The fisherman's daughter

Cristory (Cris) Quayle 22 // Human "We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone"

[cris-quayle-blog]

edwarddelark:

It was late, really that was the only reason he dared go near the town, less chance of running into anyone. Still seemed to be happening more and more recently. As he walked he sang softly, not something he did often, but then there was normally someone around, and he didn’t really want to have to explain it. “Oh death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling, oh grave, thy victory? The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling, for you but not for me” the irony of how true it was didn’t escape him. But of course he realised too late that someone was there. “Does no one in this town actually sleep” he asked, not doing a great job of hiding the annoyance. 

Despite how often Cristory complained about her lack of sleep most days, Cris couldn’t stand sleeping. There was too much to do, too much to think about. She felt that sleeping was a waste of time and the night was when she could really get her work done. She’d been descaling fish on her boat by the light of the moon for the past hour or so, only stopping when she’d heard the singing and the complaint that followed. “Those who wander will be sure to find what they were hoping to avoid.” Cristory spouted with a smile, taking great pride in composing witty aphorisms though in truth she was drunk and wasn’t sure if she was making much sense. “Besides, when ye sing, s’always better ta have an audience, hm?”

[cris-quayle-blog]

thevictorianvampire:

Evelyn cast her gaze to the other womans cigarette on the floor and felt immediately guilty for allowing her mind to wander. The poor woman was probably just trying to have a moment to herself and a quick smoke and Evelyn had went and ruined it. “I’m very sorry. You’re right. I should pay more attention. I’m afraid my mind just went off on it’s own little thing and I became completely distracted. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much.”

Cristory reached for her pack of cigarettes and was disappointed but not surprised to find it was empty. She puffed out a cold sigh of air that was more carbon dioxide than nicotine and frowned, “Ye wouldn’t happen to have some cigs on ya?” Cris wasn’t terribly addicted to the cancer sticks but she was very stressed out at the moment and was in desperate need of a distraction. “Or a drink?” She was beginning to sound like a panhandling bum but she was too tired to care.

[trevor-atlas-deactivated2017101]

It’s A Bear

[cris-quayle-blog]

witch-wade:

The best thing about having a bear as a familiar was getting all the strange and funny looks when Wade walked down the street. The worst? TSA of course, but it wasn’t anything a few sly words and some spells couldn’t fix. Thankfully, run ins with TSA were now a distant memory as Wade had finally settled down. His apartment pretty much fit him and his familiar, but no one else. Apparently a black bear took up a lot of room. Black bears also had the stomach of five people too, which was why Wade was on his way to buy food for the third time this week. When he finally reached the store, one of the workers told him that the bear would have to stay outside, and that was where things went bad. “What do you mean I can’t bring my bear in? What? Think he’s gonna eat the lot of you? Please, get over yourself, you probably taste horrible”. 

Cristory stood by the shopping carts, struggling to fit her youngest sibling in the child seat as well as keeping the other two from running off through the store. Cris had just managed to get them all together when she noticed the young man with his ridiculous idea of a pet. Cris more pissed than shocked, she couldn’t stand his type. Those like him that would flaunt their beasts and powers and devil-magic day in and day out would always set Cristory on edge. She held tight to her siblings to keep them from running up to the large bear just outside the store. “Ye can’t possibly be so thick as ta think yer beast would be allowed ta roam free in a store full o’ food. This isn’t a circus.”

[cris-quayle-blog]

osian-merrick:

Osian had been up for the past few hours, pretty much just killing time while the girl slept if all off. He took a forty five minute shower (because why not?), had parted his hair five different ways, visited four different decades with his wardrobe choices before he landed on the usual t-shirt, and had even managed to make a quick dish full of various fruits and eggs smothered in feta cheese. Almost three hours had passed before he heard a scrabbling coming from his room and the sounds of a individual distressed. 

A small chuckle emerged from his lips as she frantically looked around before calling out to him. He turned around on his heels, cup of smoldering coffee in his hand and pointed in a general direction. “If you took a breath, you would see that they are on the corner of the dresser, “ his hands clutched the cup as he inhaled the aromas, “along with some edibles. It would be wise if you didn’t get overly frustrated in this house, Cinder is a feisty girl.”

At the sound of his voice, the memories of the past night came rushing back. Cristory remembered the drinking, the self-loathing, the envy-- oh, the sickening envy that she felt in her very core. The experience was truly one of her worst thus far and yet, somehow, she’d ended up here... And, if her memory were to be trusted, she’d had a great night with the alluring blond stranger standing in the doorway.

“Oh God,” she groaned with her hand covering her quickly reddening face. This was sloppy, slutty even, as her hair was plaited in messy, yet still intact braids as if her costume last night was some Britney-esque school girl. Cristory knew better than to spend the night. She had always be wise enough to be gone before the sun rose and back home before her siblings awoke. “Shit, shit, shit, I really have to--” Cristory paused seeing the dog; that was new. It was larger than any she’d come across but seemed docile enough at the moment. She walked carefully around the animal and over to her bag, “How late is it?”

[cris-quayle-blog]

thevictorianvampire:

The moon shone down on her as she walked through the empty town. It wasn’t uncommon for Evelyn to walk at night. She had no need to sleep and although she sometimes did for the lack of anything better to do, her dreams would always be the same. She’d been dreaming the same dream for decades; images of her and Giles, of the home she never built with him, of the child they never had, of the child she would never have. Tonight she decided that the night air beat the mocking dream so she dressed and stepped out into the dark. As she walked, her mind wandered to another time and, as she became aware of a presence just ahead of her, she stopped herself abruptly just before crashing into the other person. “My apologies. I was not expecting to see another at this hour.”

Cristory stood leaning against a light post that flickered randomly now and then. It seemed like something out of a movie: dark, looming, sinister stranger loitering about on an empty street with a fading cigarette. In reality, though, Cris couldn’t have been more ordinary. She just needed a few moments out in the cold to herself, nothing more. Of course, that didn’t last long as someone walked past, bumping into Cris and knocking the remains of the cigarette from her fingers. She sighed, “s’fine. You’d think if yer walking alone in the dark you’d be payin’ a bit more attention but, eh, what do I know?”

[alyciaforlife]

#friendship goals

[cris-quayle-blog]

tinydancer-victoria:

When she’d arrived at work this morning, Victoria certainly wasn’t expecting to see a person laying in the corner of her studio. A small pile of things were scattered about in front of her. Quite frankly, the nymph wasn’t quite sure what to do with the person, so she just left her. Although, she did pack up her things and leave them in a bag so they wouldn’t get stepped on. 

As she finished up preparing for that afternoons lessons, Victoria turned when she heard a voice. “In the cubby hole, all packed in a bag. They would have gotten stepped on if I left them out, plus I didn’t know how long you were going to sleep for.”  

Cristory rubbed the caked mascara from her eyes and glanced around her surroundings. How had she wound up here? Her sides were bruised and her ankles hurt, so perhaps she climbed? Or maybe the unsourced contusions came before her break in. After a moment of dazed staring, Cris turned her attention to the woman. 

“Oh.. thanks, uh. Shit, I’m not normally like this.” That was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that. Cris made her way over to the cubby, grabbed her bag, and checked that everything was indeed there. “Look, uh, I’m sorry for crashin’ ‘ere last night. I must of lost m’ride or somethin’. Do you know what time it is?”

[cris-quayle-blog]

thewelshglynn:

“I didn’t do anythin’ with your stuff” for the first time since Halloween, he was being honest, he felt so guilty after he got back to normal and didn’t feel the urge to steal stuff anymore, and tried to give back all the stuff he stole to their owners, but some people he couldn’t find “Someone must have stolen it, I don’t think I was the only one that was ‘ere”

“Yeah, right,” Cris grumbled as she marched her way over to the other. She’d come across him several times in the past week, and though she knew little to nothing about him, she had no doubts that he could have easily stolen her stuff. “Oh, yeah? And where is this ‘someone else’, hmm? Only person I see loiterin’ ‘round is you.”

[cris-quayle-blog]

The sunlight was the first thing Cristory noticed as she slowly regained consciousness. Then it was the sounds, muffled at first, and then clear. Without looking around, Cris new she’d done it again. She’d royally fucked up and found herself in a place she didn’t belong with a night she could barely remember and a throbbing, aching pain in her head, beating to the pace of her pulse.

