You make beautiful things out of dust. . .

Aurelia Charlotte Faye  

August 25, 1990: In the heart of New Orleans, Louisiana the third female Faye was born. A female who was to be Golden and Free and Confident. 

But alas, Fate had a different story to tell, a twisted one at that. 

Aurelia's story begins long before she was born. . . 

Nouvelle-Orléans 1718: The day the city had been founded by the French and the day that the Faye's 

would learn of a time when their entire existence would end in the hands of one of their own. 


Magic does that. It wastes you away... 

She was unwanted long before she was born. She was hated and despised the moment her parents were given word they were to have a little girl. Hopes of ever being loved, crushed before she could even manage to take her first breath. This was the fate of the Faye; the third female born Necromancer. 

The saying goes, that all bad things come in threes. Whoever deducted this conclusion had been absolutely right; at least in the matters of the Fayes. 

In a sea full of testosterone and masculinity, stood three females; Vivian, Zalarie, and Aurelia. Special they might have been, with the gift of their craft and a dash of something extra. It was predicted long ago by the first Grand Coven of New Orleans, that the Fayes would fall at the hand of one of their own, the woman who possessed the extra gift of blood magic. 

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  • Anzu's respect is a silent, apprehensive creature.  He doesn't voice his praise.  To do so would be breaking one of his personal laws--of which he has only a few, more inherent to him than anything he's placed on himself.  They were relatively easy to follow; Never thank him, don't dig for compliments, and don't use the F word.

    His gaze remains on the horizon, like he's expecting the sky to tear open and devour them both.  Not before taking the rest of the city first, at least. "No shit," he murmurs under his breath, not bothering to specify whether it was meant for the Necromancer or something else only he can hear..

    As he turns his head the wind twists his golden locks into a wild mane around his head; his eyes are fierce. "It's.. not easy to explain.  And it's not exactly a conversation I wanna' have with you in this smelly ass alley," he snarls the words.  Brimming with anger that's not directed towards Aurelia at all. "he's my mistake, my personal hell, and he's obsessed with tearing the world apart to find me." He trails off, the anger suddenly gone from his tone. "Even now I feel him, close enough to close his jaws on my heel.. if only.." He doesn't speak again.

  • He could leave with ease. He knew he could. All he had to do was keep walking, but something was stopping him. Perhaps it was the sorrow in the woman's voice, or perhaps it was her tears, or even the fact that he, for a moment, reminded her of her bonded partner. No name was said like that if  they met nothing after all, or if they were a simple friend.

    "Me... Jev. You?" 

    He didn't dare turn to look at her, not yet. 

  • His eyes follow the twist of Aurelia's body without looking past her at the miasma of souls swirling around her.  He's been around the dead enough to know that actively looking at any one of them could draw it's attention, sure as saying the name of one of the Fair Folk.  The corner of his mouth twitches, then he looks ahead and continues down the side-walk. "Also, if you could tell them to keep an eye out for a Black Druid instead of blabbing, that would be fan-fucken-tastic, aye?"

    He doesn't respond right away, squinting at the sky, head tilted slightly like he's listening for something.  Then, he suddenly seizes Aurelia by the inside of her elbow and drags her into another alley where he'd release her and stalk ahead.  "No one ever told me that lie," he says, "my monsters were proud of it, but they did lie to me--" his every word is full of venom. "--made me believe I was something I'm--I just can't be." Human.  And that backfired a million different ways.

    The ring on his arm feels hot, just thinking about his past.

    "It's not monsters.  Just the one.  And it's not hers... not really.  It's.. mine.  My son." He flinches. "Sort of.  It's king of a long, exhausting story."

  • The word had taken him by surprise. It belonged to a person, a woman, but a person nevertheless. There was a person here, a human, and they had caught him looking anything but like a normal wolf.  Fear overtook him, made his own stomach twist in knots while threatening to get rid of last night's racoon snack. The wolf simply froze in place for a few moment though, heart pounding against his chest. 

    But of course his mouth spilled before his brain could catch up and come up with a way to escape. 

    "No. Jev.

    It's said with a sort of 'duh' tone to it, like it was something the woman should have known this. She of course didn't, but it had been twenty years since he had interected with another person, his social skills were at an all time low and have been since his fifth year out here. 

  • Like almost every morning, because sometimes it was good to change up one's routine when alone in semi-isolation, his time was not spent near or in his den, but out there. It was still winter in the eyes of many, so a morning stroll through the forest was just a fine and dandy thing to do while he looked like this and if he ever caught wind of anyone, well, it didn't take that long to look more like an actual wolf and those were fairly common here. Well, uncommon, but one would not question it too terribly if they saw one. 

    Just as long as it was his right side. 

    But either way, the place was nearly dead to any and all hunan traffic. It was too cold to actually camp and too icey to attempt a hike up in the moutains or through the woods itself. Sometimes Jev came across various path designed just for those reasons. Sometimes he spook to himself, or repeated things he heard over the spring and summer. Some were conversations he'd have with himself, or songs, or things about the weather, or football. That gosh darn cheating Tom Bradly. Braids? Tom something. He was a cheating asshole and that's all that mattered apparently. 

