Flashback À Propos... [Adam King]

[Briar Holden]

12th of Spring, 506 AV The streets of Sunberth were merciless, even to its inhabitants. To live in the city of crime and close-to-anarchy, you'd sooner rather than later have to learn how to navigate the web of treacherous alleyways spanning the entire width of the city, crawling with people who could wish the most gruesome of fates on the poor, unfortunate and oblivious. Briar had been living here for his entire life up until this point, leading a life of questionable honesty in order to survive. He ran down the streets today, tailed by a man almost twice his size altogether. The young man, named Briar, clutched a couple of silver-rimmed coins in his hand and almost crampingly squeezed them against his palm as he bolted down the streets and staggeringly turned the corners to continue further out of reach of his pursuers. Luckily for Briar, his natural gift was a pair of swift feet. ...and they had served him well! "Little shyke! Stop running and I won't wring your neck off your worthless shoulders when I catch you!" As if Briar would let himself be caught. It wasn't often that he was in fact caught, to tell the truth. While Briar wasn't really good at a whole lot, he was good at running. If only he could get his hands on something, odds were he would be able to get away with it if only he had space to stretch his legs. If he could make his way back to the tent city now, he would shake off his tail for sure. Up further ahead, the young man turned a sharp corner and bolted far enough down the alleyway to turn a second corner, half-rounding a smaller building and sinking back behind a stack of crates. He hadn't even stopped to think until he sat down, turning his gaze to the clouded heavens to mutter a few words of gratitude to whomever had stacked his supplies right there. Luck was essential when living a life of this sort, but it never ceased to surprise Briar when he hit a stroke of good luck, like now. He held his breath as he heard the bunch of brigands scour the nearby alleyway, grunting and snorting loudly through the heaving pants. It seemed to Briar they had lost their breath in chasing the smaller, younger yours truly. Serves them right. By the looks of them, they could certainly afford to lose just these few coins. Asking nicely hadn't seemed to work, so Briar's hand had been forced. Not his fault, right? Roughly twenty minutes later, the alleyway fell silent. Unfortunately, Briar hadn't been able to keep his cherished silver mizas. They'd found him, subjecting him to brief but agonizing brutality until he could manage to let go of the coins and force himself back up to run away once more. When Briar ran away again, his assailants couldn't bring themselves to give pursuit again and decided to leave the boy alone as he returned, bloody and bruised to the tents. Finding his way back to his aunt's and his own tent, Briar crawled in onto his own bedroll and laid down on his stoma-No. No, his side. Definitely his side. With a deep groan, too. .

[Adam King]

Adam stood leaning over the wooden bannister on the tavern's first floor, peering down at the street. A red-haired figure in rags sprinted past, weaving and jumping along the path lined with obstacles, human and otherwise. A red runner in rags? Triple "R". He narrowed his eyes. Yea, Briar. And, invariably, the gang of leather-clad thugs lumbering after him. One. Two. Five of them. He had good vantage of the situation as the beating went on, wincing in honest empathy towards Briar, but staunchly determined not to involve himself in a conflict involving five gangers. Hell, Briar knew this was part of the job. Adam had tried to pull Bri' into the peddling business that Adam also became a part of as soon as he left the Orphanage, but Holden always seemed to refuse for one reason or another. The rags certainly didn't help, even if they were the uniform of Briar's beggarish trade. Ow. King took another wide bite of his apple and winced with all his body as the kick flew to embed hard into Mr. Holden's stomach. He shrugged and sighed. They had their money back and it had been over some - unfortunately educative - fifteen minutes. Half-way back inside the tavern and almost entirely out of sight, Adam made sure to chuck the remains of the eaten apple hard towards the group. He smiled to himself as Briar immediately took the opportunity of the minor distraction to bolt away. He sighed, going in and ordering the cheapest soup. To go. "To go? Whad're'ye? Nuts? This ai'n no damned rester-runt! Crazy kids! Crazy!" Annoyed, Adam haggled to a decent pricing for a large wooden mug. He took it soup-filled and soon lidded with a small slab of wood that he'd just pulled out of a junk pile. He had to go at a ligth pace so as not to spill said soup. Some spilled. But not a lot. Once in the tent city it was a while before he identified the coloured scarf that marked Briar's tent. Scanning the shape of it and combining that with the knowledge of the beggar's sleeping habits, he launched a light but swift kick through the tent-wall towards where he assessed the man might be. He nodded to himself approvingly as the boot connected with what must have been a body. "Bri-bri. Soup. Y'need it. Come." Adam advanced towards the entry-way tent flap.

