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Drea Raylin

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About Drea Raylin

  • Birthday 09/10/1983

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  1. Hey, you still around? I haven't been active in years. Cheers kido.


  2. You're telling me!!! WHEW! I'm just glad to be able to post... now to wait for Cab to get his bio done. *Stalks off to find Cabroci*
  3. *bump* Any idea what's going on with this? I'd like to start rping soon. Thanks, Drea
  4. oops. that would be my fault. Drea has always just aged as I have and she's been around for 10 years. I never considered the "age of the band" before, its always just been there! hehe We can change her age if needed to 23-25? Let me know. I'm fine with it.
  5. Drea blinked, groggy and bursting with pain. Her hand was the first to move, a slight twitch in front of her eyes. She blinked again, slowly becoming aware of the hard wood jutting into her head, shoulder and the rest of her body. Mentally, she forced her foot to move, and then the other as sound entered her world. The sly, slithery voice stimulated consciousness and a wave of understanding crashed against her. Though her head screamed as she lifted it, and her body ached with each returning thought, Drea sat up in time to see Ayrik disappear through some black door in the middle of the room. Part of her wanted to leap off the stairs and follow him, to take her other knife and stab him until he looked like her father. But the door was gone, the man with it and she was completely drained of energy. Leaning her head against the wall she felt the other side with a shaking hand. The blood had stopped, but her hair was still wet with it and the pounding increased when she touched it. Weakness took over and her eyes became heavy again, but a motion across the floor caught her attention. She watched Mehrin cross the floor and drop to his knees next to a petite shape. Koreen… Mother… Heavy eyes weren’t enough to keep her still. Drea grit her teeth and crawled down the steps and across the floor. “Keep her safe, you hear?” She whispered as Drea finally reached the two. Her arms shook as they held herself upright and looked into her mother’s tired, red eyes. Drea’s own swelled up with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall. “I hear” Mehin replied softly and put a hand on her shoulder. Drea’s mouth opened to say something, anything, but no words came as she watched the bit of life drift away in her mother’s eyes. Still the tears would not fall. There were more important things to do than morn. Sorrow and sleep could come later. Drea cleared her throat and looked up to Mehrin. She caught the exhaustion in his eyes and knew how he felt. Without saying a word, she nodded and knew what they needed to do. ***** The horses were a bit skittish from the flames that engulfed the house that she had grown up in. The only real house she’d ever known, holding more memories than an entire army combined. A house that was more to her than a house, it was supposed to be a sanctuary. A haven. The walls were arms that embraced her tight when she walked through the door. Her father’s pigeons were let loose and one still circled around the black smoke, watching in despair as Drea was. For the first time, Drea saw Mehrin on a horse, awkward and hunched. Renly danced away from the gate once more. It was done. There was nothing left to trace what had happened, or where they were headed. Kicking Renly, Drea lead him down the road and out of the city, to find what was next.
  6. Drea paced back and forth across the wooden floor. The house was silent except the steady creak of the old planks. A path was already worn, but not only from tonight. She had tried to sleep, but the unsettling thought of what—or who—was out there kept her restlessly awake. Wide awake. Her sleep time was coming to an end, but she knew if she went down early, Mehrin would mutter something under his breath about not getting enough rest, or some protective mumble, which would only lead in guilt and frustration for being guilty. Light! Why couldn’t life be normal? Who was she kidding? This is normal. This will always be normal. Frustrated once again, she threw one of the knives she had been toying with and watched it jam into the wall by the door and waited. The noise would have startled Mehrin, but she didn’t even hear footsteps. Blood and ashes, it was too quiet. Drea threw open the door and snatched the knife from the wall. The first thing she noticed was a ball, a bag of something at the bottom of the stairs. There were shadows, but no sound. A steadier watch proved two shadows, two people. Mehrin obviously one of them, and the other… the other was some shape in the air. Confused, Drea studied harder. No, it wasn’t Mehrin. This man had a cloak on; Mehrin’s cloak was in the bedroom. Which meant the floating figure was-. Drea’s heart beat rapidly as she realized what had to be going on downstairs. The fact that it was silent still haunted her as she snuck silently down the stairs. She wasn’t a genius when it came to men who could wield, but she spent enough time around the band’s asha’man to know they had more than one dirty trick up their sleeves. In what seemed like hours, Drea was at the foot of the stairs, Ayrik’s back to her and the man’s bulky shape blocking Mehrin’s view of her. Good. She couldn’t have him give her away. She still couldn’t hear what was happening, but the shadows showed movement and pain as Mehrin’s body jerked and twisted. Biting her lip, forcing herself to concentrate, Drea