( &&. red like flames )

with the fire in her h e a r t and the flames in her hair, you'd almost think she would B U R N forever

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seamstress-ofnore:

Unmasked and thoroughly uninvolved in the festivities, Clara sat behind her filled sale stall and absently embroidered a baby dress.  She had sold many brightly-coloured bits and bobs already, and love tokens aplenty as people fell in love with voices from behind masked faces.  The fey might’ve been dancing just outside of the city, and she might have all but forgotten her own nameday that passed on this very night, but with a needle in her hand and a pattern in her head, she was at peace.  The thread that hurried through the cloud-soft wool was a brilliant blue, and slowly it built a lovely pattern of dark waves and glittering fish.  Some fisher’s bairn would wear it prettily, she was sure.

She looked up as a shadow passed between her and the nearest brick brazier, nodding her head politely though she couldn’t see much of their face in shadow.  “Good Alvasidhe t’ye.”

Alvasidhe was at its peak when Maryell joined the crowd, a mask that was on the cheaper side covering her face. Festivities such as this were something the girl couldn’t stay away from. With the streets so full of life, it was a reminder to all of what Nore once was. Since the winter began, happiness was a rare sight. But to find so much happiness in one place was more than she ever could have wished for. It only inspired her further as she felt her magic stronger that night. Her limbs were radiating with heat without her even willing them to. And for the first time in a while, the world felt alive. Her eyes were rested upon the fey dancing outside the city, a smile shining on her face. She so desperately wished she could join them. But this would have to do. If only she could find someone to share all of this with... Maryell scanned the crowd until they fell upon a girl not partaking in the fun.

She walked over to her and removed her mask as she approached. “And to you as well,” she said gleefully. Maryell glanced down at the fabric in her hands. “That’s quite beautiful. Though I have to ask, why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else? Surely it can’t be too exciting sitting here all by yourself.” With a kind smile on her lips, she extended her hand for the girl to take. “Come, dance with me, it will be fun!”

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leo-princeofsol:

Leo grinned a little at her, bowing slightly as he bent over to kiss the back of her hand–even if he were a slave, he could still have some manners. “Lyonell,” he replied before straightening up. He could feel the unflattering weight of the slave collar tugging at his neck, but he tried to ignore it. “I do believe you’re right–if I had the pleasure to meet someone so young and beautiful such as yourself, I surely would have remembered her.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lyonell.” Maryell’s eyes fell over the collar around his neck for a brief moment, hoping to meet his eyes again before he noticed. The girl prided herself on being a bit more open-minded than some of the people in Nore. She saw those who were enslaved as people rather than property. Though she couldn’t help but pity those who found themselves bought and traded like they were nothing. “Thank you, sir, you are very kind,” she smiled, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. Compliments were never lost on Maryell. “What brings you out on the streets today?”

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miss-marion:

“Oh – oh, yes, ah–” Maeve turned to the goat, giving a gentle tug on his lead. HM paused just long enough to look up and blink once, before going back to his business. With that, she looked helplessly back to Maryell. “H-his name is, um, H-His, ahh…” She paused again. Would she ask why Maeve had given him the name? Would she link it to him? It was work to get the words out, but in the end, Maeve spoke: “H-His Majesty.”

Maryell smiled fondly down at the animal. She had always quite liked the prospect of having a pet, but could not afford one herself. It was already enough to have to keep herself fed, she couldn’t begin to imagine having more than one stomach to fill. She let out a small laugh at the name. “You must treat him like a king then,” she spoke playfully. “That’s an interesting name for a goat. Where did you come up with it?” she questioned innocently.

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love-the-eyes:

“What do they call me?” Ruby echoed, her slight smile turning more disinterested. “There’s no need for niceties when you should already know my name.” Indeed, if this woman was a member of the actor’s guild, she’d know Tristan Pendragon at least – and he had written hundred of poems about Ruby herself. She had no patience for who tried to be nice to her by feigning ignorance (or what she assumed it to be anyway), and pretend she was just another woman in Nore.

Her brows knitted together at the other’s words. She had to pause and search her brain for what this woman could possibly be talking about. And then it hit her. “Ah. Ruby,” she said, nodding her head. This was the girl that Tristan had mentioned many times to her. She should have picked up on that sooner. “My apologies, my intention was not to offend you. My mind is often scattered after a performance.” Maryell was telling the truth. She was known among the people she was around often to be quite absent-minded at times. It didn’t help that she met a hundred faces a week.

