“Sparrow”

RP blog for WoW character Kyara Grey, operative and shadowblade.

[killerkyara]

LFC;

– ––– the basics ––– –

NAME: “Kyara Grey”

AGE: 31

BIRTHDAY: February 11th

RACE: Human 

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Homosexual

MARITAL STATUS: Uncommitted

– ––– physical appearance ––– –

HAIR: Brown, nearly black

EYES: Dark - it’s difficult to perceive any one shade

HEIGHT: 5′10

BUILD: Athletic

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: She bears a plethora of facial scars: over her eye, lip, down the side of her neck. Tattoos are prevalent depending on her attire. Most of the imagery is relevant to her homeland, covering her arms and hands.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A pair of daggers, a six-shot revolver, and a pouch of smokes can usually be found on her belt at any given time.

– ––– personal ––– –

PROFESSION: Intelligence expert, field operative

HOBBIES: Reading, exercise, entertaining her brother. She tends to be absorbed in her work most of the time.

LANGUAGES: Common, Tol’vir, Gutterspeak, basic grasp on Darnassian

RESIDENCE: Stormwind (Old Town) and Uldum

BIRTHPLACE: Tanaris

RELIGION: She associates with many aspects of different belief systems

PATRON DEITY: Titans

FEARS: Self-destruction. Failing her loved ones. Being alone.

– ––– relationships ––– –

SPOUSE: N/A

CHILDREN: N/A

PARENTS: Her mother is known to be deceased. Her father is unaccounted for.

SIBLINGS: A little brother she cares for, named Matin

OTHER RELATIVES: She knows of two uncles and a cousin.

(After discovering Kul’tiran heritage on her mother’s side, there is more room to work out other familial relations.)

PETS: A hairless sphynx, Namurr

– ––– traits ––– –

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

– ––– additional information ––– –

 SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

 DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

 ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

– ––– starters ––– –

A Broken File: Any indication of Kyara’s public record prior to the last invasion of the Legion has been wiped clean. Since then she’s built an impressive repertoire: serving with infantry forces on the Broken Shore, participating in the evacuation of Teldrassil, and working with the 7th Legion in Lordaeron, Arathi, and Nazjatar respectively. 

The Underground: Arriving in Stormwind shortly after Deathwing’s raze of Azeroth, her skillset naturally inclined her towards the darker corners of the city. She operated as an informant in the years following, with additional expertise in “acquisitions”. Though she’s since taken up more lawful employment, private contracts are still accepted and hunted out from time to time.

Shadowed Beginnings: Born and raised in Southern Kalimdor, Kyara maintains a presence in the area, monitoring activity in Tanaris and Uldum. Old ties connect her to the locals and wastewanders - though not all of them are pleasant. She owns a flat in Ramkahen and is quite active there, especially in the wake of the Void invasion. 

OOC:

Kyara’s history in Uldum has been developed over the course of years, supported by a mixture of in-game lore and collaborated headcannon. Story building outside of the city has always been a priority of mine, and I welcome the opportunity to do so with my writing partners.

Moonguard: Kyarå (Alt 134)

Wyrmrest Accord: Kyarä (Alt 132)

[killerkyara]

timeline 8 - the timeline in which they gain everything they want, except for the thing they wanted the most.

[ will your lover caress you the way that i did? ]

Another morning rose on the horizon, basking the dunes in a white-hot heat, one which brought to mind the images of something newly fangled — primordial. Kyara’s flat was but a blip in the desolate landscape, with walls of alabaster and lime reflecting the sun’s ceaseless rays. She remained blissfully cool inside her oasis, going about steeping a cup of plain black tea. Such had become her routine: a monotonous security. Comfortably drab. None could doubt that she had earned her retirement, an existence set aside from the sins of civilization.

She had few visitors these days. Her brother, and occasionally her cousin, though the family mantle kept him occupied. This was quite alright with her. Where others — including their fathers — had failed, he led their people to peace at last. She joined them in the only way she could: utter seclusion. 