drew her knife in a tight fist and flung it toward the dark man’s back. Emotion got the best of her and she let out a small grunt of pain and as quickly she felt a blow of air, hard as a horse, slam her halfway up the stairs. All the same, the knife stuck Ayrik in his right shoulder. He seemed neither bothered nor hurt as he pulled the knife out and let it drop to the floor, point straight into the wood. Drea tried to back up the stairs, but her feet slipped against the wood. It was a split second before Drea realized they were covered in blood. She watched as Ayrik approached her, nothing but evil in his eyes. He mouthed something, but Drea still could not hear what he was saying. From behind him, she saw Mehrin, bloody and weak, shouting in return. The blood wasn’t hers, she wasn’t hurt. The ball at the end of the stairs, the tan colored-blood stained piece that sagged out a side told it all. The man has a pattern, and if Mehrin was the one he wanted, Drea was next. Swallowing all her tears to savor later and transforming it into rage, Drea’s feet caught a stair and she leapt at the man with a scream. Nearly two feet before she reached his body, she stopped mid-air and dangled in front of Ayrik. He looked her over with a sly grin, similar to one she’s seen on Mehrin, but with completely different implications. Drea snarled and clawed at him, but he ducked out of the way. “Oooh, she’s a feisty one, Brother. Tell me, is she like this in the sack?” His attention was turned back to Drea, she could feel his slimy eyes all over her. “No one likes a boring lay.” Drea’s eyes closed and she breathed in sharply as something brushed against her lips. It continued down her neck, between her breasts and along her stomach. She bit her lip to stop the tears. She would not give this bastard the pleasure of watching her cry. “Is that why you still haven’t gotten any, Ayrik?” A slap of air struck her cheek. “I mean, you’re how old?” Another, a bit harder. Drea moved her jaw around and spit out a gob of blood. “He’s at least had three-” She heard a shout from Mehrin just as the next blow hit her in the side of the head. “There’s at least one, my dear. Maybe two by the end of the evening.” Another brush of air grazed Drea’s cheek. She shook her head as if it were a fly and she the cow. “Your mother was a fantastic lay. All the squirming and screaming.” He made to bite at Drea’s neck. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain. “Definitely not boring. I’ve always found sex before murder exhilarating. Though, I guess it depends on the wench.” Drea opened her eyes again and found his face directly in front of hers. With their noses touching, Drea could see even more of the resemblance between brothers. “Like mother like daughter?” His voice was a whisper, almost inaudible to her ears, and yet the words slithered across his tongue. With that, Drea’s body fell to the floor with a forceful thud. She lay there for a second, trying to regain any composure she found, and then lifted her head. Ayrik had left her and returned to Mehrin. In her daze, she couldn’t make out definite words, but there were screams of pain she knew weren’t coming from Ayrik. This could be her only chance. Making a difficult decision between love and honor, Drea stumbled to her feet and ran as fast as she could for the stairs. Just as her foot touched the first step, another blow of air struck her in the back of the head. She felt her limbs go numb as her hope turned to black. Drea’s head hit the corner of a step and bounced. When her body was still, fresh blood stained the grain of the wood step and the house was silent again.
  7. She heard her mother moving around the house long before she heard Mehrin get out of bed. Sure anything could have been going on, but Koreen was known for her lack of sleep and Drea was trying to trust again. But when she heard Mehrin open the front door and a voice that belonged to neither family member, Drea was out of bed and creeping down the stairs. As soon as Koreen saw Drea she ran to the stairs and held her daughter close. The older woman shook with fear. A life of fighting darkfriends and trollocs and this woman was afraid of a beggar? Drea glanced in Mehrin’s direction as he closed the door. She whispered soothing words in her mother’s ear to disguise the sounds from outside, but the woman sobbed harder when she heard the ending. Drea clutched her mother closer as Mehrin approached the two. “What did you make of that, Drea?” A motion by the kitchen caught Drea’s eyes. Instinctively she reached for her knife but relaxed once realizing the shape was only her father. The big bulky man rubbed his eyes sleepily. “What’s going on her, Xan?” he muttered. “What was that noise?” Drea struggled for a moment between telling them the truth and dismissing it as nothing. A quick glance at Mehrin gave her the answer. “Nothing, Papa. Just go back to bed.” She peeled her mother off her shoulder. “You too, Mama. Get some sleep. It was just a beggar man wanting money. Mehrin and I will take care of everything.” Koreen ran to her husband and followed him into the bedroom. Tone hesitated before turning to leave, glaring at Mehrin, a warning more than anything. Drea waited until they were alone before walking over to Mehrin. She put her head on his chest and sighed heavily. “I don’t know what that was, but I’ve never seen my mother so scared before. She’s a boarderlander. She’s harder than I am.” Drea looked up. “We need to move, don’t we? Somethings going to happen… I can’t let it happen here. Not in front of my parents, Mehrin.”
