Sigil: City of Doors

[align=center]DISCLAIMER: This character is a work of fiction and imagination!
Whilst it need not be stated, it should be made aware that this is a fictional character whose actions may not necessarily reflect my own views or opinions.



"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend."[/align]

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Song of the Caged Bird - Lindsey Stirling


Basic Information
Name: Sienna Ayres.
Aliases: Lady Ayres.
Gender: Female.
Race: Human.
Age: Almost 30.
Profession: Entrepreneur, socialite.
Languages: Common, Celestial, Draconic, Infernal, Cant.
Accent: Well-spoken.


Physical Information
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 135lbs
Body build: Slender, with particularly long legs.
Skin type: Mildly weathered.
Hair style: Shoulder-length, often worn in sophisticated updo.
Scars: Numerous cuts, scrapes and scars (hidden).
Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] Crimson red. [b]Eyes:[/b] Emerald Green. [b]Skin:[/b] Caucasian, pale. [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: [Undisclosed]
Philosophies: "Save a man from the gallows and he'll cut your throat; question everything, trust no one and always play your cards close to your chest. Everyone has use, and all people use one another. Behind every great man is an even greater woman, remember this. All great rewards come with an element of risk."
Deity/Beliefs: Sienna lives by her own code.
Personality:

[u]Patient[/u] - [i]Everything comes with it's opportune time. Additionally, someone has to put up with Silas' shit.[/i] [u]Secretive[/u] - [i]Tells as little of her intentions and herself as possible.[/i] [u]Guarded[/u] - [i]Will constantly wear a metaphorical mask to avoid showing selective emotions.[/i] [u]Observant[/u] - [i]Constantly taking in all manner of information, big or small.[/i] [u]Manipulative[/u] - [i]Sienna knows how to play a role, whether it's flirtations or following orders. She is well aware of her actions, however, and uses them to her advantage.[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: Twin Short Swords, Dagger, Throwing Knives.
Jewelry: A few gold rings.
Habbits/hobbies: Fine dining, social events, the arts, mercantile.
General Health: Sienna is reasonably healthy, if not a little malnourished.
Favorite Drink: Firewine.
Weaknesses: Greed, Pride.


Portrait image edited. Original here.

With a soft -clack- booted heels connected with ceramic tile, a knee and gloved hand coming to rest on it's nearby twin. In the blink of an eye, all had vanished into the night air, leaving in their wake nothing but the faintest of fractures in the ebony surface.

The Raven spread her wings, faded feldgrau cloak billowing out behind her as she soared from rooftop to rooftop above the grimy streets of the Hive. A rare cluck of delight left her rouge lips as she reached the set tile-set some distance away, expertly placed limbs bracing her for rolled impact which left her unscathed as she found her feet again with ease and leapt onward on all fours.

Here, she was untouchable. Here, she was free. Numbed was the hunger that growled in her stomach, forgotten were the pains of the mortal world, gone was the need for the countless masks she wore.

This was her domain and no one, not even the Old Wolf; Gods love him, could keep up with her in rooftop flight over the streets they knew as home. It was possible he was aware of such, though she would not utter the words. Sienna's lips stretched into a grin within the shadows of her hood, two precisely placed steps taking her up the nearby drainpipe from which she pushed off, tucking her legs up to her lithe frame to make it over the gap and slide down the tiles on the opposite side.

With a mid-air twist, she swooped downward to land deftly on her toes alongside a familiar bearded figure whom walked the cobblestone below. No words were offered between the two as her footsteps joined his, the only sound to echo the alleyway? A muffled spank of gloved hand on leather rear.

Gazing over the rim of her glass, Sienna's lips quirked in a slight sneer as she quietly took in the sights and sounds of the active Bazaar. Swirling the amber liquid in the short tumbler, she accepted the hempen sack that was slipped onto her lap within the shadows of the wooden overhang at Khazeet's bar. Deftly, her gloved fingers pry open the knot and once satisfied that all is in order within, a flick of the wrist sees it removed from sight within seconds. The hooded figure at her side receives a small nod, a faint display of approval. With the goods in check, her gaze returned to the Celestial with his wings around two scantily clad women.

This was the reason she could do what she did and get away with it, for in Sigil no one was ever truly 'good' in her eyes. Too busy with their mouths on each other's crotches to do anything considered worthwhile. "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." her Pappy used to say, the memory of her father souring her expression briefly. In a flash, her features returned to their default state of neutrality. Pappy had always been wise in his words, even if he had swindled them of everything they'd worked for and taken off.

"Darvin the Heroic Paladin." the elf in his arms commented, drawing a rolling of the eyes from the Raven. At the end of the day, these goody two-shoes were just as depraved as everyone else; they just never admitted it. Thought they were a head and shoulders above all others, superior. Disgusting. Hypocritical. The tiefling she conversed with held similar views, his murmured views drawing another nod from the woman. "Mmm they have righteousness to salve their consciences."

