Closed [The Tent City] Group Lessons

[Matthew]

20th of Winter, 513 AV. His fashionable pristine clothing, well-kept features, and general look of attractiveness made him stand out. He was the only clean thing in an incredibly large crowd of dirty tents and unwashed bodies. There was a definite odor to the air, one that left him in a constant state of struggling to keep his nose from wrinkling. He understood that personal hygiene and appearance was the last thing on most of the minds here, and he couldn't blame them for that. There was no reason for him to go around making disgusted faces. After all, he was the one who had put himself in this position. He checked his seat again, making sure the raggedy old sack he had found was still keeping his pants off of the muddy ground. It had rained ice and cold water for days, and the earth had turned to mud. It had been a struggle keeping clean on his way here, and it would continue being a struggle as the day went on. Why was he even here in the first place? "Pull the flesh from the juice and milk it in the mouthy!" The insane high-pitched singing of the man sitting in front of him caused everyone nearby to wince. Matthew was the only one to keep a straight face. The horrid noises Grisham made were nothing compared to the stench that he personally carried around. Matthew had made it a habit to come to the Tent City and visit Grisham. He didn't know why. He didn't feel sadness or pity for the lost old man, he merely felt comfortable in his presence. It also allowed him to listen. Even right now, the harlot was soaking in all the words around him, as if he was a detective trying to investigate some mystery. Here was merely trying to understand things that were going on in Sunberth, and the Tent City was a good place to do it. People seemed to avoid Matthew when he was with the old man, and Matthew actually liked that. The old man hadn't even cared about Matthew until the harlot had started bringing him fruit. It wasn't a kindness on either of their parts. "Pull the flesh from the juice and milk it in the mouthy!" The madman let out another high-pitched song and a giggle, popping another grape into his mouth. Matthew focused on his task, but took a moment to check and see how many grapes were left. Still quite a few. Enough to keep Grisham still until Matthew had finished grooming him. The harlot actually had the old man sitting on his lap, eating the grapes, practically snuggling to Matthew like a small child. The harlot was combing through his long gray hair, pausing to pick out knots and bugs, and discarded bits of food. Sometimes he found chunks of dried mud, which he pulled free as well. His hands were filthy, the only dirty thing about him at the moment. It made him shiver to glance at his dirt-caked fingers, but he held down the disgust. It wouldn't hurt him. The soothing feeling he got from grooming the insane Grisham outweighed the negatives of dirt under his fingernails. Faintly, Matthew realized that Grisham had stopped giggling and singing, and was now staring off into the distance. The harlot barely heard the next words to come out of his mouth, for they were so horribly low. "I loved her so horribly much, Matthew." Almost as soon as the words had come out did Grisham giggle and then start singing again, wiggling in a bit of a home-made dance. Matthew continued to comb slowly through his hair, blue eyes still focused and unblinking. He didn't really understand, and he wasn't sure he ever would.

[Razkar]

OOCWow. You really are a great writer, dude...

And they call us "savages"...?

The thought was growing monotonous, but the Myrian couldn't keep it far from him as they wandered deeper into the Tent City. Squalor met him at every turn; pestilence in boils and sores and hacking coughs that seemed rife with blood and phlegm; even the occasional body, stiffening in the Winter mud or, perhaps, given a partial burial by Caiyha under a dusting of snow.

Taloba had no slums. The invalid or infirm, they were provided for. They were not pampered nor pitied (not openly, as far as the latter went), but... there were provisions. But here? From under the deep, dark hood Razkar glared out at an uncaring and utterly predatory world.

It's like the jungle. Only instead of trees and wolves, it's tents and barbarians.

"Help yuh, young miss?"

The Myrian flicked a glance at the beggar woman with a curtain wrapped around her skinny frame and kept his distance. Edreina had to do the talking, of course. The mutters and stares they got around here were telling, but not nearly as telling as the way the "streets" cleared when they approached. The way they were scrubbed and armed and carried themselves - like predators, not prey - seemed to mark them out as alien... and thus not to be trusted.

But Edreina... she had a wyrd that Razkar did not. She was beautiful, and charming, and... kinder than him. And if all that failed, she knew hypnosis.