  8. A sudden coughing fit errupted as Drea's head turned quickly from the fire to Mehrin. Her eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed at him, confused and irritated. She tried so hard to be as broad as possible with this stranger and Mehrin lays everything out just like that! The coughing continued and she managed to motion Mehrin to follow her. "Excuse us" She said politely though a cough to the man in black, and walked a few paces outside of the fire's light. Should be far enough out of earshot, but the creator only knew what sort of weaves this man had up. She stopped abruptly and turned on Merhin, the coughs miraculously gone and the color coming back to her face in a nice shade of red. "What the bloody- Are you crazy, Mehrin? We don't even know this man and you dare speak his name. What if he works for Ayrik? What if Ayrik is out there, waiting for us? If you get us in trouble or hurt or killed because of this, Mehrin, so help me..."
  9. Rosh pushed the plate away. The smell of the rotting food made his stomach churn. He had made a better meal while drunk and half asleep, and that was saying something. Wrinkling his nose and leaning back in the chair, Rosh folded his hands and watched the man drink his ale. Surprisingly, he didn’t have much of an appetite for food or drink, so the stranger hoarding the ale like a selfish twit meant nothing to him. Though he seemed annoying at first; playing that sad song, talking all funny, and now keeping all the ale for him; Rosh seemed drawn to the man. His sorrow was intriguing, mysterious, almost addicting. The silence hung in the air between the two men, well, man and boy. “Why don’t you just go find her then?” His words seem to hang there more so than the silence had. At least the man set down the bottle now, but his face had turned to stone. Was the concept of going after the woman he loved that foreign or that obsurd? OOC: Sorry it's taken me a month to reply. Life happens. Hope you forgive me.
  10. Drea sat down by the fire. The sun had set and the breeze was chilly, so the warmth was invting for at least a little while. She watched the flames as Mehrin and the Ashaman talked. She didn't want to be rude, but the Ashaman still made her feel uncomfortable. Anyone who could channel made her uneasy. It wasn't until Mehrin cleared his throat that she realized the man was looking at her. "News?" Her scout ears still heard everything that was said, even when she was concentrating on something else. "Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose. The Ogier are nearly finished with most of the Citadel, and new recruits are coming weekly. It's pretty exciting to see the growth since we've settled in one spot." Drea took a look at Mehrin, unsure what details to give out. "They're in search of a new Commander, you know, with an army that size there's no guarentee you'll live through the night, no matter your position." She hoped that was enough information for the man to keep his mouth shut. That's the problem with men, they don't bloody know when to stop asking questions. Well, it's Mehrin's choice now.
