Kyra

How did the saying go? Like water off a duck's back? Whatever it was, that was what happened as Oz's darts struck her, and simply fell away. Did the man truly think he might offend her by flinging such insults? As if she had never been accused of canned responses. If she weren't so skilled when it came to keeping her mask in place, Kyra might have laughed aloud. He thought he scared her? He didn't even come close. She worked with middle schoolers. Tick. Tock. Tick. Toc

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The tip of Kyra’s pen tapped in tandem with the clock that hung above her head. A made-to-order model, the ornately carved wooden leaves circled the brown and bronze face in a comfortingly familiar way. The piece was identical to the one that her mother had bought for her father in Germany’s Black Forest. It hung in his study until Kyra was eleven, when he had replaced it with an original Cézanne, and Kyra had freed the clock from the donation bin. The girl had squirreled it away until she might have a home of her own. The genuine article still sat in a box beneath

"A rumor?" Kyra echoed, interest coloring her tone and flashing in her amethyst eyes. "I've read a number of theories on the various message boards. I may not venture out much, but I enjoy the unknown, and the stories of the Players who explore these rumors." Though she didn't quite cross into "kid in a candy shop" territory - Kyra was far too proper for that - she did shift eagerly from one foot to the other. "If you'll have me, I'd be interested in finishing whatever it was that you and Lessa started." The woman paused long enough to survey her surroundings, a faint line tracing her brow as

Even as a small smile crossed Kyra’s pink lips, she regarded the man more closely. His shrug screamed nonchalance, but something in tone suggested that single statement held significance. Was this a man who gave up easily when it came to understanding others? Or had Lessa given him ample reason to throw in the metaphorical towel? Curiosity tugged at the edge of her consciousness, even as her conscience told her to leave it alone. Just as a doctor couldn’t diagnose every injured man on the street, neither could Kyra psychoanalyze every stranger she came across. Besides, this Player’s mind was h

At the sight of the heavily armored woman, Kyra felt a weight of her own lift from her chest. Lifting a hand in silent greeting, the woman closed the distance between them in short, crisp strides. The heels of her knee-high boots clipped smartly across the wooden bridge, further announcing her presence as she neared the pair. When she slowed to a stop, she clasped her hands delicately, and offered Lessa a small smile. "Thank you, Lessa, for agreeing to meet with me." Her words flowed like rich honey, sweet and warm, and without break or hesitation. If she had any qualms with standing outside t

If the woman's odd antics weren't amusing enough, her question coaxed a grin from Kyra. Reaching up to shift her long silver hair from her face, she studied Quip for a moment. "Perhaps you're thinking of a psychiatrist," she countered gently. "They have the medical degree, and have a much easier time prescribing medications. Psychologists, on the other hand, deal primarily with the emotional and behavioral aspects of mental health. While we're certainly able to diagnose patients, and make recommendations, it is rare that we will hand out drugs." Did she have to quote Quip directly? No, but she

Amusement came into Kyra's eyes, and the faintest blush warmed her cheeks. "No," she assured Quip, waving off the notion with a gentle flick of her wrist. "I assure you, there is no boyfriend involved. No relationships at all, aside from what I've established through my work." The comment, it seemed, was the perfect segue into Koga's initial question. But what was the best way to phrase her answer? More than a few people had let Kyra know that she was "wasting her time," and "aught to get a real job like a blacksmith or alchemist." Something to help the frontlines? Were you to ask her, Kyra wo

It’s nice to meet you, Koga and Quip.” As she spoke, she looked to each in turn. “I am a greenhorn, yes.” When Kyra smiled, the expression was genuine, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I took my time venturing out here. I found some other things to occupy my time.” As a gentle breeze raked through the long grass, Kyra paused to draw in a long breath. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t felt the sun on her face, or the breeze blow, since taking her dive; Starting City had parks. But there was certainly something a little different about experiencing the world outside the walls. Something thrilling.

Had the dark-haired boy said something? Kyra would have sworn she saw his lips move, but any sound was lost to the galloping words of the Scotswoman. And while Kyra had spent considerable time in Scotland, there were many words that sailed right over her head. But she's just so charming. Kyra felt her smile widen, and she shook her head. "America, by way of Japan. But I have spent time in Russia, and their ballerinas are stunning, so I appreciate the kind words." I think. Tossing back her snowy hair, Kyra extended a hand for the customary shake. When her new acquaintance instead used it t

The quest seemed easy enough. As Kyra's lilac eyes danced over the instructions for the fifth time, she chewed absently on the inside of her cheek. No combat, so no obvious threat to her safety. The material gathering appeared safe, though it would require venturing out of the safe zone. Was she ready for that? Was anyone really ready for that? The woman blew out a small breath, then her lips drew into a thin line. This was the beginner line for a reason. Surely the developers would make sure this introductory quest held no inherent danger. If the unexpected happen, she would adjust, as s

Current Level: 1 Current SP: 5 Link to SP Tracking: Journal. No threads.

Username: Kyra Real Name: Sofia Quist-Larkin Age: Twenty Seven Height: 5'9 History: Dane Quist and Leah Larkin met at Colby College. An anthropology major and a sociology major, respectively, the pair fell madly in love over study sessions and heated debates. The moment they received their degrees, the freshly-minted twenty one year-old graduates fled to tour the world together. Europe, Asia, Australia, South America, every place they could touch new soil with their own two feet. The love-birds had an endless thirst for adventure, and an endless stream of old money to fund it all. I