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gabrielxturner:

To Gabriel, it was no matter of underestimation, it was not some trick of his own humble head telling him his skills were not as refined as they could be for years of practice. He knew it for a fact, he knew it for the way he saw it in his life. The fact that sometimes he couldn’t even by enough to feed himself every day, that his house continued to crumble despite all efforts, that his dreams… Those dreams that had taken from him what he had once held most dear, his family… those dreams would never come true. At this point, that fact didn’t bother him. His passion lacked too much to truly be irked by it.

Yet, he was a kind soul, one who didn’t disagree too strongly ever, if he disagreed at all, and he didn’t want to argue. Instead, the performer bowed his head in acceptance of her compliment, “Thank you for your kind words. Assurances are always well appreciated, though I would not go so far to boast my craft as better or worse than you own. There are so different… I am no great mover, to be sure, I would not think I would want to risk things at this point….

“When did you begin learning these things? How long have you been working at it, exactly?” Gabriel asked politely. He too had started at such a young age, only eight years old, balancing chores, back when life had been better in some way, back when he’d considered himself happy. It was a good time to start, when one wasn’t self-conscious yet, too fresh to know the harshness of criticism. For him, at least. It had taken abandonment to teach him that his efforts were not as loved as he had tried to make them.

Their crafts really could not be compared at all. The only similarity between them was that they were performed on the streets. Other than that, they were two entirely different acts. “It is better that they are not to be compared. Variety draws in more of a crowd than if we were working at the same craft.” She let out a small laugh at his apprehension for trying acrobatics. “I understand. If you ever decide otherwise, I am here almost always.”

Before Maryell’s parents passed away, her sole source of entertainment was performing for her mother. She had been doing it from such a young age that she couldn’t even remember how old she had been when her talent for acrobatics was discovered. Though she remembered the stories her mother told her. The way she would catch the young girl practicing contorting her body in strange ways when she should have been fast asleep brought a smile to her face. She had loved it from such a young age. It was just a shame that her parents weren’t around to see what she had made of it.

“I taught myself how to do these things from a young age. I was blessed enough for this to be a somewhat natural gift. It’s been something I have done ever since I learned to walk, so my whole life has been dedicated to this,” she said with a shrug. Maryell looked him over once more and grew curious about his beginnings. “And you? How long have you been performing on the streets?”

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miss-marion:

Maeve should have gotten on with her work. She had more deliveries to run, and supplies to pick up from the bakery. But the performer had caught her eye – a fearless woman dancing and tumbling in ways Maeve would never have the courage to. She looked on in wonder, His Majesty sniffing about disinterested, empty basket clutched close to her chest.

“I–I, um–” she started, caught off guard. “Y-yes, ma’am, um– i-it was, um…y-yes.”

Maryell’s excited smile turned into one that was filled with empathy as the girl before her struggled to get her words out. People sometimes found shyness off-putting and frustrating, but the red-haired girl found it endearing. Being the confident person she was, she often took pity in those who did not hold the same fearlessness she did. “Thank you.”

Her eyes shifted down to the goat near the two of them. “Is he yours?” she questioned curiously. “What’s his name?”

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love-the-eyes:

Ruby stood among the crowd, watching with mild interest. Performers worked hard for what they did and deserved attention from their audeince members. And, of course, Ruby had to admit that she did enjoy the more daring things. Fire-eaters and acrobats were risking more than just their reputation with each performance, and she liked when people took risks. “I did,” she answered with significantly less joy than the performer, but far from unpleasantly to be sure. “You’re quite skilled at what you do.”

The veil over the woman’s eyes was the first thing Maryell noticed. She had seen this girl around before--of that, she was sure. It was hard to not remember the strange fashion. But the reasoning behind the fabric was unknown to her. She was curious, but knew it was rude to ask. Instead she was left talking to a faceless woman. “Thank you,” she responded, her enthusiasm never lessening. “I am Maryell. I have seen you before but I don’t believe we have officially met. What do they call you?”

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thequeen-crow:

The question was entirely intrusive. A commoner had no business asking for reasoning from a Queen. But the smile upon Ammut’s face did not waver, and she did not stay her words. She would give the nosy little thing an answer, however undeserving she was.

“Nore is a magical kingdom. I have admired it from afar for some years. Your lands are alive with magic, and I wished to behold its grandeur for myself. Surely I cannot be the first to hold such admiration?”

A radiant smile beamed from her face as the woman spoke so highly of Nore. Maryell didn’t know why she was so proud of the land she was such a small part of, but she felt pleased by the Queen’s words. Though she was curious if her words were true. Surely a person as powerful as her was in Nore for other reasons than to simply admire it. But she was not going to question her again.