[Briar Holden]

. He didn't have the best of luck, sure. Him and Happy had been doing this for a long time still, stealing and selling their few skills to the populace for even the smallest bit of money or the smallest of favours in return. It wasn't a good life to live, however, and Briar had always known that. While his bruises and bleeding cuts pulsated from the pain, he didn't cry or scream or nothing. He was a young man, but a man nonetheless and he'd got himself a little woman to look after. Besides, it was all for a good cause, wasn't it? If they only suffered a few more years of agony and humiliation, they'd be out of here for good and could live their good lives elsewhere. Get a job, become rich, start a family in a big and fancy household. He'd get himself a dog, too. A bunch of dogs. And he'd name them all after all the thugs he ever stole from if he could bring himself to remember, and he'd treat them like the kings and queens of the world. That's what he'd d- Oof! A swift kick swinging through the bottom of the tent woke him up from his dramatic and glamorous daydream. He whined like a kicked puppy and rolled a full turn around until he was hanging in the fabric of his tent, hands grasping the kicked area. A familiar voice from outside the tent cut him out of his misery, however, and his pained expression became flat instead as he crawled backwards--with his rump first, out of the tent. Bri-bri. Soup. Y'need it. Come. "Yeah, yeah, I get it." He swiveled around to sit on the ground outside his tent, squinting up at Adam. The poor redhead had bruises even in his face, and a few were visible on his arms and legs that peeked out from under the rags he was wearing. They were filthy and blooded again, sporting various kinds of dirt stains and what could only have been blood stains once upon a time. You took what you could get around here, and Briar didn't have much in terms of clothes. At least, not here. He just had to wash his rags once in a while and they were as good as new for all he cared. Almost. Kind of. Not really. "... Thanks. I'm guessing you saw the whole thing, didn't you?" That's just typical, isn't it? Regardless of his shame, Briar extended a somewhat trembling hand towards Adam to hopefully accept the soup he brought. While he was grateful for Adam's thoughtfulness, he couldn't help but feel the sting of shame. The fact that Adam was here was proof that he'd watched his little operation before. Briar wasn't a good thief. In fact, he was a really bad one. The best he could do was to ask real nice and hope people have him what he wanted, but he couldn't well take things by force. It almost always ended badly, since Briar wasn't the kind of kid to steal forcibly from the elderly or from fellow children. Or women, for that matter. He had good respect for most women. There were a few exceptions, of course.... Especially around these parts. But most women, he didn't wish any harm upon. He wasn't a pig. Only sometimes. Sort of. Maybe. A piglet? Yeah, that sounded about right. Stinky and filthy, but still cute. Adam was better at the "business" than he was and ever hoped to become. Peddling wasn't really Briar's style. Not because he couldn't handle the pressure of the job (he probably couldn't; he'd never admit that openly, though), but because he didn't enjoy the thought of being controlled by your supplier and employer. He didn't like that sort of business. He'd heard all sorts of things from it. From his aunt, no less, and while she was one of the dirtiest human beings he knew in this world, she still knew what she was talking about. To be someone in that sort of business, you needed to put others underneath you. Briar didn't want to do that. He was happy with crawling on his hands and knees, but he didn't want to do it with someone else sitting on top of him. He was happy carrying his own weight and not the weight of someone else, thank you very much. .

[Adam King]

Adam smirked looking over Briar. Such a sweet kid. Taking care of other out of affection and duty - what an inconcievable concept. Nobody ever took care of Adam, and Adam therefore needn't take care of anyone else... So why was he bringing 'Bri-Bri' soup? Well, becasue Bri-Bri deserved it. And, not least, because one day Briar was going to grow up to be something big, the drugs peddler considered. He was such a mess in every way, but Adam thought the beggar-boy had a certain special kind of spirit, faster than his legs, that would lead him to a special life eventually. If he doesn't get stabbed before getting there. Adam wanted to make a jab at Bri', cover Holden's embarassment with the usual mean humour so as to let him focus on enjoying the mug of soup. With his gaze scanning the tent city, in permanent inspection of his premises as if hunted, King he found himself muttering instead. "When shit'll get really bad. I mean bad-bad, worse than that back there, send for me, whatever the distance..." His voice gathered to clarity as he added to the uncharacteristic words, approaching a more typical tone. "You're an emotional investment I intend to preserve and eventually cash out on, beg-boy." He smiled tilting his head down at the hurt youngster. "So don't get godsdamned stabbed, dipshit! Gods! Or at least run! Or kick for the balls! Or something!" He sat, lightly leaning back against the tent-flap, carevul to not dirty his coat too much. A very low addition followed. "...For the girl, if you're too much of an idiot to do it for yourself." He reached into a pocket, pulling out the dented small metal flask of hard liquor. His gaze went to inspect Briar's visible body for open cuts.

