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 I'm Pickin' Up Good Vibrations :: Tarquin, questions on the beach
Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Oct 15 2017, 09:14 AM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


It hadn't been long since morning had broken and still, Cassander was awake. He was like that; when the Sun thought about stirring, his luminous blue eyes opened and he stretched his wings. Once he was awake, he couldn't go back to sleep and because he saw no point in tossing and turning in bed all morning, he rose before first light, ate whatever he had in his storeroom and took to the skies. A quick flight before noon was often just the thing to clear his senses. Usually, it was in the skies for less than an hour, but today, he felt the need to go farther. He drifted through the skies, letting himself catch the currents. He felt his heart rate increase as he flew and he flapped his wings harder – feeling himself lose himself in his exercise. He became lost in the rhythm of his wings against the wind and the pounding of the blood in his head. It wasn't until he caught sight of the ocean that he realized how far he had gone. It shimmered golden and orange in the light of the sun, beautiful and blinding. He turned into a dive, blinking as his eyes adjusted as he sailed toward the ground.

He landed in a run, spraying his immediate vicinity with sand as he ran through the momentum he carried through his flight. As he slowed to a walk, he drew his wings in, shaking and fluffing them out before he folded them neatly. He had no pressing business here, but as long as he had traveled this far, he might as well collect the various flora that grew here, which he would later use for his potions and other magical endeavors. He kept his leather bag strapped to his back between his wings when he went out in the mornings and he wanted it to be bulging with materials on his flight back.

He picked up a strand of seaweed and stuff it into his pack. He produced a vial, uncorked it with a pop and bent at the water's edge as he filled it with sea water. He held his sample up to the light to examine it and was pleased with what he saw. The seawater sparkled under the sunlight and a pitch of sand spun around at the bottom. Seawater wasn't a common ingredient, but when a recipe called for it, it was vital. It was not difficult to obtain, but when he was working under a deadline, it was nothing but stressful to fly all the way to the ocean when he didn't have any seawater on hand. Satisfied, he stowed the vial in his bag and bent down when something shiny caught his eye. He grasped a handful of sand and dipped his fist in the water to rinse it away. Having done so, he held the tiny, hard object up to the light. It was a shell – a bright green shell, impossibly smooth and it seemed to glow when he held it up. No natural shell did that and the only explanation was that it was enchanted.

@Tarquin Ellis

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Tarquin Ellis
 Posted: Oct 18 2017, 11:48 AM
Quote
MercenarySidhe
3,1726'4"
MarriedHomosexual
APPPLOTTER
the devil takes his time


Quinn usually woke up early to practice. Which was more like going through the motions these days, considering how long he had been doing this routine -- aside from when he was out of his mind, because habits no longer applied the same way with the lack of sanity -- but when he was himself, this was that one unchanging thing that he had held onto all these centuries. That one part of himself that remained unchanged and only sharpened by time. He wasn't the same person he had been when he had started, when he'd been the brash young kid who felt that learning the fighting styles was more like home than almost anywhere he had held a dwelling place. Nor was he the same person as that power hungry war general that craved the power and the prestige more for the sake of seeming more worthy of love and affection than he cared to admit to. But he held parts of those people he had once been, because some mindsets were hard to shake.

Power no longer tempts him like it used to, though he has grown accustomed to certain aspects that he holds control over still. His cheetah shift, his fire, his ability to alter biological things -- body heat, healing, hair growth, sharpening his teeth, his sense of smell for better tracking abilities, fading scars he did not wish to keep -- these were the things that he had begun to rely on, and he felt that like an open wound when a new life started without any of these things. And enough of them had. Feeling weak was never a good look on him, though there had been enough times when he had been able to gain abilities back, or new ones, too. Even so, he doesn't miss most of them. He doesn't miss the shadows that remind him of Raiz, or the solar power that reminds him of Allistar, or the water manipulation, though the memories of Chillmaw aren't totally unwanted; he kept the cyan scars that speckled down the left side of his neck, shoulder and chest, after all.

For all of her faults -- and she had many, though who was he to throw such stones? -- she had been a good leader to her people, and that had been what mattered. He had not been one of them, but she had been ruthless but fair, and it was easy for him to help her with her cause. The perks of that were getting paid, and getting to fight against his enemy, so of course it had worked out well where he was concerned. Quinn may never fully forgive her for Samandriel, but that was an entirely different matter, and one he tries not to think about. So power wasn't an issue, but when life dragged out, it was important to have goals. Quinn wasn't sure if he had any at this point, so he went for the next best thing; distractions. Trying to find things to do to occupy his time. Practice, mercenary work and hunting took up most of that, certainly. Yet there were other things that still lingered on Quinn's mind. That, and he still has his obsessions and his favored prey types.

He was prowling around in his cheetah form, mostly sticking to the forest near the ocean, hunting. Quinn was being lazy about it, because he had not hauled in any merc work of late and had little else to do. Therefore, he was being picky about what trail to follow when he glanced upwards and spotted the winged creature. Now that was something to hunt. He sprinted forward until he was out of the trees and his paws met sand, and slowed to a shuffling walk. It gave him a better view of the winged one, and it only took a moment of observation and scent inhaling to tell that he was watching a winged male; and one that looked young and soft. Quinn's tongue flicked out over his nose, down one side of his mouth the way felines did, quietly pressing closer, the sand muffling the sound of his approach. The winged one was holding up a pretty green shell when Quinn leaned forward the last few inches and attempted to lick right across the nearest wing.

large pale gray cheetah shift


@Cassander Tuireann
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Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Oct 20 2017, 04:55 PM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


He had been so engrossed in the treasures he had discovered that he didn't hear the creature approach until it was too late. He was a crazy old cat lady in training, so identifying soft feline footfalls was his forte, but he was too busy inspecting and sampling and thinking up the possibilities of what could be done with these things he had discovered, that he was oblivious to the creature behind him until he felt a breath of wind on his left wing. That would have been normal, had the wing not been so localized or so warm. Wind shouldn't be so warm, especially not this close to the ground and not this close to the ocean. In a single smooth motion, he drew his wings into his body and whirled around. He found himself face to face with a cheetah.