As the two females talked, Razkar tracked a glimmer of movement behind a tent made of sewn bedsheets. A trio of youths... very young, very lean, hungry like jackals always were. The mysterious pair they'd been following were an unknown quality to them, and growing up in Sunberth taught one to leave well enough alone.

But on they came: deeper and deeper, further into the heart of the sprawling, brawling rats nest that was the Tent City. Razkar was not great judge of youth, but given another bell, another level into the morass, enough time to get a few more friends together...

All for one stupid, stupid boy.

He snarled silently behind his hood. Marius. Seventeen Summers. His father died in the coup and his mother wasn't enough. Plucked from sedate Zeltiva, he'd been thrown into the nightmare of Sunberth and, as the Myrian had privately feared, the city had claimed him.

Hadn't taken too long, either. Even the angle wasn't a surprise to him.

His mother had found them, wailing and red-eyed, bent from her worry and aged with her grief. Her Marius, her sweet boy, had gone chasing some whore from the Tent City. Far removed from Sunset Quarters, the two sellswords had tried, tried, tried to tell the refugees to stay close, band together, integrate gradually.

Miora had begged. She'd pleaded and offered a sad handful of coppers to the two of them, almost on her knees and damn him for a fucking fool, Razkar couldn't stand to see an Elder female on her knees.

We find this lad, I'm taking a sodding finger.

"Pull the flesh from the juice and milk it in the mouthy!"

"What in the petch...?"

The nonsense sentence was shouted in a voice as fractured and warped as the words. Razkar frowned at the sheer... absurdity of it. Flesh of what? Milk? Hmm. Well, he was hungry, but that didn't sound like a reputable vendor. Quielty, as the females talked, he stepped casually over to the corner of the row of tents and peered around it, hand under his cloak and gripping a bone hilt... just in case.

"Stony shot on muddy ground,
No juice there, none I've found,
Yea, we slurped the milky firm and truuuuuuue...
Oh, that a Myrian?"

Twas a sight for him to gawp at. Disheveled and emaciated but crackling with the raw animation of the mad, the street prince seemed to be a walking mass of hair, rags and stares saucer eyes. But he giggled like a child and capered and danced and pointed at Razkar without a touch of fear.

A worthy sight, for sure. But the Myrian was looking at the man behind him... and his jaw dropped further.

"... Matthew?!"

[Edreina]

Worse to Edreina than the sight or smell of the Tent City was the sound of it. So many people clustered together in the cold, shivering and coughing and moving through the squelching mess without even the poorest of shoes. It almost made her feel bad, but she could not help how she occasionally shied away from a cough or a scurrying child.

Among her people, everyone had a pod, a family, somewhere to be. This strange world looked so sad and lonely; her heart twinged for the comfort of home.

"Help yuh, young miss?"

Were the grasp not so feeble, Edreina would have brushed it away and turned her face from the woman attached to it. Razkar had carefully informed the delicate-hearted foreigner that she must do all she could to keep from endangering herself and that included her instinct to help any whose need she noticed.

Her lips pressed tight as she turned to look down at the woman, preparing herself to act with a hardened heart.

"I see there is something for me to help you with..." The old woman said quietly, even as Edreina turned with lips parted to ask her away. "It is so buried in your soul, and yet I see you need help..." Her eyes were vague, and faintly misted, sending a chill up Edreina's spine when paired with her oddly knowing words. But they just did not... match up? A season ago, Edreina would have known exact cause behind the woman's word.

Now, however, her life was far more stable than it had been, despite the obvious dangers of being in Sunberth. She was progressing as a mage, no longer had to worry over a long lost lover coming to haunt her relationship, and she bore the blessing of a god. For several ticks, she stood in silence, staring at the woman with narrowed eyes before finally deciding that the stress of a life in the city had worn on the woman's mind as it had many others, judging by the crazy singing drifting from but a short distance away. "I think you have me mistaken," the Svefra said as gently as she could manage, pulling her caught arm towards herself.

"No no no. Something wears at you!" Wrinkled lips insisted, brow furrowing with the utmost seriousness. "Come to my tent and I shall reveal all!" A thin wrist flicked an even more emaciated looking hand to a ramshackle cluster of wooden crates and barrels with a sheet over the top. With a groan, Edreina realized that the poor woman was only part of a rather wretched scheme.