    And don't get him started on Susan! "Susan," the wolf spat out. "Wedding bad! Not good like Carrion's!" The words sounded weird coming out of his muzzle, in broken English and slurred out, barely audiable unless someone was really listening and paying attention. 

  • The snow was melting, but not quickly enough. Ponds were still frozen, ice still clung to branches, and flowers still laid in the frozen ground, dead and waiting for the first signs of warmth to blossom once more. The same could not be said for the wolf that came crawling out of the ground to inhale the crisp, clean, morning air. Warm breath fogged the air around while ears strained to pick up any sign of life, rather it be human or not. 

    There was nothing. Not even the sounds of a blue jay singing good morning.  The snow crunched beneath the weight of large hand-like paws as the wolf moved further out of the safey and warmth of his den. The cold tickled at his nose, but it didn't seem to bother him as he rose to his feet, at nearly seven feet tall and two hundred and forty pounds, the beast was a force to be reckoned with. However, he was but a gentle soul trying to enjoy his morning. 

    His presence was enough to awaken a few birds, who were quick to call out warnings to each other, as if the wolf would leap up into the trees and devour them. They had barely on meat on their bones, it would be  a waste of energy on his end and they were kind enough to warn each other of anything and everything. Coyotes, squirrels, humans. Eating them would give away his warning system and he needed that.

    For things.

  • Anzu shivers once more, a subtle thing.  Feeling the ghosts of her icy fingers trailing along his exposed flesh.  Damn the girl.  He rubs a hand down his arm like he can smoothe down his goosebumps, then he jams of his hands deep into his pockets.

    His shoulders braced against the wind, he's a dark sentinel with shadows hung heavy around him, his teeth bared in a snarl- or it might be a grin. "The dead should keep their mouths shut," he advised for any spirits that might be hanging in the dark around them.  Although, if there were any, he would of seen them already.  Aurelia's smirk makes him cringe.


    Anzu really did miss her.


    He glares at her. "By the gods, I'll take point." brushing by her, he slips from the mouth of the alley and stalks down the sidewalk.  Pulling his hands from his jean-pockets to shove them right into the pockets of his leather jacket, as black as asphalt.  

    He plunges onto the cracked road and starts across it, forcing a blue mini-van to skid to make a choice between slamming on it's brakes or running him over.  It skids to a halt, the driver leaning on their horn.  

    Anzu tosses them his middle finger and carries on his merry way.

    "Stick close.  My monsters don't shy away from the light.." He squints up at the blazing sun, doing very little to melt the snow underfoot.




  • Anzu kind of wonders what would happen if he stabbed Aurelia between the ribs-- something tells him nothing much.  He figures she'd probably just ask him to do it again while grinning like a shark.  Slowly, he lowers the dagger and crouches down on one knee to stick it back into the sheath buckled to his ankle.

    He fiddles with the buckles for a moment to look busy, plays with the straps, then he stands up and rolls his shoulders.


    Anzu nearly shuts his eyes when Aurelia touches him; hypersenstive to her fingers on his skin, running over the raised hairs on his arms.  He jerks involuntarily when she touches his chest, his every muscle going taut.  "You're as cold as ice," he complains, but he doesn't stop her from touching his sharp collarbones, even if it's being caressed by an ice-cube and he's got goosebumps all over his skin.

    He tips his head down at Aurelia, then he takes a single step back.  Just far enough to be out of reach of that icy hand of hers.

    "Hah, maybe we're the ones that're run down pieces of shit, aye?" There's no smile on his face, but it's in his eyes. "How did you find me, anyway?" it wouldn't have been hard considering he's been slacking lazily.  He's just hoping she wasn't hearing things from other people.  That would be bad--well, for him, at least. 

    "Don't get me wrong, it's nice to have almost stabbed you in the face and all."


  • It wasn't an easy thing to sneak up on Anzu.  Not only was he trained to see through the darkness and keep one ear perked for trouble, but his eyes were cursed.  Some would say gifted-- but he's still not sure where he stands on the whole 'two sights' thing.  The Danann called it the da shealladh.. it was supposed to be a great honor, this 'gift' of second sight.  And all the hauntings and torments and monsters that came with it.  But of course they said that-- it was their damn gift.

    Regardless of how he feels about it, it works to his advantage in this moment.  Aurelia cannot hide from him.

    But he doesn't know who it is.  He can only think the worse-- one of his ever growing list of enemies.  That's why he walks past the spill of shadows concealing his potential enemy, playing like he doesn't know there's anything out of the ordinary.  That's why, when he feels the stranger leaving her hiding place and coming towards him he whirls around to face them clutching a dagger in his hand.  The blade has a wicked bend in it, and it's as sharp as the devils tongue.  His grip on the ivory hilt is white-knuckle- and he's displaying all his teeth like a wild animal.  He's prepared to throw it when--

    "Aurelia?" He blinks his moss green eyes at her, the wind playing with his unruly golden locks. "Girl, I nearly fucken' gutted you.  A better question would be 'why the hell are you sneaking up on me?'" In Anzu's language that only he and a few others speak, that's his way of saying 'I missed you.'

    And also avoiding answering her question.

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