Suprise Meeting With Weaver (Wrenmae)

[Ana Sol Starris]

Winter 56th, 511AV Wrens Apartment OOCTwas a placeholder. Walking hurridly through the streets to get back to Wrenmaes apartment before a steadily declining sun dissapeared in the horizon, evening was coming around fast and Ana prefferred to not be out and about Sunberth at night. What was the little thief doing all day anyways? She had nothing in her hands, nor a jingle in her pocket and her face showed tell tale signs of disapointment and fear. Ana was coming back with nothing but the clothes on her back and her life, after a day of running from random thugs, persistant beggars and then finally dropping that carrot she had manged to snag from a vendor into a pile of shyke. Shuddering, Ana may have been deseprate.. But she knew eating litteral shyke wasn't a good idea, especially if she had no way to clean it off right away. Cussing in frustration at the little shyke who had stumbled into her side hours past. Today, was low, it felt as if something had just decided to tie her to an anchor and chuck her into the sea to see how she fared. Even returning to the little 'sanctuary' she had somehow miraculously managed to bunk with some crazy guy with serious personality issues. Ana didn't really understand why Wrenmaes persona would change into this 'Shroud' nor did she understand why Wrens eye color changed with the personality. Brown to Wren, black to Shroud. Coming up to the door feeling defeated, she had to quick come up with an idea of why she was empty handed.. Or at least a plan to deviate from that conversation, hand on the doors knob she let her head fall on the wooden door with a small thud, in quite the manner of 'face-walling' it. Mind racing for some hint or clue she could use, travelling as far back as to their first meeting. Running everything by her conscience once more, the sqauble, the daggers, the throw back and then the shuddery breathing.. To the.. commands.. then the book, the twitch, the comment, the.. Wait. The twitch, the book?.. a twitch. Blinking at the thought, she had only now taken notice to that detail when she had shown him her book at the beginning of the season. Opening the door and sliding in as the suns last rays fell to darkness, this was her one shot to not be beaten, to not be put down, what if. What if Shroud wanted to see her book, did he have a thing for them? He didn't seem the personality type to but it may or may not work. Catching sight of Wren, or maybe it was Shroud? She had no clue who but that didn't matter, she pounced on her corner and quickly took out her book from the folds with a bit of desperation. Quick to make conversation, she didn't want the topic on what she had failed to aquire for the day "hey, I was thinking.." She started out, trying to keep her tone normal as she looked down at the book and refused to glance again at him "do you wanna see my brothers book? I promise its not bad.. maybe a lil cheesy at some parts but its certainly a cool tale that was spun.. Er.. Do mind the scribbles on the sides.. Not sure what they are." Ana held the book foward, after turning to face him fully and standing up in the process to walk over to him if he accepted.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae had not gone out today, worrying the calluses on his hands with frenzied rubbing. Blood had stained his hands, baked into their contours, and he could feel the pale laughter of Shroud behind his eyes. The man was broken, shattered, in uneven pieces forced along a line of what he used to be. He took a breath, held it, let it out and at once flexed Djed within him. Res flowed into his palms, filling them with liquid he could not see, only feel. This gift from Sable reminded him of who he was, who he used to be. Go then, he thought, holding his outstretched hands at a wall, cupping the liquid and then flattening his palms, Become wind. The breeze hissed across the space and licked up the edge of the wall, just as the door opened. Wrenmae let his hands fall back to the bed and smiled wanly, nodding. She was a fixture of his life now, a girl he had to save from himself...someone he had begun to care about. Still, it wouldn't do to simply say it to her. After her first experience with him, it would be any wonder that she wouldn't assume rape was not the followthrough to the confession. No. Instead he beckoned her in and sighed, hanging his head. Her voice brought him back to reality, forced his gaze on the spine of her book, the cover. The change came so swiftly he scarcely had time to stop it. A dervish of confused energy layering his mind and exploding outward, springing toward freedom. At once, Wrenmae's gaze was fixed on the book itself, wide eyed, green exploding across his eyes till they were the vibrant hue of the laughing creature inside him. Weaver. Bones creaked and he stood, swung to attention, standing erect, full march, ready. His first step was uneven, a half twirl that almost set him on the floor, almost sent him on his ass, Shyke but wasn't movement fun? Thought-drunk, Story-drunk, he crossed the distance between them with a certain fluid ease, not at all his usual method of locomotion. Taking her chin in his hand, he tipped her face up to his, a manic smile stretching across his features. Eyes bright, life-gleam, forest-strong, blazing like twin points of lime fire. He pressed himself in, his own lips against her own, chin held in an upturned position of acceptance. A hand dropped, gently sliding up the countours of her body, slipping over stomach and the hill of breast before ending on her shoulder. He pressed her against the wall, sudden and strong, passion in his lip-locked embrace before turning from her, taking the book with one slip of the hand and leaving her crumbled against the wall in a mixture of surprise and hopefully...excitement. Nothing got the blood to boil like surprises. "Well now, well now, what tapestry of time-spun tales are these? One? One you say? A story with an end and all so neatly bound together? Ha!" He took the book and tossed it on the bed, fluttering with its many pages. He turned in one motion to Ana and grinned, winking. "No story is ever singular nor consigned to pages. Quitter, quitter, we write our lives in blood and flesh, the spinning strings of subject matter, speaking, and action." "Sooo..." His eyes blazed "What's your story?"

