#c: ayers

[the-city-sidere]

5. The Wheel of Fortune, upright

“How are we all feeling?”

Ayers and Rahman blinked at Gwendolyne, the Jackals’ handler, as she swept into their room. It had been ten days since Chalce died. Ayers couldn’t speak for the others, but she didn’t care for the question, or the cheery tone in which Gwendolyne offered it. She couldn’t complain, though; Chalce had already demonstrated the consequences of contradicting one’s superiors in the Web.

Anaster reacted with more aplomb, fortunately, so Ayers didn’t have to force out a response. “We’re still reeling a bit, but we’re ready to serve.”

Gwendolyne nodded, assuming an attitude of sympathy. “We’ve been trying to give you three a bit of a break after that unpleasant business, but it’s time to move on now. Fortunately, I’ve brought someone with me to help you do that. Come on in, Swift.”

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[starwood-stranded-archived]

After Illyan's death and the destruction of the Chronicle's headquarters, a new mechanic, Ayers, arrives to rebuild. Isildur shows her around.

It took a full day for Ayers to even get into the lair itself, which rather annoyed her -- it wasn’t as if she were some petitioner coming to knock at their door; they had called her here, sent for her, practically begged. The innkeeper explained that they were simply very busy and she had to wait until they could reckon with her arrival -- until someone from the newspaper could find time to show her around and take her questions -- but she’d been expected, hadn’t she? The delay certainly didn’t give her a good feeling about the new clan she sought to join. If they were so disorganized …

But finally before noon on her second day in the Pilgrim’s Rest, a crystalline skydancer came mincing over to Ayers and called her name.

“Yes?” Ayers said, raising a claw.

“Ah.” The skydancer approached her. “My name is Isildur. I am here to take you to see our printing press, or what’s left of it.”

That phrasing didn’t exactly bode well, either. As Ayers followed Isildur to the big door at the back of the inn, she said, “Your letter said that your press was in disrepair.”

Isildur chuckled dryly. “That would be Cypress’ optimistic phrasing. It’s a bit … smashed.”

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[the-city-sidere]

6. The Five of Cups, upright

Not long after Gwendolyne left, Swift looked at the old bloodstain on the floor, then at her fellow Jackals. She wasn’t particularly good at reading others’ emotions, but even she could tell that the bogsneak simmered with anger and resentment, and she thought she should probably deal with that before it became an issue. Unfortunately, her way of dealing with that was to lay a hand on Ayers’ shoulder and cheerfully pipe, “Is something wrong?” Ayers glared at her. “Yes, something is wrong. Something has been wrong.” “Ayers, we already went over this,” said the tundra, pushing his hair out of his face. Judging by the hair’s sheer mass, this was an eternal task. “There’s nothing further we can do for Chalce -- even mourning him too much puts us in danger. And his death isn’t Swift’s fault. She doesn’t deserve for you to take it out on her.” Ayers’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t disagree. Meanwhile, Swift parsed Anaster’s words and found one she didn’t understand. “Who’s Chalce?”

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[the-city-sidere]

4. challenge (non-lethal) - dragon vs. self

   “We’re going to die,” Ayers said calmly.

   Anaster gave her a somewhat sympathetic look, but his words weren’t exactly comforting: “Everyone dies eventually.”

   “Not everyone dies like that,” Ayers snapped, gesturing at the rather dingy rug that Jackal Pack’s landlord had thrown over the stubborn bloodstain that wouldn’t come out of the floorboards. “It’s not just the threats; I was fine with those. Well, not fine, but I understood them. Territory is territory, power is power. Break the rules and the rules break you. But that?” Another gesture at the bloodstain. “That’s different. Chalce didn’t die because he did something wrong; he died because Talise was on a power trip. And I don’t want to die to inflate someone’s ego.”

   “He and his sister attacked Talise,” Rahman rumbled. “You don’t think Talise had the right to strike back?”

   “Talise shouldn’t have even been here!” Ayers said. “We could have handled Filmarya; no one had to die -- ”

   “Careful,” Anaster said quietly. “I don’t think you want to question Talise’s actions too loudly.”

   “Why, are you a nark?” Ayers demanded.

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[the-city-sidere]

3. challenge (fatal) - dragon vs. self, Chalce

TW: violence, murder, decapitation

Most business in Ravenbarrow happened at night; its inhabitants tended to sleep late. At least, that was what Ayers snapped out when Rahman and Anaster got up early and started making noise while she remained in bed. But soon after, as Chalce was putting his boots on, an urgent knock came at their door.

Ayers grumbled and sat up as Anaster opened the door -- and then a young pearlcatcher pushed past him, calling, “Chalce? Chalce?”

Chalce dropped his second boot. “Filmarya?”

The other pearlcatcher ran to him and threw her arms around his neck; for a second Rahman thought she was trying to strangle him before he recognized a tight hug. In the second before she buried her face in Chalce’s shoulder Rahman registered how disheveled and wild-eyed she was.

After a moment she pulled away, her furious expression at odds with her previous embrace. “How could you?”

“Um, what?” Chalce blinked, stared, and seemed to gather himself. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I’m not stupid, Chalce. I knew the money wasn’t legal, but I didn’t think you’d do something like this.” Filmarya might have been small for a pearlcatcher, and wearing a pink dress with little flowers embroidered on the hem, but she had a very intimidating glare. “You can’t just move to Ravenbarrow! Do you know how dangerous -- if the law catches you -- and Mother would just die of shame -- ”

“I’m doing this for you,” Chalce said, helplessly.

“And I’m telling you to come home!”

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[the-city-sidere]

1. character building - negative, Rahman & Ayers

Rahman knew, logically, that he must have gotten his land legs by now; he’d been off his ship for days. But that didn’t stop his stomach from lurching, knees weak, as he moved through the world -- a world suddenly altered, torn apart and badly re-assembled from the bloody scraps.

He’d visited Ravenbarrow before this, but not often, and never at night. He peered out a dirty window into the street, spotting furtive movements in the many shadows below.

“You shouldn’t do that,” said a bogsneak voice behind him. He turned to see one of his new partners. What was her name again? Ayers. “People around here don’t like being watched. Any business conducted on the streets of Ravenbarrow at night doesn’t bear looking into.”

“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” Rahman asked. “Dig up people’s dirty secrets? Steal the skeletons from their closets?”

Ayers shrugged with an unpleasant little laugh. “If you can learn anything valuable from up here, you belong much higher in the ranks. Remember me on your way up, yeah?”

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[starwood-stranded]

Dragon share day 8 (favorite white dragon): Ayers!

Before I revamped my lair, Ayers was the printer for my clan newspaper, replacing a dragon who got Pinkerlocke killed. That was a whole retcon ago, though, so she’s a completely different character now: part of my lorelocke!

Ayers is a small-time con artist who picked the wrong target and stepped onto the Whisperweb’s turf. Fortunately (or perhaps not) for Ayers, she impressed Dorre, so instead of killing her or driving her off, Dorre sent Ayers an invitation to join.

Refusing wasn’t an option.