Without another glance and her coinpurse tucked even closer, the disgruntled young woman strode quickly through the sloshing mud to catch up with her lover. She was sure he had disappeared somewhere about this corner-

Razkar was found, yes, but the sight before him was enough to give even Edreina pause.

It felt to her as if someone had taken a fragment of her life and injected it into the madness in which she now lived. As quaint as could be, Matthew sat before them, grooming some poor, mad old man. He looked so out of place, Edreina, if only for a moment, thought she may have been lost to a dream. How, in the names of every god known and unknown, had Matthew, the polished harlot, found his way into the slums of Sunberth? And what the petch was he doing?

She had to find out.

A grin that had long been left on a dusty shelf as she utilized expressions more befitting a mercenary found its way to her face. "I think that Razkar should be next," she said simply, tucking her hands behind her back, "if you're offering free cleanings."

Instead of the harder Edreina that had been more common in recent days, Matthew would see much the same woman he had known in Syliras with an unending grin and dancing blue eyes. The only change would be her exterior with its toughened leather garments where once there were flowing skirts, a tight braid bound by a single faded yellow bandanna where once there were messy locks, but the red hair was still the same as was he honey-toned, freckled skin beneath the new clothes. The gladius on one hips and whip on the other were new additions as well but, for the moment, a dark brown cloak hid them from his view.

OOCFinally done!

Currently writing the thread where I buy the gladius.

[Matthew]

Oh, how odd. Razkar was in Sunberth. And if the Myrian was here, then the red-head would probably be coming right around the corner any- Ah, there she was. He was faintly surprised to see them. Weren't they supposed to have been in Zeltiva? Perhaps they had ended their quest there. He opened his mouth to greet the two familiar faces, and was instantly interrupted by Grisham grabbing his cheeks with grubby hands and placing a wet kiss on Matthew's face. "Thank you, you disease-riddled whore!" The old man giggled and went back to his fruit, pausing to give Edreina a wave. Matthew paused, blue eyes briefly boiling with something besides the stoic emotion they usually brimmed with. He took a chime to wipe his face, and then went right about his business like nothing had ever happened in the first place. "Hello, Raz-kar, Hello Edreina." Matthew still put that odd spin on Razkar's name, going back to when the Myrian had first introduced himself with a bit of aggressive emphasis. Matthew had never realized that the brute was actually just being intimidating back then. True to form, Edreina's small joke went totally over the harlot's head, met with a small and soft nod. "Of course, if he likes. I would prefer if you discard one or two of the weapons before sitting on my lap, but after I am done with Grisham, I certainly don't mind. I was going to offer back whenever we took that bath together, but you didn't seem like you would appreciate the idea. I'm glad to see you have lightened up a little. How went the hunt for the lost-lover? Is she here now?" Also true to form, Matthew still didn't have a single bit of social grace outside of the bedroom. "What about sex? Are you two still engaging in intercourse? Do Myrians do it any differently, Raz-kar?" Grisham burst out into a wide grin, grape skin hanging from between his brown teeth. "Sex sex sex the Myrian and the RED HAIR." He practically screamed the last word, causing more than a few people to blink over at Edreina and Razkar. Most of them glanced away almost immediately. They knew a dangerous man when they saw one, and a Myrian armed to the teeth was usually pretty dangerous. Matthew continued on, blue eyes quickly scanning the two lovers over, seeking out every little detail that he possibly could from the two of them. Each visible scar was scanned and accounted for, the different clothes, the peeking mark on Edreina's hand that he couldn't quite get a clear view of... after a few seconds of the rather intimate scanning, the harlot finally seem satisfied and glanced back up at the two. They had apparently been through something on their way here, though Matthew had no idea what. He instinctively pulled upon just a small bit of Djed and sucked it to his eyes, burning it in his brain to briefly light them both up in two very distinct Auras. While they had once been painfully different, they now had some similiarities. More interesting to Matthew was how their two Auras seem to bind together here in there, little cords of light reaching out to lovingly twist around the other. Also, Edriena's held something very familiar, though Matthew couldn't put a finger on it. He dropped the magic almost the minute he used it, suddenly feeling like he had invaded on some sort of privacy. He merely continued to pick at the hair of Grisham, raising an eyebrow at the two misplaced faces. It was odd to see a fragment of his past here in the present. He wasn't sure why. "Would you like to buy my wares? If the lover was indeed found, then this one could be a momentary comfort for whoever is now broken-hearted." Well, that was a shameless thing to cash in on. Good intentions could be heard in his voice though. It was his odd way of showing he cared.

