auroshen » Lair » August

August

(#38165200)

If it hurts, so be it.

Familiar

Ashspine Widow

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.69 m

Wingspan

6.92 m

Weight

528.31 kg

Genetics

Blood
Jaguar

Umber
Butterfly

Orange
Runes

Hatchday

Dec 19, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Plague
Uncommon

Level 1 Wildclaw

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

AUGUST the GATEKEEPER
pre-law undergrad

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August adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he descended the dilapidated stairs that sunk down from the sidewalk. The door at the bottom was sloppily painted black and patched with a layer of old flyers all shredded and peeling from the damp. It smelled of mildew and stale smoke, and the early December wind sent discarded cigarette butts and paper cups skittering across the landing in front of him. August fumbled for the lanyard in his pocket and unlocked the door. His fingers were so cold. I have to buy gloves soon, he thought to himself. And pay rent. And buy new shoes. And groceries. He’d cash his paycheck in on Wednesday, and it would all be gone by the next somehow. So he went to work, reminding himself every day as he shivered through the twenty-minute walk that he would get his degree at Ragnol, go to law school, pass the bar and then all these long nights would just be an unpleasant memory. He didn’t let himself think about what would happen if things went wrong. August couldn’t afford it, literally. Over the threshold he went, closing the door tightly behind him and sighing as he stepped into the warmth of the unlit hall.

The days were all like this, one after the next: wake up still exhausted and aching, go to class, scrounge up something to eat from his near-empty fridge, then head out into the city to quiet West 54th Street. The real entrance to the Eventide Poppy House was on the other side of the street from August’s back door; the main room was a bar, and past that was the shisha lounge. Each day August would turn on the lights, check the locks, fluff the pillows and vacuum while Camillo wiped down the bar and polished glasses. Fau would be in her office upstairs doing paperwork or making calls or whatever she did to keep the place running.

Finally people would start to trickle into the House around 6 P.M., those horrible bead curtains that Fau insisted on keeping for the ‘atmosphere’ clicking and clacking as patrons made their way past the bar to the smoking lounge. The Poppy House was labyrinthine, its rooms cloaked in layers of thick brocade and gauzy silk, the only light coming from sputtering lamps or tentatively glowing candles. The patrons formed shadow-shapes against the walls, and August had to be alert to avoid tripping over claw-foot chaises and hanging curtains.

Glasses would clink, muffled laughter and the slipping swish of cards being dealt drifting through the air along with shisha smoke and the pungent sweetness of Angel’s Breath. Every afternoon Camillo brewed the pale pinkish leaves into a syrupy, thick tea, which flowed on tap throughout the night. Fau affectionately called it her “rose gold”. It was addictive, inducing an incredible sense of bliss and relaxation (or so August had heard—he was banned from ever having any), but expensive. His classmates from Ragnol seemed to be able to afford it well enough. The police, too, had been paid off; August often saw them, divested of their uniforms, drinking and playing weiqi in the lounge on Friday nights.

August had worked at the Poppy House for long enough to remember the regular customers’ faces, their orders, how addicted to Angel’s Breath they were, and he even greeted them by name as they came in—but none of them ever acknowledged him besides a nod or tight smile. It was sort of upsetting, how much he disappeared. (That was probably why Fau had hired him, though.) He wasn’t ugly, wasn’t handsome either; on the tall side, but always slouched in a way that made him smaller. He was just August. Sometimes he hated them all for it—the customers at Poppy House, his classmates at Ragnol, all of them—but most of the time, he was too exhausted to care.

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» august is generally deadpan and serious, but he does make the occasional morbid joke, which catches people so off-guard that they're stunned into silence (even when the joke is pretty funny).
» august is near the top of his class, but no one seems to know that. he helps a few other students out with their coursework, though, and those are the only people he considers 'friends': sigrun and corrigan.
» he wishes he were more outgoing. actually, solveig invited him to a few parties at the start of his sophomore year, but he always had work.
» august is quite used to people not noticing his presence, but recently, he really wants that brown-haired girl in his psychology class to pay attention to him. it's almost pathetic! but her smile is just so beautiful that he needs to see it all the time...

likes: textbook readings, summer days, heliotrope, dogs, turkish coffee, dagmar

dislikes: fulfilling his science requirements, his landlord, motorcycles, people who spill their drinks on the couch cushions
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code by epher #101073

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Exalting August to the service of the Stormcatcher will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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