Azure Souls (Thomas)

by **Kit Rowan** on December 8th, 2013, 10:34 am

x

Wrenmae?

A cold pit of something sat in her stomach. The last time she had met Wrenmae, he had told her that he was responsible for the deaths of a quarter of her family, and maybe her own father. The last time she had seen him was in a quick peek over her shoulder before she jumped out of his window and hit the ground in a roll and a rush to get away to somewhere that made sense, fast. Expression bled out of her face, left it carefully blank.

But she had never visited Wrenmae as Shy Carsma, wearing the glamour she wore today. Never. She had hidden herself flawlessly, behind strange new faces and careful seemings of other people. She had seen him when she was still enslaved, once while pretending to be a boy, another while adopting a different face. There was no way for pasty to know she visited Wrenmae. None. And yet he did!

Petch her drink. Kit stood up out of her chair, sending it toppling backwards to the floor. Some of the patrons from around the bar turned at the sond of the commotion, but Kit didn't care about their attention. Without a word she marched away from Pasty and his appreciation, making her way toward the exit as fast as she could without breaking into an all-out run.

by **Thomas Cosa** on December 12th, 2013, 1:41 am

"Wait --," He stopped himself before he could screw this up anymore, painfully aware of the very unwanted attention they'd attracted. Many of the closer patrons watched him warily as he sat there stupidly, their expressions thick with unyielding judgement. He wondered, briefly, at their thoughts, their assumptions at what had occurred between the animator and the acrobat, but only for a chime.

He offered a smile, awkward and lopsided, as he reached down to pull up the chair, "Sorry...," Thomas muttered, consciously trying to appear flustered and embarrassed. A rejection. A simple rejection, that's all it was," he thought loudly, silently hoping that's all anyone would think of their interaction. Thomas still needed her, her skill, and it was becoming increasingly evident he was going to have get better at this -- or he would if he planned on persuading her; the animator was considering now more than ever of just knocking the girl out cold. It was something he had hopped to avoid, but he needed what he needed.

Thomas caught her leaving, and quickly. An angry frown broke his facade, eyes narrowing in his annoyance -- only for a moment, and then, remembering he was no long anyone special, at least here, he tried to shift his features to one of worry. His eyes widened, a hand covered his mouth shaking; it was painfully obvious he was pretending, or so he thought. "Damn her to Hai," he cursed mentally, removing the ridiculous expression from his face.

She was too close to the door for him to catch her in the bar, but perhaps that was in his best interest. There didn't have to be any commotion, no arguments. She would leave the bar, and he would follow.

And that's what he did, immediately following after the acrobat, hopefully, out of the bar.

by **Kit Rowan** on December 21st, 2013, 7:03 pm

x

Kit managed a surreptitious backward glance, saw her 'admirer' had stood up after they had talked. She wished that he could have just taken the hint, but instead Pasty seemed determined to chance her down to the ends of the earth. She felt a quiet panic surge up in her chest, forced it down with a swallow as she tried to guess the distance between them. They were moving at a decent pace; at this rate he would be out after her, and leave no time for her to enact her emergency plan.

She kept on walking toward the door, biting down on her lip, eyes scanning the crowd. She turned aside at the last minute, toward a big man with calloused hands. "I need time," she told the stranger, her face serious.

He rolled his eyes. "Bugger off girly," and waved her away.

She pulled a gold piece out of her pocket and pressed it into his hand. "If you can keep Pasty behind me from following for thirty ticks, you'll get another when I come back in thirty chimes."

He raised an eyebrow, clucked his tongue, smiled. "Got it, girly."

Everyone, everywhere spoke the language of greed; Alvadas, Syliras and even Ravok with all their selective deafness could be made saints if paid for it. Even when she didn't come back to give him another gold, he'd still be up one gold piece, for next to nothing. She doubted he would be to sore. Kit slipped out the door to the pub and shut it behind her with a soft click.

She didn't have much time.

Turning right back toward the door she left, Kit lifted her foot up and put it on top of the doorknob. From outside it was easier to feel the sway of the boat, and had she been anyone else it might have set her off balance, but she stilled pushed off the ground, using the knob of a foothold to get a little higher. She reached the lip of the top of the boat-made-bar and heaved. It didn't work; her upper body strength had never been what it ought.

Only after another try, and another try . . . Ten ticks, maybe? More? . . . She pulled herself up onto the top of the boat and crawled forward, her feet sliding up from in front of the door until her whole body was up on top with her. Kit dared a glance over her shoulder, examining the pedestrians out tonight with care.

It was getting late, and people knew to hurry home. There weren't many people out, but Kit found a girl walking down the street. She called on her gift to Ionu to craft an illusion for Pasty's eyes alone; her hair blurred brown and tied itself in a tail, her cloth's colors blotched and changed, her skin went darker, until at least from the back the girl seemed to her, and hopefully to Thomas, a passable replication of Shy Carsma.