[Razkar]

It's just his way, it's just his way, it's just his way...

The surprise and, yes, pleasure of seeing the smooth harlot in such an unfamiliar clime (seriously, how does he get his hair like that in a slum?) that Razkar felt was soon dashed when Matthew began, well... talking.

Razkar's face read like a road map of discomfort and irritation as the human plowed on like a canoe going straight off a waterfall. His offer for a haircut was met with a simple roll of back eyes, but what followed-

Wait. That bath? That... alludes to something, doesn't it? Something from the past? What did they say to each other?!

He threw a glance at Edreina that could have leveled a building but, of course, she was too enraptured in their reunion. Grisham was apparently composing a five-part symphony revolving around around frolicking "Red" and "Myrian". A soft, rolling growl escaped his lips and while the detritus huddled closer to the shadows, Grisham just grinned with rows of teeth like rusty saws and kept on his capering.

"What about sex? Are you two still engaging in intercourse? Do Myrians do it any differently, Raz-kar?"

Razkar was grateful for the low light: they would have missed his indignant flush. Instead he inhaled deeply and seemed to grow with his shadow, wrath and anger and... utterly failing to impress the human harlot, who regarded him, as usual, like he was doing so through a magnifying glass.

Just... relax! He means nothing by it, you know how he-

"Would you like to buy my wares? If the lover was indeed found, then this one could be a momentary comfort for whoever is now broken-hearted."

Oh, that is petching it!

"It will comfort me to spread your nose across-"

"Like the skinny juicy?!"

Once again Razkar's attention was ripped from pleasurable violence to crashing whimsy. He looked around and something that was once, perhaps, a grape was being waved under his nose. Grisham was doing the waving, eyes bright and eager and totally unafraid. He prompted with his chin and hand, offering the skinned grape as if it were a priceless gem.

"Um... my thanks..."

Not bad, actually.

[Edreina]

Unlike her lover, Edreina was an open book and each question asked by the harlot received a straight answer. There was no need to hide themselves from this one.

"How went the hunt for the lost-lover? Is she here now?"

"He found rumors, but the journey to find her would have been suicide." What had once worried her so horribly was dismissed as painlessly as a wayward cockle-burr. Looking back, she thought herself to have been silly for worrying so; it was obvious now that Lhex had a greater plan for both her and the Myrian. "And yes, we're still intimate." Despite her bravado, a blush colored her cheeks and her teeth caught hold of her lower lip. "As for differently..." A shrug betrayed her vain attempt at being noncommittal, hiding a smirk. "He's certainly an experience far removed from the men of the sea." Only a handful of her companions had been men of the earth and he differed even from them.

The strange man's singing and giggling became background noise and nonsense to Edreina as she focused on the image from her very recent, if through time alone, past.

His question had been funny and his own special brand of comfort; there was no reason for Razkar to get so pissy. Just as she was planning on shoving her elbow into the Myrian's ribs, the crazy coot distracted him for a moment with grapes, leaving her free to respond with a mild shrug and a private smile; she was pleased that, for once, she could not think of bedding a man other than Razkar. Well, pleased and terrified. "Unless you feel like sailing to Darva to comfort Ayatah..." she trailed off with a wink, waiting for Razkar's temper to rise again. If he started to splutter some sort of objection, it would give Edreina a small, playful smile hidden from his eyes as she looked off and to the side; the quaking of her shoulders, however, may have been noted.

"Anyhow... when you're done with this, would you like to return with us? I owe you a debt," let Razkar make of that what he would, " and I don't enjoy having it unfulfilled... Oh!" Her breath caught and stomach dropped slightly as she thought of her own ship for the first time in... lifetimes, it felt. "You're in Sunberth now... what came of my ship? Did it go to my kin or was it taken from you?" Now that she had started to think of it, she could not easily stop. "Now you must come with us so I can hear of whatever grand adventure brought you to Sunberth..."