Cassander blinked, surprised. Out of all the creatures to approach him on the beach (or anywhere), a cheetah was not high up on his list. He stared the creature right back, not sure if it was the right thing to do when facing a cheetah. The last thing was supposed to do was look some species of predatory animals in the eyes, but in his moment of surprise, shock, and then ignorance, Cassander couldn't think of a better thing to do.

His first thought was that the cheetah was a dumb beast, but it was bold if that was a case. He couldn't imagine that any normal, dumb beast would come right up to him. No, this creature was magical. He doubted it was a Talking Animal – they would likely have the manners not to sneak up behind him or would have spoken by now. It could have been a ghastyn or a changeling, but he doubted that was the case; this creature had a more malicious feeling about him...even though changelings were not known for their kindness.

He decided that the best thing to do was to talk to it. There was no one around, so it turned out to be a dumb beast after all, no one would see Cassander making a fool of himself. If the cheetah could talk, then he could get some answers out of him. Perhaps he would turn out to be a rare creature the likes of which Cassander had yet to even read about.

“Good morning.” He said, only just realizing that he had taken several steps back and raised his hands in front of his torso. They weren't quite in the air, yet, but they represented something of a “don't hurt me” gesture. “Great time for a run, eh?”

@Tarquin Ellis

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Tarquin Ellis
 Posted: Oct 21 2017, 02:34 PM
Quote
MercenarySidhe
3,1726'4"
MarriedHomosexual
APPPLOTTER
the devil takes his time


The drawing in of wings elicited a surprised chirp from Quinn, obviously not expecting that response; nor the bold staring right back at him from the male. Quinn held the gaze with a thoughtful, curious expression and waited it out, wondering what the male was going to do next. The sudden lack of wings was upsetting, and Quinn was debating if that posed more of a danger to the male standing before him, or less. He wasn't sure, because there was no way to unsee them in his mind's eye. It lingered like a shadowy outline in his brain. There's too much of a reminder sifting through his memories right now to think of eating this one, and therefore the male was safe for now. That was enough.

Maybe it was also brought on by the fact that he was being stared at, mixed in with the fact that he felt no threat coming from that stare. The feeling of a threat would have gotten a different response from Quinn, but he doesn't see it here, and it keeps him calm. It stirs an ache in his gut that he pretends isn't there, but the thoughts are pushed away at the sound of the male's voice and the fact that the once-winged one had taken steps back, hands in a half blocking sort of pose. Right now Quinn's mind was far from the ideas of shredding or making a meal out of the male; but that did not mean it was safe. There were enough dark thoughts to point in an entirely different direction from safe, but at the moment all was well.

More words and nods; the slightest downward tilt of his head. He'd just gotten an idea from the question. "Yes it is. Would you like to run with me?" It was a light inquiry. A pause; "It's a shame you put away your wings. Is it because I'm feline, or because I tried to touch them?" Yet Quinn knows the answer -- the wings were gone before the male had even turned around -- but that did not make it less valid that they remained gone when it was realized that Quinn was feline. The loss of sight of them doesn't make the male less of a target now, though. That damage was already done. The winged creature had been a target the moment Quinn had spotted him. The type of target however, was always subject to change.

All the little similarities ticked off one by one in his head; winged -- at least the male had been -- a boyish look, slender, pale, and even just having a backpack out here. It made Quinn wonder if this male liked to write, if he had a journal or a notebook full of notes; how he felt about music, if he played anything at all. Quinn held the questions to himself for now. Those things would change nothing, either way. Curiosities and nothing more. Quinn was oddly relaxed, save for the random twitch of his tail as he waited to see what would be said next; whatever reaction the winged one had. Which posed another question that he would not hold back on. "What's your name? I'm Quinn." Better to have a name than what he was calling the once winged one in his mind.

large pale gray cheetah shift


@Cassander Tuireann

This post has been edited by Tarquin Ellis: Oct 21 2017, 03:30 PM
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Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Oct 21 2017, 04:20 PM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


He half expected the cheetah to growl at him and bare his teeth, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he spoke up and a bright, very humanoid-sounding voice came from his muzzle. Cassander wasn't sure if he felt relieved or not. Should this turn ugly, it was easy to defend himself for killing a dumb beast with magic. Easy, but regrettable. Now that the creature had revealed that he was sentient, Cassander knew that he had all the same rights in society that he did – in polite society, anyway.

He didn't quite understand what he meant by his invitation to running, but it didn't take him long to figure it out. Of course! He was a cheetah and the thing that cheetahs did best was run. Of course, that was what Cassander assumed cheetahs did best. He didn't know, not being a cheetah himself and he couldn't recall seeing one up close, but he had read about them. What came next took him aback. Strangers – non-banshees – were usually trying to touch his wings. He found this trait to come more from humans or even werewolves, especially those who had never seen a banshee before and that wasn't to mention all the bullying he had endured during his childhood. In the beginning, he had gone along with it and allowed himself to be petted, but now, he drew his wings close to his body and glared at anyone to reached out to touch them.