Occasionally a stray wind would stir the sand past Kyara’s window and remind her of a bitter absence. It had numbed over time, but still ached phantom now and again. After a solar cycle spent without another body in her bed, she could bear it with a fond smile. Matin was safe and prospering well. Everything had fallen into place. 

But at what cost?

Certainly her cousin renounced her abnegation, though it was proven successful nonetheless. Once she removed herself, succumbed to self-discipline, the need for vice disappeared entirely. The Void no longer called her name. At the most she could gather wisps of inky black upon her fingertips before it faded into the air like smoke. The process had not been quick. It required a full tempering of her heart, both the good and the bad, so that all that remained was a dull throb. There was no room for love. No room for hate.

Her purpose, she found, was fulfilled. She could run from this fact no longer. There was something even beautiful in it: she would die the same way she came into this world, the same way she had lived, at the end of the night. 

Alone.

[ @hazriels ty!! ]

[sagamemes]

a slightly altered timeline.   send me  ‘ timeline ’  and a number and i will tell you how my muse and their life would have turned out in a life slightly altered compared to their canon one—same universe, but where something little, or something big, went differently.

the timeline in which they live an ideal life, had no opportunities taken from them, were subjected to nothing terrible, where they grew up to fulfil their full potential.

the timeline in which they never met who would become the most influential or important person in their life, or that person was taken from them before they were capable of forming memories.

the timeline in which something important to them happened in a different stage of life.

the timeline in which they knew beforehand of something they would have prevented if given the chance.

the timeline in which they continue on from the current point in their lives to the best happy ending that is within their reach, where nothing that has happened so far is negated but from now on, the happy things start piling up.

the timeline in which everything that could go wrong from this point on… does.

the timeline in which they never experience the loss that taught them something important.

the timeline in which they gain everything they want, except for the thing they wanted the most.

the timeline in which they live the life they currently see the most likely for them.

the timeline in which something big to them never happened.

the timeline in which something very little happened differently, but it changed a lot.

the timeline in which they had a person in their life when they needed one the most.

the timeline in which instead of the most influential person in their life, they had a person who had the complete opposite effect on them.

the timeline in which they took a chance they didn’t in canon.

the timeline in which they let a chance go by.

[yulyadahl]

[hazriel]

continued from here 

with @killerkyara​

The stranger signaled a physical yield, but her words hung heavy between them, offering no sense of ease to Hazriel as she uncomfortably shifted weight between the soles of her boots. 

“I don’t deny that you’d have agency enough to simply act upon violence if it were already in your plans,” the voice snapped and echoed deep into the shadowy depths between buildings. “I’m just not quite assuaged by someone concerning themselves with disturbances and then cornering me.” 

A deep centering breath forced from her ribs as she realigned her demeanor. A subtle fight took place behind the whites of her eyes as molten aura hadn’t yet turned to stained-glass violet. However, the stains that had already bled across her features remained a second skin. Molten gold peered beyond the ambiguous woman as though she’d see beyond building and cityscape to where such disturbances took place. 

“I can assure you no turmoil in this city is of my individual creation. Though, I’m curious, what could be so interesting or threatening that you’d take investigative matters into your hands?”

[killerkyara]

“Cornered is hardly the word I’d use.” In contrast, Kyara’s voice fell dull between them, barely audible beyond their respective forms. She slunk between her newfound interest and the wall, circling Hazriel — or rather, it seemed, appearing at her opposite side, given that her steps couldn’t be heard. 

Palm facing the sky, her hand extends in a sweeping motion. External stimuli suddenly drowned beneath the weight of an oppressive darkness; she waited, patiently, watching, to determine if the slight woman truly was the source of these ripples in the realm unseen. 

