On Broken Glass[Corwynn]

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Fri Nov 16, 2018 9:13 pm

Dentis 23, 2718
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She had a lot of things that she knew and even more that she didn’t know… How old was she really? Was anybody looking for her, did they stop or did they never start? What really happened the day that she lost her memories and why did it happen? There were too many things to ask at the moment, including why she wasn’t gone from Old Rose Harbor yet?

Her reasoning for staying so long in a place that made her uneasy was that she simply wanted to repeat her strides to keep the town within her memory. Xonia was tracing her steps each night before she left the city proper and headed out of town. It gave her an opportunity to find out any kind of information that would be useful to her. A brief encounter with a drunk kid certainly did not yield any results other than the fact that he was a turd.

Being around people must not be my forte, she thought grimly as she crunched over discard in the sand that would catch beneath her boot heels. How did one go about finding information when communication was awkward? That was the money question. The young, clueless, forgetful blond stopped walking a few feet from the water’s edge and crossed her arms over her ribcage, wondering if there was something beyond that point that would take her east, or would she follow the river to the west?

Pressing her full lips together, she produced a piece of discarded paper from her pocket, along with a shard of charcoal, carefully knelt so she could use her thigh as a drawing surface, and began to draw what she saw… She was on a dirty beach in a shady ass town, throwing caution to the wind just to be able to remember the place after she left…

“Okay, now I have an idea of where I have been,” muttered the amnesiac, “What now?” She continued to swipe the piece of char from her last campfire, “Continue to talk to myself. At least I don’t have to hear how I keep offending strangers with whatever goes on in my head.” The girl snorted and folded the paper once, then wrapped it around the shard so she could return both to her pocket for later use.

“Fuck,” she muttered, forgetting immediately that the char dust was on her fingers before she rubbed the side of her face and then raked her fingers through her hair in bewilderment. The oblivious one slowly unfolded herself after a moment, continuing her one sided conversation, probably causing anyone who might be walking by to stare in her direction and wonder what was wrong with her… “Lorent… You left me a mess. Where am I even supposed to start? I doubt people will have any answers either, nobody knows who I am, not even me.”

There too was a question about transportation… Wouldn’t it be better to find a horse and ride off instead of walking? Walking took a long time and spent more energy than riding did, right? To be completely honest with herself, she was damned tired of walking and having to sleep with one eye open since she had been alone for only a few months…


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Corwynn
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: The Taxman
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Tue Nov 27, 2018 4:07 pm

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
It was rare to have an afternoon to himself, moreso because the blond gunman preferred to keep himself busy instead of because the opportunity wasn't his for the taking. He'd chosen to take the long way home, alone, wandering up the long curve of beach from the Harbor proper toward his crumbling castle on the hill near the end of Sherry's Peninsula. Barefoot on the sun-warmed sand even as a chilly breeze whipped off the lagoon that made the Rose such a sheltered spot from the ravages of the sea proper, Corwynn let the air whip his curls and tease at the wool of his dark coat, one hand comfortably at rest on the pistol at his hip while the other held his expensive boots.

He hummed some shanty of his pirate years, crystalline gaze wandering over the waves to watch sea birds turn and dive for their meals in the shallow still-warm waters just beyond wading distance. Turning his attention back up the beach, he let his eyes travel over rocks and driftwood, past flotsam and the remnants of a recent ship wrecked by some fierce Roalis storm, a fading, picked-over skeleton that surely someone would come haul away for firewood once autumn faded into winter, a winter the hardiest of sailors swore was promised to be colder than usual.

Musing over what such a threat would mean to the residents of the Harbor, he realized slowly that he wasn't alone on the beach, even if he was still at least a half hour from home juding by the slow pace of his walk.

A young woman wandered up the sand, her back to him. She appeared for a moment to be talking to herself, but the blond gunman wasn't entirely sure. He picked up his leisurely steps just enough to catch up with her rather aimless travel, taking in her dress and quite sure she wasn't some wasted prostitute who'd wandered too far from the Mad Queen instead of sleeping off the sun before evening clients rolled in looking for fresh flesh to grab for.