Kit bit her lip, made herself as small as she could and waited.

by **Thomas Cosa** on December 25th, 2013, 2:35 am

Thomas cursed under his breath, watching the acrobat buy off the muscle. He nervously glanced around the bar, looking for any sort of exit -- another door, a window even, but nothing Thomas could reach in time; muscle man had already made his way towards the animator.

"Lookin' fer someone, pasty?"

"That's not my name. And yeah, I am," Thomas started, pulling himself to his full height -- only to meet right under the mountain's nose. He was nervous, but he wasn't backing down, not now. The animator would never remember his time on Sahova fondly, but if anything, he had learned when it was appropriate to be afraid. The isle had taught him that words and contacts held as much power as any magic, and that almost anything could kill you.

But in a bar with witnesses? For whatever the brat acrobat could scrounge to pay the giant, Thomas was almost certain he could pay more. Still, he knew there wasn't anything to worry about -- at least, nothing life threatening. The Seer guided his every move, and Thomas knew there she wouldn't leave him to die.

"Ooooh, tough guy, eh?" Muscles moved closer, ale-stained breath tickling at pasty's nose.

"No, uh, I've just got to go talk to that girl.," Thomas answered, trying to move around the guy -- how long had it been since she'd exited the door? 5 ticks? His face soured, knowing that while he could find her, the seer wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of searching all of Ravok for one acrobat.

But he wasn't exactly willing to let her go, either. And Avalis help him, he would get what he wanted.

"Dun' think so, bud. Girly paid good money fer time, and I's gotta keep up --,"

"How much?"

"Four gold."

"Will eight get me through?" Thomas asked, already reaching into his pocket. He was more than confident the paid hand would take it -- wasn't that already shown that he taken a similar job? If he doubled the money, like he had, surely Thomas could get through, and it had only been 20 ticks at the most and --

"20"

"What?"

"20."

"No way," Thomas almost snarled, only just remembering the size of the man before him and his lack of power in the situation. Only his words would win his way past his man, or his coin. "Look, I doubled what she payed you. I'll even triple it, or --."

"I'll take 30."

"Petch off, Sym-shyke," Thomas spat, his temper finally spent. He was important. He was god marked. He had a path, had a talent. This mountain of stupid had nothing but his muscles, and a season on the isle would strip him of that -- "Move," he pushed against muscles, angrily.

And muscles laughed.

"Best mistake youv made all night, pasty," he smirked, easily grabbing Thomas off the ground. The animator twisted and turned, pushed and punched at the solid mass of muscle that held him against his will -- only resulting in a tighter grip, and louder laughter from the attendants. Thomas blushed at the unwanted attention, prying at the iron lock grip around his hips, trying to push himself off the man's back -- all to no avail.

"You wanna go out? Then leave," the man barked, throwing the youth out of the bar door.

Thomas landed loudly against the cold, damp cobbled streets. He pushed himself up against one of the bar walls, only just catching a glimpse of his target -- walking, casually along the canals. Like she was safe.

The pulser almost started for her, wanting nothing more than to push her into Ravok's dark canals, knocking her head against the very streets that bruised him -- and if it wasn't for her skill, the very thing that had started this entire fiasco, he might have tried.

"Her name," Thomas thought, focusing on the chavi he had picked up earlier. If Wrenmae's name hadn't worked, than perhaps her own. It would give her a reason to trust him, or to at least, think he knew her. A name could give him what he needed to control her.

The fluorescent strings of memory brightened from nothing, blinding him to the outside world -- flicking and weaving and signing a symphony of histories and stories. One in particular sang louder and louder as he concentrated on the girl in the bar, the acrobat, the brat, the target. He only needed a name, so he closed his eyes to visions, focused on hearing what he wanted. It was a whisper at first, a flitting sound that came and went as fast as it begin, escaping his notice. Again, he focused, trying his hardest to remember something that was never his, something he would never be offered freely -- especially after tonight. It came again, louder and slower, a greater echo of what cam before. Again, he focused. A name. What she was called, what she would be recognized.

"Kit."

The chord of chavi sang the name in uncountable voices, in all ways the girl remembered. Others were called as well, Thomas supposed those to be nicknames or petnames, but unimportant. He got what he needed.

"KIT!," he called after the illusion, unknowing the real target had been waiting behind him, "KIT! Wait! Wait for me!"

by **Kit Rowan** on January 11th, 2014, 2:44 pm

x

She made herself flat against the roof as she heard the door shove open. From her perspective it was hard to see directly down. There was a skidding sound, laughter, a slamming door. She saw Pasty slide into view over the cobble's of the canalside, not on his feet but on his belly. She felt her mouth curl up into a wicked smile. Serves him right!

Kit would be safe, she would be free, if she could just wrestle through of this . . . He called out her name. Her true name, the one her parents had given her when she was so young she didn't consider anything else to be an option. The name she had carried like a badge of honor through the streets of Alvadas, the name that no one but Wrenmae and her slavers should have known in Ravok.