[Ana Sol Starris]

The few moments of silence caused her to look up to him, not exactly catching his eyes but just noticed he seemed to be staring. Had she offended him somehow? Glancing at the cover and then up at him, she seemed to jump backwards at his sudden and fantastical movement. Instinctively, Ana drew the book back and in front of her chest as a small shield in case he hit her. With shoulders hunched, she expected retribution for bringing up the book again. Instead Wrenmae moved with supreme confidence towards her, an ecstatic step in his stride brought the two close together bodily. Ana began muttering rather despairingly she was sorry, arms raising up to half attemptingly defend herself, only to have her chin gripped by a seemingly calloused but gentle hand, bringing her to look him in the face. The scared thief blinked out of surprise, Wrens smile was that of perhaps a lunatics and his eyes were a bright and playful firey neon green hue; not spine chillingly black, nor the soft familliar muddy brown, there couldn't possibly be a third persona! The new personification of Wren pressed his lips onto Anas own dry ones, the gesture was sudden and her eyes widened out of disbelief. Before his hand began to trace up her body, her eyes fluttered shut with a deep blush crossing her cheeks. Her arms fell to their respective sides, the book held in one hand as Wrens hand travelled up her body almost teasingly, the foreign graze of hand to breast made her give a small gasp. The alarms in her head arose almost instantaniously, only to be crushed and nullifyed with the firey force and passion of the last few seconds of the kiss. Slumping against the wall, senses in a disarray, Ana wondered what had just happened.. The blush on her face grew darker, inching its way from the high of her cheeks to close to her jaw and across her nose. What... had just happened? Wren had just kissed her! Kissed! Physical, romantic interaction! Bringing a hand to her face as she slid down the wall to sit on her butt almost confusedly, she tried to hide the blush as she only just realized how sneaky this side of him had been. He had stolen Anas first kiss, this only caused her to turn brighter red- not out of anger, but out of embarresement. Blinking, dazedly, wonderingly, perhaps even a little fearfully at Wren as he rambled on about something she could not wrap her mind around at that very moment. Trying to make an attempt of hiding her face from his eyes, Ana would bring the long bangs that framed her face in front of her entire face. Timidly, she peeked out at him from her blonde strands of hair at his question. Feeling rather childish, rather.. Cheerful? Embarresed of the sudden joyful excitement she had gotten out of the kiss! But weren't kisses meant for romance? Ana couldn't decide, nor could she answer him or look him in the eye fully. She had somehow lost her tounge and her heart had managed to jump into her throat, the beating in her chest felt rather thumpish and fast.

