Thalassophile

Character: Raylin Species: Werewolf Age: 21 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/her Occupation: Freeloader By: Gen

Biography

She came from Houston Texas after a bad fight with her ex, Howard. Since arriving she has made a home for herself within the pack.

Personality

In the time before, before anyone remembers and before civilization took hold of the land, the West (otherwise known as Xaihniuxequei) was filled with gods. They knew balance, the necessity of both good and evil which kept the land at peace. All the living beings understood the need for light and dark, how the two had to work together in order to achieve balance. 

Yet as it always is in the mind of the gods, they thought they could find a better way. The gods of light and goodness sought to destroy the evil gods, ensure that only good would rule their land. In their destruction, they became corrupted and the balance was thrown. The war that ensued was a dark and terrible time for all. Countless gods, humans and creatures alike died. In the end, the gods of darkness won out, destroying every corrupted god of light. The land was thrown into turmoil worse than the war. The balance tipped desperately into darkness. There were no good things left, only death, fighting, stealing and lies in that world. 

The gods themselves sank further and further into depravity, reaching an evil few can bring themselves to speak of. The Western people lived in fear of the gods, forced even to sacrifice children, their own blood, in order to appease the evil gods. Disease and War was all the humans and fantastical creatures knew for thousands of years, turning on each other.

Yet darkness is unable to exist without light. Balance demanded to be restored. As such, a god fell in love with a human. She was War and he was a mere, fragile human. He was stolen by Death in battle and War laid waste to the battlefield in her anger. Hundreds of beings were killed and even the other gods were driven back by her incredible display of power. When it was over, she wept for what had been lost. 

She became something else, that dark day. She became Balance. Goddess of war & peace, light & dark. She was equal parts love and hatred, good and evil. Her power was awesome, yet limited. She was unable to pick sides, until a battle was at the last point of desperation. She made herself known in the human wars when they reached this point, spreading both terror and hope. When it seemed all was lost, that both sides would destroy on another, there she appeared. 

Those who saw her could not say if she was Angel or Demon. They described her as too fearsome to look at, continuously changing from terrifying and horrible to beautiful beyond human comprehension. She was not bound to the West, like the other gods. Every nation knew of her as force of destruction and hope. When she chose a side in battle, the other said their prayers and hoped for a noble death, understanding finally that they had been in the wrong. The West was still a hopeless place, but not as desolate as it had been. The people learned to look for a better life. For freedom. 

They turned to the East (otherwise known as Nodouq), to the great dragons for help. The dragons came and waged war against the gods of the West. Balance did not make an appearance. The gods were driven back into the sea, the coastline guarded by the dragons. The people learned to fear the sea, though the truth faded into legend and then myth. Humans hunted the fantastic creatures of their land for sport, in fear that they would turn evil like the gods had. Faeries, leprechauns, nymphs, every sort of being that knew magic was forced into hiding. 

Now the West is a godless land, choked by civilization. The old legends are dismissed as children’s stories, and ancient dragons grow tired of guarding these forgetful people. They are capable of war and greed without the gods, and they now wage war against the other countries in hopes of expanding their empire.

Traveling into the human world in this form was not something she did regularly; it simply wasn’t smart. Every once in a while, sure, the fae would leave the forest and adventure off with their wings out and glitter (in all fairness, it was really pixie dust) falling onto every single surface it could reach as she did. Doing it too regularly though would undoubtedly lead to someone trying to snatch her up and hold her hostage. A single sentence from the man she’d approached sent whichever ant it was crawling back to the shadows. She tilted her head in acknowledgement of his help int hat matter but left it at that. No need to dwell when it hadn’t amounted to anything.

As he tapped the hook on the table, she lifted a brow. “I wasn’t insinuating that you buy me the drink…but you’re right. I don’t need your help to get a drink.” She whistled once through thinned lips and lifted her hand into the air with more than enough to cover the cost in coin between two extended fingers. “Double shot…straight. I’ll throw in the pixie dust myself.” Now speaking to the man in front of her, “did you want one? The dust’s on me.”