Cristory pushed herself up to stand on unsteady feet. Her pockets felt lighter and, sure enough, her wallet was gone, along with whatever else she’d managed to snatch up this Halloween. For a quick moment she caught sight of someone, “Hey!” She attempted to yell but it came out as a strained, harsh whisper. “What’d you do with all my shit?”

[cris-quayle-blog]

absolut-cyrus:

“Why stop at drinks? Maybe line up a couple rails while we’re at it, snort a nice big, fat eightball?” He was only taunting, something in his gut telling Cyrus the girl wasn’t that kind of partying type. Unless she was, in which case…an itch for the aforementioned white powder he just mentioned started to creep into his veins.

Cristory wasn’t quite sure if what the other had said was even english. Perhaps the confusion was due to her inebriation, but something told her that even on the most sober of days, Cris would still have been at a loss. Despite all that, Cris felt the urge to feign some knowledge. “Sure, yeah. If ya think it’ll liven the party.” The bartender came back with her drink and Cris tossed nearly half of it back in one go. She was sloppy, but determined. The other had an air about him, a persona she found herself coveting and suddenly she wasn’t so keen on heading back onto the dance floor just yet.

[vicxtorious]

Plot Drop ~ Wrath

[cris-quayle-blog]

cris-quayle:

demonic-lilith:

Lilith- Well, Harley Quinn walked through town as the anger coursed through her body. It felt just like the day her parents tried to exorcise her and she ended up killing them along with the Priest. Eyes turned black as her wings stayed hidden in her back. Someone walking towards her caused a smirk to play on her lips as she playfully swung the bat. The store in front of her looked like the perfect culprit to take her anger out on. Standing in front of the glass, she quickly swung the bat forward and shattered the window, setting off the alarms. “Ah, that felt good. Would ya’ like a try, Suga’?” She asked the other, popping her bubble gum. 

Despite the rough start to her night, Cris’ spirits had been lifted. Somewhere between drink four and seven, Cristory had acquired insatiable desire to take what wasn’t hers. It was unfair, really, for all the others of the Isle to possess what Cris could only dream of holding. Just because she was a fisherman’s daughter did not mean she was any less deserving of these items, or any less worthy of having a good night. She’d pickpocketed a bit, in her younger years, but now, it seemed, the habit had resurfaced in full force.

Cristory had left the club with heavy pockets but yet the urge was unquenched. She was just admiring the bat belonging to a very realistic looking Harley Quinn when she was offered a chance to use it. With a nod she took hold of it, bounced it a bit to check the weight of it in her hands. I could run off with it, Cris thought, knock the Harley bitch out and hightail it. But, she decided, there were more valuable things inside the store than out. And, so, with a heavy grunt, Cris took her first swing at the window, hearing the satisfying crack of glass from the impact. “I’m gonna need some bigger pockets.”

[cris-quayle-blog]

absolut-cyrus:

“I had a hunch this place would be a snore, but I didn’t expect it to be that bad.” Quite the opposite, the club was the farthest thing from a snore, almost everyone in the crowd bouncing feverishly to the beats the DJ spun out, smoke machines and disco strobe lights in full effect. But Cyrus just wasn’t feeling it. 

Cristory had only just stumbled off the dance floor when she heard the other’s comment. She had been bumping along to the music with a stranger who had gotten too handsy so she made a quick escape. Besides, all she’d wanted was his watch, which she’d accomplished in snatching in the 3 minutes it took for the song to play. “That sounds like something someone who’s sober would say.” She smirked and waved the bartender over, requesting a refill.

[french-songbird]

Plot Drop: Club Vertigo

[cris-quayle-blog]

cris-quayle:

angel-with-a-short-sword:

Xander was having and drink and laughing with someone dressed up as another Avenger when he heard the sounds of the storm. At first, he shook it off. Storms happened and the ball was a pretty fun place at the moment. But the crashing of water against the door made him curious to go outside. As the angel made his way to through the crowd, he heard his boots begin to squish. While everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, he seemed to not be the only person who noticed and certainly wasn’t the only one who wanted to go outside. He still managed to be the first to the door, but that didn’t mean anything seeing as the doors wouldn’t open. What magic had been cast in this place? He noticed people surrounding him beginning to panic as the water was rising and the door simply wouldn’t budge. He heard someone yell that the windows weren’t opening either. It was then there seemed to be a frenzy of panic, as water levels continued to rise and nobody was able to go anywhere. It was like houdini’s Chinese water torture chamber in his mind. 