[Wrenmae]

Weaver scowled, her silence was too long. It was heavy, the solid weight of silence leaning between them. To pass the time his foot kept up a rigorous thumping beat, only his right, tapping the floor with a stacatto of impatience. Down, down, down, down, down, down, down, and finally stopped. He strode forward, nearly danced from toe to toe before taking her chin in one hand, wrapping the other around the neckline of her shirt, and roughly pushed both back against the wall. The grip wasn't choking, only insistent, and Weaver's face was only inches from hers again, his breath hot on her lips and his green eyes brilliant and flaring. "Speak, speak, speak, SPEAK!" He commanded, shaking her chin a tiny fraction left to right with each utterance, "Have you been struck dumb? Is there no answers waggling in that head of yours? Out with it! Your voice! What story ARE you? I cannot well expect to act in your narrative without a directive to take as role now can I? CAN I?" I daresay not!" Weaver frowned, brushing a long finger across her lips and then releasing her, grabbing his cape and hat and placing them on his head. "If you won't tell me your theme, girl, I'll simply find someone who will."

[Ana Sol Starris]

The tap caught her attention as she brought herself up from the ground once more, better to be on ones feet to run when trouble presented itself rather than on ones arse sitting like a goose waiting to be cooked. Looking him up and down with her eyes and then to his face, and his bright green eyes- how unnatural of a color they were, they reminded Ana of those sour limes. The blush grew steadily further as the reoccurring image of the kiss floated in, touch, and sensation, to say the least- she was still fundamentally struck dumb by him. Persona #3 came towards her again and for a moment, Ana thought he was going to trip and fall on his butt because of the light feet he was using for normal walking. However he did not trip nor fall, but he did take her chin again in his hands, the grip of the other against her throat made her come to attention however.. No matter how unthreatening the grip it seemed to be. Blinking and exploring the different shades of green in his eyes, the color itself seemed to flicker in his irises. This was just a way of trying to distract herself from blushing more, though the red graced her face still with the odd warming sensation as blood flooded her cheeks still. Mumbling incoherent whispers to him as her mind was in a disarray of panicking thoughts as he demanded her to speak. The small waving of her head, left, then right with each word made Ana cringe; her hands were useless but she held onto his wrists anyways. What story was she? What story am I? Ana thought to herself desperately, trying to make sense of his words. Directive to take a role now... can...what? Persona #3 was certainly a fast talker, dramatic also. But this wasn't the time to think more about this.. He was being too fast paced and it was starting to irritate her with his lack of patience. He began by picking up his cloak and hat, that silly hat Wrenmae wore alot, "w-wait," she managed to stutter out before making a last ditch effort to have a conversation with him. But he was gone, out the door. Ana hurried after him, not caring if it were becoming dark out- she wanted to know who this.. Fraction of Wrenmae was "hey!" Ana called to him, running to catch up with some difficulty in the cold. "Wait, Wren, Shroud, new guy, whoever the petch you are!" Ana yanked his cloak with both hands from behind. With a look of indignance, she glared at him "you're rather impatient for catching a girl by suprise, with that.." She began to stutter as the feeling of lips on her filled her mind causing her to blush horribly so "y'know.. that kiss.." She felt rather childish as she said it, not sure how he would react.. This..This was new territory. Ana knew Shroud was cruel, Wren acted a fool sometimes but he was still a nice guy. This one.. He seemed to be a bit too.. Ana couldn't think of the word at that very moment.

[Wrenmae]