“Because you tried to touch them.” He scowled. He belonged to one of the oldest and proudest races of Speirling – he wasn't some animal for a zoo exhibit. “How would you like it if I went around petting you without so much as a warning?” He realized that such might be a weak analogy. Perhaps the cheetah didn't mind being petted or he expected it as he was, well, a cheetah.

The cheetah did show some propriety, as he introduced himself as Quinn and Cassander's scowl softened, a little. He couldn't afford to let up his guard, yet. Who knew what this creature actually was? He could be a benign Talking Animal who preferred the sea to the jungle, a changeling making his rounds, or something much, much more malicious. He longed to know exactly what he was facing – that way, he could start to ask questions and if he was very, very lucky, he might walk away with a sample in his pack.

“Cassander Tuireann of Gaothaidh.” He said, with a bow so slight that it was no more than an incline of the head. “Magician.” He added, to give the cheetah an idea of what he was dealing with, even if he had chosen not to be so forthcoming.

@Tarquin Ellis

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Tarquin Ellis
 Posted: Oct 21 2017, 05:50 PM
Quote
MercenarySidhe
3,1726'4"
MarriedHomosexual
APPPLOTTER
the devil takes his time


Quinn wasn't great at following polite society's rules and did not feel tied down by social conventions. He was much better at looking at things through an animal's thought processes, after all. Quinn was still a mix of that and all that he had learned growing up, and he could mimic to a point. Didn't mean he had to like it or keep it up, though. He tended to do what he wanted to do without thinking twice on how others felt about it. Sure, the feelings of a few close to him mattered and made him think twice and even hold back on some impulses, but that was a rare thing. Mostly due to the fact that he tended to be stingy with whose feelings he gave a damn about in the first place.

His current attempted friendliness wasn't without less than pure intentions, but he had settled on deciding how interested he was in seeing any of it out further from here and now. His questions brought a scowl with the reply, but the answer did not stop there, because a question was posed back at him. Quinn stepped forward and canted his head to the side; "Oh, behind the ear if you please." He responded, letting that be the answer in itself. Truth was, Quinn expected very little in that regard from others, because if they wanted to touch him, then they would face the consequences of it if he wasn't open to it; but that was a risk they got to decide to take or not. If they were strong enough to take, then that was that.

He inhaled when a certain scent came to his attention, and he peered at the male. "Do you ask the cats if they mind you petting them? Do you give it any thought at all, or do you figure it'll let you know it doesn't like it after you've done it?" Quinn shrugs his feline shoulders and grins as only a feline could. He could say more, but he doesn't, not at the moment. His focus turns to the name given. "Cassander. That's lovely." He said, liking the sound of it. Fitting. As for the magician part, Quinn rolled the term around in his mind for a moment. He wasn't interested in giving out his usual occupation just now, because it did not have a lot of good attached to it when it was heard. At least he had skills to fall back on.

So he doesn't give anything more in response, and instead he decides to try and find out what kind of magician Cassander was. "Would you mind showing me a trick, magician?" A light inquiry on the matter, wanting to keep it open and let Cassander decide on type -- if he was willing to do a trick at all -- because what was done could say a lot about the kind of creature Cassander was, or how the male was feeling at the current moment. Quinn wouldn't be at all surprised if Cassander was already a bit irritated by Quinn, but the questions were actually borne of wanting to know the way that Cassander thinks. The petting question itself had more of a point on if Cassander would look at Quinn as less in cheetah form than in humaniod form.

And it was a question that Quinn had once answered in regards to someone else, and considering that situation and what it had taught him, Quinn knew that asking it and finding out the answers made quite a difference. If it was answered honestly, of course. Quinn's way of thinking had changed from those days, but he'd had a very, very long time for that to happen. If Quinn wanted to get close to Cassander, it was only practical to see what approach would work better for him to get where he wanted to be. And he was still sussing out exactly what that was, though he had a very good idea what the end game was in his mind.

large pale gray cheetah shift


@Cassander Tuireann
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Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Oct 25 2017, 04:38 PM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


Cassander regarded the cheetah with a wary expression. As was present with all furry, attractive animals, he felt drawn to pet him. Maybe it was a humanoid thing; when you didn't have fur, you craved the touch of fur on the animals that did have it. He thought it doubtful that Quinn – whatever he was – was going to bite his hand off after all this time and even if he did... Well, Cassander would deal with that if and when it came to that. He stretched out his hand, hesitantly, at first, going straight for the area behind Quinn's ear, but drew it back with a huff of indignation when the cheetah decided it appropriate to dissect his relationship with his cats.

“My cats give off signals that let me know when they want to be petted!” He protested. “For example, did you know that cats only meow to each other when they're kittens, which means that when they meow to us...humanoids...” But then he realized something. He hadn't mentioned his kitties to Quinn, had he? He did a quick scan of their conversation and couldn't remember telling him anything about his pets. This gave rise to a whole host of questions and if Cassander had been feeling the faintest bit uneasy around this beach-cheetah, the feeling was increased tenfold. Was someone watching him? Was it Quinn or was Quinn part of a bigger organization that watched him while he was deep in thought, reading, or concentrated working on a spell. He had chosen his home deep in the mountains because it promised to keep him far away from the bullies that had plagued him ever since he could remember. Was it all for not?

