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 Teleporting & Tapenade
Canna Tanwen
 Posted: May 14 2018, 06:33 PM
Quote

Fire
Age: 23
application
tracker
Group Icon
Mercenary
Teleportation

Posts: 4
OOC: Shelbees


Ombra. Mercenary.
Canna Tanwen
The sun hung lazily on the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with hues of red, pink, and orange. The city itself seemed to glow in the dying light, the stone facades reflecting the last brilliant light of day. Below buildings cast harsh, black shadows on the people striding past, creating a living dichotomy between day and night where light peeked through and pressed against the dark. The air was filled with the woody scent of torches being lit as the town prepared for the evening. Lanterns began burning by doors and in windows, lit by mortal hands or by some unearthly, invisible fire, their light illuminating the many dwellings that housed the people of the city. The scent of burning and oil filtered over the crowds strewn through the streets.

 Canna sucked in a deep breath, the smoky scents filling her lungs and drawing on old memories much more violent and brutal then the scene that laid before her. Her hands hung lazily by her side, the tips of her fingers occasionaly and lovingly brushing against the leather straps that secured her weapons to her person. From the corners of her eyes she could see the dodging looks from people who mistakenly stepped to close. That day she wore her gear openly, letting it speak for her to anyone who might think to bother her. Two short swords formed an 'x' on her back, their silver hilts inlaid with dragon's breath opals, glinting in the firelight. Additionally a twin set of daggers were belted to either hip and straps on her thighs accommodated small, black throwing knives.

 When not armed to the teeth she appeared much more innocent, almost doll like if not for the rudely protruding nose and thinness of her face. Her delicate pink lips and cheeks tended to attract attention she had no desire for, desire that was squashed at the sight of a dozen blades strewn across her body. Few were willing to test her to see if she truly knew how to wield them, and those who did often walked away with missing appendages.

 The crowd began to condense the further Canna ventured down the road. Everyone seemed to be pushing in the same direction and as the scent of roasted meets and baked dough reached her nose she knew she was heading in the right direction. But the crowd was exceptionally thick tonight, men and women stepping dangerously close to her as she tried to push her way through. Canna scowled, baring bright white teeth as she stretched her neck, trying to see over the shoulders of strangers and into the oncoming market. It was already a warm night, the bricks of the city still radiating with the warmth of day. Stuck deep in the thick of the crowd it was like walking through a sauna, the stench of body odor and sweat suffocating the delicious, wafting scents of baked pies, of kabobs ladened with a menagerie of meats and warm breads, freshly pulled from their ovens.

 Stifling a growl she began to direct her eyes away from the market up ahead to the buildings around them. She scanned the roof tops for somewhere flat and sturdy. Finally she spotted a red clay roof, only one story high but just enough for her to see over the streaming crowd and get a breath of fresh air.

 As if she was made of shadow and mist she quickly disappeared into nothingness, almost instantly reappearing on the empty roof. The sun still reached here and she held a hand up against the blinding light. Gazing out over the sea of bodies she spotted the start of the market. A crude stone wall marked the entryway, a structure just wide enough for someone to stand on. In the blink of an eye she once again vanished, reappearing on the wall, searching the line of tents and shacks advertising their goods.

 It wasn't hard to spot the small shack with chipped red paint forming the image of a meat pie on its facade, smoke billowing out of the small brick chimney. In less time than that needed to take a breath she was gone again, traveling through shadows and stars to reappear on top of the small shack, a loud thud terrifying the customers below as she landed.

 The wooden roof creaked under her boots as she walked to the side of the building, grabbing onto the wooden siding and swinging her body over the edge before letting go and landing with skillful grace on the dirt ground below. She dusted herself off before hooking her thumbs into her belt and swaggering over to the front of the building, where a terrified line of customers stared at her with wide, bewildered eyes. Casually she stepped into the end of the queue, nonchalantly scratching at a spot of dried blood she hadn't noticed before, ignoring the still staring eyes.

Viana. 820.
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Viana
 Posted: May 15 2018, 02:58 PM
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N/A
Age: Ageless
application
tracker
Group Icon
Goddess
Travelers and Messengers

Posts: 2
OOC: Thistlefoot


The good thing about being a crow was that you blended in anywhere.

Of course, Viana was a particularly regal-looking crow, as these things went. Her feathers gleamed with health, glossy and neat on her elegant frame. Their oiled sheen caught the sun in iridescent slicks of purple, blue, and green, the scorching vivid sun of the southern lands coaxing out their brightest colors. The trained eye might also notice the small, neat, blue-green bands of color in her feathers, tucked amongst the black near her shoulders, but even those almost never drew notice save from the keenest ornithologists. Crows were common as dirt, as at home in the grimy, bustling city as in the woodlands, and so they were quite useful for going unseen. It was in this guise that she gazed upon the half-ruined city of Attirac, bored out of her little feathered skull.

The baking adobe rooftop perch Viana had selected was becoming uncomfortable, even in the cooling heat of sunset, and she was just contemplating her next stop when the pale woman materialized on the roof immediately adjacent.