“No, many people admire Nore. At least they used to. The winter has not been so kind and has left many despising the once beautiful lands. Though those are the ones who knew anything before the cold. It appears that now only the younger ones can appreciate what is left of this place.”

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leo-princeofsol: 

Leo had been returning to the Whorehouse after paying for a bath to warm his slight(er) frame when the young woman dancing in the streets. He stopped, captivated by such a performance, one that so reminded him of the street life of Sol. He folded his arms over his chest as she danced, standing among the back of the crowd. 

He had been watching her so intently that he hadn’t realized most of the crowd had left, and she was talking to him. Leo shook himself from his daydreams and nodded. “I did, Miss,” he said, bowing slightly to her. “You’ve quite a talent for capturing the audience’s attention.”

Maryell studied his face for a brief moment. Handsome, she noticed, but unfamiliar. Spending the majority of her time on the streets, she has grown to know quite a few faces around Nore even if she never spoke with them. Though she hadn’t recognized him and she was sure she would have remembered if she had.

“When it is your only way to keep yourself fed and clothed, you quickly teach yourself how to make people notice you,” she grinned. She paused for a brief moment before extending her hand to him. “My name is Maryell. I do not believe we have met.”

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gabrielxturner:

Where competition may have been something thrilling to some, Gabriel was not all to fond of it. The idea of some being better than others was not strange to him, of course, and he knew his craft lacked in many places, despite the skill that Sybil insisted he had, and he knew she was more like to grab a crowd’s attention, with her movements and stunts. He appreciated that, it was no lie to say he’d enjoyed her performance. Yet the hunger that tugged at his belly from a lack of food, the constant cold that settled into his very flesh, was never too absent to remind him that competition was part of the reason for the financial pit he lay at the bottom of.

However, Gabriel didn’t have it in him to hate, to be upset with anyone, to blame anyone but himself for his situation, and he found his gaze dropping humbly at her compliment, hands folded before him as a slight wind brushed the hair at the back of his neck. Red, like hers, he couldn’t help but observe.

“Thank you for your kind words… The stories are truly the reason people stay, though, they do love to hear them, to distract from the cold, I expect,” Gabriel explained, “As I am sure they find with your craft. It is amazing how you can do such things with yourself, I would fear injury if I were to try even the simplest of stunts.”

Maryell shook her head and let out a hint of a laugh. “Don’t underestimate your skills. People stay for you. The stories only add to it. You are what draws them in,” she explained. The ability to speak and have people listen was an incredible talent. The girl was sure that if she tried to do the same, she would fail. Though she was rather eloquent from having a scholar as a father, telling a story to a crowd was entirely different than a regular conversation.

When it came to her own craft, Maryell had never really feared injuring herself. She only feared injuring others. And it had happened in the past. Being as young as she was, her magic was still not fully under control and trying to do a stunt while wielding fire had gone wrong a few times. There were never any major injuries, but she feared that it was only a matter of time.

“I have been doing it since I was a child. The fear of injury was never that present seeing as children are rather fearless. I suppose I never learned to fear it,” she shrugged. “It’s not as difficult as it looks. I am sure you could learn a simple stunt if you tried.”

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thequeen-crow:

A smile pulled at the Queen’s lips as recognition dawned upon the young woman. She would never tire of that look – the awe and wonder that befell others when they encountered her for the first time. Drawing her fingers back into the sleeves of her fur cloak, her smile widened into something more benevolent. “It is no trouble, child. Wealth is wasted if it is not shared with one’s people.”

Though they weren’t her people…yet.

“In my time here I have come to understand that very few Norns have seen beyond the nameless mountains, so I cannot say I am surprised. It is a pity though, that you know no beauty other than that which surrounds you now. An enchanting young woman like yourself should not have her talents confined to one place for her whole life.

“But while I do think the Southern Isles would agree with your fire, perhaps I am simply biased. Not everyone agrees with the heat as much as myself.”

One’s people. Maryell picked up on her wording of the phrase. She was not a ruler of Nore and they were not her people. Though she was not about to point that out. She could only imagine what harm that would do and was in no position to get herself on bad terms with this woman. Instead, she nodded, her eyes cast downward at her feet for a brief moment.

“It is a difficult journey, going beyond the nameless mountains. Especially for those who have little wealth. The majority of people here know they would not survive such an endeavor,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Though if I could make the journey someday, I would. At least to see what it is like.”