He was about to call Quinn out for this cat transgression when he realized that wasn't as smart as brushing it off. If Quinn (or his employers) knew he was onto them, it was a lot more likely that they would have to drop their cover and attack him. Cassander couldn't allow that to happen, yet. He needed more information and he was in no way prepared to handle an ambush from people who were presumably spying on him. “It's immaterial.” He waved a hand, dismissing the issue, but he still made no move to touch Quinn behind the ear – not after what he had just discovered.

Under normal circumstances, Cassander might have put up a bigger fight when being asked to show off a trick on command. He might have even shown offense. Outside of a meeting with a new client, he didn't see the need to show off his skills to thrillseeker, but after what Quinn had just revealed, Cassander thought that the best thing to continue feigning ignorance was to do as he was asked. “I don't do tricks, my cheetah friend. I execute spells, jinxes, hexes, enchantments, and brew potions, but as you wish. If a trick is what you wish to see, a trick is what you'll get.”

Without turning his back on Quinn, he sidestepped his way to the very edge of the ocean and dipped his hand into the water, pulling out a handful of sand. Using his free hand, he waved his fingers at it. For a moment, the entire picture looked stupid, but something akin to blue smoke flew from his fingertips and into the sand. It jumped from his palm, rising up to form the liquified sand embodiment of what was unmistakably a cheetah. Cassander allowed his creation to frolic for a moment before tipping his hand and letting it all fall back into the ocean.

“I hope you enjoyed that.” He said, pleasantly.

((OOC: I'm not sure if you want to go along with this plot or not, but I decided to have Cassander freak out a little more – it's in his nature, whether or not you want to have Quinn participate.))

@Tarquis Ellis

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Tarquin Ellis
 Posted: Oct 25 2017, 06:34 PM
Quote
MercenarySidhe
3,1726'4"
MarriedHomosexual
APPPLOTTER
the devil takes his time


Quinn supposed that Trig had changed his view on how he looked at furred things and his own urge to pet them, when even his own furred form hadn't given him that insight right off. Then again, Quinn had not been aware of talking animals being what they were, and not having a humaniod form to begin with. Of course Quinn had been little more than a child back then, and a lot of things had been new to him. Now, however, he did tend to think about what touching any furred thing meant; or touching anyone at all. Didn't stop him, which was made clear by the mere fact that he had just reached to lick at a humaniod's wing, but that was because Quinn had decided the risk was worth it. He hadn't felt concerned.

Perhaps he was simply too confident and reckless for his own good, but that had been the truth for ages by now. This did not mean he had not been slapped down for it more than once -- because he had, absolutely -- but that he felt sure that he would be able to get back up and dust himself off if things went sideways again. In some way or another, at least. There were no assurances in where or how. This was not turning or tumbling within his mind so much now that Cassander's hand was reaching to that spot behind his ear before drawing it back before there was even a brush of fingers at his fur. A grumble went hollow in Quinn's throat, but he didn't say anything about it. Yet.

The protest from Cassander gained a calm look from Quinn, then a ember of curiousity in his gaze. "Do they? Do you?" He'd be fighting a smile if he were in humaniod form, but in this form there was only a slight twitch of his whiskers. The meowing example was taken in stride, and he nodded. "It also sounds different in other parts of the world. The way they meow, that is." He adds, tail swaying once, twice, behind him. The movement was unhurried, as Quinn did not want to cause alarm by the movement or any other at the moment. "And cheetahs are the old large wild feline that purrs." If they were trading feline facts, why not add to it? That was one of Quinn's favored parts, after all.

Quinn did not realize that something was more off with Cassander after the meow comment, though in all fairness, Cassander had been hesitant at the start, so nothing seemed off to Quinn right now. Perhaps he was over-looking crucial things within the conversation, but that was bound to happen here and there when his mind did not recognize any threat. Plus, it would never have dawned on Quinn that his keener, feline sense of smell would be dismissed for the belief that it would be more like a human's, either. Immaterial. Quinn gave Cassander a thoughtful look. "What is? Feline facts or that I think your name is lovely?" He inquired blithely, not perfectly sure how he would take either answer.

The request to see a trick, to Quinn, had been done politely and without any command to it; he had been focusing on the attempt to be a little less domineering for Cassander's sake. Plus, it wasn't a good thing to royally piss off someone who could be adept at spellwork when the intent was to let them go. And it hit him squarely what Cassander was in the next few words the male had spoken. A witch. Quinn's expression was instantly and carefully wiped blank. He had to fight to repress the rising of his own hackles, managing to keep smooth all but a few prickled hairs at his nape. He had to contemplate all of this over more, now, after what he had heard from Cassander's own mouth on what he did.

He did not move while Cassander reached for the surf, the sand under the water and pulled a handful out. Finger waving, blue smoke, and then the sand had become a frolicking cheetah shape. A quiet ache settled within his chest, but Quinn didn't make a move, he merely watched the sand cheetah until it fell back into the ocean. His gaze remained on the frothy waves for a moment, an ear twitching when Cassander spoke again. "Yes, I did." A pause. "My best friend would do that with dirt. It's a welcome reminder of them." He responds gently, saying nothing of the golems created once upon a time; that power had been long gone for quite awhile now, and Quinn wasn't sure he missed it or how twisted it had all become.