Weaver spun on his foot, drawing out the long dagger at his waist and pointing it at the center of Ana's forehead. His face was not angry though, dark like Shroud, it was curious and a long smile found its way to his face. He brought the blade up to the rim of his hat, tapping it, and then returned it to his sheath, grinning all the while. "Wren? Shroud? Such names you give!" he seemed delighted. "How lovely they are to wear! What role is this? And that? And that? But no, boyo, I am neither of the two." He put two hands upon hers, gently prying her fingers from the hem of his cape and kneeling. Bringing his hands up before her face, he closed one into a fist, the other remained open, clutching her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her again, pressing his tongue into her mouth for a moment before releasing, regarding her face with flickering green eyes. "How now, girl, never been kissed before? Is it too soon to say you haven't laid to bed a man as well? How new, how naive, how wonderfully damsel of you miss...miss..." he threw up his hands, "Miss Goldenhead." He stood, turning from her and putting a hand on the door. "Who I am or what I am isn't important. The importance is the moment, yes, yes, the moment. The time in which I exist. We are all characters you see, caught up in the grand scheme of godly tales. Are you the milkmaid or the daughter? The innocent or the seducer? Your role dictates the path the story will take...there is no fun without complication, and I complicate you...by being me. Wouldn't you say?" Without waiting for an answer he stepped outside, immersed in sunlight and the cold afternoon glare of Sunberth. "Really laying it on thick," Muttered Zan from within him, prompting a chuckle from Weaver, "Not too often I get to see you. I'm gearing up for fun." "And fun you shall have my little companion, and fun you shall have. What else befits the loyalty of the supporting friend but a chance to share the glory? The Adventure?" "...Were you really gonna sleep with her?" Weaver paused, cast a glance back at the door where he expected Ana to soon emerge. "I shant count the chapters before they're read," he said, "But she is a lovely one to play the Milkmaid." "Too skinny for my taste," Zan muttered, "I prefer voluptuous." "And to that taste we shall play a merry tune of conversation," Weaver agreed, "But I find it is less in the physique and more in the attitude that makes a fine bedmistress....all in the spirit, all in the story, as it always has been." "And as it always will be," Zan echoed, as if in mantra, "Man, I missed you."

[Ana Sol Starris]

Wrens split personality was extremely confusing to the small thief, yet the entire concept was rather simple, easy, just hard to swallow. Had she of known that there could be more than one split, she would have treaded much more lightly with her actions. Books! Why, it was such a absurd trigger, she just.. No, she just couldn't comprehend fully but now here she was with a dagger to her forehead. Ana froze on reflex, eyes widening, all thought disapearing from within her mind, Shroud? Was Shroud out now? No... No, the persona put the dagger away, it didn't sound.. There was a distinct difference in voice between the two, even Wrens voice was different as she had noticed at other times. Neither would Shroud smile at her like this one did now, not even Wren seemed to bolster such a whimsical confidence, exuding itself out like an overflowing glass of water, continiously. Wren never seemed to be this 'happy' in a sense, and Shroud was always so grim, such an arrogant and cruel man from whichever walk of life he came from. Never once had she expected to be kissed, never had she expected it to happen twice, brief as it was, it left her feeling dumbfounded. The nerves inside her tensed, it made her want to keep following after him, such strange feelings, it made her cheeks burn hot and her legs willowy as air. What was she suppose to do? Act? What.. What.. Confusion splayed itself quite clearly upon her face, fear even, why did he keep doing that? The kissing? As he mentioned laying with a man, she wanted to jerk away though she managed to restrain it to slowly turning her head away embarresedly as he continued "my names Ana.." She put in quietly as he tried to figure her name out. Ana was lucky enough to have managed to hold on to her sanity, as well as her bodies privledge the whole time she had been in Sunberth. Running, it was what she did best, sneaking about, trying to remain unseen to the predatorial eyes of Sunberth with its anarchy, chaos, the death, filth, desperate and hungry. For a moment, Anas mind was at a stand still, wondering what to say, what to do, he had her flustered and confused. Just as quickly as he had spoke, his low tone, dramatic, he was out the door, she stared after, unsure of what to do.. Stay standing there, and wait in the apartment where it was safer than outside.. Or follow after and get to know the.. Strange new anominally that was a different version of Wrenmae. Decisions, they had to be made, and quickly, she felt a tug to follow and her legs obeyed as she opened the door to be greeted with the usual Sunberthian, foul air, to see that Wrens confidence was still there as if he had been waiting for her. Slowly, Ana closed the door behind her with a posture of uncertainty "..you..kept saying something about stories, I like stories," what.. What was she saying? After such greetings and one sided exchanges, thats what she managed to come up with? Stepping, one, two, carefully in front of the other, he still had daggers, for all she knew.. No, this one didn't seem the type to gut someone without a reason.. Hopefully "wh-what I mean is, uh.." "Er..I'm.. Not sure what my role is, you were asking before, I'm sorry it didn't get into my thickhead before...Are we all one role, or can we be multiple at a time?" She asked, her curiousity getting the better of her as she moved closer, still keeping her distance from him warily in case he decided to do another suprise kiss, though he had caught her in his net quite easily, her attention to follow after what seemed to be a dramatist "If.. that's possible.."

