Rosilyn stands in front of a punching bag, his eyes narrowed as he beats on it, making no noise other than a low angry hiss as his gloved fists and bare feet contact the soft foam. His clothes are just black shorts and a black tank top, showing how thin he is... and just how angry. Every muscle is tensed up as he hits the bag furiously.I know damn well why someone would post that poster... but why blame the sidhe who would have, or had raged against that deed? the Liam thought as he poured his anger into the inanimate object. Especially where mortals would see it. I wish Shauna was here... She always got Shoklok and Barel to cool it on Beltaine.."Dammit," punch, "why," kick, "do," punch, "people," kick, "use," punch, "guilty," punch, "by," kick, "assocation?" punch. He stops, taking deep breaths, and rests his head on the then-gently swinging bag.
On her way into the gym for her workout, Morag stops as she sees the sidhe taking out his frustations on the punching bag. When he finally pauses to breathe, she says "Hey -- you OK?"
Rosilyn looks at Morag and lets out a sigh. "Just pissed off at whoever posted the poster. I didn't have that problem back home, because, well, my Kithian friends didn't blame me for being a sidhe. Even Shauna, who lost someone at the night." He covered his eyes. "I'm fucking sick of being considered guilty all because of who you are, by your assumed background and actions because of it, in any world I seem to step into." He touched his chest, as if something was usually there, but not now.
** Hey, a sidhe that actually swears? And talks like a real person? That's a new one for me! **"I hear you," says Morag as she begins to stack weights -- a lot of weights -- onto one of the weight machines. "I get a lot of that too -- people looking at me like if I tap them on the shoulder it means I'm going to eat their arm or something. Or in any other way thinking that I'm going to be exactly like whatever other redcap they last saw or heard of. I'm studying to be a counsellor, for fuck's sake, but it's not like I'll be able to help other fae much if I ever do get there, 'cause most of'em won't talk to me."She flashes Rosilyn a slightly bitter half-smile as she lies back on the machine and puts her hands on the grips. "Hell, you didn't look too thrilled to see me helping out at the self-defence class at first. But at least you seemed to get over it pretty fast, so that's something. "I don't know who's putting up the posters or what they think they're playing at, but they seem to be upsetting a lot of people. Not to mention confusing the hell out of a lot of mortals, since the dumbass printed it on real paper."
"Well, at least you'll get the humans from doing anything too foolish. I know some people I have mused that... well, it they had someone like you seem to be, they wouldn't be out." Rosilyn sits down next to the bag for stretching. "I know Emily won't have been in the mess she ended up in if she had a counselor. It takes all sorts to make a world, no matter what others of my kith believe. I learned that far earlier than most." Rosilyn gives a wan smile.
** Sounds like there's a story and a half there... **"What kind of mess was that? If you don't mind my asking..."
Rosilyn sighs softly. "The story I have figured out is that I ended up kidnapped and left to die as an infant. I would have, if Emily hadn't found me. She raised me until she was murdered, and I ended up being pulled up to the," his voice turns bitter, "exalted heights of upper society."
** Whoa. So much for my idea that the sidhe have all had nice little storybook lives... **"Sounds like you didn't exactly find high society an improvement," Morag winces in sympathy at the bitterness in his voice. "So who was Emily?"
Rosilyn grinned ever so slightly. "She was a runaway teen, running from her abusive boyfriend, who had killed her own child. I consider her my mom." He stretched out more, eyes closed in thought. "She named me Nathan Rose, and I have never used my birth name. I guess it's an irony that I chose to keep that name, since my fae name is Sir Rosilyn."
(( OOC: Sorry, I kind of lost track of this thread ))Morag pauses in her workout. ** He was a raised by a teenage runaway? Be weird if the first person I turned out to have anything in common with, background-wise, was a sidhe... I'd kinda assumed they were all rich trust-fund kiddies. It'd be great if it turned out there was at least one person here I could actually talk to without constantly having to censor bits of my past so I don't freak them out. Shouldn't assume too much without finding out more, though. ** "So does that mean you basically grew up on the street?" Morag's attention is now thoroughly diverted from her weights to the conversation. ** Should I -- ? I haven't really told anyone here yet... Well, got to start somewhere. ** "Sounds kind of like a lot of the people I used to hang out with. I left home at 14, more or less - wasn't exactly home a lot for the last couple of years before that, either, but I think 14 was the last time I saw the inside of my parents' house. "
Rosilyn drew his knees up to rest his chin on them as he looked at her. "Yes. I was raised on the streets until I was eight. And when I got older, and remembered my fae self, I made friends with people that hadn't left, and I knew I wanted to help others up." He smiled. "Looks you want to do the same."