(( i'm perfectly fine with the idea of quinn being hired to spy on cassander, if that's what you mean? i'm sure i can work it in if so ))


@Cassander Tuireann

This post has been edited by Tarquin Ellis: Oct 25 2017, 06:35 PM
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Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Oct 29 2017, 07:58 PM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


“Female cats are typically right-pawed, while male cats are typically left-pawed.” He announced, proudly. He wasn't one hundred percent sure why he had found it so important for Quinn to know that he was the only person to know something. Maybe he felt left out. Maybe he felt that Quinn shouldn't get away with being the only one to have feline facts up his furry sleeve, even though he was one (until further examination). Perhaps it was simply in Cassander's nature to always have to know something. Knowledge had been his only weapon, growing up. There had been times when he had literally shielded himself with a book, but if he really wanted the bullies to leave him alone, he would spend hours pouring over books, finding the ingredients for learning or building a new spell that would knock them all on their feet. As old habit dictated he would, he searched the dusty part of his brain, searching for random things he remembered about animals purring.

“Rabbits and bears purr.” He announced. A strained expression came over his face as he came up with the last animal on the list. “And the mongoose.” He added. He had only seen a mongoose in the flesh once or twice, but then this was the first time he had seen a cheetah. He was about to go on and list off all the facts he knew about mongooses when he remembered that he was supposed to be brushing all of this off. “It's immaterial” he had said, so it was time to put aside his ego. “I read it in a book.” He added, waving a hand as if it was nothing. “Don't know how accurate that book could be, though!” He added, wailing internally for giving tongue to such blasphemy.

“The existence of my cats – what?” He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but that question certainly hadn't been it. Cassander hadn't given much thought to his given name for years – ever, probably. He didn't see enough people in the non-professional sense to receive compliments on anything other than, “I love that hat – it matches your staff” before he returned the compliment with something equally bland, like, “great shoes!” and once the social script had been fulfilled, they would then engage in business and Cassander wouldn't have to worry about having to accept to give compliments – navigating the business of freelance magic was stressful enough. “Uhhh.... thanks?” He finally said, realizing that he had left silence hanging between them for longer than was polite. “Yours is great too?” He did his best to make it a statement and didn't succeed. He wasn't sure how he felt about receiving such a compliment on his name of all things – unusual as it was. He supposed it was nice, but he felt a shiver creep up his spine. It did not couple well with his suspicions about Quinn.

He was pleased with Quinn's reaction to his spell. It had been bold of him, to pick the cheetah as the form in which he would bring the sand to life. He would like to ask Quinn for a sale – some form of business. Such would be an excellent excuse to keep an eye on him and there would be no telling what information Cassander could get off of him in the name of “business”. He knew better than to ask him cold. It would come off as pushy – too much too soon. He barely knew the man – cheetah. He would offer him a free gift before asking for a freelance opportunity, but before he did that, he would have to better acquaint Quinn with himself, in the form of becoming better acquainted with Quinn.

“Your friend is a magician? Would they be here, in Gaothaidh?”

@Tarquinn Ellis

((OOC: I'm open to anything. I had Cassander become suspicious of him after Quinn mentioned his cats, but you're welcome to have Quinn spying on Cassander or totally innocent and there like, "why are you so weird brah?"))

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Tarquin Ellis
 Posted: Oct 30 2017, 10:04 AM
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MercenarySidhe
3,1726'4"
MarriedHomosexual
APPPLOTTER
the devil takes his time


He quietly processed the information given, thinking it over. "I'm ambidextrous." He shrugs, because it's nothing that really matters or makes a difference in the grand scheme of things. He wonders if maybe he favors his left over his right -- most of his scars gotten by design were on the left -- but there are other things to focus his attention on right now that was much more interesting than which side he favored over the other. Quinn had been careful to learn skills with both, because there was no knowing what might happen. He'd been blinded once, due to a brief curse, and that had been difficult enough on him. A warning over the things that he could lose if he wasn't cautious, if he crossed someone he shouldn't. Yet he had crossed many that he should not over the years, and most of the scars of those encounters had long since faded. If he let them. The scars from the burning chains were long since gone; they had made a mess of his flesh.

Quinn spent a lot of his time avoiding most books. He would much rather learn outside of one when possible, and was unabashedly more brawn than brains when it came right down to it. Quinn didn't exactly look like it most of the time, but he also liked it that way. To look like less of a threat, because that did tend to get him closer to what he wanted a fair amount of the time. Unless he was known enough for the suspicion. Or wore weapons, or was in his cheetah form as he was now. Large felines did not exactly instill the feeling of safety, after all. Yet Quinn was showing no threat here and now. Any thoughts of simply trying to eat Cassander was dust in the wind; Quinn had other thoughts where the magician was concerned. Though Quinn was going to be cautious with the provided information as to what kinds of things that Cassander did; all the stuff that to Quinn labeled Cassander as more of a witch than anything else. It made Quinn wary.

And he was impulsive and reckless enough that he wasn't often this sort of wary of others. Cassander might not look all that dangerous, but Quinn knew far too well that looks could be deceiving. He had learned that lesson hard, and was more or less that same lesson unto others that did not think him capable of all that he was due to a pretty face. So Quinn would watch and listen and gather whatever snippets of information was handed out. For now, however, animal facts seemed to be what was given. That rabbits and bears purred, and the mongoose, too. Quinn nods, his expression light and oddly happy at the mention of the rabbit purring and the memories it provided. "Rabbits and their teeth purring, yes. I have a soft spot for black rabbits." Enough that he didn't hunt that particular shade of rabbit, and wouldn't let Macalla or Eska hunt them, either. Teaching hunting birds not to hunt any type of rabbit was not the easiest of tasks, either.