The older galdor cleared his throat, not shy about capricing the field he felt wash against his own once he'd closed the distance between them, offering a curious half-smile while he curled his toes into the wet sand and hoped to meet the gaze of the stranger,

"If it wasn't so clocking windy, it'd be a better day for a stroll on the beach." Corwynn hummed with an almost bubbly friendliness, the weight of the woman's aura confusing in its doetoed state of existence. Was she a witch? Surely, she wasn't a galdor like himself. It didn't matter. He was aware of his rare privilege here in the Harbor,

"Are you lost?"
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Wed Nov 28, 2018 12:13 am

Time Escapes Me
Xonia felt him approach before she heard him, which confused her very much. He made a comment about the wind and the lack of it making for a better time for being at the beach like she was there for leisure as opposed to just trying to figure shit out. Her lips thinned out some when he asked if she was lost and her reply was a colder than intended, “I don’t know. Maybe.” It was almost sarcastic sounding, but when she turned around, her expression did not match the tone of voice, which was a good indication that she hadn’t meant to sound like… well… a bitch.

Her eyes made a sweep over his face only, a perplexed pucker to her brow as she tried to figure out why she felt him there. Pink lips parted to let out a long breath and she looked away in confusion. She swallowed heavily and then, as if coming out of a trance, shook her head. “No… not lost in the physical sense, if that is what you mean. I am here on purpose… well… this beach…”

Great, she thought, another soul to dump their anger on her for shit she didn’t remember doing. That was all that she needed was to be yelled at and told she dumped beer on this person, or stared funny at another person. Her expression reflected her troubled thoughts before she turned around and forced herself to calm. It was bad enough that her presence was upsetting to folks, but the fact that she wasn’t doing anything wrong that she knew of. There was the fact that she was losing snatches of time a lot more frequently as of late because she hadn’t even had enough time to mourn her father figure enough when she had to worry about fending for herself.

She took a deep breath and sighed out, turning around and wrapping her arms around herself as if that was enough to ward off the chill from the wind. How did she look at a stranger and just put it out there that he should just walk away from her before she did something to piss him off? She lifted her hand to rub at the old scar, as if that would will her to remember something… anything… about her childhood. All she got as a reward was more frustration.

When she looked at him again, there was a both wariness and weariness in her eyes. She offered a half smile and then inclined her head. She had the look of someone who’d not slept much in quite some time, and she really hadn’t. The man looked kind enough, or perhaps even deceptively, but he probably wouldn’t care about what she dealt with. She was trying to pick apart why she could feel him there… It felt natural, yet intrusive.

Finally, she started to walk at a slow pace, easy to keep up with, having pivoted ninety degrees, pausing long enough to glance at him to see if he was going to follow her or not. It wouldn’t bother her either way. “I hope you aren’t someone I’ve offended in my wanderings…”

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Corwynn
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Fri Nov 30, 2018 10:59 am

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
Corwynn was unsure how to approach the conversation, suddenly aware that he may have found himself on the beach with some young woman who wasn't entirely right in the head. Drunk or otherwise wasted, damaged or simply confused, she muttered and spoke in someone broken trains of thought. The older galdor was no stranger to a rough night, even a night that blurred into the next day. It happened.

It was unfortunate when such things happened to someone pretty.

The blond gunman watched her body language carefully, the sensation of her almost feral field strong and just as confusing as her words. Was she a witch? A powerful one? Was she a galdor? A strange one? He watched her face, listening to the way she spoke, her inflection, observant and interested, cautious and curious.

"This is a fine beach, aye, but I'm biased." Corwynn offered, a tilt of his head up along the pale sand where the beach itself curved around the lagoon like a lover's embrace, "I live out that way. I'm walking home." There was a twinkle in his crystalline gaze, one that was neither entirely invitation or rejection. Did he care that this unarmed, confused stranger knew where he lived? At the moment, no. He shrugged, boots still in his hand at his side, and raised the other hand to rub a palm over his stubbled jaw as if considering whether they'd met before,

"I'm pretty sure I don't know you, so it's rather impossible that you've offended me. Besides, I've got a thick skin where it counts." He laughed a warm, musical sound, continuing to walk with her instead of veer his way toward home because he didn't have anything better to do at the moment,

"So, you're not physically lost. Right then—" His field capriced hers in unhindered interest, the gravity of Physical mona that weighed down the aeroship pilot and gunman's aura responding to his exploratory flexing and brushing against the rough edges of her own field, "—bad trip instead? Too much carousing? Lucky you it's clocking after noon, 'cause a nice bit of eye candy like yourself shouldn't be out here after dark alone. Haverton Pier's just a bit too close still. You'll have to walk up toward the point a bit more if you want some real peace and quiet."

