tempcstucus

[tempcstucus]

she hears his voice and suddenly she's transported back in time, just shy of a decade ago. had it really been that long? lenora had already stopped counting the years, she didn't want to dwell on the past. life had been simpler back then, back when her and corven were still in the wolfborn clan. sure, most of the clan wasn't too keen on them with the ceallaigh curse and all, but they had each other. she remembered how corven looked after lenora and her sister after their parents' passing.

but, she also remembers the blood on the ground from when the clan executed him. it was one of the worst days of her life, less than a week after her sister's death he had recovered from his injuries, when everyone thought he wouldn't. corven shouldn't have lived really, the severity of his injuries should have been his end. the clan had taken this as a bad omen and decided that they would finish the job, sentencing him to death. she watched them slit his throat, watched the blood drip to the ground, and watched as they cast his body to the sea.

her days in the clan were numbered after that, in her grief she took up heavy drinking and would regularly get into drunken fights over the stupidest of reasons. one day the clan decided that enough was enough, exiling her and throwing her to the forest just beyond. with nothing more than the clothes on her back, lenora made her way to port and sought out any ship that needed new crew mates. nothing was left for her on land anymore, no need to stay.

she's pulled out of her stupor by corven holding out his flask to her, staring at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face. until this moment, she had thought that he was dead, which by all accounts he should be. she was almost half-convinced that her eyes was playing tricks on her, but he was right in front of her, against all odds. fate had a funny way of doing things, she thought to herself.

she snatches the flask with perhaps a bit too much force, taking a large gulp to steady her nerves. she eyes corven warily, as if expecting him to disappear like some sort of ghost. "you..." she begins with her voice shaking, then pauses to take another swig. "you're supposed to be dead. how is it that you're still alive?"

It was best - for his particular sort of business, and whatever his future might hold - for Conall to keep to the edges of the Thingstead, nowadays. The eyes that led the hands that held the strings of the fattest purses would be waiting by that Pyre he'd left behind yesterday, true. But he hadn't come along to a Thingstead yet, in this life, for good reason. Too many Wolfborn, among those eyes. Better to be careful. Make what coin he could on the outskirts, where his beasts would do better, anyhow, and the horsemongers and hawksellers and houndsmen would be keeping their wares.

And, among those - the fightmasters. Of course. The grim, bloodthirsty folk who dealt in creatures doomed to die in pits or staked out, or set loose hungry, thirsty, tired, beaten, to be caught quickly for the entertainment of hersirs too lazy to carry on a true hunt. There'd been a thick-bristled boar clanging his tusks and hoofing the half-froze earth. A sow bear, beating at the boards of her barred wagon as her cubs wailed for her, a cage away. All of it, vile. A trade that gave him damn dangerous thoughts.

Careful had fled his heart at last, though, at the sight of a set of two wild-eyed mountain wolves gnashing, throttling themselves at the ends of heavy chains. The man who claimed to own them - fool, and a bastard besides - had laughed, giddy with greed, when Conall made his challenge. Bring the wolves to heel, and he could take the them. And the pot, which weighed heavy in the cap the fightmaster passed around to the gathering guests, giving odds. Conall had only taken his gloves off, and half-knelt in the show paddock they'd found for the wager. The show.

And what a show it'd been: wolves mad as all the hells lapping at his chin, wagging their tails. He'd let them take their time, to approach. The old thrill, the keenest of them, gnawed down his spine as they circled. But he'd been good with wolves - before they devoured his little cousin, and nearly his less-little cousin and him, too. Since then? Well, he was brilliant with them. As if every wolf he met was out to apologize for those forebears of theirs who'd forgot what a brother he'd been to so many of their kind. He kissed their whiskers, to the horror of the wolfless man with a hat full of money he was soon to lose. Conall smirked, awfully, and whispered names in their pricked ears. His, now. His to look after.

Then he'd bought the bears. (Funny, how the price dropped. With those wolves behind him, as he asked.) Calmed the cubs, first, then welcomed the mother on back to them, her rage - righteous as it was - ebbing quick, washed away. The woman who'd caught the boar refused, insisting he'd been purchased already by a Silvershore merchant. A shame. Too fine a thing to wind up on a platter. But Conall knew well enough that he could only ever hope to save a few lives, if any. He'd already lost...

... that one. Barraged by questions - the usual ones, really - he'd turned to meet the asker, a hand on each of those wolves, still. She was a stranger; in every way except that she wasn't, really. Just, he hardly knew her face, her voice. It'd been so long. He stared, struck silent. If there were words for this... he didn't know them. But he knew his own name, still. His true name. And he knew hers. "Len." Not a question; he wasn't wondering. He fucking knew. Those wolves moved with him as he swayed a step closer, and - stopped. With a raw-edged scoff of disbelief, Corven Ceallaigh dug a travel-battered flask from his coat pocket and held it out, through this strange space between them. "Have a drink, hey? Before you fall down. Go on." So he could have a moment, at least, to sort out what the fuck to say next. Gods...