Quinn said nothing on the accuracy of books, but on the comment of the existence of Cassander's cats, Quinn quirked a feline brow at the male, and with the long pause, Quinn spoke up; "Of course they exist. Their scents linger all over you." He pointed out, peering at Cassander thoughtfully. Another tail twitch, though Quinn went silent at the 'thanks' for a moment, before huffing in amusement at the responding name flattery. "Hardly. But it's better than Finley, that my mother wanted to name me." His expression was almost a wince for a moment. "Not that it stopped her from calling me Finley or Finn pretty much always." Though he supposed he didn't mind Finn so much. When Cassander asked on if Quinn's friend was a magician and here in Gaothaidh, he shook his head. "Not a magician, but an earth manipulator; dirt, rocks, minerals and plant matter. And no, they are far from here." He responded evenly. Probably better that way for everyone else.

(( well, quinn will probably be kinda a stalker at this point anyway, so we could add spying or not to that? i'm cool with either way ))


@Cassander Tuireann
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Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Nov 5 2017, 10:00 AM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


I HEAR THE SOUND
OF A GENTLE WORD
He probably likes the taste of them best. Cassander though, but he couldn't find much fault with that – he hunted and ate rabbit just as much as the next man. He had no qualms with serving up the fluffy creatures for dinner; it was the treatment of cats that concerned him. It was cultural and the fact that his kitties had been his only consistent companions for years. The affinity he felt for them extended to all cats, but he hated to think about what he would do to the person who harmed a hair on their furry heads. He hated the idea of someone watching them or using them as leverage to get at him – without thinking twice about the animals' lives.

This fed in nicely to Quinn's confession that he could smell his cats on him. Oh, so maybe this man wasn't some spy spent by some noble, dissatisified by Cassander's magical services. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember any recent instances of people – rich or otherwise – being dissatisified with his products. He supposed that he not only smelled like his cats, but he was likely covered in cat air and it didn't take a cheetah to lift their scent off of him. He was likely being paranoid about this whole spy theory. Yes, that was it. Those who lived alone were often paranoid – it came with the territory. Still, it did nothing to help the feeling of uneasyness when he looked at the cheetah. They weren't native to the Dreim Mountain range, but Quinn would have been able to clib it with ease. Cassander realized that he had no idea if cheetahs could climb trees, but they were basically large cats and he imagined that he would have no problems scaling the vegetation that surrounded his cave home and seeing inside would have been as easy as reading a book.

Cassander had never known his mother. Well, he had, but he could barely remember her. At least he knew she had given him his name. She must have, but he had no idea as to her reasons behind it. It was quite an old name and no one ever used it. He had often wondered if he had been named after his father or another relative, but as his mother had died before he had been old enough to conceptualize fathers not being around in Riasglach and why mothers named their sons as they did. “So, she went and named you Finely, it sounds like.” He snapped, not meaning to be rude. Spy or no, he had no interest in angering a cheetah that was so close to him. His mother could have named him “tablecloth” if it meant she was still with him.

He was grateful for the distraction of the discussion of Quinn's magical friend. Cassander had no baggage when it came to discussing friends, never mind that his two best friends were cats. He did not add that he had similar powers that this friend did when it came to lightning. Even though he smelled of cat, he had not thrown out the theory that Quinn could be a spy, or worse, an assassin. It was best to keep his most destructive powers until last.

“You should introduce us.” He suggested. A shiver ran up as his spine as he realized that this friend might have been spying on him, too.

tag: @Tarquinn Ellis
words: 574
notes: stalking and/or spying is fine -- I'll with whatever you decide will best serve your character development.

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Tarquin Ellis
 Posted: Nov 5 2017, 12:41 PM
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MercenarySidhe
3,1726'4"
MarriedHomosexual
APPPLOTTER
the devil takes his time


Quinn actually did not like using any other creature against someone for leverage or any of that. It was one of those few things that he tried to avoid, no matter how smart of a play it could be. Because he knows full well that it could be just that, if only because he had stood against that type of situation before. He hadn't liked it at all, not in any of the instances. Not in the use of that kind of leverage, and not in the face of those who would target those who mattered to a person to get back at them. Quinn had been there, had lived it. That was why such a thing was woven into his shaky moral code not to do. Yes, there were terrible things done for the sake of no good choices presented in some situations; but if Quinn was going after someone, then it was them alone that he did his best to target, and not those who mattered to them.

Any time he even considered the idea of using such leverage he remembered that ground falling out from under him feeling when Irial and Coma had been threatened, and the day he'd found Raine broken and bloody on the kitchen floor. And that hadn't even been against Quinn, but a mistaken aim of retribution at Sirius; who had taken the gentle, dying human from the floor to change Raine into something undead. Quinn had been seething over it all for weeks and had only touched his once human lover one time after that, and then never again. But the reasoning had ran deeper than just that change, though it had been near enough anyway. So Quinn remembers the type of disaster that can devastate lives over going after someone through those they cared about. It keeps him from using that kind of tactic unless it's the last ditch option of something truly important.