The mermaids and ghosts would be fine, as well as the angels and demons. It was about the others. How could he save them? What was causing all of this. So many questions were running through his mind. It was then he looked to someone who looked terrified, just as most people seemed to be. He gave them a small smile in hopes of giving them some confidence. “Everything will be okay. We’ll figure this out. You have my word.” He said calmly as he felt the water above his knees.

Cristory had been miserable for practically the entire night. Halloween used to be her favorite holiday, but now she wasn’t one to celebrate much. She had hoped, that in coming to Vertigo tonight, she could dance enough and drink enough to free herself of the stresses of every day life. But every drink she downed left her feeling as empty as the bottom of the glass. 

A few hours past midnight and Cris had definitely hit her limit. She was just beginning to doze off at the bar counter (apparently she was going as the sloppy drunk girl this hallows eve) but the commotion shocked her awake. People were panicking, yelling about water and locked doors. Though she was shocked, Cris was most certainly not sober, and she turned to the closest person near her, hoping for an explanation. “Oh really? And what’s yer word good for if ya ain’t got a big enough sponge ta soak all the water up?”

[cris-quayle-blog]

The Past

The death of her mother immediately following the birth of her youngest sibling is where Cristory Quayle’s story truly begins. Before then, Cris was merely the young girl who wore her older brother’s hand-me-downs, kept to herself, and always smelled like fish. Skip to present day, though, and Cris is now a young woman taking care of her three younger siblings and her father who has lost his mind after the death of his wife. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders and without any help from her older brother, who ditched the Isle of Man almost a year ago and hasn’t been heard from since.

Cris is very aware of the mystical creatures that reside in her hometown, but she actively avoids them. What use is magic and mystic if it cannot be used to cure those closest to you? It didn’t heal her mother, it didn’t help her father, and it didn’t keep her brother from leaving Cris has held the remains of her family together with no help of magical spells, mermaid scales, or buggane snot and she intends to keep it that way.

Despite all of their troubles, the fish business has been doing quite well. It seems that family tragedy has no effect on supply and demand, and so, for now at least, the Quayle’s stay afloat.

The Present

Cris has had to harden her heart over the years after having to put it back together again too many times. Her love for others stems no farther than her immediate family and ever decision she makes is solely for their benefit. Being the leader of her family and the owner of their fishing business leaves no room for leisure. Cris is determined, bossy, and much too serious for someone her age.

headcanons

Cristory actually hates fish! The smell, the taste, the act of ripping fish hooks from their lips all disgust her, but it’s her family’s sole income and she wont let a food aversion get in the way of paying bills.

All of the Quayle siblings are decent singers and before their mother’s passing, they used to perform quartets to entertain tourists.

Cris has never left the Isle of Man and doesn’t imagine that she ever will now that she must take care of her family.

[fearthealyciadebnamcarey]

[cris-quayle-blog]

thewelshglynn:

“Yes” he said with a small smile, glad that she seemed to be a little more calm “What was the drink?” he asked, not wanting to end up ordering one that she may not like, and he also figured that she would want the same drink.

Cris hesitated, seeming terribly distraught that she couldn’t remember the contents of the drink she’d lost only moments ago. With a small burp, she was once again reminded of the taste and smiled quite proudly. “A rum and coke it was, yeah.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, nudging him toward the bar and following close behind. “Don’t forget the lime.”

[cris-quayle-blog]

cuteandhelpful:

Grant had no idea why there were so many people around him right now. Usually, he wouldn’t mind, but he’d just walked in. It was a little overwhelming for him. When he accidentally shoved someone, he turned to face them and pouted. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! No, no, please don’t be mad! I didn’t mean to bump into you. There’s so many people here.”

Cris was taken aback by how quickly the other had apologized. She was itching for a fight; it had been a difficult week and she needed someone to take it out on. But she couldn’t punch a stranger who seemed so terribly sorry over such a silly mistake. Cris rolled her eyes and held up her hands. “It’s fine. Forget about it, alright? I’ll just uh... get another one..”