[tempcstucus]

status: open

where: thingstead, the longhall

one thing lira quickly learned in her time at sea was to be grateful whenever they were in port, being on land was an uncommon occurrence. specifically, she became grateful for the fresh food she had access to in these times, as in their long voyages the fruits and vegetables spoiled quickly. they ate what they had to in order to survive, but unfortunately that was usually limited to biscuits and dried foods. so naturally, when they came to thingstead, the feast in the longhall was the first place she went to.

lira unabashedly helps herself to the feast that's laid out, her plate full of generous portions of the various dishes. not to mention she's already on her third cup of mead as well. she's certain that she looks half-starved, with how much she's putting down, but with a spread like this she can hardly be blamed. she looks up to see someone across from her giving her a glance, lira wipes the corner of her mouth before speaking. "you wouldn't believe what you miss when you're at sea, you must excuse me. i'm surprised they've provided this good of a spread."

[tempcstucus]

status: closed @coinorcurses

where: the outskirts of thingstead

it seemed like there was so much going on in thingstead, with all of the people who had come here. there were travelling merchants, duels, a feast in the longhall, and other events that she was sure she hadn't seen yet. her first day ashore had just been spent exploring and taking everything in, afraid that she would miss something if she stayed in one place.

with the news of the high jarl dying tensions were high, it almost seemed like there was a dark cloud overshadowing all of the festivities. lira feels almost anxious as she awaits the decision of the council, just like everyone else. for a while drinking takes the edge off and helps her forget about the politics, but alcohol only solves problems temporarily.

so, she's taken to exploring thingstead once again, wondering if she might have missed anything the first time around. after all, her ship did dock on the first day of festivities, when many people were still arriving. on the outskirts she comes across a beast taming show, which sparks memories of her days in the wolfborn clan. she remembers how her cousin corven had been a beast tamer before he was executed, the nostalgia makes her miss those simpler days.

once the show is over she applauds, the beast tamer having put on quite the spectacle. it seemed like he had a way with the beasts, they obeyed him with no hesitation. maybe it was his confidence, but it seemed like he was able to communicate with them in a way that other beast tamers weren't. she moves closer to him once the crowd disperses, eager to strike up a conversation. "your show was fantastic, how long have you been doing this? you have quite a way with the wolves, i've never seen anything like it before."

she catches a glimpse of his face, lira hadn't been able to before because she had been at the back of the crowd, and her heart stops for a moment. she recognizes of the unmistakable face of her cousin, who's supposed to be dead. it takes all of her restraint not to throw her arms around him right then and there, hug him and tell him how she's missed him. but she has to be seeing things, she watched his execution, watched his body get cast to the sea. even so, she can't stop herself from whispering. "corven?"

[tempcstucus]

it wasn't exceptionally common for the maelstrom to be at port, so lira was thankful for any time she got ashore. she had adjusted to life at sea due to living this life for just shy of a decade, but she missed being on land sometimes. it always felt like a time for festivities when she was, like she could set aside her responsibilities for a short while.

she recognizes a crew member from the blood serpent at the pyre and makes her way over there, watching the flames as she approaches. she had negotiated with this crew before, they looked out for each other on occasion, for a price. she stares into the flames, taking in the items that have been thrown in as offerings. "are you enjoying your time ashore?" she inquires, glancing at the other. " it feels strange, not sailing for once, but i do like being at port. do you share the sentiment?"

open starter ;  location ; thingstead, great pyre

smoke had replaced the scent of salt, a fact that aegir was not glad of, as he sat on the edge of the crowds around the great pyre — watching as wishful warriors tossed their tributes into the flames. he had not come to seek the favor of the gods — these were not the gods he prayed to, not the gods he sacrificed to. he prayed to the gods of the sea — and the god of vengeance — and his sacrifice was blood spilled.

it always sufficed. 

no, he sat here for the same reason he had agreed to attend the thingstead in the first place. not for favor from the gods, or the clans, or even for a care about the next high jarl. this was for the benefit of proximity, like lambs to a slaughter. he came, and he sat, to watch. to observe. like a snake waiting in the grass, looking for the right moment to strike. 

[tempcstucus]

( CIS WOMAN & SHE/HER  ) A KRISTEN STEWART lookalike has arrived in Myrkvjord, stepping onto the deck of THE MAELSTROM, their reputation either preceding them or waiting to be made. LIRA “THE STORM” BLACKWATER has survived THIRTY-FOUR years, and their name is already whispered in ports, feared by traders, or cursed by the clans. Some call them RUTHLESS, others say they are DETERMINED, but one thing is certain—their fate is bound to the sea. With their influence growing, they are set to either rule the waves or sink beneath them. You might know them as a FIRST MATE, but soon enough, they will be remembered as more. ( Ooc:  Moth, 28, EST & They/Them | No triggers )

