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𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. the scriptorium of the yukimoto estate, the cold room.
𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. open, to supplicants or time-wasters.
though a futile gesture if only because of the way its members tend to get that wrinkle in their nose while out and about — among both commons and mage alike — house yukimoto paws halfheartedly at the appearance of generosity by offering its literary and artistic services for one weekend per turn of the moon. nayuta, for her part, does not miss how these requests always seem to come to her desk as opposed to her numerous peers. such an expendable quill she must wield. but it is no matter, she tells herself. she could think of it as resistance; another moment stolen from their labor pool was another moment she could saw away at her house's pillars until it collapsed under its own miserable weight. such ventures rarely yielded tangible results, besides letting her face be known. but there were worse things she could be doing with her time.
and better, nayuta thinks bitterly. though that could be said for most of her daily routine. as if to clear the thoought, she clears her throat and tips her chin upward as she refocuses on her client.
❝ i just want to be certain that i have understood your request correctly. ❞ she speaks slowly, deliberately, selecting each word as she would inks from the massive wall behind her. each little part of the whole matters. one shift could create something else entirely. in that sense, it was equally as important for her partner in this venture to be just as discerning. nayuta would never voice it aloud, but she has her doubts. ❝ you want me to… draw what in the margnialia ? ❞
The lady before him, her spine as rigid and unflinching as the trunk of a sycamore, wore an expression that was not as soothing as the fine cut of her features. Alexei was accustomed to such a reception; but her words were felt pure, perhaps even truly inquisitive. He had taken to the Yukimoto estate with a genuine request in his heart; his introduction into the room where he now lay, had been a muted affair. Alexei had settled the aged volume before her, teeming with solicitude as he opened its yellowed pages, and gave his direction. And so, he had paused as she offered her question --- Alexei returned his answer with an unwavering gaze, broken only to trace his fingers across the table between them. "I wish for seraphs -- angels. But they should be morose, weeping."
He fashioned these heralds of the gods in his mind with a specific countenance --- eyes that consumed and overwhelmed all other features, with their depth, teeming with beauty. Such eyes belonged to an elfland, or to winged creatures above; their existence upon earth had robbed Alexei of any peace. "Do you often receive more straightforward requests? I concede that my ask is ... unusual. But I have heard of your skill, and if I am to succeed in my aims, I require a deft hand." His eyes were fashioned upon the page, where an expanse beside refrains of ink lay empty --- it was here, in an epic that told of a knight bound to a tragic end, that he wished for Nayuta to display her prowess. "I wish for you to draw what you feel is beautiful, above all things."
location: a dark back alley in the lower parts of the city
The small folk poured through the streets, exalting or condemning the pronouncement; Alexei had little care to be amongst the revelry, and stole down alleys most would dare not venture into. When he desired such, Alexei could neglect the world around him, and steal past others unseen; but a familiar face, revealed by the light of a lone star, ceased his hurried steps. Entreating others into conversation often eluded him; but he stepped towards her now, leaving a knifes length between their persons. "Before this intrusion is seen as merely presumptuous, I can offer you something concrete for your time --- opportunity, a strong drink, and a newly fashioned blade, should you desire such a thing." Morgana's hospitality was not to be readily claimed; proximity had imbued Alexei with the knowledge that she possessed moods and motives even more elusive than his own.
As was his custom, Alexei's tone was modulated, as to mix with the silver whisper of the wind round them; but his words were sharp, offered without any pretence. Her dark hair had called out to him beneath the halcyon moon, but he knew Morgana was only visible for she wished to be seen --- undoubtedly by those better than he, but such an opportunity would not be wasted. Consulting her eyes with a piercing glance, he continued his narration; Alexei would never blessed by the angel of flattery and charm, but he found both useless. What rushed forth from his lips would always be ardent, or bitter. "A tavern of irredeemable creatures, run by figures of further ill-repute, is by a stones throw away --- will you come? And should your answer be a neat decline, I shall concede happily; let it be known I shall never plead a case where there is no hope."
foretelling of (inked skin smeared by a streak of crimson, a candle long dwindled and reduced to a pile of wax, foaming waves breaking across the rocks ) comes ALEXEI TELCONTAR, hailing from the city of Aurea. will their position as a mercenary bring forth fortune or misery to them, when left to Aurea's wicked hands? it is whispered they are proud, cynical, ruthless and yet focused, meticulous, loyal.
full name: alexei telcontar
nickname(s): alyosha
faceclaim: harris dickinson
age: thirty
gender, pronouns: cis male, he/him
orientation: bisexual
relationship status: single
occupation: mercenary, formerly petty thief and assassin for hire
personality: guarded, vindictive, empathetic (despite all appearances), liable to bouts of melancholy, cynical, fiercely loyal to those he cares for
character inspirations: barry redmond (barry lyndon), aloysha karamazov (i was not subtle lmao, the brothers karamazov), victor manzon (sorcerer), thomas (between two fires)
tw for mentions of death / violence
history
Condemned to a life of little renown by his lowly birth, Alexei took the misery life occasioned him and fashioned it into a lethal weapon. A middle child of five, Alexei grew up in the city a happy child --- his family had little as small folk, but their poor fortunes were outstripped by a deep sense of love. His earliest memories are glimpses of those touched by magic, or blessed to have money, if they lacked magical blessings. This gossamer happiness would not last, as disease and famine swept through the humble shack where he lived; his parents, exhausted by a lifetime of struggle, could not contend with such forces, and perished. Alexei marks the death of his parents as a turning point for him; no longer could he believe he lived richly in love. The world in all of its excess, had taken what little he had --- he grew angry, resentful.
The death of his parents splintered his family, sending siblings across the cities and the lands in search of work; Alexei was ill-prepared to step into the world, and fell through the cracks. He took petty work, supplemented by theft --- there was a time where he only broke laws to ensure his survival. He was restless, but anchored by love; Alexei did not desire power, but an anger compelled him. The wardens of his world, those whose status oppressed all others, felt faceless --- so he began to strike carelessly, bound to a code of honour known only to him. Alexei does not enjoy to kill, in his heart of hearts; but he possesses the ability to separate himself from the ugliness of his deeds.
Enough years in the lowest parts of the cities, offered him opportunities; to steal jewels from a flighty lawyer, or later, to eliminate a group of merchants, who had grown too powerful for his employers liking. His skill with a blade began to surpass merely proficient, crossing over into a mastery that was lethal --- and quiet, if desired. Alexei began to cultivate a name for himself, but only in dark alleys and underground rooms. He is known by his inked skin, quiet eyes, and his eager acceptance of any job. It was the break with his partner, whose calls for morality had reached a fever pitch, that settled his future. Alexei would leave, and give himself wholly to his work; he would do whatever was asked for him, for gold and for leverage. A job gone poorly made a quick exit from the city a necessary one for survival; his return will force him to reckon with his dark act, perhaps the cruelest of his life.
Alexei spent several years away from his city of birth, pledging his sword to the highest bidder; but he has been called home, answering a lonely voice inside his head, that he would find no peace on distant shores. In this time he accumulated allies, enemies, and a trail of blood he cannot wash away; but back in Aurea, it is an open question, what path he will take.
tldr: Alexei has returned home, but still remains in the vice grip of his dark profession --- he is unsure to what end, it will take him, but it is a life he feels he can never leave.
(will add wcs and such here!)
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