[Matthew]

Blue eyes curiously peered at Raz-kar as the Myrian seemed to loom for just a moment and an angry series of growled words began to spew from his lips. He was unfortunately cut off by Grisham, who Matthew gave an annoyed look. He couldn't be too annoyed though, for he was now fully distracted by Razkar. How did the man always seem to grow two or three inches when he gave off that intimidating aura? Was it magic? Or was he just standing on his tip-toes? The second option was considerably less initimidating, so Matthew assumed it was probably the first option. Grisham didn't seem to care either way, dancing happily around the Myrian who had hesitantly took his offered grape. Realizing that his grooming of the old was probably done and over with, the harlot slowly stood himself up, leaving the muddied sack of seat where it was. Grisham gave him a curious look, as if seeing the prostitute for the first time, and then suddenly giggled and went bounding off. His hair did flow a bit more freely in the wind, or at least Matthew thought it did. He stared after the crazy old man with a thoughtful look in his eye for a few brief moments, and then returned his attention to the familar duo. His stare focused on Edreina now, who readily answered his questions, something he appreciated. Thoughts flickered behind his steady gaze as she made his inner wheels turn, the intensity in his eyes sometimes glancing over at Razkar as if to see how the savage was reacting to this information. If anything, Matthew's analytical nature had only increased in the time that they had been apart. More was picked apart now and absorbed, the harlot doing what he could to pick up on the social nuances of everyday conversation and use them to guide his responses and topic. He still wasn't very good at it. "Ayatah?" That was his first question, but he figured out the answer himself. His brow furrowed for a moment, trying desperately to understand the private interaction that had just gone on between Edreina and Razkar, but he eventually just wrote it off as one of those intimate things that lovers shared among themselves. His eyes glimmered for a moment at the mention of a debt, but he decided to address the ship first. Obviously she was worried about it. "It went to your kin. A lot of them would waltz up looking for a Svefra, and then have a lot of questions once there was none on board. Not that many knew your name, but oddly enough, when I gave a description, they always seemed to realize who you were when your chest size was mentioned." The harlot had no idea that this wasn't exactly a common trait in the Svefra race, nor was it a particularly desirable one. It was exactly the opposite in just about every other society. "As for my journey here..." Matthew's face turned displeased for a moment, and he gave a small shake of his head. "No particular grand adventure, just a sense that Sunberth would be better suited to my profession. The journey here was horrifying. I don't like the Wildlands." With all the formalities out of the way, Matthew's mind returned to the fact that Edreina owed him something. By relation, Razkar owed him as well. Matthew's eyes turned to the savage, and if Razkar was available to do such a thing, the harlot would hold stares with him for just a moment. Then, for the briefest of seconds, Matthew did something that he rarely ever did, and Razkar would be left to interpret it how he chose. Matthew smiled, and the smile showed teeth. "A debt indeed... Where are you two staying? What 'grand adventure' brought you here?" The grin was gone, replaced by the calm composure, Matthew readily following the two in whichever way they led.

[Razkar]

Razkar flushed anew when Edreina joined the attack, mouth paused in mid-chew as he whirled to her, Ayatah's name on her lips as if it was... was... a joke! But when he turned, she already had her back to him, leaving him with nothing but the ghost of a smile and... the tiny shake of her shoulders.

Razkar gasped like a dying fish as the world seemed to mock him mercilessly. Was no-one to be trusted?! But... the fire stilled. Eventually. What would erupting in fury do? Would it help? Would they cease? Probably not. And what would he gain by scolding Edreina like some child when she was anything but?

Matthew is not a child, he is just... different. She didn't like you umping on him for just... being him, so now-

"Not that many knew your name, but oddly enough, when I gave a description, they always seemed to realize who you were when your chest size was mentioned."

The grape went down the wrong tube. Razkar went from a gaping, glowering golem in ink and scars tissue to bent over double and trying to stop his matchless path as a warrior ending as he choked to death on fruit in a slum. He went down to one knee and finally dislodged it, giggling and gasping and heaving and chuckling all at once.

He looked up and the human met his gaze as few would have. Razkar assumed it was because the human didn't... quite understand how people worked. What they were capable of. He was observant, sure, but human nature? Matthew was still stymied by that, and even a rank savage like Razkar had the edge on him there.