[Briar Holden]

. Adam rarely made much sense to Briar. He was a businessman at heart, Briar knew this. There weren't a whole lot of things that interested Adam more which was good enough reason to be wary of the man. Despite his apparent kindness and generosity, there was very likely much more to it than that. Briar wasn't very good at reading other peoples' motives, however, so he couldn't well understand what Adam was on to this whole time they've known eachother. It hadn't been all that long, but it'd been long enough for Briar to build enough "confidence" in Adam not to shove him out of his life entirely. Cupping the mug of soup between his hands, Briar blew gently above it to let the steam sail away. He'd have to wait a bit before drinking this, seeing as it was still hot enough to scorch his mouth and throat on the way down, it seemed... You're an emotional investment I intend to preserve and eventually cash out on, beg-boy. His eyes narrowed discreetly and he absent-mindedly stick his left pinky down into the mug to dip it in the soup. It was still hot. Very hot. He pulled his finger up almost immediately, sticking it in his mouth instead to suckle at the burnt fingertip. Emotional investment, huh? He wasn't sure what Adam was expecting of him, but it seemed like the man had some form of plan for the younger Briar. It wasn't necessarily something he felt overly comfortable about, though there was little he could do about it. As long as Adam was putting up a friendly facade, Briar didn't really mind the guy so much anymore. "I'm already doing everything I can, Adam. You know that." It was true. While he could probably have sought to different kinds of professions, this was all Briar knew how to do. Beg, or in the worst case scenario... Snatch someone else's belongings and bolt for his dear life. That was all Briar had ever been good at and the only thing, he wagered, he'd ever really be able to do. And he wasn't unsuccessful. He just wasn't entirely successful, either. One step at a time, though. As for his cuts... He had several. It seemed his skin had cracked in several places from the abuse earlier. Kicks and punches alike had caused several of his bruises to crack open and allow the blood underneath to seep out through the holes in his skin, some other cuts being caused by his frantic rolling about on the dirty ground. Sharp pieces of grit and rock had caused a few small cuts. Nothing overly serious, though. It seemed most of it was just bruises that looked like they could heal themselves in a few days, though they would likely be a nuisance until then. .

[Adam King]

Adam tilted his head, dabbing the alcohol onto his shirt sleeve and pulling his hand back into said sleeve to hold the bit of cloth now doused with the stinging smell of rancid (though sweet) booze. Scooting just a bit closer and taking careful index of the cuts, their patterns and targeyting only the most infection-prone-looking ones, he knew he had to distract Briar. Let's see, let's see. His interests. What would his mind instantly reel to assessing so that he would notice the incoming pain less? "So I heard the Storage Houses are dumping out the contents of a few warehouses that haven't had their lease paid. They'll be taking the good stuff before-hand, but - " That was when he applied the dab hard onto the biggest of cuts, even Adam wincing. His other hand grasped Briar tightly so as to not shudder away or drop too much of the soup. At least the subsequent dabs will hurt comparatively less. He refreshed the dab and went on to the smaller cuts while not breaking his talking throughout. " -you should try your luck at the left-overs. It'll be a race against other slummies also digging in, but who knows what useful stuff you find for" Adam gestured around "your kind of life." Wrapping up with the last and smallest of cuts, he began to relax. "Who knows, you might even find something good they missed. You're faster than the usual slummie. Hell, I can even come and help you, I've got a good eye for the sort of thing... And don't you dare dirty those cuts!"

[Briar Holden]

. "... Don't you think it's a little soon to be talking abo-" He cut himself off when Adam started dabbing his cuts. The cuts themselves didn't really hurt all that much, but the alcohol seeping into the open wounds sure did. He would never get used to this. Pain wasn't something he would ever want to get used to, anyway. Being used to that sort of thing would be kind of sad, wouldn't it? Sort of. Maybe. Probably. Enduring the burning from his open cuts while Adam was speaking to him, he pondered the information he was given. A clean-out of the warehouses, huh? That sounded like it could potentially be true, though Briar didn't know how keen he was on getting into something like that. Surely, if Adam knew about it, plenty of others did as well. While Briar was quick on his feet, he couldn't possibly match the tenacity and, to be blunt, mercilessness of some other poeple who could potentially be interested in the humble wealth of the downtrodden merchants or formerly wealthy businesskeepers to keep their stock in said warehouses. Besides, there was no guarantee anything they could find in there would be particularly interesting to them. They needed things that they could sell or use, or hard money they could stuff away somewhere and keep for later. Contrary to Adam's belief, he wasn't quite so desperate that he would take just anything that came his way. He was a little bit picky. Which probably sounded odd for someone marketting himself as a beggar and common thief, but that was sadly the truth. Briar had bigger plans, and he had every intention to follow through with them. For his sake, and for Happy's sake. After all, they were in this together. "That sounds a bit too good to be true, doesn't it? Where did you get your hands on that kind of information?" It wasn't that he distrusted Adam (though he did, make no mistake), he just wanted to assess his possibilities and the risks he would be taking if he decided to actually follow through with Adam's suggestion to go there and take a look. Or maybe lay his hands on some of the stock that was left over. Depending on how likely it was that others held this type of information, he may or may not be so inclined to sit this one out and play it the safe(er) route. .