She remained seated, as always, cat-like in her patient observations.

The Pack were finally picking themselves off the ground again, and things were falling into place. Let the holy-rollers think they were doing something worthwhile, let them believe they make a difference while fattening themselves on food, drink and pleasurable company.

The rich would continue to get richer, while the poor. . . the poor would flourish, unseen.

"Ever meet Greyda?" the suited Gnoll had queried of the nearby table seated by three, inclusive of the Celestial and his Elven companion. The group had been noisy, almost unbearably so, voices carrying throughout the bar and beyond with raucous laughter. "Who is Greyda?" the celestial returned the question with one of his own. Sienna's lips quirked, born and bred in the Hive she knew many of the faces one would consider 'well known' within the Cage's confines. "An Archon what sleeps wiv everything on two legs. Kinda like 'Wings' 'ere, aye." she had muttered to her own table with mild amusement.

"She's, uhhhhh...Friend'a mine! Green skin. Wings. Kinda like your's, except more... feminine. Bet you guys'd get along."

The minutes passed, a half hour shifting in time as the bar's activity marched ever onward with it's consistency. Her gaze shifted between those seated at their own three person table, moving to each person as he spoke. . . or rather argued the place of luck in their lives.

"As for you Hoodie McSlanderwench." the voice cut through their quiet conversation, winged figure looming over the table upon Davin's approach. Ahh, the audacity. Sienna paused mid-sip with the narrowing of heterocromatic orbs, her gaze slowly weaving upwards to his features. Drawing her wine-slicked lips away from her glass, she uttered a single phrase. A warning. "Feck off." Sienna did not find herself fond of his kind at the best of times, but to be approached during her social gathering with such a tone....

The Raven moved to take her sip, attempting to continue the minding of her own business as this berk should be doing. "I think not."As he declined, she lifted a few gloved fingers in the direction of her table-companions. Deal with it. This berk hardly seemed worth her time with the current situation, thus she would continue to observe. "I think so. Th' lady dinnae wan' yeh botherin' her." the red-garbed Sal stated as he stood, yet the Celestial remained indignant with his refusal to cause trouble. "I think nobody asked you, Professor."

A calm expression remained on her features as she watched on, continuing to sip from her glass. Pride, so easily wounded among do-gooders. A single sentence in jest an' alas, one would think we've stepped inta the blood war. The Celestial demanded that she give reason for comparing him to the Archon, despite the words coming from another. Such a small, petty thing. The Raven smirked lightly with the slightest shake of her hooded head. Just how many warnings would it take for this berk to be on his way and return to his preening? Had Silas been here..... well. It was better described as being 'lucky' that the Wolf was not. She did so loathe putting time and effort into such things. Such scenes. But alas, here they were.

"Pal. Yeh don' wan' people slanderin? Quit makin' scenes. Then watch as people magic'ly shu' up." continued Sal, the voice of reason. Harmonium. A toothy grin flashes in the shade of the hood worn by the tiefling seated with them. Boots kicked off the table where they rested, his dusky eyes peered up at Darvin. "Fly on little birdie." he quipped, adding his own voice to the growing din within the bar. Feck off.Again it was requested that he leave, and again he refused. Another, a fifth. Somehow, to her credit, a half-fiend managed to keep her attention on her tome despite the remaining eyes settling on the confrontation.

Sienna sighed internally, slowly rising from her chair as she placed her drink down on the wooden table with a -thunk-. "I do so hate being interrupted during social activities. I ain't gonna tell ya again. Feck off an' leave me be." The legs of the seat screeched across the stone as she slipped out from, and around it. This berk ain't goin' ta listen ta any form of reason, pig-headed oaf. The Raven considered her next move carefully as her gaze traversed him form. Chin lifting slightly, back positioned toward the bar, her fingers reached for and plucked a single white feather from his wing. "Darvin, innit?" Smirking at his confirmation of such, she draw the celestial plume under her nose and inhaled deeply.

"I'll remember it."

Your days are numbered, fool. Iv only you'd listened, hmm? But alas, you had to keep pressin' matters. Five requests tah leave us be, tah feck ov and move on and ya could nae leave me ta me drink in peace. All over a few words, a jest no less. Ye were warned there would be consequences for staying....

"You have now accosted me..." the celestial snarled, the dark lenses of his glasses rising and falling on his nose as he spoke. "Do not do so again. You will hand my feather back to me, now, I will go, and you will not speak to me again." A single brow arched faintly with the brazen command. Did he really believe he had the right to order her around? Especially after refusing to take his leave? This berk really didn't get it, and he had everything that was coming to him. "C*nt."