Forward. James grinned wryly. This was exactly what he needed in his life; another strong-minded woman to go on bullying him about. What was it about him that had this type inevitably finding him? The preamble of a headache was in the back of his mind, beginning with a long, slow pounding. “Of the two of us, I’m the one that doesn’t care for formalities?” She was, after all, the one who had plunged into conversation with a stranger who had done a great deal to make himself unapproachable, announced she was not human, and now plunged on as though this was a perfectly normal meeting. He had that uncomfortable feeling that he was going to have to drag her out of the bar himself, to keep her from getting herself into any real trouble. Well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done anything like that in the past. He had plenty of excuses at the ready, most of them involving his, at least pretending to be, insufferably drunk. That thought in mind, he drained what was left him his mug and slid it across the table to signal that another one be brought. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been proper drunk. Centuries of drinking had the unfortunate side affect of building up an untouchable tolerance, nevermind the rest. “You’ll get yerself robbed, like that.” He informed her, in a careful, nonchalant amusement. Already, greedy eyes all over the bar were turning in their direction, eyeing both the glint of coin and the glint of the girl herself through the smoky din. He waved a hand at the table in front of him, disinterest in every line of the action. This had been promising to be a perfectly passable evening, and now that it was interrupted, it may as well be thoroughly interrupted. “I don’t suppose I’m going to stop you from sitting, anyway.” 

That was why she walked into the port saloon - or was it just a bar? - with such authority. If she was meek and soft, surely the patrons wouldn’t take her seriously. Addie scanned the entire pub, settling on the only person who didn’t have a gaggle of women around him. She didn’t need to fight for conversation or entertainment tonight and the gentleman in the corner seemed just ornery enough to piqued her interest. Her wings refracted a sort of shimmer across the walls as she walked and she crossed her arms over her chest when he scolded her, telling her to go back to her hallow.

Scoffing, she lifted an eyebrow. “Now, that’s no way to talk to a fae. I was hoping for a nice night out on the town, away from the hollow.” And with that, she felt a hand on her backside she did not want on her backside. She fluttered her wings harshly, leaving a smattering of silver glitter on the face of the man who’d touched her. “And maybe a drink?”

It was no Tinkerbell, at least. But any fae who took to human form and so easily walked through a human establishment was assuredly as bad as Tinkerbell and James found himself steadying for a long night. For once, it seemed his reputation did not precede him, and that was unfortunate. He had spent a good many centuries crafting careful name for himself that would draw this unspoken line and give him reprieve from the people around him, only for all that work to go to utter waste when someone hadn’t heard any of it. Or maybe she simply hadn’t realized who he was. He shifted his right arm in case that was the problem, sure enough to make the light glint off the hook that occupied the end of his arm. 

“I’ve never much cared what it is I’m talking to,” at the route of this conversation, James did finally reach for the inner pocket of his coat and draw out the slim silver flask he kept there, unscrewing the top and taking a long swig. The coarse drink washed down his throat and he finished with a tired sigh. He screwed the cap back on, and flicked his eyes to the man who had just bothered to reach into his very wide personal bubble in order to grope the new fae. He shifted forward, enough out of the shadows to catch the man’s eye. “D’you want to rethink touching a person in my corner?” He asked, lowly. The face paled and faded back into the crowd. Clearly, he needed to do something to remind people of who he was, as this was two people now who had stepped a little too close. 

Dim lanterns hung at uneven intervals along the street, and inside the tavern earlier mentioned, music, light and sailors too deep in the drink spilled out the door. Take a step inside and the music turned from muted revelry to an off-key piano with several people shouting (not so much singing) a sea shanty. Walk further along the bar to men shouting for drinks, women sitting on laps and other women with eyes like daggers who only dared a man to suggest it. Only in the far back corner is there a table sat with a wide emptiness around it, as though there’s an invisible line drawn five feet from out from it which nobody’s dares to cross. At the table is a hook with a man (others might say a man with a hook, but they would be wrong). 

Most in the tavern know him by Hook. Perhaps Captain, if they belong to his ship. Still, it is James who sits at the table, sharp blue eyes keeping watch over the rowdy crowd of the tavern, mug in his remaining hand. There is a flask in his pocket as well, but he hasn’t been driven to drink from that yet. He watches, instead, the sailors and merchants and pirates come and go. The evening, for the most part, is average. Strange creatures inhabit the South, and all manner of them slither in and out in the time it takes him to drain his current mug plus two more. The purple thing that flits in isn’t cause for much concern, except that James has felt an unnecessary compulsion to keep an eye on any faerie in his radius. Especially one so clearly intent on making poor decisions as this one is, clearly unaware of the eyes turned her way as she proceeds to inspect every inch of the crowded tavern. There’s a few men taking interest of the fae girl, her as unaware as ever, and James is beginning to form up a reason (it must be a diabolical one) in his head to remove her from the bar when she finds him instead and she steps across the invisible five foot line that separates him from the rest of the bar. 

