OPEN | you ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright.

[poleaxed]

WHO: Jone & u
WHAT: Jone's intro log.
WHEN: Nowish.
WHERE: Kirkwall.
NOTES: Violence and strong language. Will update if things get w...orse.....

a. LOWTOWN.

Whenever you show up anyplace, you have to make some coin. If you've no contract, there are ways to do it, but they're messy methods.

Jone, standing at a few inches over six feet, long hair a muddy tangle in the middle of a fighting ring walled by bodies yelling for their bet, does not seem to mind messy.

Her opponent is a human of similar stature, moves to punch her square in the stomach, and Jone takes it. Hurts like fuckall, but that never matters much to a Reaver. Anyway, she needs it to grab him, her hands a vicegrip on his arm. He can't pull away, and ends up dragging Jone a few feet in either direction, attempting to dislodge her. She's too close, now, and it's too easy to knee him in the bollocks, adding to the gesture with a solid bite at his neck. She doesn't break the skin enough to really hurt him, but it's a scary thing to see, and she wants the reputation as much as the coin.

Her opponent goes down, and the crowd cheers. Blood in her mouth, she cheers back: "Next!"

b. HIGHTOWN.

Jone knows where her money comes from, so she knows how to look. She's not pristine, walking the streets of Hightown, but her hair is clean enough to see it's red, pulled back and way from a face no longer covered in blood and muck. Wearing a worn but workable enough suit of armor, she's holding a piece of parchment, reading it while moving her lips. She looks up, looks down, reading it again.

The door she goes to knock on-- maybe you know it? Maybe you're familiar enough with Kirkwall to know this is a prank? Maybe you're also thinking about taking a mercenary contract? Maybe the noble within is someone to be avoided? Help a girl out-- or don't.

c. THE GALLOWS.

She's only been here a day, but she's a little bored. No real reputation yet, but you gotta start small. Little things first. Late night arm wrestling. She's one two out of three so far, and the pot is growing.

She reaches forward for her next opponent, and her sleeve falls down to reveal the glowing green just above her elbow.

She shrugs. "Believe me, mate, this made me stronger, I wouldn't be fighting you with it."

d. WILDCARD.

go 4 it i believe in u.

Comments

[poleaxed]

She drops her gaze immediately, trying to hide, to save what little face she has left. This is intolerable. Unconditional love is fucking mythological. Yet all evidence points to it being right there, in her hands. A place where she could always be safe.

"I don't know what to do."

Admitting it feels a little like dying, and she certainly deserves that, too.

[coeurdulyon]

"The answer is simple, if you feel the same way."

[poleaxed]

Jone doesn't walk back from demons, but this? She takes a step back, unsteady in the sand. "I ain't marrying you."

[coeurdulyon]

Jone steps away, and Lucien stays in place, hands slack at his sides without her to hold onto.

"You don't have to," he says, though it pains him. What does he have to offer her now, anyway? No lands, no money, his material possessions sold off. All he has is his horse, his name, and the reputation of a dead man.

"It won't change how I feel."

[poleaxed]

"After everything I done t'you," she says, voice trailing off. She loves him, she knows she loves him, that's the worst part of it. She doesn't think things can go back the way they were, but... some part of her wants to try.

It's the soft part she generally ignores.

"Needs time," she says. She just doesn't have enough energy to ruin it completely. She's not sure she could do it twice. "Both of us. I'm not rushing in again."

[coeurdulyon]

“D’accord. Fine,” he relents, even offering that translation because he knows how little she cares for deciphering Orlesian. “If you need time, you shall have it.”

But he doesn’t step any further away, all too aware of the exhaustion she is showing. It isn’t like her to be so diminished after a fight, one that has not incurred any significant losses. But then again, never before had she been burdened with a rift shard. Lucien breathes out a frustrated sigh.

“Will you at least let me help you?”