But he knew courage, and confidence... and when the male flashed his teeth in a latent show of challenge... Razkar nearly growled in response.

Part anger at a trespassing male, part respect to a worthy challenger. Perhaps Matthew was just born the wrong race.

"A debt indeed... Where are you two staying? What 'grand adventure' brought you here?"

"Before we embark," Razkar managed to butt in with a raised hand, getting his breath back and on track before Edreina could spout off again, "We do have business here, Edri. We're looking for a boy. His name is Marius. Seventeen Summers, maybe... your height. Er... yellowy-red hair. Not sure what the word is for it. Brown eyes. He followed whore into the Tent City two nights ago. Have you seen him? Heard of him? And would your dancing friend know instead?"

He jerked a thumb towards Grisham, now apparently doing a little choreography for his epic bard. Happy as he was to see his... "friend", the two sellswords didn't wander into the Tent City for the landmarks and tourist attractions. They had a job to do, and Razkar wanted at least one good lead before the harlot took them to gods-knew-what kind of-

"... and what is this 'debt'?!"

I know, I know...... a certain SOMEONE *glares at Svefra* has no interest in hunting down some Denvali kid, but I'd like to get SOME useful Intel out of this thread, so I can tie it up in a solo later on. However, if that's not OK with you guys, I'll edit.

[Edreina]

"That 'whore' is my sister, y'know." A voice said abruptly, causing Edreina to turn. In the muck stood a bare footed woman with an emaciated child perched on her slim hip. Her bone structure was fine, delicate and angular enough to have been beautiful in the eyes of most, but her sun-reddened skin was bruised and scarred from a life of hardship and stretched thin over the bones. "And she only does what she must to live, as do we all." There was an iron to her voice the likes of which Edreina would not have expected from one so abused. The wide-eyed child put a filthy hand in its mouth and stared at the trio with wide, somber eyes. With a sigh, the woman shifted, hiking the frail child up higher onto her hip.

It bothered Edreina to realize that the sight of this did not pain her to her core as it once had. Slowly, she had been realizing that some people would rather live in the slum they knew than seek a better life in the big, broad world that terrified them. In a way, she felt as if those who doomed themselves to such a life were not worth the energy it took for her to pity them. Pale fingers twitched with discomfort as she realized, despite her best efforts, her journeys with Razkar were making her a harder soul. A faint blush danced across her cheeks as she realized that she accepted this change. She wanted to see the world, to experience it; such would be impossible if her soft heart landed her in a ditch, dying and mizaless. Unconsciously, the fingers previously twitching reached out to seek the comfort of her lover, brushing against his forearm for a second. A sideways glance from him reminded her of their purpose, and her duty as a gatherer of information.

In the silence that followed, the bony woman rolled her eyes and started to leave until the redhead surged forward and caught hold of her hand. When indignant eyes met gentle blue ones, Edreina threw herself into hypnotism, using her caring eyes, the pressure of her hand, and the soothing tone of her voice to convey a sense of trustworthiness and of need. "Please... The boy we're looking for was my friend's son... We need to find out where he is..." A quick glance at the child supported by her other arm reminded the woman of her own child and how she would felt if he were to go missing. With a final burst of gentle Djed, Edreina whispered, pleading, "Please..." before releasing her hand and taking a step back.

Emaciated teeth bit at a bruised lower lip as she thought it over, eyes falling to the muck in which she stood, toes curling and uncurling to avoid going numb. Eventually, she sighed and spoke in a furtive voice, eyes bright with a gentle worry. "If you want to ask her about your friend, I'd look for her wandering near the Sunset Quarter, it's her favorite place to work. But, I'll be honest with you. If a man is a good enough catch, she will lure him back here and rob him... After that..." she shrugged with the cold, feigned ignorance that life in Sunberth brought. "I can offer you no more..." The hard visage returned, replacing the young and frightened mother that had been there only a moment prior. This time, she tromped past them more forcefully, only to be stonewalled by Edreina again.

This time, five pale yellow coins were hidden in her palm. She stepped close to the woman, ignoring how she stiffened in discomfort. In a low voice, she whispered, "For you and your son... No information is free... Buy yourselves some clothes... food..." she sighed and pressed the coins into her hand, stepping away without another word. No matter what she thought or imagined she felt, she did care, deep down, and it was hard to pretend otherwise.