“Newly darkened? Though-- No. It is not only that.” Ignoring her query, the operative returns her own. Despite her best attempts to remain neutral, the Void drew in upon Kyara as if drawn to a powerful magnet, warping their immediate surroundings. Even the ground they stood upon seemed tilted off kilter.

“...Few of your kind are conduits on their own. Who are you?”

[ @hazriels ]

[killerkyara]

identity

Name: kyara grey (adinah asaad)

Alias/Nicknames: ky, grey, sparrow

Pronouns: she/they

Age: 31

Western Zodiac: aquarius sun | cancer moon | aries rising

Eastern Zodiac: tiger

Abilities/Talents: voidmancy, acquisitions, subterfuge

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / true / good / neutral / evil 

Religion: polytheistic

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: common, gutterspeak, tol’vir

darnassian, thalassian (learning)

Family: a younger brother named Matin, two uncles, a cousin

Friends: @titanicmight, @quai-mason, @lady-nymara

Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / (gray) asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other

Hair: dark brown

Eyes: stygian

Skin: olive

Height: 5’10

Scars: two through her right eye and brow, upper lip, down the left side of her jaw and neck. many across her knuckles.

dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future

Five songs that remind you of them:

daddy issues - the neighborhood

numb - men i trust

afterthought - joji + benee

505 - arctic monkeys

after dark - mr kitty

tagged: @hazriels <3

@titanicmight​, @theywillfall, @renardsnoir, @sinthyria if u wanna

[minima--moralia]

“—No, I hear you through your silences perfectly well […]”

— May Sarton, in a letter to Elizabeth Bowen

[photography-cnl]

Poetic Long Exposure Photographs of the Sea by Mehran Naghshbandi 

[hazriel]

“   i  don’t  want  you  to  think  i’ve  got  bad  intentions .   ”

100 gecs sentence starters

@killerkyara - thank you!

   “I couldn’t really say how I feel about aligned fates, but I know I don’t trust coincidence appearing in threes. So either we have unfortunately similar travel plans, or I’ve seen you around one too many times.” 

    A crown of amaranthine bled from silver root, inking over the strands as a false wind picked up. Travel had become easy over time, almost comfortable but a slight disruption in the process threatened HABIT. Hazriel’s cheeks bloomed in violet concern as she warily stepped back, creating space between herself and the stranger. She turned an unforgiving (almost) ultraviolent stare over the unfamiliar figure, offering no room for duplicity or surprise.

    “If I’m honest, opening with an admonition of your intentions doesn’t exactly help your cause either.”

    Although the threatened shadow flared, stirred awake by anxious turmoil, she was in no position to advance further safeguards with her back already turned to a wall. Instead, the avatar was cast from the shadows, a self-appointed intervention of control over the body. In her wake left a transcendental silence with expectations it’d be filled by the other’s further explanations. 

[killerkyara]

Long and nimble in her stride, the rogue did appear to blend so seamlessly amongst her surroundings; if there was something familiar about her, it was as easily placed as her shadow on the wall. This double seemed to stretch unnaturally far, resembling a much grander shape of herself. One might wonder which of them was presently in control — who was the original, the duplicate?

She smiled then, a fleeting thing that drew together her angled brows and flickered warmth throughout a darkened visage. Perhaps a means to reduce the intimidating effects of her imposing stature. Nonetheless, it was difficult to discern any emotion within the depths of eyes that glinted obsidian.

“Trust, shadow, that any malintent on my part would be plain to see; I’ve heard that I have a rather terrible poker face.” The impish look about her served neither to confirm nor deny this fact. Her hands rose to signal surrender, covered in a myriad of scars and inked imagery. Tools of the trade, no doubt.

“...I meant only to find the source of this disturbance, which, seems to follow quite recklessly in your step.” The words rolled off her tongue in a rich, accented purr, certainly not borne from these parts. Yet another far-flung traveler passing through?

