[ P ] fear you not

Before her departure back home, Harlow was careful to inquire about the dark, whispered legends of the land. The name "Drunken Seagull" surfaced with unsettling regularity. Though warnings came in hushed tones and fearful glances, Harlow's curiosity only deepened, drawing her toward the foreboding establishment like a moth to a flame. She set her course back to the Mainlands with a chilling determination.

The wolves of these lands, surprisingly transparent in their brutish openness, seemed almost eager to share their grim secrets. Harlow had revealed enough about herself to dissuade any intrusive probing, understanding that their curiosity would turn lethal if they dared visit her land with such curiosity. Fear held no dominion over her, so she boldly stepped into the Drunken Seagull, positioning herself defiantly at the front of the bar.

The silence that greeted her was thick and palpable, laden with a sense of menace. Eyes followed her every movement, some appraising, others seething with undisguised hunger. Harlow remained unmoved by their scrutinizing gazes, her resolve unshaken. She dared any of them to challenge her.

It wasn't long before a man approached her, his breath reeking of stale liquor and desperation. Harlow’s lips curled in distaste, and she turned her head slightly, allowing their faces to nearly touch. "Far from home, aren’t you?" he growled, his voice a low rumble.

Harlow stifled a sardonic laugh. "And?" she replied coldly.

"You don’t belong here," he said, his body tensing with a mixture of warning and intimidation. A cruel smirk played at the corners of Harlow’s lips. "You seem so tense," she said with feigned sympathy, pushing a glass toward him. "I hear whisky eases the soul." Her eyes flashed with a predatory gleam. "Drink, perhaps I can make you feel truly special afterward. I’ve never had complaints." His drunken lust clouded his judgment, and he gulped down the poison-laced whisky without hesitation.

Harlow waited, her gaze unyielding as he began to boast of his prowess, his size, and his appeal. Each word was like a knife twisting in her gut, but she played the role of the interested listener, biding her time. As the man’s boasting turned into coughing fits, his face reddened and foam gathered at the edges of his mouth, panic replacing his earlier bravado.

"Oh, darling, did you drink it too quickly?" Harlow’s voice dripped with mock concern. His eyes, once filled with arrogance, were now wide with fear and confusion as his throat constricted.

Leaning in close, she whispered into his ear, "You should know better than to accept drinks from a stranger, you disgusting, naive man." She drew back and watched as the poison worked its dark magic. The remaining liquid was discarded with a careless flick, its vile essence seeping into the wood and bubbling grotesquely.

As the man collapsed to the floor, she pressed a paw to her chest, feigning a helpless scream. "Oh, someone please! Help him! I think he’s choking!" The bar erupted into chaos as patrons rushed to his side. Harlow slipped into the shadows, moving to a secluded corner of the bar where she could observe the scene unfold with cold satisfaction.

In the end, the man's fate was sealed by his own ignorance and Harlow’s malicious cunning. Had he kept to his own business, he might have lived to see another day, but instead, he fell victim to her dark designs, his life snuffed out by the very curiosity that had drawn him like a moth to her flame. Unknowing to him, she would burn him without remorse.

code // art

war in my veins

Enzo is watching her the moment she steps inside. Immediately, its obvious that she's new here. Those that called this place home turned towards her, questions and ill intentions in their eyes. She either didn't notice or didn't care. Either would get her killed. It was only a matter of time before someone approached and one patron in particular didn't waste much time. Sipping his drink, Enzo continues to keep the mysterious she wolf in his sights.

Whatever their conversation is, Enzo doesn't have a hope of hearing it at this distance so he watches their body language and thats when he sees it. The fast and subtle pass of her hand over the cup she slid his way. His interest piqued. Within minutes, chaos erupts. Her voice is shrill with panic as she calls for help. Patrons rush forward, but Enzo is watching her, tracking her movements as he rises of his own table, a table he shouldn't even be seated at. Whispers would start about his presence in this bar. But Matteo was.... Matteo, unfortunately.

Weaving deftly though the crowd as she melds into a dark corner, watching with sharp eyes. Stepping into the shadows, he moves without so much as disturbing the air around him, unusually quiet for a man of his stature. He seeks to approach her from behind. "Your first time here and already killing the regulars." His voice tutted with a sugary disapproval. Enzo didn't give two fucks about the man she had just killed, his body still warm only feet away.

But Enzo sees an asset.

The last poison master the family had, was dead, rotting for trying to bite the hand that feeds. There was always a use for a little tonic that could persuade someone into playing a role in the Vincenza family play. And she smelled like she might know a thing of two. But she also carried the perfume of a foreigner, she wasn't from here, nor Saora. Both countries saw regular immigrants from outside nations, she wasn't special in that regard.

@name mcname @name mcname

template (c) bean

She smells him before she sees him, the scent of him a rich blend of musk lingers in the air. His voice, smooth and sultry, melts into the curve of her ear, causing it to flick involuntarily. A sly smirk curls against her dark-lined lips as she slowly tilts her chin over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of him.

With her back still to him, she doesn’t flinch; instead, she addresses his concerns with a playful nonchalance, pressing her lithe form more intimately into the broad expanse of his chest. "You've been watching me," she purrs, her voice a soft caress against the cool night air. "If you’re not here to arrest me, than why?" She lifts a single brow at him.

Turning her body fully towards him, she takes in his impressive stature. He is undeniably larger than her, but she harbors the suspicion that if he had been watching closely enough, he might have prevented the unfortunate demise of that other man. Her eyes lock onto his with a curious intensity, her chin tilting up slightly in a gesture that conveys she doesn’t see him as a threat. "Also, second time. You haven’t been following my movements for long, it seems," she teases, mimicking his earlier tsk with a playful tone. "Abair nàire," she adds, mockingly (what a shame).

She takes a moment to drink him in. He is handsome and imposing, which strikes her as curious since the other man she encountered, Sethos, was similarly large. It seems to her that perhaps the inhabitants of this land have a penchant for considerable stature.

Idly, she bites her lip, her imagination running wild with possibilities. Yet, she is wise enough to keep her cards close to her chest. She concludes that, while he is undeniably attractive, there is something more he wants from her, something that compels him to seek her out. It is a disappointing realization that his interest does not align in the same manner as her own. She tells herself that he wouldn't know what to do with her anyway, it means of keeping her own imagination locked away and concealed.

code // art