This time, the now wide-eyed woman darted away without interruption and the apprentice turned to face master and student. "Was that a good enough lead? If not, I'm sure we can find someone else..." Her voice trailed off and she all but hit her palm to her forehead. Stupid! Stupid! "Dammit..." The realization clicked into place that the woman could easily have been an opportunistic sort - as if any other existed in this cesspool of a city - who had overheard a search for information and seen an opportunity. "You could easily walk into a trap if you follow her advice, Raz," she said quietly, eyes falling to the ground. She should have just let him handle it instead of thinking she could do it on her own. Mildly defeated by the silent admission that she was shyke at reading people, still, she sighed and hung her head, apologizing in a mumble.

[Matthew]

Matthew's head craned, his neck tilted at a dangerous angle as he passively watched the Myrian go down on one knee and choke on a grape. Ironically, the harlot was thinking about the same thing that Razkar was at that moment. What a waste it would be if the mighty warrior fell to a piece of fruit that had just gone down the wrong hole. It was somewhere in the middle of this thought that Matthew realized he should probably be helping the man, but before he could go to his side, the warrior had shot up the grape and was now glaring at him. Or staring. Matthew couldn't tell the difference when it came to Raz-kar. He continued to quietly study the savage as he spoke of a boy they were looking for, causing Matthew's brow to furrow slightly. At the mention of Grisham he raised an eyebrow, and glanced over at the man, who was now running around in completely random patterns. Matthew had little doubt that the man knew everything that went on in the tent city. If Grisham himself was aware of this, though... that was debatable. Then another person invaded in on their little reunion, and Matthew's head slowly turned to absorb the new information. She had spoken the word 'whore' with such disguist. Did most people look upon his profession that way? He could sometime see it in their eyes when they looked at him, or at least he thought he could. He had been much luckier with his lot in life, though. He had chosen his path, while some were driven to it out of desperation. Those people were much... different. As Edreina and the woman talked, the harlot moved closer, his steps slow and calculated, his eyes now focused on the child. The child stared right back, sucking on his filthy hand, Matthew visibly cringing at the display. The woman stared at the approaching Matthew with a level of suspicion, but was quickly distracted by Edreina. Matthew didn't pay any attention to the two, just the child. He faintly heard the two, but he was busy with the little one for now. The two of them locked eyes for what seemed like quite a while, sharing some sort of odd moment. To the child, it was a moment to study this oddly pretty creature buried in the mud of Sunberth. For Matthew, it was the chance to analyze one of the greatest mysteries of all. In truth, he didn't really like children. He had no doubt that he would never have one of his own, unless something went horribly wrong in his profession. He was abruptly knocked out of his stupor as the child and woman went darting away, his gaze returning to Edreina. He heard her words, glanced at Razkar, and then considered words of his own. Was this anything to get involved in? He tried to choose his battles as wisely as possible. After a short moment of silence, he gave a soft shrug of his shoulders. "If you walk into a trap, then it seems like you are closer to your goal than you may realize. Unless it is a random trap, and I doubt a smart person would put a Myrian into a random mugging. And anyways, how much of a trap is it if you are aware that you might be walking into one? Not a very good trap, at least." Something resembling excitement burned in Matthew's veins, and for a very brief second, the toothy grin surfaced again. It certainly wasn't one of challenge now. It meant the harlot was excited enough to show a facial expression, which could be a bad sign. "However, if you would like a bit of help finding the boy with the orange hair-" A brief glance, shot at Razkar, helping him find the word he was looking for; "-then perhaps I can be of assistance. I work for a pleasure house in the Sunset Quarter, no doubt my fellow workers would know who this street whore is. If anything, perhaps I can present myself as a valid candidate for her pleasures." There, he had put himself on the line. But not for free. "In return, I will take what is owed of me-" Another paused and a glance at Razkar; "-long story; and I will take it tonight. The two of you will come to the Scarlet Sanctum and purchase me for a night. Then you two will have sex, and I will watch. I can't help but be curious about true intimacy, among other things." He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he glanced between the two lovers, blue eyes glittering. "Does this sound fair?" It probably sounded insane, but to Matthew, it sounded completely fair. They were only trading privacy, he was offering to put his life on the line. If anything, he was being generous.