Rowan // Actors Upon A Stage

[Flanna Kelly]

Flanna, though she was a resident of Avonderre, travelled often to other parts of the area for inspiration. After all, she wasn't from these parts by birth, and she was a playwright who needed situations and scenarios of which to write about. She was a wanderer; she went wherever the wind seemed to send her, and she had met a person or two along the way who had altered her personal views on men and, well, she was glad for it. Then again, Flanna still hadn't been able to write anything but a tragedy. Ah, but she would change, given the time and the opportunity.

She was here in Sol now, and though she had been here before, Flanna hadn't quite had her eyes open to everything around her. The biggest court was here, not in Avonderre where Lord Mercer ruled, or in Tyrian, where the court was all corrupted. Here. And Flanna thought that maybe, with some of the views that were mixing in her head, she could pick one direction over the other. Her father, he was a bad man. He was all she'd known as men. Then, she met others. Her brother Carson, for example--he was a god on earth. But he seemed to be in a race of his own; no other men she'd met were like that--until she met Elias. But today--today, she'd learn. She wanted to figure it all out. Were men good-intentioned or borne from evil? She had to know.

Flanna, thinking hard, stood casually against the wall around Sol, thinking up new scenes and how she could connect her confused views with a theme for a play (not that hers were ever performed on stage). She didn't even notice when a man approached her.

STATUS complete TAG Rowan ATTIRE Outfit Here.
LYRICS Numb; Fallbrooke NOTES I should warn you that you'd have to fight Elias for Flanna...
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Rowan Eldritch]

Rowan's horse danced underneath him as he waited for news from his brother. It had been three days since he had sent out Arden, one of his female falcons, to get word on affairs on the farther edges of the kingdom. Another of his falcons, Corbin, circled above him, letting out a shrill cry every so often as it spotted something moving. Since he could see most of what was going on around him, Rowan assumed that he had simply seen prey moving. His thoughts were occupied elsewhere.

He frowned slightly as there was still no sign of his beloved Arden. He had only just returned on the long road home from doing a patrol for his king, searching for any Tyrian men. With a sigh, he turned his horse, who snorted with impatience as it turned toward the gates to the city. He let out a sharp whistle and held out his arm. Corbin responded with a shriek before diving from the sky, beginning to slow his descent a short distance away from Rowan's arm. The falcon landed, bated a bit as it found its footing, and then looked to Rowan.

With Corbin safely back with him, Rowan urged his horse towards the gates of the city. Once he got close enough to the gate, he dismounted with a practice gesture that only caused Corbin to stir on his wrist slightly. Taking the reins in his right hand, he brought Corbin to the horn of the saddle. Corbin stepped off and took up a perch on the horn, watching the people around them with interest.

Having gotten that all straightened away, Rowan set off into the city. He kept his horse on the side of his sword, almost as a way of camouflaging its presence. The one thing about him that often took people by surprise was that he fought with his left hand, and so people didn't expect his sword to be on his right side.

Then again, they also didn't expect a knight to dismount upon his entrance to the city. Most knights rode through like they owned the place. But he knew that when a knight did that, it came across as them thinking they were superior to everyone. He didn't want to be thought of like that. Rowan believed that a knights greatest ally, aside from his brothers in arms, were the people. If he were injured or fleeing from captors, it would not be his brothers that he would reach first, but the people. So he made it his duty to get to know the people.

As he walked through the gates to the city, he noticed a woman leaning against the wall. In the limited experience that he had had with women outside of a court setting, he would guess that something troubled her. She seemed pensive at the very least. Hesitating for a moment, he tugged gently at the reins for his horse to change his course. He approached her and cleared his throat softly, hoping not to startle her.

"Forgive me, my lady, if I've overstepped a boundary. I just wanted to make sure that everything was well," he said. A faint flush was creeping up his neck. Well if that didn't make him sound like the biggest creep. He motioned to the gate. "I was riding in and saw you and I thought...I thought you looked troubled but..." He put his free hand behind his neck, obviously a little sheepish. "Now that I see you, I can see it's not distress that has you...but your thoughts." His horse made a sound as though it were laughing at him. Oh boy...well he'd done a number to screw this one up before it even started.

RE Note: Rowan would never try to steal a woman away from someone. He's too honorable to do that. And he knows that if he did, he would always be looking over his shoulder. He'd rather make an ally than an enemy.

[Flanna Kelly]

Flanna MacDowell (now no longer a girl of that name) had been the daughter of a murderous man, who'd been hung for the countless crimes he had committed across Southern Ireland. He had stolen, raped, murdered, and done just about everything else one man could do. But all the time, Flanna had thought that he had an honourable job. Every evening, he came home with more jewels. Though Flanna saw the look in her mother's eyes, she thought it was just because he was home so late. Come to realize, it was a lot worse than that. And now, years past, Flanna was left to suffer the shame of her father. That was why she'd changed her name.

Now, her brother Carson, he was different. He was brave. He kept his last name. He was still a MacDowell, and even with that, he was able to gain a favourable education. Then again, Carson was an angel and someone that Flanna knew was just too perfect to be of any earthly origin. He was her hero, her best friend (she liked to think), and just once, she wanted to write a play about him. But nothing ever came in that respect. All she could pen were tragedies.

Thoughts flooded her mind as Flanna watched the streets around her. She was thinking up backstories for those who wandererd the streets, some as aimlessly as she had wandered for years. This was why Flanna was slow to judge anyone. She was the daughter of an awful man herself, and she knew that other people were certainly concealing secrets possibly far worse than her own. To judge them would make her more of a hypocrite than she already was, and that was nearly unthinkable. She was already a societal outcast, anyway--a woman who wrote.

The man who approached her didn't seem to have that particular cruelty in his eyes that most did. He offered sincere words, and she smiled shyly in return. "Oh, sir, I'm well, thank ye." In speech, Flanna was timid, unlike on paper, where she was a woman of many words. Conversation was no forte of hers, and any human interaction was something she ventured into rarely, seeing as she'd been so scarred by her father. She blushed as she saw his face redden and cast her eyes down. Quietly, she replied, "I think a lot, sir. Me mind's a bit tired, but that's all 'tis." Her sweet lilting Irish heritage shone through in her speech.

She looked up at him, wondering who he was, and if he was anything like Carson or Elias. Or perhaps, he was just another man like her father.

STATUS complete TAG Rowan ATTIRE Outfit Here.
LYRICS Numb; Fallbrooke NOTES I should warn you that you'd have to fight Elias for Flanna...
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras