Completed Breaker of Chains


Ugly Duckling
Character Biography
Ethir's iron jewelry was particularly painful today. She wondered briefly if her keeper, Orion, had done so on purpose, but she could do nothing about it. While it hurt, it left no marks on her perfect skin. She walked back to her tent as dusk fell, absentmindedly scratching at her neck.

She walked into her tent, the fading light from outside illuminating Orion, waiting for her. "Hello, my treasure," he said, his voice soft and slippery. Ethir hated his voice. He walked up to her, his golden robe shushing gently across the dirt floor of the tent. He placed both his hands on either side of her face, his fingers cool against her warm skin. "I'm afraid you haven't been performing as well as you ought to be," he continued, tracing her cheek where her scar hid under perfect skin. Panic surged within Ethir briefly as she wondered if he would take away her beauty. What would she have left?

"What a shame that is, considering all the gifts I have given you," he went on, stepping back. He looked her up and down and Ethir pretended not to care. "I'm sorry Orion," she said softly, knowing how much he loved to feel powerful and in control. Ever since her incident with Xanthe, she had felt as if something had changed, but perhaps she was just being silly and hopeful. Hope never got anyone anywhere in this world.

Suddenly her senses were alerted, and Orion only knew something was amiss from Ethir's reaction. "What is it, treasure?" he said, walking to the entrance of the tent. He held open the flap and looked outside. Ethir didn't answer, but she didn't need to.

Someone was coming.

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Lost little bird
Sad little bird
Weeping in her cage
Utter not a word
You have been heard
Time to unleash your rage

Quacey was bouncing his little boy and girl on his knees. A smile on his lips. They would need names soon. True names and names to be used. Big decisions made without counsel. Ones that had to be made without it. The serving fae within his home did their best as did the faithful when not in the temple. For so long he had lived alone not needing or using the network of servants to maintain his home like other Lords.

But he wasn't alone now. He had his kin to care for. That required help and he didn't want them to become lonely when he had to be gone.... Something he was about to have to be as that familiar tug pulled on him as he bounced his children. A sensation he would ignore until he was ready to stop.

Where the fae found himself while following the tug was odd. To a tent it took him. Why might that be? Was the one in need of him in there? The answer was an obvious yes, but he already was fully aware there was two within it. Which would be in need of him? Could it be both? Or was one the source of lose for the other?

Quacey would not know until he arrived and inquired. The large fae was dressed well. Perhaps a lord or just a well off individual. His weapon one found on any who traveled. He could be anyone. He was just about anyone. Titles meant little when it came matters of the heart and spirit.

The fae would soon come into view of Orion and the man in the tent came into view of the fae. Not this man. He was not lost, or at least not in the sense of Quacey's domain. Less lost and more chosen a different path. No it was the other one deeper inside he was here for.

The fae continued until he arrived at the tent's entrance than stopped. He looked down at Orion. Then he made a slight bow.

"Greetings. I am Quacey."

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Ethir stood in the middle of her tent, frozen. She heard heavy footsteps enter the Suntory market. It was not yet dark, so there were a few straggling visitors left, but this one felt different. Ethir scratched at her neck where an iron necklace hung.

Then he spoke. Quacey. A name she had not heard before. Why was he here? Why had he come to her tent, of all tents? Could he smell her within, as she could smell him without? He had a strange scent about him, one she couldn't make out, mostly because of the iron around her neck and wrists and sewn into her dress.

"What can I do for you," Orion drawled, not moving from the entrance of the tent. If Ethir didn't know any better she would say he was protecting her.

Ethir couldn't put a finger on it, but something wasn't right here. She took off her iron jewelry while Orion was distracted, sighing in relief was her pain lessened. She could now better smell that he was Fae. What was a Fae doing visiting the Suntory Market? Orion and all the owners had iron weapons ready for some insurrection should the imprisoned Fae ever get the idea of rebelling into their heads.

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Mortals and refusing to offer names. Always so suspicious and rude. Manners were a blessing and resolved more than a few issues. So while the fae did frown slightly at the act he did understand it. Was just how these mortals and their singular names were.

"I would like to visit with the person inside the tent. Is that acceptable or will you turn things uncivilized?"

Quacey looked at Orion with a stern yet even look. Partly a threat. Partly letting him know it was indeed his choice how violent things became. The man was a barking hound while the fae was a sheathed blade. Best no reason for him to be unleashed.

Iron was dangerous to his kind, but that was only if they could do anything to him with it. He had a weapon and he had his tricks. Was not the first time mortals brandished weapons of iron at him. Most likely didn't carry the real threat that was cold iron. That would be a different matter.

But even if they did, he would just deal with it. What was important was he visit the one inside the tent. Someone clothed in iron. Fear of the fae? Perhaps. It was hard to say what was happening still.

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Ethir was even more confused than before. What did the Fae male want with her? If he thought Orion was going to let anyone in her tent who didn't pay the full price (and likely extra in this instance since it was so close to dark)...

Orion chuckled, but Ethir could taste his fear in front of her. "I do appreciate your interest in her, but I'm afraid she's too tired for any more visits today. You could certainly come back tomorrow and I might even give you a discount,"

A cool breeze seemingly from nowhere twisted around Ethir's ankles and blew out past Orion out of the tent, stirring the flaps. Ethir caught a glimpse of dark boots outside.

The man in the way made a mention of being too tired for more visits then about a discount. So he had stumbled into one of those circumstances, or at least the potential was high. Another reason she (they were a woman he had also learned) could have become lost. This opened up some opportunities then. Mortals did enjoy their shiny trinkets nearly as much as the fae enjoyed their own.

Quacey reached into his clothing and produced a small pouch. He held it out towards the man. If he looked then he would find it was full of uncut gemstones. Nothing particularly rare but all still naturally valuable given the nature of precious stones.

"Take the price for the visit and what will ensure privacy." Quacey said with a slight smile to the man. "..... I am certain you can guess why it is important."

With that he waited. Best to avoid conflict and the man had named this option as a means how. Other fae might revel in the spilling of mortal blood, such as the Great Hunt, but he was not one of them. After all these centuries of guiding them in their times of need it would make for a rather complicated relationship if he did.

For now what happened next was up to this man who clothed himself in gold.

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Ethir could not see the other Fae, but she could sense Orion's surprise and her own curiosity was peaked. Maybe she was going to have one last visitor tonight. A surge of hatred towards Orion flared within her, but she did as she usually did and knelt on her sleeping mat amidst her blankets and ran her fingers through hair that did not need brushing, keeping her head down.

Outside, Orion took the pouch and weighed it in his hands, peering inside it. These uncut gems were certainly different from the constant gold he was used to. It was definitely more than what was charged for Ethir's performances but Orion decided Quacey did not need to know that. "Yes, of course, my friend," he replied, giving the Fae a slippery smile and tilt of the head.

With that, Orion backed away from the entrance of the tent, allowing Quacey inside. He would still stay nearby, momentarily distracted as he counted and examined his new treasure.

When the man did his calculations then stepped out of the way, Quacey simply nodded in return. The fae was fully aware he had been "cheated" in some way, but it did not matter to him. He had obtained his objective. So he stepped inside the tent and got his first look at who he had traveled so far to meet.

The first thing he did as soon as the tent flap closed was to cast a spell around the interior of the tent. Those on the outside listening in would hear whatever it was they expected to hear be it silence, words, or simply noises. He had requested privacy after all and paid for the right to it. If they wished to complain then he would remind them of this fact.

The second thing he did was study the woman sitting on her mat over. What struck him as odd was the combination of her being a fellow fae, being clothed in iron thread, and also she was under some form of glamour. He could not perceive what the truth behind it was but he was aware that the visage before him was false.


The fae bowed his head to her. "Greetings. I am Quacey." He rose his head back up then made a motion towards the floor. "May I sit?"

Now what sort of service had he paid for from her? That detail would hopefully shed some light upon this darkness.

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Ethir slowly looked up as Quacey walked into her tent. Her first impression of him was that he was rather handsome. This would be easier, then. The ugly ones were the worst. Ironic, considering. "Hello, Quacey," she replied. "You may," she continued, brushing aside a blanket beside her. She watched him, tilting her head at him. Her hands fell to rest in her lap and another small breeze shifted the light fabric of her dress.

She rose up onto her knees, so that she could better make eye contact with him. He was quite tall, she noted. She knew what she must do next, but for some strange reason, she felt nervous. His gray blue eyes seemed to see into her soul, and she did not want him to see what was there.

"What can I do for you," she said, unwittingly repeating what Orion had said as she made herself trace a hand lightly along his cheek, tucking a dark brown lock of hair behind his ear.

When permission was granted to him, Quacey nodded to her respectfully. He took off his belt and rested his sword off to the side. He made sure to put it just out of his reach so he would need to lean further to get it. Hopefully it would make her understand he was not here for any violence. Then he sat down where she indicated joining her on the floor.

Closer he studied her once more. He took noted of her entire form. The glamour seemed to be around all of her. Was she attempting to hide what she was from the mortals? Doubtful. The iron threads hinted they were already aware. Or at least, he suspected, the mortal clothed in gold did. Most likely her issues related to her own sense of self. A desire to be what was presented before him. A beautiful woman lacking any blemish nor fault.

Her question and touch took Quacey out of his inquiring thoughts and pulled him more to the moment. Indeed, what could she do? His purpose was not for such entertainment, but he was still one of their kind. It was not often they past up an opportunity for enjoyment unless time was more than precious. Currently it was not and a bit of intimacy might help her relax and open up.... Or it might not. It might heighten her walls instead. Depended on the nature of her particular problems.

"May I ask your name?" Quacey spoke giving a pause so she might reply before continuing. "What do you wish or are willing to do?"

Now how would she respond?

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This Fae was strange, indeed. Given, Ethir had not met many other free High Fae, which she suspected he was. What was a free Fae doing in the Suntory market? It was no secret that Fae, both high and low, were kept here as prisoners. Some more willingly than others, but it was no party.

She took note of his discarded sword, in case she needed to kill him after they were done for whatever reason. She had slit throats before, and Orion didn't care, as long he got paid.

"Ethir," She replied, tilting her head to the side a bit. His next question though... Ethir glanced at the entrance of the tent. "He can't hear us," she said, dancing around the question. "You wanted privacy," She paused and considered him. "I do not know what I wish, and I am willing to do anything to please you," Or kill you, if need be.

A surprisingly honest answer, even despite the fact the she couldn't lie even if she wanted to. Perhaps it was because she knew it was the mortals that held her under their thumb, and her fellow Fae struggled even more than she.

Quacey gave a smile when she shared her name with him. One barricade removed. In response to her statement, or rather question, about the man not being able to hear them he gave a nod. He had paid for privacy after all and this way she could take comfort in it.

Her follow ups left him feeling a bit mixed. On the one hand she had presented an opportunity to discuss why he was truly here and on the other she left it open for an opportunity of enjoyment. Neither exactly exclusive from the other, but should he directly walk down the main path or enjoy a little detour?

"We have utter privacy, Ethir. You may voice everything you need to."

The fae stared at her for a moment. He was serious yet she might note the hint of his focus drifting about her figure. How his attention did wander at times like this. The blessing and curse of their kind in such regards.

After a bit Quacey made up his mind. He would be too distracted. They had time. More than the mortals.

"If I said I wished to be pleased, how might you do so? Perhaps a demonstration?"

A bit coy. If his message wasn't understood then it was his own fault. Such was the nature of being distracted.

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Ethir stilled, noting how his gaze drifted from hers. As if he was distracted. So he didn't come here for pleasure. She withdrew her hand from his face, but then he spoke again and Ethir wasn't sure. It seemed as if his distraction had won him over for the moment, and she wasn't about to let it go to waste.

She did not speak, did not need to, as she moved closer to him, still on her knees. Even though he was sitting, she still had to look up at him. She wondered vaguely if her own growth had been stunted because of her exposure to iron over the last couple of years. She placed a hand on his shoulder and with her other hand she undid the tie in his hair. She traced his jaw with her fingers, her thumb brushing across his mouth.

She leaned forward and tilted her chin upwards so their noses bumped. She paused with barely an inch of space between their lips. "You did not come here for pleasure, Quacey," she said, her voice soft like a lover's.

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Quacey watched as Ethir moved closer to him. Her actions purposeful to draw out desire. A simple task for her it would seem even if he was not a fellow fae. She brought her hands upon his face. Their noses touching. Then before their lips could meet she purred out that statement. One he already had an answer for.

"I came here for you Ethir."

A true statement that blessedly included his original and current purpose both.

His hands moved to her hips. Softly they settled into place. But he did not draw their lips closer. She was wanting to play a game with him. He would oblige. All fae held in them a playful trickery in one form or another. For some it was purely an enjoyment of chaos and mischief. For too many malicious intent. He preferred to think of himself as the former, but it was more important if others agreed or not. So far he was unsure which this woman was.

The contact with her iron threads left him feeling discomfort. An itch that just wouldn't go away. She might not be rejecting him but the iron was.

What drove her to wear such a thing?

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He spoke again, his hands coming to rest on her hips. A smile broke out across her face, and she could faintly feel her scar tug, hidden behind smooth, peaches and cream skin.

"How kind of you, to think of me," she purred, continuing their little game. This was certainly not where Ethir thought the night was going to go. She had expected the mortal man outside her tent now to be the one she spent her night with, but it seemed she had been blessed with luck.

She could tell the iron woven into her dress was a nuisance for Quacey, which was an understatement for how it made her feel. She wondered if she should take it off, but then she had never been without iron touching her skin in some shape or form. She did know, however, that as long as Orion was still breathing, her beauty stayed intact, unless he willed it to change, and, seeing as how he had just been made quite a bit richer, he was not going to be taking her beauty back.

So it was with that thought that Ethir pulled back from Quacey's face and rose to her feet. Hooking her thumbs under the top straps of her dress, she shrugged the light fabric off, her skin practically singing for joy at the freedom from iron. She unwittingly let out a gasp of relief, but she was quickly back down on the mat before Quacey.

She had lost all respect for this body's modesty, seeing as how it wasn't really hers. In situations like this, she was able to detach herself from the body she was in, if only for a little while. It was much better than her real body, anyway.
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Something made the woman become more at ease. Perhaps not by much but enough Quacey could notice in the way she moved. The removal of her iron threaded dress was part of it, but he suspected it was more a physical relief than an emotional one. Regardless he was happy to see the thing gone if only out of the way. Her glamour remained. He suspected it might not be of her own doing now. That man from before was seeming more and more to be core to her issues.

With her dress gone and her having rejoined him, the fae decided to follow her example. While she undressed quickly, he took his time. Not slow nor fast. As he did he studied the form she was using for this bit of shared enjoyment. Again he noted no signs of flaws nor blemishes. Not a freckle nor scar nor mole. It was as if she had been sculpted of clay and refined to the point of perfection.

Once his own clothing was out of the way, his hands returned to her hips. He leaned in close, but did not press his lips against her own for a kiss. She started so she should finish. A tease for a tease. A dare for her to take some initiative and enjoy some say in what she did. A bit of freedom in her gilded cage.

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Ethir watched as Quacey undressed, not letting her expression reveal anything. She guessed he had likely had many women, and even men, perhaps, with that face and body. It likely came easy to him. He likely played this sort of game a lot and he likely even had someone at home waiting for him. But here he was. Did his claim of being here for her hold any weight? He seemed to get distracted rather easily.

Ethir blinked, wondering why her mind seemed to be trying to convince her not to sleep with the Fae in front of her. He was different from the others, and she wasn't sure whether she liked it or not.

When his hands came to rest on her hips once more, a tingling sensation crawled along her skin in the wake of his fingers. She looked up into his eyes and they seemed to shift between shades of gray and blue.

In their little game, it was her turn. So she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.
Quacey certainly was familiar with women, but not as much as one might think. An experience he was open to sharing with others when the opportunity rose, but one that rarely had time to given the nature of his duties. Purpose before pleasure had ruled him for much of his life till recently.

Their lips finally touched as she pressed forward. Slight hesitation was about her, but not enough to be concerned. There always seemed to be some from one or both partners in these matters. First it was her and surely there would be that slight hesitation from him later on.

The fae leaned into the kiss as he pulled her closer to him. His eyes shut so that he might enjoy the moment rather than let thoughts linger on the next. A gentle touch as his hands began to slowly explore her skin.

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Ethir did not know how much time had passed, but the sky was still dark outside her tent. Orion was no longer standing outside, but she did not care where he had gone. She lay beside Quacey, her head on his shoulder and her hand tracing soft patterns on his chest. This was likely one of the best nights of her life. She didn't even have to fake anything.