Drawing a fuel based lighter from her belt, the Raven deftly set the feather to flame. Thus, the challenge was issued and responded to by the Celestial throwing his weight around in the form of a shapeshifted Iron Golem. Sienna was unperturbed. "You. Me. Brux. You wanna dance?" If he was not willing to leave her be, then she would let her blades teach him a deserved lesson. Hells, a fair duel even. . . she knew how these pompous types loved the sport of a duel. He refused at first, of course, cowardly bird that he was. As expected, however, he would not let it rest. Could not. "Brux. Now."

And so the Raven took flight, waiting patiently outside the portal to the Beastlands of Brux. The sunset hued portal wavered and shone in its timeless glory. Tiefling by her side, elf and fiend present as spectators they waited. With no sign of her fellow combatant, Sienna stepped through the portal with the accompanying group. No sooner had her booted heel hit the soil on the other side was she attacked, the brutish claw of a fully warded and devil-shifted Darvin swiping out at her to clip her features. The crimson haired woman reeled back, throwing herself to the ground in a moment of quick thinking to blend with the dull hues of tall grass and dusky sunsets. Amusing that it was the rogue who had become the most honorable of the two in a duel between Hiver and Celestial. "What am I, The Marquis of f*cking Queensbury? I'm not a halo, and you are being unreasonable. So. no. I wasn't planning on a fair fight, because I'm not a fool."

-I- am the one being unreasonable when you began harassing me, despite numerous warnings, because of words shared between companions? How quaint.

Crouched low in the grass, the Raven drew her blades with a dull ring and snaked her way closer to the target. Rising up from the grass, her words were offered with a calm hum. "So be it." Her movements were swift and precise; up through the towering ribcage. Once, twice, three times to puncture lungs, severe arteries and pierce the heart. Efficient. Deadly. The devilish-shift shrunk and wavered as it restored the Celestial to his original body, slumping to the ground in a pool of blood that grew with every pump of his failing heart. Leaning down to his unconscious form, her lips parted to utter quiet words as her gloved fingers curled around and yanked free a handful of feathers from his wing.

"Nobody messes wiv Wolf's pack. Never. Ever. Cross me again."

With that she rightened herself and pocketed the plumes. Foolish, over-sensitive berk. Despite her mild irritation at the swiftly offered magical healing Darvin was given, she had had been merciful this cycle. She would allow him his life. Perhaps a lesson would be learned from this, despite the need of their kind to "win". Yet even as the thought crossed her mind, Sienna knew the truth of the matter.

They never learn.

The Raven perched atop the rooftop of Cookie's Eatery, cloaked in the shadow of the chimney she leant against as her gaze weaved over the comings and goings below. There was no night in the City of Doors, but she relished and found comfort in the darkened state of late hours.

Sienna was right often and though such was met with a quiet acceptance on occurrence, there were times she truly wished she was not. This was one of those times. Twirling the single celestial plume she had kept before passing others on, she shook her cowled head. Her frustration had since subsided, diluted to her usual temperament of calculating patience upon reflection.

Of course the celestial had not learnt from his defeat, he could not allow bygones to be bygones and thus proved her right. With her victory, the Raven had been willing to let it go; writing it off as simply another berk who got too big for his boots and needed a lesson in manners. Yet, for the second cycle in a row she had been harassed during the course of a quiet drink with her companions. Such a tiresome ordeal, and she did so loathe the attention.

"Featherboy is making threats, statin' he will kill Sienna once he is capable. He's comin' ta collect his feathers wif his women now."

She would not be caught up in the unimportance of such, even if this 'Darvin' felt the need to go running to a complete stranger over a few missing feathers. A woman who, like the celestial, needed to learn to mind her own business. As the Raven gazed down on the bazaar below, her dual-coloured eyes followed a particular red-haired figure with a light smirk. It was then her orbs flicked with recollection - they'd met this tiefling once before when her pet, an adolescent umberhulk, had tried to rape the Raven, Old Wolf telling her politely to put a leash on it.

To Darvin's credit, at least he had openly admitted his weakness, sending a woman to make threats in his place. Threats that he could not follow through on. In the end, however, the tailed wench had only made herself look foolish as she pandered to the mewls of a babe by spewing threats and making a scene. All because the foolish berk had lost a fight after running his mouth. In front of numerous witnesses, all asking her to simper down as she had huffed and puffed - making threats against Harmonium and Mercykiller alike. Much like her feathered companion, she too couldn't say her piece and move on. Childlike. Quite ridiculous, really.

"Flat, I don't like the likes of you infesting this place."

