In the Underbelly (w/ Umbrale)

[CasualVelociraptor]

Lorelei (a Caledorization of Lourannolelani- girl born of the heart of light) was trying to be small and not take up space under her rough, fraying blanket. She had been able to spread out and be herself under softer, warmer sheets every night...until last week.

The screams. So many screams. So many loud noises still filled her eyes with tears. She had had to get away, but she didn’t know if immediate death by human bombs and guns would have been worse than curling up to die eventually in the fetid underbelly of the sewers that used to be such a beautiful river, the Radiant River in human tongue, with a spirit and a life all its own.

And yet Lorelei wiped her eyes and pulled her hair over her long, pointed ears that marked her species. As an 18-year-old elf living her whole life in Anantown (often just called Elftown by the humans of Radiant) she had used hair and hoods to hide before, but this was different now. The humans had accused elves and merfolk of treachery, of destroying most of the city, and now were on the warpath.

Weakness, Lorelei now realized, was her worst quality. So she sewed it up and Lorelei addressed an approaching man in her soaked and dirty linens, “Sir, would you like some company tonight?”

 

[Umbrale]

The wrought-iron sewer-manhole slid back into place with a ear-splitting screech, much to the chagrin of the one who did so.

"Could they have made these things any heavier or louder?" A soft, rum-toned voice whistled out into the resounding halls of stone-&-metalwork. Then a thud, and a splash as heavy black boots slammed to the ground, a pack shifted back to sling along one shoulder. The mean was by no means on the hefty side of the scale; rather toned, but it was the shape that a life of hardship was one to impart. Black kevlar pants with far too many pockets, a vest of a carbon material that met the neck at a grey-blue scarf, twined about but pulled loose, probably used as a mask of sorts. Angular, almost avian looks, with a oil-smudged but pale complexion. Short, messy black hair that jutted in uneven angles, handsome, if a bit rogue-ish in nature.

Eyes that glanced rapidly into the shadows, green, shot through with the red of one that got scant hours of sleep, and traded it for the neon of polarized screens. Plodding step after splashing tread, one foot in front of the other, with curses that mumbled something of a night which didn't turn the way it should have; if the scorched stretches of his clothing had anything to suggest. The sleeveless black shirt that hid underneath his vest, was torn in places, and the right arm itself seemed particularly tense, as if he was straining to flex it constantly.

Had Lorelei been more abrupt, the encounter might have ended much sooner than it began; the man jumped in abrupt surprise, growling vehemently, "Fuckin' dredge-head---", In a flash, the strung arm was pointed at her, the tense muscles on-edge throughout its length jumping to vibrant terseness. And as veins popped to a flush appearance against his skin, so too did they change colors. As if the blood rushing through his very veins mutated in front of her, did a neon-blue suffuse their twisting paths. Concurrently, with a sharp crackling noise, did electricity spring into being and twist down the length of the male human's arm, ending at the tip in a vibrant cacophany of snapping energy.

As soon as it began, however, the vibrant display ended, and with yet-another follow-up curse, he snapped, "Oh, for fuck's sake. What in the hell are you doing in the sewers, girl?!" Clearly annoyed, but apt to calm down--after a moment, he took in the site of her dirty clothes, and the disparate state she was in--a sigh slipped from his lips, and his brow coiled in consternation. "Seriously, did one of the Brothel Matrons send you down here as a punishment? You're lucky these parts are typically pretty free of the Dredge, " He was reffering to, of course, the drug addicted fiends and sim-chip-fried husks that found their way into the sewers, mutating over time into violent, wandering creatures that infested the less-maintained areas.

"And...", here, seeking to calm the girl from her frightened state, a lip quirked up slightly, "...That you ran into someone as nice as me."