Corwynn knew. He lived where he did for a reason, after all. The mostly empty old mansion he called his castle probably some relic from the Harbor's more illustrious and law-abiding past. Not normally the one to be concerned about the mental state of others, the older galdor couldn't help his interest. Something about the weight of her field called him to linger, aware of the rarity of his kind here,

"If you need something, I'm right up that way. Another twenty or so minutes up the beach. Look out for pirates—we're a rotten lot." He winked, the grin he wore creasing into his tanned, well-aged features.
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Sat Dec 01, 2018 7:06 pm

Time Slipped Away
Xonia was not sure how to react to the man, for his field felt just as confusing to her as hers did him. She frowned and watched him from beneath half lowered lashes, quiet the entire time he spoke. It wasn’t until they began to walk that she answered his question, “I don’t drink to get drunk like I told an asshole the other day who seemed to have thought that meant I was judging him. I do not do anything to become intoxicated… It’s too…” She paused and licked her lips, pausing to toe at the sand for a moment before she decided to continue candidly, “It’s too risky for me to not be in control of my facilities. I also don’t give two shits about people who do get drunk, as I tried to explain as well. But whatever… Point is… I am not wasted. I am just…”

Alone, she finished in her head. She paused to kick at some debris and then turned to look at him, her expression briefly reflecting her grief, only to be guarded within an instant. “I am glad that I didn’t offend you…” She was unsure how to go about replying to his comment about her looks, so she tilted her head instead and studied him long and hard.

Finally, he had said something about needing things and she said quietly, “I do need help, but nobody seems to have an answer. I was raised by a man name Lorent. He died less than a month back, I think… Lost count of the days, to be honest. I wasn’t his child and he always said I wasn’t his kind; a wick… I literally have no idea who I am or where to even start looking for answers. I am somebody’s lost daughter.” Xonia paused and tilted her head, finishing off with, “Do you really care to help somebody who doesn’t even know their real name? The one Lorent gave me is Xonia, though.”

She had been blunt and seemed unapologetic about it. The blond was a strange creature, it was like she wasn’t able to properly people? She was quite articulate, though, and in her eyes was intelligence that seemed to brim over. Perhaps the blow to her head that he was not yet aware of seemed to have taken away social skills.

The girl began to walk again, this time in the direction he said he was going. May as well walk with him, she thought.

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Corwynn
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Tue Dec 11, 2018 2:32 pm

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
"So inviting you out for a drink is out of the question. Noted." The blond galdor couldn't help himself, but his grin faltered as she seemed unable to completely explain herself. In their proximity, Corwynn couldn't help but casually feel the weight of her field, having spent far too much of his life around the lower races to make the assumption that she was just a witch. Powerful, perhaps, but there was something that felt so organized about the mona, strangely doetoed and disorganized though her aura felt against his own, that struck him as much more galdori than anything else.

It was odd, but he didn't have time for idle curiosities, continuing his trek up the beach toward home with her somewhat reluctantly trailing after him, "Was this Lorent murdered here in the Harbor? And left you to fend for yourself? I'm no Seventen, but there's very little that happens here that I don't know about or can't gather information on quickly. It's just the nature of my position—"

He smirked, and had Xonia known a thing about the organization he'd given his life to or his King of the Underworld, Silas Hawke, then his words would surely have held more meaning. As it was, he most likely came across as mysterious or conceited, two adjectives the blond gunman wasn't uncomfortable with as descriptors,

"—I'm Corwynn, Xonia, and that's not my real name, either. So, we're even there, though I know mine." The wind whipped from over the waves, Dentis' gradual cooling off making the beach a chilly place to wander. He curled his toes into the wet, sun-warmed sand and glanced toward his mansion up the hill, overlooking the lagoon,

"I doubt you'll find answers here in the sand. I can't make any promises, but unless you'd like to end up someone's prize catch for one of the whorehouses on Haverton Pier, perhaps I can offer a safer spot to figure things out. Though, it's your decision to trust me, of course."

He winked then, the Bad Brother thumbing his nose with his four-fingered hand and rolling his crystalline eyes with a laugh before he turned and kept up the walk. If she decided to follow, he'd lead her up the beach, around the curve of Sherry's Peninsula, toward a well-tended set of stone stairs that were built into one of the hillsides covered in tall, hardy sea grass years ago. A handful of rather dilapidated mansions dotted the very tip of the peninsula, the long-forgotten summer homes of Magisters and Incumbents, probably once flooded by foul weather or hastily abandoned as the criminal climate of the Rose shifted and grew.

Corwynn had acquired his home in the Harbor without spending a single bird, simply choosing one of the abandoned estates that most appealed to his galdor-bred aesthetic and fixing it up just enough to be livable.