  11. Drea watched as Mehrin went out of the room and up the stairs. He was assured in his words and movements; something she had always considered an attractable quality. There was an obvious way out of this mess, but it may end up being more chaotic in the long run. But then again, what fun was life if it wasn’t messy? Grinning at her parents, trying to be polite and reserved but ending up showing her teeth in trepidation instead, she bid them goodnight and started to follow Mehrin up the stairs. Before putting a foot on the first step, Drea turned around and took another look at her parents. “It’s really nice to be home, Mom. Have a good night.” And up she went. Mehrin was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for her. Either waiting for her or confused as to which room to enter. She stopped in front of him, tilted her head to look in his eyes and smiled. She reached down to his hands and wrapped them around her waist and placed her head on his chest. She breathed him in, enjoying his scent. It would be strange sleeping alone again. It had now been months since they left the Citadel, and every night had been spent near or next to his warm body. Now, the north is the last place she wanted to feel cold and empty. The land was already enough of both to suit her needs. "My father wont touch you so long as I tell him not to." She winked playfully and tipped up on her toes at kiss him on the cheek “You’re room will be here. Sleep well, Mehrin.” She opened Kimal’s door to let him in then turned to the opposite door and went in. ** Koreen watched with sad eyes as her daughter walked up the stairs after that man. When the bottom of her foot was beyond seeing, she took a longing sip of her tea before turning to her husband. They stared at each other in silence—both thinking the same thing, she knew, what had their daughter come to? The distant whispers weren’t audible enough to make out what was said, but Koreen and her husband knew they were talking. It wasn’t until she heard footsteps going the opposite way and two doors shut that she took another sip from her cup and sat in her chair. She didn’t know how much longer her legs would stay under her. “I can’t believe it, Tone. I just can’t. I thought we raised Xandrea better than this. Maybe we should have kept her here, married her to that nice Marshall gentlemen. He always seemed like such a nice boy and is now a Wall Guard. They could have a child by now, maybe two. She would have been happy, Tone. I know it.” Koreen sighed and thought about taking another sip of the spiked tea, but that would give her husband too much time to interrupt. “But instead, she’s miserable. Her heart has more battle wounds than her body and she wears it on her sleeve like an Andorian. This Band of the Red Hand has made her weak. She is no Boarderlander now, Tone. Not any more. The south has made her soft and weak.” Koreen took a long breath. She didn’t normally banter like this; it must be the alcohol in her tea, it must be. ** The night was colder than normal, and the pigeons in their coop cooed gently. Every once in a while, one could be heard fluttering from one side of their cage to another and the rest would coo louder. They seemed restless, and so was Koreen. She felt the muscular body of Tone next to her, but if he were sleeping or not she didn’t know for sure. Koreen had not slept yet this night. Her eyes were heavy and her mouth seemed to be continuously open in the form of a yawn. There was a sudden noise outside that made Koreen sit up in bed. It sounded like it was coming from the backyard, just outside her window. The pigeons were unusually quiet and Koreen even stopped breathing. There it was again, but this time it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the house. Could Drea be outside? Or maybe her friend checking on the horses? Curiosity got the best of her, and Koreen slipped out of bed and into a shift. Slipping house shoes onto her feet, she crept out of the room and down the hall. A large shadow moved past the window and Koreen gasped, jumping against the wall. Instinct told her to wake her husband. He was definately the stronger of the two, but her stubborn Shienaran mind made her take a step forward. She grabbed a knife from the cabinet and held it tightly. The back door opened soundlessly-for a change- and the crisp night air and adrenalline rushing through her body made her shiver in her shift. The shadow had gone around the corner of the house to the front. It couldn't be her daugher's friend, the horses were in the stable behind the pigeons-who's coos were louder outside than they were in. Inch by inch she crept to the corner of the house, dreading what was aorund the other side. Rounding the corner, knife to her shoulder ready to strike, Koreen took a deep breath and looked up at the dark looming figure and screamed.
  12. Rosh hiccupped and stumbled down the dirt road to his home. It had been a long night at the tavern and Mistress Anagail had kicked him out of her bed early—or late, depending on who was doing the kicking and who was doing the sleeping. She at least had the grace to give him one more bottle before slamming the door in his face and mumbling something about her husband being out of town too much and young men too charming for their own good. Roth had merely shrugged, tipped his hat to the closed door and took a long swig of the red wine before stumbling off her front steps in the dark. That was an hour ago, and Roth was now trying to remember where his house lay on this wretched earth compared to the Inn. His mother might be upset to see him home so late, and more so at the bottle in his hand and the stench on his breath, but his father would noticed the un-tucked shirt, messy blonde curly hair and smile with a clap on the back. 21 wasn’t too old to be living at home, nor too young to live on his own. There were plenty of boys in the stories, who were younger than Rosh and ruled kingdoms, and there were plenty more in his town that were older and still on leading strings—whether by wives or mothers depended on the man. One thing Rosh knew for sure was that he was content. As the sun rose above the fields and through the tree branches, Rosh tracked on, regaining some sobriety. Perhaps the walk was good for him, gave him time to trick his mother into thinking he was with Wex and Cris all night—well, he was with them part of the night, so that wasn’t all that bad an idea. As the sun continued to rise and Rosh’s buzz turned to a headache, his ears were filled with a sorrowful melody. A small house to his left provided the source and Rosh stopped to listen. Rosh knew that house. It was messy, nearly torn down, and people lived in it. No one in the village dared talk to them or invite them to festivals because… well… Rosh didn’t exactly know why, they just didn’t. Then again, the people who lived there weren’t exactly known for their social attempts. In fact, this was the first time in all his 21 years Rosh had seen someone actually outside the run down shack. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the gloom of the song or the anxiety of returning to his mother but Rosh surprisingly found himself nearing the front porch, and the man sitting by the door. “That’s a mighty sad song, Sir. Mind if I ask why?” He put one booted foot up on the step and leaned against a post. The sudden desire to be drunk again washed over him and he took a swig of his bottle. Damn, empty. Shaking it upside down for the last drop and getting nothing but small splatters, he set it down by his boot. The only thing he liked more than his wine was his women, and there didn’t seem to be any of those around here either.
