once back to the harbour where she’d left to. He should take care from now on. Getting pissed into an oblivion was how this had all happened in this first place.

Lord Sewell shook his head and kept walking. Knowing just where his destination lay. His boots crunch against the forest floor beneath, his lips part to release the piercing call of the Kelpies. A cry to the crew who were waiting.

What does he do, when he is drowning but cannot bear the struggle of breathing? He will return to drowning. He will run from the surface, and return to the depths of home.

+Tag: @Kenna
+Notes: Bless them <33
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