[Adam King]

Adam raised a brow, disdain not invisible on his face. He rather hated this side of Briar. You live in the same clothes day in and day out, but treat the opportunity to get new-er rags and other junk you can bother to sell like something that you get to question. He was firmly convinced Briar would question these things out of laziness, to avoid the work, to tell himself that there's a catch and that for such reason he's taking the day off. "You're going." Adam got up, dusting himself off. Maybe it would be a longer while before Briar made something of himself. King was doing better than Holden, but not more than an arm-full better. Ultimately, one could say they were the same person, but that Adam had gotten pulled on a certain path by the beloved "Kingston" leather coat. But why judge the guy? Sunberth's not for judging? Sunberth's for business. And business came with negotiation. He whispered, leaning close to the red-haired soup-eater, bright green eyes narrowed. A hint of a mean smile. "Or else I let Happy know what you're exactly up to, as well as of the opportunities you're constantly turning down." Straightening and stretching, King seemed to prepare to leave. "Be ready by the evening, Mr. Holden!"

[Briar Holden]

. Happy... Happy was a curious individual. Ever since Briar was kicked out of the family tent when his parents disappeared from the face of the world, he's been living most of his life with and for this one girl named "Happy". A curious name for a curious girl. She had lived nearby most her life, keeping watch over the Holden tent. Her family situation had been a bit tense, or so she'd claimed, so she preferred to spend her nights inside Briar's tent. Besides, it was so much warmer in there during the coldest of nights since it was so small. Just the two of them sharing the tent and warming it up, it was a very nice temperature inside once the sun had set. She was a fascinating little girl, and with the absence of his younger brother, Briar had taken it upon himself to take care of her and plan their future together, away from the poverty and misery they had lived in up until now. He's still making those plans with her and they both work together to raise the necessary wealth they needed to escape this kind of life. None of them worked very honestly. Happy was better at keeping her ledger clean than Briar was, mostly because she could play the innocence card. That was long overdue for Briar and he just had to use the assets he had. His words and his feet. Happy, on the other hand, could use her voice and her soft, inviting face. You could never imagine such a girl to live such a sad life just by looking at her, and Briar admired her for that. He kept her carefully distanced from his own line of business and encouraged her to keep going the way she was and earn her keep in whatever way she knew best--singing--and leave the dirty work to him. He was a man, albeit a young one, after all. Sunberth did horrible things to people. Between the crime and the poverty, there was also the slavery. It wasn't unheard of that families around the tent city lost their members to the slave trade, either by the individuals seeking to it and selling themselves to give food to their families or being captured for sticking their hands into the wrong pockets. It was a constant danger to keep on with the business he was conducting, but he knew the risks and was willing to face them. If he just kept himself away from the slave markets, he would likely avoid most of the slavers and increase his chances of surviving without the annoying interference of slavery. Happy was still innocent. And Briar wanted to keep her that way. Adam wasn't allowed to interfere with that, so Briar shot him a warning glare even as he turned away and stood up. He would agree for now, let Adam get what he wanted for this once. Perhaps something good could come of it, contrary to Briar's expectations. He wouldn't get his hopes up, however. Finishing his soup, he threw the mug away into a nearby tent before laying down inside his own. He needed to save some energy up for tonight when the two of them were to head out, as Adam had suggested. There really was no running away from this one. Not in Briar's current state, at least. So, he'd just have to... oblige. As much as he hated it. .

[Adam King]

Junking. Junking was always fun."Heh.. Jun-King..." He thought. Pacing away at determined speed and wrapping the coat around him, as if to protect himself from whatever plague of poverty riddled the Tent City, Adam's thought rallied to how to make the evening's efforts effective. He'd spot swomething potentially good, sic Briar, keep others off the track he'd sent Briar on, check what Bri recovers, keep spotting, sic... Rinse, repeat. Drafting junk. Fun. That ginger better be worth it...