  13. Twyla stared at the girl, begrudgingly as she slowly reached for a cup beside the basin. The last thing she wanted to do was obey this girl, but her mouth was unexpectedly dry and screaming for hydration. With no wine to be found in this bloody man’s bloody room, water would have to suffice. Slowly, and only taking her blue eyes off the other woman for brief seconds, Twyla poured herself a glass of water, took one drink and set it back down on the table before taking a seat in the room’s only chair. The Great Lord? Light! Who was this girl? Her first initial thought was curious, but all senses told her to run, fast. But curiosity won over anyway. Was there something she was supposed to know, but didn’t? Had she been blinded her whole life to the answers she’s been searching for? Best start with answering the questions asked, before jumping into her own. This woman may be of help after all, despite her diminutive size. Her name? A list of names she’s used scrolled through her mind. Selyse, Vivia, Brecca, Misael, Lya, and last night’s pick: Lorna and many others. But the tone of this woman’s voice told Wylie she was serious. “Twyla. Twyla Santagar. But my family always called me Wylie.” Her voice was suddenly meek, as if the mentioning of the Dark Lord had silenced her wit and stilled her fire. Enough of that! A bloody man had never put fear in her before, why should this one be any different? “And who are you?” Her indignation was back and with full force.
  14. The area traveled was beautiful. The skies were perpetually cloudless and the surrounding trees were like an emerald ocean, similar to those fabled in Seanchan, it’s tides swirling in the wind. The rustling of the leaves was soothing in the silence between Mehrin and herself and once in a while she’d answer a bird’s whistle. Drea was truly at home here, and the scene was almost enough to make her smile. Her dagger sat at the hip of her brown trousers and her sword lying within reach along Renly’s back. Her cloak was draped over it and the sleeves of her dark blue shirt were pushed half way up her arm and it was tied loosely. The nonexistent clouds would have been a welcoming friend this day. She had left her uniforms back at the Band—better to be anonymous at all times, just in case. The only obvious signet of her past was Mateo’s red painted hand print just visible under the laces. Mehrin was walking next to her, but she didn’t mind. She liked riding behind him. First of all Drea lived on horses as a scout. And second of all, she got to look at him. He was silent almost the whole trip thus far, only saying the necessities. In the beginning, Drea didn’t mind that either. She respected him and knew he needed space. But now, her days were spent in stillness, with only the birds to talk to. One more day of this and she might go crazy. “We should think about making camp soon.” Light! He can talk! Drea looked down at him in surprise. The sudden appearance of his voice had startled her—which was saying something—but she suppressed fear with a gracious smile. Drea liked hearing his voice and considered it a treat when he did talk. Looking around, there wasn’t a farm close to them for leagues and there was no telling when one would pop up, but she knew from experience the farm folk down here were generous enough to open their doors even at late hours. “Maybe just a bit farther? I’ve smelled fire for at least a few miles and there are wisps of smoke just over the next hill. It could be a farm.” She may not be a scout anymore, but old habits die hard. If you look like a wolf and act like a wolf, you can’t be a sheep no matter how hard you try. The next hill was farther than she had realized. Your skills are slipping already, girl. But the night was just getting dark when Drea realized the fire was from no farm house. A quick glance at Mehrin as they reached the top answered her question. He knew it too. Slight disappointment hit and she frowned to herself. A feather bed and pillow was obviously too much a luxury to expect. Are you going soft now too? “Do you want to talk to them, Drea, or should I?” Mehrin asked. An innocent question, truly, but Drea chuckled regardless. “We can’t have a little girl like me looking dominant, Mehrin. Show ‘em who wears the pants around here.” Her tone was more playful than she expected. Was it the silence that made her this way, or his voice? Both perhaps. “You could use the practice.” She whispered under her breath as Mehrin walked ahead of her.
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