The stairs were long and led to a gate, though the stone wall that ran around the mansion was crumbling and in disrepair, the garden full of fading wildflowers, twisted, unkempt bushes, and had once been beautiful instead of just feral. He could have spent as much money as he wanted to turn it into something grand again, but, hardly home anyway, the older galdor cared little for appearances. So long as the woman didn't bolt at the sight of such unkempt aesthetic, he'd lead them past the porch and toward the back entrance to the lower floor of his mansion, through some hallway with peeling wallpaper and absolutely no furniture, past several ghostly rooms devoid of anything but dilapidated finery, and into one of the many sitting rooms that was actually cared for enough to have bookshelves full of books and chairs worth sitting in.

And a hearth to chase the cold away, which Corwynn was more than happy to set about re-awakening. It was obvious he hadn't used this room in days, if not weeks. There was a layer of dust on the side tables and the shelves were more empty than full of books. But it was lived in, none the less,

"Contrary to Harbor rumors, I can be the helpful sort. Do you even know what kind of help you're looking for?"
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Tue Dec 11, 2018 7:01 pm

Where has the time gone?
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“I am not sure why you would want to in any case… I am not a very… well… that is to say, I rub people the wrong way I suppose. Mind you I do not do it on purpose. It’s hard to explain unless you were to see what people get so offended about because I don’t even remember speaking to people sometimes.” She genuinely took no notice in her own looks, not even when someone pointed them out to her. No… the confusing creature was unspoiled and unbiased but most certainly what he thought she was, again, without knowing she was kindred to him.

When he inquired about her guardian, the woman with the lost past slowly shook her head. “He was killed outside of any city. He was a nomad, just as I am. We hardly ever visited cities unless we were in need of supplies, and even then… well… Rarely. But yes, I am now alone.”

When he told her his name, she gave a light, half smile, nodding in acknowledgement of his moniker. Then he was talking again about her person and she lifted both of her brows, “I am not sure why you keep saying such things. I doubt anyone would want me.” She wasn’t degrading herself, but rather speaking it like that is what she knew, suggested her tone. She was quiet for several minutes as she caught up with him, walking beside him as opposed to behind him or in front of him, a sign of how she treated people.

At the change of scenery, she remained silent and unbothered. After all, she had lived in the wilderness and shat in the woods, any of the hovels were a step up from having no walls at all. Truly. The thoughts never even entered her mind about which was better than where. Her eyes curiously took in the interior with an indifferent sort of expression.

By the time they were at the hearth, she was intent on listening to him. He asked a good question. What DID she want help for. The answer wasn’t readily available, and she looked up at the ceiling to give her brain a chance to catch up. Finally she said, “I want to know who I am. I want to know why someone hurt me and fucked my head up. That is ambiguous, I know, since losing memories flushes away answers and clues. The first thing I remember is waking up and seeing the top of a tent, and I had the worst pain in the back of my head. I was a child... Lorent told me I should have not made it with the severity of the blow… He called me lucky for not becoming a vegetable either. There is little to work with…”

She was leaning against the wall by that point, arms crossed in an almost lazy manner. “The thing I need help with the most… I just want a good night’s sleep… Haven’t had one since Lorent died, you know? Sleep with one eye open, right?”

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Corwynn
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Wed Dec 12, 2018 12:32 am

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
"Because I am a collector." The blond gunman replied smoothly, looking out over the windswept sea instead of at the younger woman who now walked with him, "I collect taxes for the King, but not the one who sits on the throne in Vienda. I collect coins, services, goods, blood, sweat, information, tears, and people, just to name a few highlights. You, dear Xonia, perhaps don't see your value just yet, but, perhaps in the process of discovering yourself, we may both be surprised. That interests me. Quite a bit, actually."

If there was nothing new under the sun until now, this mystery was at least a bit of an adventure with an attractive cover to the story and perhaps far less frustrating than chasing after The Warbird and the Drain. Although, to be fair, Corwynn knew exactly where his priorities were and this woman shouldn't have been in the top five.

Still, he humored her, listening to her brief story, well-aged, aquiline features drawing first into a thoughtful expression and then into a hint of a scowl at her self-depreciation, "I apologize for no one bothering to tell you your whole life that you are, indeed, both lovely and desirable. That alone is far more currency than you probably have any clue how to spend, and the real problem isn't that no one would want you, it's that everyone will want to try to take advantage of you. Especially here—I'm certainly not exempt from the temptation, to be honest."