For Quinn, knowing his mother, having any good memories of her; that had made all of her betrayals that much worse for him. He had never cared any for Amery, so that had been so much more easy for him in the end, but Scotia had been kind once. Quinn doesn't quite know what made her freeze them all out, cast a blind eye to Roman's suffering at Amery's hand; but for that and other things along the way, it made Quinn hate her all the more for standing idly by and letting it all happen. But no less conflicted about it when he had snapped her neck. She had found him too many years after sending him away and marking him off as dead to the family, seen Connor, and Quinn could not allow that kind of threat to his then-new human husband, autoimmune and already dying with each passing day. The mere threat of Quinn's parents stealing away the short time he had left with Connor could not be allowed. So it wasn't. End of that story.

The snapped words from Cassander made him blink, frown, then shrug his shoulders. "Middle name. My father wanted a stronger sounding first name, and she let him push her around on any other matter." He shrugs; it was probably the one and only thing that Amery had done that didn't piss Quinn off. Give him a name that wasn't Finley. Quinn's gaze simmered with something dark and irritated, a hint of long past anger lingering there before he blinked his expression blank again. Cassander snapping the words made little sense to Quinn, but he'd fed into it due to his own feelings where his mother was concerned. Now he was pondering over the meaning of it, why any of it would have bothered Cassander enough to snap at the mention of the name Quinn's mother had wanted for him. All he could think was that mothers might be a touchy subject for Cassander. But he doesn't ask why.

Quinn let that go for now, because it wasn't his business to ask, and he doesn't want to make things uncomfortable for Cassander. It's not a thought that Quinn often had -- caring about what makes someone comfortable or not -- but for a few, he kept it in mind. Cassander seemed to have gained that, for now. The suggestion on being introduced to Quinn's best friend had Quinn huffing, "If I did that, you would be considered a food offering. Or—" A pause to grasp at the right word to use, "a threat." He doesn't bother to explain what that really meant at this point. "So no, I don't think so." He adds firmly, eyeing Cassander from top to bottom before his gazed flicked back up to look the male in the eye. "Why not introduce me to your best friend? It's probably safer." Quinn points it out evenly. Probably. If Cassander's best friend wasn't a lion, hyena, wolf shifter, deity, witch or something that would want to hunt Quinn, that is.

large pale gray cheetah shift


@Cassander Tuireann
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Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Nov 12 2017, 09:04 PM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


I HEAR THE SOUND
OF A GENTLE WORD
Middle name? Cassander wasn't sure what Quinn was going on about. As far as he was concerned, his mother had named him Finley, but he decided not to push the matter. People went and renamed themselves all the time. He supposed that those who did so had different reasons for it and he didn't have a problem when people did so. He was feeling how he was feeling because he had been forced to grow up without a mother – without any sort of parent, for that matter. A parental figure had arrived, eventually, but she had arrived too late to raise it. It was a nice having an adult – another adult, technically – in his life, but things had changed; he had matured too far to want her presence in his cave. He would ask her for guidance and take his meals with her and her girls, but she could not truly be a mother to him. His books had been mother, father, and siblings to him and when they failed him, he had to make it on his own until he had found his cave. Some people had no idea how lucky they were...

Of course, he had no idea who Quinn really was. For all he knew, he could have been watching him for all this time, learning all about the cave, Arcadia, the spells and potions Cassander had invented, his kitties – all of it. Then, of course, he could be off the mark and Quinn could just have unusual social skills. Perhaps Cassander was the one with the poor social skills. As previously mentioned, he didn't exactly have parents to teach him what was and wasn't acceptable.

Whatever, Finley. He thought, conjuring images of the gray cheetah crouching just before the entrance of Mount Tonitrua, watching him bring home fish to his feline darlings.

“Oh, your best friend is a cannibal?” He was surprised with the ease at which the casual, but cutting remark came out of his mouth. He wasn't the type to make cutting remarks; perhaps the idea of a stranger in the skin of the cheetah sneaking into his home – whether or not his suspicions were true – sent him to an emotional state that he had yet to explore. “Charmed.” He added, still surprised to hear himself speak. He was not a master of wits – he was a polished businessman and before that, he had been a timid boy; never in his life had he been...well, like this.

He thought of Arcadia. Safer? Doubtful. The woman was a bounty hunter with two teenage girls she was hell-bent on protecting. No, he couldn't classify any mother – biological or otherwise – as safe. As for his own safety in the event of meeting dangerous and possibly cannibalistic friends, he knew he was not and would never be a warrior with weapons of steel, but his powers had been getting stronger and his spell repertoire more expansive and he no longer feared the prospect of being taken out by some cheetah spy who had decided to make himself known on a beach.

“I don't think that wise. She's not exactly safe, either.” He was about to go on and explain that Arcadia was not a cannibal, but decided to shut up and let him wonder.

“But perhaps you could give me a tour of your beach?” This beach didn't belong to anyone, save the royal family of Gaothaidh, but perhaps his request would trigger information about where Quinn was staying. Or perhaps Quinn would simply take him on a pleasant walk, but Cassander doubted anything would ever be as simple as the latter.

tag: @Tarquin Ellis
words: 613
notes:

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Tarquin Ellis
 Posted: Nov 13 2017, 12:36 PM
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MercenarySidhe
3,1726'4"
MarriedHomosexual
APPPLOTTER
the devil takes his time


Tarquin was the name on the official certificates, but Quinn wouldn't know if names simply uttered by mothers held any ground in some cultures, and nor did he much care about it. He might concede that he had picked the shortened version of Quinn for most use, though he wasn't sure if he had been the first to use it for himself. Roman could have very well started that, though Quinn would never really know the answer to that now. Not that it had ever been a concern to him. Quinn was fine with his name, though he had given pause once or twice on his last name and why he would cling to it when it was attached to all that it was. Yet he'd never attempted to change it, even though he had enough chances to.