Viana kaarked softly to herself in surprise, all her attention now eagerly focused on the deceptively slight figure. She cocked her head to the side in a jerky movement, shifting to focus one of her side-set eyes square on the figure. It crossed her mind that perhaps she'd just imagined it. Maybe she'd been inattentive, and the woman had been there all along, and just abruptly stood and disturbed a cloud of dust--but then it happened again. One moment she was there, the next she seemed to dissolve. A loud thud brought Viana's neck snapping around to one of the food sellers' stalls down below and well out of jumping distance away, where the ice-white woman was perched as neat as a bird.

This. This was something very new, and very interesting.

Quick as thought, Viana darted to the pie shack, her wings carrying her far faster than any bird ought to be able to fly. Her little grey claws gripped the edge of the shack's roof as she considered the woman, who had used such an impressive--and noticeable--power for something as simple as acquiring the food sold in this humble shack.

It wasn't only the other customers who were distracted by this sudden display. The owner of the shack was staring, as well, looking poleaxed and frozen in the middle of an interaction with an annoyed customer. The smell of the pies wafted up, that uniquely heady aroma of cooked flesh; her crow's stomach would have screamed for it even if her human body hadn't. And this strange new human seemed to want them very much.

Taking advantage of her inconspicuousness and the baker's distraction, Viana fluttered to the ground and then half strutted, half hopped into the shop. She kept to the wall and flapped up onto one of the crates that served as a counter at the last moment, wings folded on her back as she marched along the row of hot pies, considering them curiously. With a quick downward stab, she plunged her beak into the most appealing of them and began feasting, bright, beady little eyes on the baker all the while.

He didn't realize she was there until he had snapped out of his trance enough to reach for the customer's order, and at that point she had already consumed a good third of the fragrant treat. With a last darting motion, Viana speared an especially hefty chunk of meat, taking with it a broken smear of potato and a nugget of barley, all of it swimming in a rich sauce of cumin, pepper, paprika, cinnamon, and coriander. She effortlessly dodged the man's clumsy swipes and flew out of the shop with the food dangling from her beak, as a few people in the crowd laughed quietly. A low canvas awning over a nearby stall provided her next perch, and she settled in to watch, intelligent eyes staring at the strange woman who'd first caught her attention.

image by Thistlefoot, code by Ryne
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Canna Tanwen
 Posted: May 17 2018, 07:13 PM
Quote

Fire
Age: 23
application
tracker
Group Icon
Mercenary
Teleportation

Posts: 4
OOC: Shelbees


Ombra. Mercenary.
Canna Tanwen
There was murmuring in the line about peoples’ displeasure about her chosen method of travel. She could still feel the heavy weight of their eyes that still stared at her, but she was unfazed by the considerable amount of attention she had attracted. Let them witness her and see what she was: Armed to the teeth with blades and fierceness. Let it be a warning to them that they best keep their distance.

 She let them gawk but kept her own eyes averted. The was no need to acknowledge their bewilderment and feed into the opinions they were undoubtedly already forming about her. She kept her eyes towards the sky, the sign on the stand, on the dirt gr-

 A crow, and a mischievous one at that. Her attention snapped to a small black figure dancing in the peripheral of her vision. Canna cocked her head, intrigued by the creature who unassumingly crept into the back of the shack. She blinked, it was an awfully brave creature to dare creeping into the building, even for a crow. She crossed an arm over her chest, resting her chin on the hand of its opposite. Her fingers covering her mouth as she curiously watched the crow execute its mission.

 It wasn’t long till the front of the line burst into commotion. She could hear the shouting as the baker chased after the feathered thief, waving and hollering after it as it made its great escape. Canna snorted, a hint of amusement playing in the light of her eyes. She watched as it flitted up and away, so effortlessly escaping the baker. Her eyes followed it up until it lighted upon a nearby awning. Canna shook her head, the slightest hint of delight on her face shown in the upward tug of her lips.

 The line was moving faster now that all that the tension had been broken by the feathered thief. People were quickly gathering their pies and scurrying away, wanting to get away from the vendor that seemed to attract trouble.

”Three pies, and wrap ‘em up.” Her voice was brusque as she spoke her order. The baker sneered, clearly annoyed with her before she even stepped up to the counter. Canna stubbornly raised her chin and glared back, her pale face a sheet of burning ice as she matched the same look of disdain that the baker gave her. Finally he broke away from the staring contest, muttering crude phrases under his breath as he put together her order. He dropped her order on the counter and she tossed down a silver piece, quickly snatching up the pies before striding away.

 Back on the main road of the market she began surveying the roofs for a decent place to perch herself. That was when her yellow eyes were one again drawn to a lingering dark figure. The crow, it was still there and- Staring? Canna narrowed her eyes, inquisitively tilting her head to one side. This was an incredibly focused crow. Glancing around quickly she spotted a sturdy looking clay building that appeared mostly abandoned and sat adjacent from the canvas awning that the crow was still perched on.

 In the blink of an eye Canna was standing on the roof, pies still in hand. Gracefully she lowered her self onto the edge of the building, letting her legs dangle over the side. She set the wax paper wrapped pies in her lap, carefully undoing the twine that secured it just enough to slip out one pie, setting it beside her as she redid the fastening. She peeked back up at the bird as her hands retied the string. What did it find so interesting? Picking the pie back up she nibbled on the crust, speculating over what the bird was so intent on.

Viana. 641.
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