He flashed a smile that would have bordered on the chagrined had Corwynn at all ever once been capable of feeling such shame. He wasn't sure if he'd ever, especially not about sexual subjects.

He chuckled at himself as he led the way into his home and noted there was no real judgment in her features while the older galdor brought them into his home and got a fire going, digging in his coat pocket for matches instead of using magic to spark the flames. Just this once, he could play at proper golly, even though he was quite aware that he wasn't. Squatting in front of the hearth which was, surprisingly enough, well stocked with wood, Corwynn realized he wasn't sure when the last time he'd used this particular fireplace was, if he'd ever used it at all.

Once he had some decent flames going, listening to Xonia as she spoke,
he stood again and wiped his sooty hands off on his vest,

"People get hurt all the time for the clocking stupidest of reasons. I'm not quite convinced you're pursuing the right answers with that line of thinking. If this Lorent was really a wick, he could have healed you. Or if he was a proper spoke, he would have been able to find someone who knew enough magic to do so. Interesting." The Bad Brother wasn't sure Lorent actually had Xonia's best interests in mind by the way he heard things, and while he knew nothing of their relationship, he certainly held a few opinions already,

"Sleep? You can sleep here all you like, if that's all you're looking for. There's a few bedrooms upstairs I'm sure I've never even slept in. Well, I've at least probably played in them all, though." The blond galdor smirked coyly, aware that he was revealing his hobbies to a lovely woman in his house, regardless of not knowing how knowledgeable or ignorant of such innuendos she'd be, "I don't think I've ever slept with one eye open ... at least not in years, but I've got a couple of guards, I work for Silase Hawke, and this his Harbor. If someone had it out for me, well, it would just have to happen."

His five-fingered left hand pat the pistol at his hip and he smirked, "I can at least promise you a meal. Is that really all you know of what happened to your friend? I mean, your childhood memories aren't going to clocking help us now. What sorts of things can you tell me about him as a person? I may even know him under a different name—I've been around Anaxas a few times too many already."
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Xonia
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: Xonia the Nomad
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Wed Dec 12, 2018 11:05 pm

What is time?
“So… you collect broken things, hmm?” she asked wryly, a brow lifting in speculation. So he thought he would state possible intentions of keeping her? Her lips pursed as she considered it. She dropped her rucksack onto the floor, then, and sat on the floor as she pulled her water skin to take a pull of the cool liquid.

Xonia looked up at him with surprise when he seemed a little vehement about nobody stopping to tell her she was beautiful and desirable. She tilted her head and bluntly asked, “Why does it bother you that I don’t think of myself in such a manner? I honestly never really bothered to care about how people saw me. Why is it a bad thing not to focus on the way I look? Furthermore, I may have been whacked in the head pretty hard when I was a child, but I am not stupid, nor completely naïve. I knew that following you into your den might be risky… I followed you because I feel drawn to you for whatever reason, and then there is the fact that you might have answers to a world of mystery. Wouldn't you think to do the same thing if you were in my position? I would like to think I am not the only one in this world who sees a risk and takes it, knowing something shitty might happen.”

She stood up and pulled out her knife, flicking it open, not to threaten him but to show him she was not completely without protection. “Such a tiny blade can do a world of hurt, can it not? Say, sticking it into someone’s thigh and twisting just so if he thinks to grab me from behind?” The blonde closed the knife and returned it to her pocket. “Not very many people would suspect someone like me to be hiding that in my pocket.”

And then he was speaking of Lorent and doubting him. She frowned and her brow puckered. She couldn’t see what he was saying because Lorent was all she had known for a time. She looked at the floor, quiet for several long moments, tense. The amnesiac lifted her eyes to his face then, and she said in a grated and soft voice, “He was my only father from the moment I woke up until he died… I don’t pretend to know how I came to be in his care, but I can tell you that he was no healer, and he was old. I also know that we were too far away from any city, or so he told me, for him to feel safe leaving me long enough to find somebody who could help me. Whether that is true or not, it is true for me.”

Her chin lifted some and a world of hurt in her eyes, which glistened with saline held back by sheer will power. Her head was starting to hurt. “I… know this might sound stupid, but I don’t want to be alone when I sleep. Would it be a bother if you were to stay with me? You don’t even have to be awake to watch me, just having someone there… you know…?”