[ @hazriels​​ ]

[xiaoguiwang]

with all due respect, which is none,

[frachella]

veneti.a

[n1rvana]

[linneanirell]

A short september poem that came to me as I was looking at the dark trees swaying outside my window.

l. n. p.

✥  Instagram

[lesly-oh]

Here is my piece for @Nova_Mali ’s “Classics but make it gay” zine!!! The Kickstarter is up so go check it out!

[grinshaws-deactivated20130805]

[looks you in the eyes, pats your knee sympathetically] i don’t care

[killerkyara]

مصير -

It was an early spring day, Kyara’s favorite of the season, when the heat of the desert was not yet scorching; instead it settled on the skin like the touch of a lover, a light embrace. The southern trade winds tickled the back of her neck and shoulders, prompting her to adjust the canvas-colored undershirt she wore. She had tanned considerably since her last visit here, so that her flesh was now darker than the fabric. 

She’d spent the day visiting her cousin Nson, a man who resembled his father so greatly in his young adulthood that she would be hard-pressed to tell him from her uncle. His wife Nadia was an old friend of hers; the lot of them had spent plenty of time getting into trouble in their youth. Nson had been a go-getter like herself, while Nadia acted as a constant voice of reason. Funny, she thought, that all of them had since been tempered into cautious individuals.

Keen eyes watched her brother Matin in the sand, where he was entertaining the youngest of the Asaad brood. Nson’s only son was celebrating his third birthday. A rambunctious sort, he’d taken to Matin well enough, who had a natural knack for nurturing. She could only wonder where he had gotten that from. 

“This is nice, no?” Nson’s voice rumbled over the crackle of the campfire he was stoking. The sun would be setting soon enough, thronging them all in the darkest dark this earthly plane had to offer. “We are lucky to finally welcome our amyr.”

Kyara’s lips twisted ever so slightly. “I had reason to withhold him, you know.”

“Did you?” He looks up then, with flames dancing in the inky black of his eyes. “Is it so terrible that he know his family? His blood?”

“When they seek to trap him in a fate he may not even want? Yes.” Kyara sighs roughly then — she knew this topic would be brought up soon enough. “He should be given the chance to be a boy. When he is older, then he may decide.”

“And how is he to decide, when he does not know his options?” Nson falls quiet for a moment and shakes his head. “...Adinah, please. I do not seek to trap him. But you know as well as I, that his rightful place is here.”

She looks away to spy her brother once more. He was growing quickly, too quickly she thought; at times, when he moved, his pace and darkness reminded her of their father. Still, she could not imagine the shy little boy as anything but. 

“Give him time.” She mutters again. “He is in school. He wants to continue. Few take to magic as easily as he; truly, you should see it.”

Silence settled over the group. Only the crackling flames could be heard until Nadia elected to break it. “They grow restless. They wish for a leader. Nasir does well, but he is not the true heir...You earned the mantle—”

A snap of Kyara’s wrist killed the fire, snuffing it beneath a blanket of shadows. “Enough.” She stood, dusting sand from the seat of her pants. “I will not be discussing this further. Matin will be informed when he comes of age. Otherwise, you may visit him and mind your tongue.”

Nson rose both of his hands in a sign of surrender. Nadia shot the shadowblade a deadpan look, but knew better than to challenge a final assertion. She nods.

Turning on a heel, Kyara dips into the cove they were using as a covert base in the dunes. She had refused to meet anywhere else. Inside, the drop of temperature provided some clarity. The curtain that separated her from the outside world rippled from the force of her sudden entry.

The shirt she wore was peeled off her back, damp with a new sheen of sweat. She sat criss-cross on an old resting mat and clamped her hands over her calves. Here she deliberated which reality frightened her the most — her brother’s eventual fate as chieftain, or her own. No answer came quickly.

She suspected it never would.

[aryalaenkha-a]

“Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you’ll find an edge to cut you.”

— Mark Lawrence, Prince of Thorns (via quoted-books)