Her eyes flickered back up to the woman. “Bias or no bias, I’m sure you know what is best. And I have no choice but to agree with fire, do I? It is practically what runs through my veins.” Maryell interlocked her fingers in front of her, tilting her head to the side curiously. “If it’s not too intrusive, may I ask why are you in Nore?”

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thequeen-crow:

The Queen was once more out among the Norn people. It was not a place that she favored, but it was good to be seen as a Queen not afraid to intermingle with the smallfolk. But the performance that she’d come across in the streets of the Market Square did not displease her. The young lady wielded her fire magic in a rather enchanting way. The Queen and her entourage clapped as the performance drew to an end, and she stepped forward to hand the girl seven silver marks.

“Yes, we enjoyed it quite thoroughly. Yours is a talent that is very rare among the Norns from what I have seen, at least in terms of artistry. Have you ever thought of taking your show elsewhere? I think it would be much appreciated by the eyes of many Southerners, like myself.”

Maryell’s eyes widened the moment she realized who she was talking to. She was used to speaking and performing for people who were of slightly higher power, but never the Queen of the Southern Isles. Her head bowed slightly out of respect. The girl had no strong liking or disliking for the woman, but she did respect those in ranks higher than herself. She would be a fool not to. Maryell took the the silver marks from her, smiling as she did so. People would often give her spare pennies, but never a gesture as great as that. Seven silver marks was more than she typically made in a day. “Thank you, Your Majesty, that is very much appreciated,” she beamed.

A trace of nervousness waved through her as the Queen spoke. Maryell knew she had to pick her words carefully when talking to someone of such importance. “I have not been anywhere else but Nore. The thought of moving south had never crossed my mind, but I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.” In reality, it frightened her, but perhaps she was right. Maybe Maryell would prosper more in the Southern Isles. “Do you believe I would be better off there?” she inquired.

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gabrielxturner:

She was competition, the part of his mind that managed chores and finances insisted. Another out on the streets, performing to make end’s meet. Someone who might snatch his customers, given that they were set near enough to one another. And he’d watched her start when he’d been finishing, drawing the crowd away slightly, only the loyalists to the spoke word remaining around Gabriel, a small audience to be sure. Even then, once they’d tossed a penny or a half penny into his tin, they headed over to watch her, the red-haired woman. 

Despite himself, once he’d cleaned up, Gabriel had headed to her crowd as well, eyebrows knit together as he watched. Oh, she was good, his inner self decided, she was very good. Sooner or later, like the fool he was, Gabriel was grinning with the rest of them, a true lover of theater of any sort. The expression was so unfamiliar, so strange. Was it good that he liked it, that it wasn’t too bad? It was hard to tell.

None the less, once the crowd faded, he found himself sticking around, perhaps to catch a word or two. Rubbing the snow nervously out of his auburn hair, nodding as she asked, he knew the question well enough. It was routine.

“I liked it very much,” Gabriel admitted, “You are very good at what you do.”

His face was one she recognized. Maryell had seen him many times performing on the streets just as she had. It almost seemed like there was an unspoken competition between them as there was all street performers. They were fighting for an audience, for people to appreciate their work. It was an exciting game to the girl, having to compete like that. It drove her to push herself further and experiment with new techniques. She always found joy in having to challenge herself.

As she eyed the man, she found herself comparing the two. They were alike, yet so different. She exuded nothing but warmth and he was known for appearing cold. Their occupations were considered the same, yet they couldn’t be more contrasting--one used the spoken word to entrance people, the other used only her body. Needless to say, Maryell was intrigued by the man.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” she smiled. “You are a street performer as well, aren’t you? I have seen your work before--quite impressive, really. Actors have always been fascinating to me. The way you can hypnotize people simply by the way you speak never fails to amaze me. How did you learn to do that?”

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Maryell let a bright smile form on her lips as she finished her routine in the streets, her eyes glancing around the people surrounding her. She danced around lightly on her feet as she waved farewell to her audience while the rush of adrenaline that she always got from a performance coursed through her. As her movements came to a halt, her eyes fell onto a person that had decided to stay around for a moment and flashed a grin in their direction. “Did you enjoy the performance?” she questioned lightheartedly.

[goodishmusic]

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[playingwith--fire-blog]

When she was just a girl, she expected the world, but it flew away from her reach and the bullets catch in her teeth.

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c h a r a c t e r     a e s t h e t i c                             →Maryell Daboussier

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                                                            I ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ into the night                                                             The silence is cursing me                                                                       one more time                                                             I’m not ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ in this decline                                         ‘Cause all my [ｄｅｍｏｎｓ] have come back to life