Indeed, she sat down and was contemplating setting up her pallet right near the fire he was starting. She had the urge to start pulling her boots off and cumbersome outer wear. She did take her coat off to reveal a dark, cowl necked sweater, somewhat bulky and not really anything that showed off her assets. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, focusing on something other than her head. Her eyes moved back to him and she openly took in his form, from toe up to head.
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Corwynn
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Wed Jan 02, 2019 3:44 pm

23rd of Dentis, 2718
SHERRY'S PENINSULA | AFTERNOON-ISH
"Broken things? I try not to, but, well, sometimes I don't mind a bit of tinkering in the shop." Only Corwynn could make such words sound both like a serious description of his life choices as well as an innuendo at the same time. Curious, never one to shy away from an interesting adventure, and always one to watch his back because he had more enemies than friends as a Bad Brother, the blond galdor wasn't about to dismiss the possibility of Xonia's now-dead caretaker having connections that would serve or inform his King in some way.

When the young thing turned the tables on his words, calling his hand on his typical inappropriateness, the gunman blinked. The hint of a confused scowl creased its way into his features, though he was neither apologetic nor chagrined,

"Hulali's scales, I'm not bothered." Corwynn replied flatly, crystalline gaze unfazed by the knife she bared, his field shifting and tightening about his person as if in response. Defensive but not threatening, for the older galdor was hardly worried about the danger level of a young woman and her small blade. At least, not yet, not in their current situation. Still, he cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, raising both hands. They were calloused and worn and the index finger of his once-dominant hand was missing. An ugly scar where bone and flesh had once been were all that was left of his trigger finger on that side. From his wrists and disappearing into his sleeve, deep blue tattoos of stylized ocean waves crawled under his unusually tanned skin (unusual for a galdor, had Xonia known any different),

"Listen, I'm going to be plumb clocking clear with you right here before you get to carried away justifying whatever it is you feel like justifying or waving pointy things around, alright? I'm a Bad Brother. I work for Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld, the wick who has Anaxas' economy by the balls. I've been a criminal of some kind or another since I wore my cute little green Brunnhold uniform, so anything that's going on in the Harbor is not only my business, but my King's business, too. This includes anything with this Lorent of yours, and, possibly, yourself, too. I'm not being kind or generous or flirting with you in hopes of getting you in my bed. I'm looking out for what's mine. So, let's start over from here, alright?"

Ruffled but not worried about his honesty, Corwynn sighed instead, lowering his hands to rub at his blond-stubbled cheek with one sea-weathered hand, "For the record, just because you're hiding a knife doesn't mean you know how to use it." He winked, adding the bit of humor at the end of his long commentary as if to remind Xonia that she was, despite everything he'd said, quite safe for the moment. He had no interest in doing her harm unless it was in self defense and he was genuinely curious about her story and situation,

"And if Lorent was all you knew, then it sounds to me like you can't really see past your own opinions of a man who led a life full of things he didn't entirely share with you in full. I'm standing here on the outside, observing, listening to what you know and where you've come from. If you want help, I'm happy to offer it, but you'll have to think a lot more objectively than just nursing some daddy dearest feels and hoping for answers to wash up on the beach." The Bad Brother chuckled, not ignoring her hurt so much as unwilling to deal with it.

Drawn to him. Was that a ploy? It was ... quaint.

Beneath the pirate exterior, past the gunpowder and blood money, Corwynn was an immensely elusive creature who had managed to live for over four decades without ever being pinned down by his emotions.

Sure, he kept friends. He'd had long-term lovers. He'd never considered marriage. He didn't cry when he buried his parents. Selfish and self-preserving, if the blond gunman had soft feelings at all, they were a treasure long-buried with a map wrought with danger.

Corwynn let some quiet creep in between them, though it wasn't out of frustration. He simply didn't know how to navigate these waters quite yet and he realized that the young stranger was difficult to read. She desperately wanted answers, that much was clear, and while he could feel the strength of her field and he could recognize the delicateness of her features, he was rather loath to make assumptions on her heritage. Why would anyone want to raise a galdor in ignorance?

Her next question was so unrelated that he felt as though someone had just cheated him at a hand of cards—breathless. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, the shorter, older man smiled almost mischievously, but the expression was, strangely enough, not at all his usual predatory grin, "You mean, in the room with you? I, uh, well, usually, I don't—" The galdor swallowed a series of inappropriate comments about how he'd probably never platonically shared a bed with anyone his entirely life, watching as the young blond sat and shrugged off her coat, "—I suppose I can get a little creative with sleeping arrangements, though it's a bit early yet. We can have something to eat, a bit of wine, you can regale me with some more stories, and perhaps we can come up with some avenues of research on your history and your deceased caretaker. Hmm?"
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