Without realizing it, she changed her breathing so it was even with Quacey's. She was tired but she couldn't seem to fall asleep. Usually, by this point, Ethir had either slit whoever's throat she had laid with, or they had left, having got their money's worth.

She took a slow deep breath. She wondered if Quacey was still awake, but did not want to move her head to look up at him. It didn't matter to her, as long as she was comfortable.

Light had shifted into the night. Sun given way to the Twins. Quacey lay there on the floor with arms wrapped around Ethir. He was arguably too in their game, but such tended to be the results of giving way to passion. Something he thought better celebrated than condemned.

The fae could tell the man in gold was gone. His spell still functioning properly as well. They were free to speak without worry of interruption of any kind now.

"Ethir, I must tell you the other reason why I am here for you."

Quacey paused. How best to word their transition from one form of intimacy to another?

"I was drawn here to you, and perhaps even you to me in some way. My purpose and duty is to aid those lost in their lives and in need of aid. I can not say with certainty what is plaguing your heart and mind, but I do have some thoughts.... But would you mind telling me what they are yourself? Assumptions lead to mistakes and I would rather make none."

Direct felt best. Games were meant to be fun and this sort of matter was never fun.

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So he was awake. Ethir stirred gently, but still did not move her head to look up at him. Was he not tired? Perhaps she had done something wrong.

Then he spoke, confirming what she had already suspected. Why else would he seek her out directly, and at a rather unusual hour?

Lost. Was she lost? She supposed it depended on the definition of the word lost. He was asking her for the truth, something she hated, especially when it came to her. She did not care to look inward for too long.

"What plagues my heart and mind. Perhaps it is my way of life. Would anyone be happy to give away their body, to lose any sort of respect they had for themselves?" An answer, of sorts, but a particularly vague one.

An answer and one true given their shared nature. But he was already aware it was a shallow one. Not that he had expected anything deeper so soon. One must start at the shore and wade out into the deeper waters. So he was beginning to take steps out towards those murky depths away from the stable shore.

"Some do not view the profession in such a way. They chose it freely however, which I suspect you did not."

His gaze went to her dress a moment then back to her glamoured form.

"I suspect this way of life is partly to blame, but not the only cause."

His eyes stayed focused on her for a brief second searching for some insult from her soul.

"If you do not wish to answer then I will not press too hard." A smile touched his lips. "It would give an excuse for me to return and visit until you are ready to speak. I am certain the mortals would enjoy more shiny coins and stones as well."

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As much as Ethir would've liked a second round, she feared what would come after. She pushed herself onto her elbow, finally looking up at him.

"That mortal man you talked to, he was Orion, my keeper," she started, nearly surprising herself with her directness. "He makes money off of me, but I fear I need him as much as he needs me," she finished. Maybe it was the lack of iron in contact with her skin that was making her speak so freely but Ethir had the feeling she could trust the Fae.

She reached a hand up to her face, her fingers tracing the scar that was hidden. How she hated the horrid mark. But Quacey had had scars on his own body, and he was still beautiful.

The mortal was her keeper and she was in need of him. A strange development he had not fully expected, but it did explain how her glamour worked even when she was clad in iron threads. What exactly should he take from this? A fae deal or something else? The nature of things suggested it was not. The mortal tended to be the subservient one. She was clearly not the patron here.

"I understand what the mortal gains." Wealth and a beauty. "What are you gaining that keeps you so bound?"

His hands began to softly massage her skin. No doubt she rarely received such affection and would be in need. It was something he himself often found himself craving in those moments alone. A bit of warmth to remind him that not all was cold and dark. The knowledge of a supporter or friend being real and true drove away the loneliness and stress.

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Ethir lowered herself again, resettling herself in Quacey's arms, as he slowly began to massage her skin. Gods, it felt good. And Gods, was she screwed.

"Beauty," she replied, her voice so soft a mortal would not have been able to hear it. She tensed as she waited for him to respond.

She knew he already knew she was glamored, that her appearance was false, but to have the truth standing there, looking straight at her; it was a feeling she didn't like and she almost wished she could take the words back and keep pretending.

But he had said he could help her, had he not?