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

[muckspout]

Edgard takes a deep breath and gives a subtle jerking nod. There was always war of some kind and certainly war inside. He sees the second all over Jone, but doesn't let on.

"Orlais--and other things." He starts to see the falling axe and shoves it down. He laughs lightly.

"That wasn't the right answer, was it?"

[poleaxed]

There's something sad about this, and the sadness has sweetness to it. It will hurt. She wants that hurt for herself.

She reaches out to brush her fingers under his chin, dirty and unshaven. "It wasn't the wrong one."

[muckspout]

Edgard stays very still as the fingers brush his chin and he blushes. He looks into Jone's eyes eager, but hesitant.

"No?"

He steps a little bit closer. There is something to this surprising and fierce person who doesn't step away when he gets closer, unbothered by his appearance.

[poleaxed]

As far as she's concerned, the only person you should keep your distance from is her. If she could back away from herself, she would. But she can't, stuck as herself as she is, so she may as well take her knocks for it. And it's not that bad, really; he seems surprisingly kind. That will make her feel worse. She doesn't deserve kind, anymore.

"Where's your room, luv?"

[muckspout]

He grins, touches Jone's arm, and speaks softly.

"How about your room? I have roommates."

(He leaves out the part where he's fucked one and would celebrate if the other dropped dead.)

[poleaxed]

Jone technically (?) lives in one of the communal areas, but it's one of the severely underpopulated rooms, and that's what sticking chairs under doors is for anyway. She nods, kisses him quickly, and starts off to lead the way.

[muckspout]

Yeah, Edgard!