Uneasy glances cast their way as James arches a dark eyebrow. “I’d suggest ye run back to whatever hollow it is you escaped from,” he warned, even as she took no heed of the very clear, though unspoken, ‘do not pass’ sign. 

She let Oscar down and he remained close to Addie, circling her a few times before curling up a few feet from her on the carpet. While she wanted to give him a hard time about teaching her some useful book magic, his comment about giving Oscar some of what was in her bottle was far more concerning in her mind. “I will not give my cat alcohol. Who would do that?!” She reached for Oscar, who scurried off in protest and she knitted her brows together. “He loves me. I swear.” She unscrewed the top of her bottle and took a small swig. “Also, this isn’t as bad as you think it is.” It was. It really was.

“I’m so glad it’s acceptable to you.” Jack replied, still sour. He knew that would not be the last he heard of it, and as he was already in a bad mood, it bothered him even more. God only knew what Adelaide might do if she got it in her head that he cared for someone in the house. Not that he did. He had never been one prone to such things, he liked to think that he had tight rein over his emotions and would not be given to turning lightheaded at the first pretty young woman who deemed to smile at him. The pain of withholding questions was so clear on Adelaide’s face that it nearly caused him pain, and now he was the one searching to change the subject. “Tell me, is there anyone in this house who is not subject to your long nose?” 

“Then I suppose you will have to suffer on without.” He wasn’t sure why he even bothered with them anymore. “My name is Jack, thank you, and I think I’m alright with the stress that I have.” 

“You may accuse me of many things, but I am not a man to go back on my word. However, I had no pretenses of you actually making the entire time, there was only a hope that you might try.” As it was, he didn’t think this encounter was going to end until Jack decided to go home himself. “I can’t say that I would use those words, actually.” 

“Magic is wonderful and everything, but sometimes modern medicine is the first step in the process,” She pointed out as she tenderly cleaned out the wound keeping her gaze intensely on what she was doing so that she didn’t become distracted. Once she was sure that the wound was cleaned she covered the now cleaned wound with her hand before murmuring a quiet spell that she had become all too use to using with Nico. “It might feel stiff for the next few hours, but it should be back to normal before you even go to bed. If not you’re free to call me a liar.”

Jack did not know how he was going to survive this interaction. On a good day, he had a habit of scaring Juliet off with his temperament, and while she always tried to hide her hurt, she rarely succeeded. In the mood he was in now, he was sure to say something that would have her hating him before ten minutes were up. Well, perhaps that was for the best, anyway. He clearly also had a habit of damaging those around him, and it would be for the best if she did choose distance. He turned his attention to his hand as well, deciding it would be for the best to merely keep his mouth shut as much as possible. “I’ve no quarrel with regular medicine.” He pointed out. He saw it do plenty of good, and even more healing magic needed the boost that it gave. 

She was careful in her work, and while Jack’s fist tightened on a few occasions, he didn’t wince throughout it. It could have been worse; but the damage was not so bad and not too much dirt had worked it’s way into the wound. Once she finished, hearing and approving of the spell she had used, Jack flexed his hand briefly. It was stiff, as she said, but there was very little pain and he could appreciate the work done on it. “As someone who wrote your grades for a semester, I’ve faith in your ability to wield magic.” 

As soon as he told her to scoot to her book, she pushed off the wall and started for her room. She knew right where the bottle was - shoved between her lap board and the box that held her winter boots she rarely wore. The only time she broke them out was when the snow was too much to conquer in her ankle snow boots. “Don’t you dare,” she muttered, stepping into the bathroom. It only took her 20 seconds to gather the bottle and make her way back to Jack’s, only she wasn’t just bringing the bottle. From her room, she heard his quip and she groaned. “Then actually teach me sometime.” In tow, she had her tabby cat, wriggling and half heartedly meowing at being carried in one arm as she walked back into his room. “Oscar missed you.” She nearly pouted, hoping Jack would let the cat stay.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Still, this was Adelaide and when it came to these things, she was a dog with the bone and he would have no rest until he had answered her question. Not that he was going to make it easy on her. “It was another resident of this house, if that will satisfy you enough to stay out of my personal business.” He was going to regret adding the bit about personal business, he could already feel it. 

