Kailara Lenor {WIP}

[{Midnight Skye}]

Name: Kailara Shade Lenor, aka Kai
Age | B-day: 18 | October 30, 1990, graduate
Position: Werewolf
Town: NYC

Hair: Black
Eyes: Light Brown
Height: 5'7''
Face: Morena Baccarin

History:


Personality:

____________YOU_______________

Name: Kay or Skye will do.
How'd you find us? A Friend: The alluring Silver Bullet
RP Sample:
Taken from Last Resort.
Post: How to make friends & betray people
Character: Fierro N. Darque
Arching an eyebrow, Fierro looked at the door once the clock chimed at 10 precisely. It didn't shock him to hear the doorknob turning halfway through the minute, seeing that Bristow fellow appear just after a brief knock. Of course, he didn't move from the still, statue-like position he was frozen into on the piano bench. Simply he greeted the younger man with a slight bow of the head, acknowledging his presence with a quiet greeting rather than a roaring shout down the hall like he used to, back in the day when people knew him as the jolly one Nicholas. But like many of the relationships that had come and gone for him, his identity, Nicholas, was long gone.

As Bristow brought up the name 'Sark', Fierro couldn't help but grumble as he shook his head. "Sounds like he's the same old bloke as before." Times moved, but hardly changed it seemed. Fierro once worked with the Ministry in guarding Azkaban, before it was taken over. Sark was there as well, a bottom-feeding troll of a man that he was. He just disgusted Fierro to no end. Luckily for him, he hardly had to work with scum like Sark, but considering his practically joined-at-the-hip ties with Williams, his job wasn't looking any better. Still, he felt a bit sorry for the boy.

Silence then befell the master of Viridian household while he watched the young fellow come through the foyer and closer to the living room area in which he inhabited. The fact that Warren's presence was broad and thus invisible at the moment, he figured that would be answer enough for the suspiciously eager-to-hate-Trevor, Imperium Guard. Fierro crossed his uncrossed his legs and shifted his position to face him, laying all attentions on him. This was his chance to assess the boy before Warren got there (if he even decided to show up), and every second was precious. If he was spying for Williams, there had to be a tell. There had to be a reason this man wanted Trevor's blood just as much as him or Callid, and he needed to know.

"Seems Warren's running a bit late." Fierro commenced to state the obvious. "But it's nice of you to at least show up."

Callid's means were clear, justifiable and everyone knew them. If Fierro wanted to hear the boy's reason, he probably had to cut down to the chase. How, without being brash, would he be able to find this out? After all, he didn't invite him down to the manor for idle chit-chat.

"I invited you here for a reason. Of course, we couldn't say too much at the Masquerade. Although the three of us met under the wild circumstance that we happen to say the right things at the right time, there was indeed no words that would completely give us away. Even as we stepped out of the ballroom I knew we wouldn't be safe. Treason is a crime punishable by death, but these days -- what isn't?" As Fierro said those words, he quickly felt a knot in his stomach.

Death Eaters were never known for their changes of heart, their conscience, but when you've had time to contemplate your life, where it's leading, and who is taking you in certain directions... certain things are weighed in. Pros and cons, life and death, good and evil. Death Eaters were the followers of the Lord of all Evil, and that hadn't changed for years. But Fierro wasn't seeing eye to eye with Trevor, and that much was certain. "I'm going to get down to the bottom of this, lay it all out, so to speak. You came here today because you supposedly share that interest--that bond with Callid and me. The bond that could be very dangerous for the three of us. My question is why?"

Standing up from the piano, Fierro began to pace, walking back and forth for a moment until he came to a stop in front of him. "What is your motive, officer? Why did you stop to talk to us that night... about something so dangerous, it could cost you your life?"

Scare tactics were always Fierro's thing, but this wasn't what he intended to do. After all, this was his first coup, his first chance at starting some sort of revolution. If this Bristow guy wanted in, Fierro needed answers, and right away. No more dilly-dallying, they didn't have that kind of time.