Faolan Blake || Old || Fae
Once a warrior of the Tuatha de Danann.
Now, a magical gun for hire, longing again for the thrill of battle.
(RP account, affiliated with Erewhon RPG.)
GENERAL NOTES: Brief recollections of the two’s backstory. May or may not mention the Winchester bros.
Meg:
“A place where you can catch a breath,” Meg repeated. “That sounds nice.” It was a short statement but true nonetheless. She has never known a place that offered her complete peace of mind and relaxation before. Such a place didn’t exist for somebody like her. There was just one too many misdeed on her slate for that to happen. But hell, maybe she just didn’t deserve it. Well this turned into a self-pity party quick, she joked to herself. It took her a while to come to the realization that she wasn’t just having a conversation with herself anymore. Somebody willingly, or seemingly so, sat down and wanted to talk to her. Although there could have been some underlying motives behind his actions, Meg decided to temporarily ignore her survival instincts.
“Is… Or was Ireland pretty?” she wondered out loud. She had traveled to many places before, but couldn’t actually recall whether she’s been there yet. All the long years tend to run together after a while. All she could really recall with vivacity anymore were her days in Hell. One just doesn’t erase all the pain that easily.
Meg crossed her arms and shrugged. “I heard people raving about this place and decided to check it out for myself. I wish I have a story as thrillin’ as yours to entertain you with. Is this really the only place on Earth where supernatural freaks are protected?”
Faolan:
"It was," Faolan's mouth quirked up at the side and he glanced over at his companion again, "It was really nice. Until humans started flooding the place, of course." Of course, catching a breath was only appealing for so long, before his greatest interest became losing it again. The fairy flopped onto his back, stretching out on the bed with his legs draping over the side, the familiar burn, the urge to fight rushing through his veins before he calmed it again. He'd gotten very good at calming it, over the years. But he hadn't been able to figure out a way to keep it from cropping up in the first place, yet.
"Ireland was gorgeous," Another nostalgic smile flitted across his face, "Probably still is, but it's been a while. Prettiest place I've seen in this realm, though." He folded his arms underneath his head, "Green. Alive. If you listened closely, you could hear the mists speaking to you." He stared at the ceiling for a while, before he laughed, "Of course, it's the first place I popped through, so I'm bound to be biased." As he spoke, he reached out one hand to gently bump her, completely relaxed even in the presence of a demon.
"It's the only one I've come across. I mean, I've heard of some other towns, witch havens and the like, but none that were like this place was at its founding," As he finished speaking, the fairy turned his gaze from the ceiling to regard Meg again, apparently failing to notice that his hand was resting calmly on the side of her thigh, "Anyway, Miss Muffet, where were you before here? Hell, or somewhere else?"
Well, you seem intelligent, funny, and good-looking. As a general basis, I was under the impression that those qualities inspired compliments from others. And as far as compliments go, 'oddly compelling' isn't exactly at the top of the list.
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