THE BASICS

legal name: lenora ceallaigh

aliases: lira blackwater

nicknames: the storm

date of birth: december 21st

gender: cisgender woman

pronouns: she/her

sexual orientation: lesbian

romantic orientation: homoromantic

current age: thirty four

affiliation: pirates, wolfborn clan(formerly)

occupation: first mate of the maelstrom

known languages: english

INSPIRATION

quote: "envy shoots at others and wounds itself"

label or archetype: the green-eyed monster- desire for something you do not possess, watching others imagining it were you, being dissatisfied in life

tropes: the femme fatale, grass is greener, work hard play hard, deadpan snarker

media parallels: johanna mason (hunger games), vi (arcane), hobie brown (spiderman: across the spider-verse), harry hart (kingsman), summer smith (rick and morty)

theme song: numb little bug - em beihold, vampire - olivia rodrigo, a little respect - erasure

PERSONALITY

positive traits: incisive, forthright, observant, intelligent, resourceful

neutral traits: determined, reserved, idiosyncratic, sarcastic, impatient

negative traits: cunning, calculating, blunt, phlegmatic, opinionated

peeves: disobedience, inconsistency, dishonesty, failing to succeed, feeling inferior

fears: abandonment, losing her sense of self, existentialism, becoming useless

skills: persuasion, hand to hand combat, swordsmanship, strategic thinking, pattern recognition, strategizing, navigation

goals: leaving her family curse in the past, potentially becoming captain of the maelstrom

APPEARANCE

faceclaim: kristen stewart

height: 5' 5" (165.09cm)

eye color: grey

hair color: dark brown

clothing style: tends to dress in messy, tomboyish clothes when not on patrol. she likes to wear cutoff tank tops, but can be seen wearing baggy sweatshirts and cargo pants. also owns a variety of different t-shirts.

jewelry: wears a gold ring with the flag of the maelstrom on her left middle finger, has another ring resembling a compass typically worn on her right ring finger.

marks/scars: countless scars on both hands and knuckles, one running across the bridge of her nose from having it broken, a jagged scar under her left eye from a fight shortly after she became a pirate

scent/fragrance: sea salt and clove.

FAVOURITES

likes: singing shanties, drinking, navigating the sea, reading, playing games with other pirates

dislikes: lack of understanding, unpredictability, memories from her time in a clan, feeling alone

hobbies: stargazing, fishing, hunting, playing cards, whittling, boxing, journaling, chess, knife throwing, self defense, cooking

habits: irregular sleep schedule, procrastinates on cleaning, writes in her journal every day, tends to take the lead, thinks before speaking, engages in risky behavior

AESTHETICS

sight: black - nothing, the beginning

sound: a roar in the distance growing closer

taste: the salty iron of blood in your mouth

touch: the sting of scraping your knees on concrete

thought: the calm before a storm

HISTORY

(death and violence tw)

it's known in the wolfborn clan that everyone in the ceallaigh family meets an untimely fate, they're said to have cursed bloodline. the story goes that hundreds of years ago a member of their family killed a wolf and they've been cursed ever since.

lenora's parents died when she was about 12, in a battle with the ironblood clan. her and her younger sibling were left with their only living relative, conall, to take care of them and watch over them.

she had a few friends in the wolfborn clan, but largely most people avoided her because of the curse association and she had a tendency to get into mischief.

she was a wild child, constantly getting into fights or some other kind of trouble. as a kid, lenora was never where she should be, if she wasn't causing trouble she was in the woods.

at age 26, lenora and her younger sibling went into the woods to hunt, but were quickly overpowered and attacked by a wild animal. her sibling didn't survive the attack, dying from their wounds and lenora only survived because conall managed to find her and save her.

seeing the attack as a bad omen, the wolfborn clan elected to sentence conall to death, slitting his throat and tossing him into the sea. lenora witnessed his death and her violent tendencies only became more intense in her grief, to a point where the clan decided to exile her mere months after his "death".

after being exiled from her clan she changed her name to lira blackwater and became a pirate, nothing was left for her on land. she has been on several different ships and but has been on the maelstrom for 5 years. she started off as a lowly deckhand but gradually worked up to being a first mate.

HEADCANONS

she's had her fair share of flings, whenever the maelstrom is in port lira can be found in a pub ashore, attempting to flirt with her latest romantic interest. being on land only for short periods of time works out for her this way, it means she doesn't have to commit to relationships for long.

after being exiled from her clan lira wandered the land aimlessly for a short period of time, not sure what to do. by sheer chance she ended up in a port with a ship that was looking for extra hands and so her piracy began.

she's close with a few members of the crew, but lira doesn't let many people close to her. this is partially in fear that they'll learn about her past, but also because she doesn't find many pirates to be trustworthy. she can be caught participating in festivities with the crew.

likes to practice sword-fighting in her free time, it's a hobby she's taken up and actively enjoys. she can hold her own in a swordfight with ease and has won a few duels. she's considered moderately talented and is very useful in fights with other ships.

WANTED

exes: people she has been involved with on land or other pirates she's hooked up with

love interest: someone she's met who she really clicks with, they either don't care about her past or are outcasts in a similar way

friends: self-explanatory, can be other pirates or people she knows on land

crew: again, self-explanatory

enemies: people who don't like her for whatever reason, rival pirates, or any other kind of negative relationship

people from her past: people she knew in the wolfborn clan, whether it's old friends or people who disliked her.

[tempcstucus]

KRISTEN STEWART by Zoey Grossman for Porter Magazine | May 2024