The statement drew a bitter, hissing laugh from her lips as she extended her fingers into the night air to receive the claws of her descending raven. Hss hss hsss. I 'ave been shaped an' moulded by this city since birf. You's an' your kind are the infestation, high an' mighty outsiders wif your riches an' finery as ya look down on those who suffer and struggle beneaf you. It was the way of the world, there was no disputing that. Jink paved roads to desired outcomes, greased palms and set cogs in motion. The easiest path to success, but not the be all and end all of what it meant to be in control. Let them hate our kind - the street rats, the abandoned, the outcast, the abused, the thieves, the thugs, the depraved, those whom overcome.

This was but a speck of dirt on the road travelled, not something to occupy time and resources further than was necessary. Retribution would come when the time was right, and any attempts against them would only result in death. There was no fear. Lifting a few gloved fingers to the dark plumes of the dark raven now perched on her shoulder, Sienna raked at the bird in a petting motion. Life was a game, and it would be played with an expert hand. Woe be any and all who stood in their way as the pieces gathered in their favor.

Sienna's red lips curled upwards into a smile.


_{Disclaimer: All views expressed are In-Character only and based on a neutral evil alignment; they do not reflect my views or opinions as a player nor a person.}

Amber candlelight illuminated the rickety wooden walls, casting shadows on the interior of one of many rundown foxholes within the Hive. A near-silent rusting sends a large rat scurrying for cover as a slender, slightly malnourished figure slips in through a low hole in the wall and tosses a somewhat bulging haversack onto the worn slab of mattress with a puff of dust. Within moments of the female figure slipped into the building, she began what could only be described as careful routine that started with the checking of dark corners, and ended with the assurance of concealed weapons still situated in their hiding places. Satisfied, the woman threw back her faded green hood and rolled her shoulders before trekking across the sandy floor to a large wooden chest and drawing from it an unmarked bottle.

Wolf was tied up in some manner of business or another, which meant she would find no company this night. Sienna knew not to ask questions when it came to the older man's comings and goings without prompt. Rather, she had learnt that poking your nose into Silas' affairs was the fastest way to a busted lip. He would always kiss her afterward, however. Gods love him. With a short huff, the crimson-haired woman popped the cork from the bottle and eased from her knelt position to a sitting one, lifting said bottle to her lips to savor it's spicy burn. It had been a good cycle; indeed, a profitable one being the kind that pleased her most and satiated her lingering greed. Placing the bottle down after an additional swig, Sienna reached around and pulled the haversack off what could only be described as a poor excuse for a bed.

Le'ss see wot we got 'ere, then.

The spoils of the Blood War clattered into the dirt as the bag was upended, each item coated in a thin film of red dust and the nonsensical splatter of blood. A quality axe, the thud of a breastplate and the ringing of steel on steel from kukri and and greatsword falling atop one another. Clearly this was a sack that had some extra-dimensional qualities, the final pieces tumbling from it's hempen maw before being tossed aside. Almost immediately, the Raven's gaze is drawn to the negative energy of the last blade to fall amongst the others with a thud; dark obsidian, it's edge wickedly cut into sharpened teeth. Her angular chin lifts slightly as her gloved fingers reached for the weapon, imbued with the feeling of being watched. Hand curling around it's hilt, she exhales a long breath and draws it into her leather-clad lap with a sardonic smile in the recollection of prying it from the fiend that had lay dead at her feet. Inexplicably, it felt good in her grasp.

Sienna ran a few fingers down the length of the blade, the gloved tips of which brushed lightly over the gemstones that gave the weapon an appearance of having eyes. An involuntary shiver rippled through her being, unnoticed as she watched the dark energy dance and swirl around her hand. Clearly this blade was worth a great deal, more so than any of the few positions the street rat had ever owned. A sudden pulse of energy beneath her fingers both somehow drew her from and forced her further into a distracted state. The rubies crafted into it's blade flickered menacingly, a name imprinted into her mind. No, heard. "Grey'ayne."

The Raven's arched brows slowly loft on her forehead, shifting uneasily as her gaze darted to the various corners of the room and around her general vicinity. Having grown up in the City of Doors, Sienna was no clueless when it came to witnessing the oddities that passed through it's bars. "Grey'ayne?" she repeated softly, a curious tint to her whispered words. She'd heard chants of sentient blades in the past, though most of which came from the addled tongues of drunks and clearly could not be relied upon. Talkin' blades, yeh roight.

"Correct." came the reply, the voice laced with both velvet and malice as the gemstones flickered before returning to their constant, steady glow. Perhaps she was to have company after all. Sienna's lips curled into a rare smile, fingers brushing fondly over the blade's hilt. A prize, if ever there was one. And it was hers. As Grey'ayne fell silent once more, seemingly dormant, the woman slowly stood and buckled the ebony sheath to her hip. Scarcely still could she believe her apparent good fortune, the blade a comforting presence on her person.

You an' I are goin' to 'ave some fun, Grey'ayne.

Ruby eyes flickered once through the cut circles in the sheath, yet no further words were offered.

For now.