Jack sighed. He had been doing that far too much lately. What was it about Nico that made him feel older? “How about we have a quiet time then, hmm? If you can pass ten minutes in silence, your next drink will be on the house.” He offered mostly with the knowledge that Nico would never get that far without speaking, but with the hope that he might at least try. “It depends on how many more like you the house gets.” 

“Well, I’m sure you’ve a vivid imagination which can provide you with a passing idea of what it may look like.” There was about a one in ten billion chance of him actually dancing any jig in his bathroom for Angeline, and they had to know as much. “That’s very cute, and I’m sure it’s worked for you in the past.” 

“I’ll go get my booze once you let me see your hand. I’m not trying to be the mom friend, because God knows, that would be a joke, but come on.” She ignored the comment about her not being able to handle the harder stuff Jack had in his room. She knew he was right and, for once, she wasn’t going to argue with him. She was distracted, if only for a moment, as the runes on his desk shifted and the drawer opened. “I know I give you shit about book magic…but that looked really impressive. What was that?”

Jack huffed, holding his hand out of reach. Clearly he shouldn’t have said anything about it, though he had thought the presence of it had been obvious already. “Nothing you need to worry about.” He told her, voice cross. He did not want to tell Adelaide that he had lost his temper, much less that he had gone so far as to hit the wall. A great good that had done, for either him or the wall. It had not made him feel any better, that was for sure. “It’s already clean and fixed, thank you very much, and you’re only likely to make it worse with that luck of yours.” He did care for Adelaide. That did not mean he trusted her with an open wound on his hand. The only reason he had allowed Juliet to bother with it was because he had a very difficult time saying no to her, and he’d felt bad enough already for letting her see him in such a state. 

“Besides that, it was only just bandaged and there’s no call to open it back up again just to sate your curiosity. Go. Fetch your drink before I decide to lock you out when you leave.” He flicked his good hand in the direction of her room. If nothing else, he thought alcohol might distract her from trying to look at his hand. “It is magic beyond your current understanding. Perhaps if you deemed to learn anything I try to teach you, it would be within your abilities.” 

As much as she gave him crap, Jack was the closest thing she had to family here in Paris. If someone called her at 3 a.m. and said Jack was in the hospital or he if called her needing a lift out of no where, she would be there, no questions asked. Losing Jack would be so difficult for her but they didn’t share things like that with each other. She hoped he knew, though; she hoped he knew and that it was just unspoken. The small hints he was dropping at her feet about his brother were unsettling. She wasn’t supposed to trust him if she ever ran into him (was he even in town?) and now, apparently, through Jack’s thinly veiled comment, James was threatening her in some manner? “Hey…” Addie shifted on his bed to cross her legs, “I have a bottle of Jack, no pun intended, stashed away in my closet. Do you need a drink?”

Jack knew that she was doing this on purpose. That being said, he didn’t mind it. He appreciated the effort she was making to put him in a better mood, even if she was doing so by being as frustrating as possible. It was the most likely thing to put him in a better mood, after all. “The fact that you could have said something worse does not make it any better, actually.” He said, his usual sour tone finding it’s way back to his voice. He was still upset, but it was getting easier to push aside those thoughts. They would return, he knew, but for now a break from them was welcomed and needed. He would come back to the matter when it was not so fresh and look at it with different eyes. 

Jack looked down at his hand, wrapped with white cloth. “I believe drinking was the cause of this.” He pointed out. There was not only the two drinks he’d had at the bar, that would not be enough to affect him. Rather, it was the full flask that had become an empty on during the walk home. He drank consistently enough that he was not quite tipsy, but he did think it had affected his emotions more than he would have liked. Nevertheless, all he really wanted was a drink. “In any case, the last thing I care to drink is a bottle of cheap liquor that’s been sitting in the bottom of your closet for god knows how long.” The derisive tone came more naturally to him, and he turned his attention to the desk, laying a hand on one of the locked drawers. A few whispered words and hand-carved runes shifted slightly, then the door slid open and he pulled out a smooth bottle of aged scotch, still mostly full. “You might get it for yourself, though. I’m not sure you’ll care for something this strong.”