He does, however, know how lucky he had begun. He had heard the joke about being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he hadn't denied that jab. Perhaps that was a reason that Quinn did not care too much for material things -- he was greedy in other ways, certainly -- and could fit in a suitcase all material things that had mattered to him in his life. He doesn't even have half of that now. Just the various trinkets of the past, most shoved in a pouch and buried for safe-keeping. He liked to live in the forests and the caves, tunnel systems and little hand made huts, and only bothered with anything near proper when he wasn't alone. Even then, a furnished cave was right up his alley. Similarities.

More often than not, any clothing that he wore was off of his more humaniod meals. It wasn't that he lacked the funds to buy clothing, but he often lost or left them when shifting for long periods of time, and to buy clothes, it was best to be wearing some. Naked people often got chased out of shops, so the situation came full circle. And then why bother at all if what he'd confiscated was good enough? None of that changed where Quinn had come from and what he'd once had. There might be something to be said on who he was as a person as to how he lived now, but he doesn't much care about how he was seen by others in that way. Not unless he was going after something where that sort of thing mattered.

His social skills were war worn and feral; spotty at best, because even when he'd gotten better training, Quinn still tended to revert back to what he was more comfortable with. Like a steel trap; rusty and illegal in most places. The kind of company he kept might also be a factor in that, and Quinn wasn't about to change that. It changed all on it's own enough to leave him alone more than he'd like to be. Still, when Cassander's cutting remark about the best friend being a cannibal, Quinn didn't miss a beat; "Yes. If by cannibal you mean they eat anything humaniod-looking when the urge strikes." His tone was even, finding no reason to find offence in the way the remark had been spoken. Social norms were what they were, after all.

There had been a time when Quinn had felt the same way, though. It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when that all changed, though he did know what some of the turning points were. While some might excuse terrible deeds done without a sense of self, without sanity, and continue on as before, Quinn had simply began to accept the darker parts of himself and move forward. For a very long time, he hadn't believed that he was worth more than that. Words from the right people truly could hurt more than any physical pain. And terrible things spoken really could shape someone, if that someone allowed those words to. Quinn was a crumbling, broken creature on the inside.

Which he tried to hide, though he knew full well that it did not always work the way he wished it would. Still, Quinn did not often feel the need to hide most things about himself, and did use some of the worst of it to push others away when in that sort of mood. Today, he wasn't in that particular mood. And only a little curious on Cassander's best friend, with the comment being what it was. "Most females aren't." A scathing comment, because if Cassander could have a cutting remark, then so could Quinn. As far as the tour of the beach— "Considering this might be the first time I've been on the beach, it's not mine by any means." A pause. "But I wouldn't mind a walk with you." He added lightly.

large pale gray cheetah shift


@Cassander Tuireann
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Cassander Tuireann
 Posted: Nov 18 2017, 09:28 PM
Quote
MagicianBanshee
185'10"
SingleBisexual
APPPLOTTER
I'm taking the reins, I'm crossing the bear! Just like Jesus, I'm growing a pair!


I HEAR THE SOUND
OF A GENTLE WORD
Cassander admitted that the comment about cannibalism made him miss a beat. He stopped, a concerned look frozen on his face. He realized that his mouth hung open as his brain processed the knowledge that he could be speaking with a cannibal. As a learned man who had read a great many books and looked at the world through a lense of scientific curiosity, he was open-minded in the light of many taboos, but there was something about the idea of cannibalism that he could not see himself moving past and yet, other cultures practiced it. There was evidence to suggest that there were certain communities in Speirling that practiced it. Cannibalism was likely going on in Riasglach when he had been too young to remember.

What was this creature? He had settled on a changeling. Something about him told Cassander that he couldn't be a ghastyn. Perhaps that was merely Cassander's idea of what a ghastyn should or shouldn't be, when given the reputation of changelings to stand up against. Now, he was starting to wonder if Quinn was something more nefarious than a changeling. He had never known a kelpie to transform into anything else but a slimy horse, but the world as everyone knew it was changeling and it was not outside of the realm of possibilities.

Of course, Quinn's cannibalism could have been a joke, a red herring, or something added for shock value. Whatever his motivations, Cassander could not help but feel even more unnerved at the thought of him watching Cassander in his home with his beloved pets. He was confident that he could hold his own in a fair fight, – one that utilized magic – but something about a cannibal stalking him as opposed to a non-cannibal stalking him inferred that there was more spying going on, for some reason. Cassander shivered, despite the lingering autumn sun.

He reminded himself that he didn't actually know if Quinn was a cannibal – or if he was even stalking him, for that matter.

“Uhhh....” He didn't know how to answer that. His experience with women was as limited as his experience with men – well, consentual experience, anyway. He had been lucky and it was a long time ago, as he reminded himself whenever that dreadful afternoon crept into his mind. It hadn't started off as dreadful before, but...such were the sort of memories that he repressed.

“Then we shall both have to take on the role of leader.” He said, gently. He was suddenly determined to keep Quinn in a good mood, maybe even relax. If he could get him to reveal more about himself, even trivial facts, he would be closer to figuring out who this cheetah-creature was and what his intentions were.

“Your first time on this beach?” He repeated, making his voice sound as pleasant as he could. “You are far from home, then?”

tag: @Tarquin Ellis
words: 484
notes:

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