[Wrenmae]

Swift-footed, swing-hipped, they moved among the stranger sights of Sunberth with little more than sideways glances. Ana followed, a lamb to her shepherd, dancing on the end of curiosity.

Weaver whistled, more merry than man, and Zan took up the tune inside him. Both were gleeful, both spoke as one, and for once...Zan didn't feel the least bit put off with his choice of partners.

"Take this corner, milkmaid," he said with a smile, presenting a seemingly ordinary corner of a sagging home, "Here many tales were spent and lives were bled to death and death and dust. Tell me, did they include romance? Was there passion betwixt the blade and heart? Did the organ pa-pump, pa-pump its story to the stone?"

He knelt, rubbing a finger along the cobblestone itself and frowning, "And did the stone listen? Learn a thing or two?"

Straightening, he stepped straight up to Ana, nearly bowling her over with how close he came. "And you, yes you, little gold headed mystery, what tale will you tell to the stone when they all run you through?"

[Ana Sol Starris]

Ana listened to him, fiddling with her fingers as she followed entranced by his mannerisms and words, they were so elegant, so story-magnificent; it was hard not to be drawn in like a moth to a fire. This was such an odd side of Wren, happy, whimsical, compared to how Wren was whom seemed to be rather sullen at times, or melancholic in his ways. Compared to Shroud! This side of Wren was ten times better. His words were charming, but they held meaning in his round about way of saying things that she had to take a moment to just decipher what he was saying, smiling when she had gotten his riddle. He was meaning death! For when a dagger would meet her for one last time, she looked to the ground as he came back up. What would her story be? Hah, what a thought that was, as if life were a story... It did feel like one at times, cliche during those moments. The thief hadn't seen he had gotten close, but her body had felt him closer than it should have been- making her react by taking a step back hastily, fumbling to keep her own balance which he seemed to have a plenty of, snapping her gaze up at him with an annoyed pout. "My story will end with death, but it won't be with my death" she answered him, playing along with his own tone "blood may be shed on these streets with no thought of life, but I have other streets in mind that has a little two storied house with one lone tree in the front.." she paused a moment, unsure of what she was saying herself- her eyes flickered to the ground, as an insecure paranoia sprouted up. "There in that little house, blood will run, and ones dues exacted.. I'll be the only one inside to hear the ocean cry."

[Wrenmae]

Weaver leaned in close to her, too close, close enough that their skin was a hair's length apart. Down came a finger, index, and poked imperiously in the center of her forehead. "Revenge is a dish best served with context, tell the story, dear, the story. Who and why and what and how, you cannot expect me to feel your pain without a dagger to twist in my mind's gut, now...now can you?"

Grinning, he leaned away from her, back on nimble feet to twist and turn, cavorting round with no more care than sense. "I picture it with shadows, the overcast day to an overcast heart." Turning, he held Ana in-between his hands, shaped now like a portrait with her at the center, "The rain has washed away the sins of streets and cobblestone but not the sins of those who laid them down before!"

He leaped to her, dipped, knocked her back into a waiting arm and then pulled her to her feet, "The heroine, or is she villain? No matter! There are daggers in her eyes," He winked, "Perhaps one for hand and heart as well! She stands before the door, strides thrice, and pushes on its splintered frame!" He mimed the action, tumbling into the imaginary house, pretend dagger drawn and ready.

"But oh, woe. The audience knows nothing of your flow. So tell me girl, oh tell me, what heart is your blade meant to sleep within? Why be a character without a plot? A stage without a show? If you cannot be more deliberate, we cannot have a tale."