Could he see through her illusions? Was that what was happening? No. He'd been fooled by her makeshift illusion, though once he saw the girl's face he would know it wasn't her. Somehow, he had perceived her name and her uncle. Maybe he already knew them? Maybe he plucked them from her mind with his pale fingers? Either way, he was a danger. The fewer people who connected Shy Carsma with Kit, the safer she would be.

Would she have to kill him? Her teeth grated, her fingers clutching into fists. He hadn't earned his death, just shouted her name and known her uncle. He had not tried to kill her, he had not tried to force himself on her . . . Though he might have tried. She bit her lip. Kill him?

No. Kit pushed herself to her knees, then her feet on the roof of the barboat. While he was still distracted by her illusion and turned the other way, she bounced off the roof, falling feet-first into the water with a soft splash as the depths of lake Ravok swallowed her up.

Sounds went muted, leaving only the slow bubbling and flowing of water around her. Kit kicked awkwardly forward, glad for her relatively light clothing. This would have been utterly unbearable in her full set of leathers.

Kit angled herself down, away from the surface and found herself approaching the wall of the canal. She pressed her fingers against it, turned completely down and kept on kicking, her progress terribly slow by the measure of her mind.

Ravok wasn't like other cities; it wasn't built on solid foundations or good, sensible land. The canal wall cave away, revealing what lay underneath the city; nothing but water, held aloft by magic or science; it didn't matter what. What did matter was that Kit had another escape route, and one that pasty would not, could not follow her through.

She half-swam, half pulled herself under the canal wall, found the world dark until her eyes began to adjust. There were shapes and alcoves here and there along the button, but the water was clear; it was a clean shot to the other side. She pushed down, cupped her hands and tried to propel herself along the bottom.

Air escaped her nose, her mouth . . . It wasn't long until she had no air at all to keep her going. Her lungs screamed for the taste of air, begged her to open her mouth and didn't care that all that was waiting outside was dark water and death. She clapped her hand over her mouth, closed her eyes with her other hand bent in painful gestures. Res seeped from the roof of her mouth, formed a ball that she could touch with her tongue. Kit half-closed her hand into a fist, transmuting the res into air, and she felt it fill up her lungs, push back the darkness of the edge of her vision.

She spat out the extra res and kept on swimming, more shaky now. Shapes that might have been fish swam at the edge of her vision, and the heavy silence swallowed her up.

The button of the city angled up, and Kit kicked upward toward the water's surface, grinning and letting loose a stream of bubbles. She broke the surface with a gasp and grabbed desperately hold of the canal side. It was not an easy thing, to get from one side of a canal to another. Ravok's streets twisted and wound in curious ways, and did not always leave streets to walk along. Kit drew an inverted triangle over her heart in prayer and thanked the Trickster. She remodeled the illusion that made her shame into a seeming of a dark-haired, paled skinned girl and heaved herself up into the autumn night, dripping water and eager to get away properly.

by **Thomas Cosa** on February 1st, 2014, 2:20 am

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[shadow=black][color=#e2e2e2]He had her. The little, pompous, smirky little acrobat. Her annoyingly grating voice, her disgustingly paranoid attitude towards his gifts. Sure, it had been a trick. A faulty tease, something that would've, that should've enticed the brat. She should've been honored, that he would've even bothered giving her the time of day. Hai, it's not like it would've even hurt, at least, the animation wouldn't have been damaging to her in anyway if she'd had come willingly.

But now?

Thomas shrugged, his eyes dangerously set on the figure before him. It wouldn't be pleasant now, that's was for sure. He'd never been used as an unwilling source, or sourced by an angry animator. He, however, had used a source that tried to fight back -- and that effort had almost killed the stupid creature that had tried.

"KIT! KIT! I said wait!" The pulser yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. Was she purposely ignoring him? Thomas sped up, reaching out to grab the girl's shoulder. "HEY! Pay attention to --."

"Who the petch are you?!!"

Thomas stared, stunned. No longer was the girl before him like the acrobat -- she was older, rounder, blonder. She wasn't her.

"But...wait."

Thomas paused, the stranger girl walking off in a huff.

The little acrobrat had gotten away.

by **Verin Rush** on March 3rd, 2014, 2:21 am

Kit Rowan

Knowledge :

Micellaneous :

Thomas Cosa

Knowledge :

Micellaneous :

____________________________________________

Notes

*This was a real pleasure to read; Kit is streetwise and Thomas was surprisingly dark - the match was perfect and it was nice to see the girl get away! I can't wait to see where this goes, especially if Thomas gets ahold of her o:
*I liked how you both used your Gnoses in the thread; I don;t see many people actively RPing them

Feel free to PM me with questions, comments, or concerns, if you have any.
Also, remember to either delete your grade request or edit it as 'graded'.
Thank ye!

Skill	XP
Acrobatics	+2
Busking	+3
Climbing	+1
Reimancy	+1
Rhetoric	+2
Seduction	+1
Swimming	+1

Skill	XP
Intimidation	+1
Negotiation	+1
Observation	+4
Persuasion	+2

Closed Azure Souls (Thomas)