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[Aerer]

 

Aerer – 21 Bells– We just got a letter and we only wish you knew.


Sunberth, 2, Fall, 514 A.V



Fall had begun to rear its head, a crisp and restless breeze whipping down across murky piers and cooling the drunken blush attached to otherwise pale features. Garbage rollicked about the nearby space, wrappers and useless baubles discarded from the abusive seasides markets. An unconscious, or possibly even dead – (petch, did you want him to check?), sailor lay stretched out in front of the exit and he thoughtfully extended his stride to step over the immobile figure.

He had only stopped briefly to admire the piers, mysterious and lugubrious, at least compared to the lively ruckus that was the Drunken Fish. It had been a long day. An exhausting day. That’s what made it so petching tough to keep calm when the voluptuous hellcat dared to lay hands upon him. His face contorted into a sneer only managing to hold his composure through what remained of his willpower. This squaw is walking on thin ice.

She was given a second chance to appreciate his musk as he leaned in once more. “And whose to say that wouldn't happen anyways once you give me up to him?” He countered testily, his brows furrowing a bit in the process. “Sure I've seen...” There was a brief pause as alcohol overrode his train of thought. He glanced around wearily, leery of hanging out in the open. “Sure I've seen you around. Everyone takes notice. Everyone wants a bite.” A smile briefly flickered atop dry lips. “but its a foolish decision to follow you down the twists and turns of Sunberth without proper precautions. I'll follow you there, but I'll follow at my own pace. I wont sully your illustrious name by interfering...” He managed to state with only a smidgen of scorn. “...but you won't know where I am. I note any kind of questionable complications, I disappear.”

He attempted, gently, to remove her fingers from his chest. If successful, her fingers were brought up to graze lightly against his lips. “And if you speak truth, then perhaps we can put all of this acrimony in the past and only offer stirring, pleasing words to each other?” The words were alight with flair but his posture spoke volumes about how worn out today had made him.

Escaping your past was easier said then done.

[Shakune]

Shakune rolled her eyes impatiently -- though given her lack of pupil and iris, her irritability was perhaps not so obvious. She had arrived in Sunberth some time ago now, and had quickly learnt that everyone, everyone, had some sort of questionable past, full of sin and regret. Similarly, most individuals had at least one person, or (if you were a bit more unfortunate) a whole gang, who seemed to be hunting them down in an endless game of cat and mouse.

It thus vexed the young woman when her clients were so secretive, so paranoid. She personally had no experience in knowing someone was after her blood, so her opinions were purely out of observations. Nevertheless, it always seemed to Shakune that there was at least one other person in the exact same position, or one even worse, than that of her most worried clients. When they refused to meet her in anywhere other than a busy public place, or even rejected the letter she was delivering to them for fear it would be sprinkled with poison, Shakune could not help but think: oh, get over yourself.

Whether or not it was genuine fear that made people act like this, or more a desire to be interesting, to live their fifteen chimes in the mysterious spotlight, she could not say, but the courier felt that it was more likely to be the former. She had no patience for such people; it was her job to deliver stuff, and what her clients did in their personal time was of not interest to her. She appreciated sinners and holy men equally; murders and healers were effectively the same person in her eyes, and she could see no worthwhile difference between pickpockets and charity-givers. Everyone had a story, everyone had fears.

It's just that some like talking about their problems more than others.

But she had not got her recognisable place of modest success with such an attitude. In fact, Shakune was well developed in the skill of bullshitting*Dear Graders, I wasn't sure if there was Mizahar version of this delightful phrase, so please forgive the plain old English . She delighted in feigning interest in the lives of others. She knew when to raise her eyebrows, when to laugh, when to pout sadly. Ultimately, she cared very little, unless if someone’s tragic tale stopped her getting paid. She was interested in other people, of course, and loved socialising, but there was no room for drama-queens in Shakune's humble, blunt little existence.

Her attention returned back to the male in front of her. To his first question - whether it was rhetorical or not was above her - Shakune shrugged her shoulders. Her interest was beginning to flail. "Follow me or not, it's not going to impinge on my getting paid," if there had ever any doubt that it was anything but the money she was now concerned with, those words would make it clear. "But it was you who wanted to know who sent you the letter, so you'll have to trust me to a certain extent." She was in the position of power here (or so she likened to think). The male had been desperate to know who had contacted him, and she was the only one who could provide him the answer.

"You disappear, I return to drinking. You stay, I return to drinking." Another shrug. His actions, or presence, would not influence her plans for the night. This altered, however, when her hand shifted to his lips, and Shakune felt the roughness of them scratching her fingertips. She imagined those lips trailing down on the insides of her thighs, brushing her nipples. It would be an easy lay: no effort on her behalf. Those black eyes scanned his form, briefly and efficiently. He looked tired. Eventually, she smirked; his suggestion had won her favour once again. "If you can stay awake long enough, I'll let you fuck me however you want."

On that ladylike promise, the exotic courier turned sharply, and strode forwards. She was a quick walker, and the cool winds nipped at her desert skin. Despite leaving Ekytol a fair number of years ago, she was still unused to the cold. It did not suit her, made the woman shiver and feel weak. She turned left and right briskly, avoiding the coldest of winds by walking down dank alleyways and behind taverns and brothels. The stench of urine and sex tagged along on their mysterious little journey, and Shakune tried to stop herself from gagging.

[Aerer]

21 Bells– We just got a letter and we wish you'd come play


Sunberth, 2, Fall, 514 A.V

Sunberth wasn't exactly known for its empathy and he was aware his request was emotionally fueled but the brusque, no nonsense reactions fueled a love and hate relationship that he had trouble easily accepting. Normally it was the other individual with the flair for the dramatic while he, simple Aerer, shrugged his shoulders and specified how little it was his concern. Being on the opposite end of the table was not fun. Aggravating, in fact! Though the notion of congress was always agreeable, the nature of being beaten at his own game left him unfulfilled.

He followed her, past the rotting mansion and the other side of the seaside market. He wormed his way through what he believed to be the bakers shop street and the most direct route to the orphanage. The wind continued to howl and tear at his clothing, shivering at the unexpected dip in temperatures. Sunberth prides itself on its peak one hundred degree weather, so what happened to it? Confusion masked his face once more as Shakune meandered down the streets like a drunk, left then right. Down paths that even he feared to tread after sunfall. Petching mad woman. He thought silently. Why hadn't I just asked where she lived? What am I doing out here, anyways? Chasing an invisible demon, that's what. Should be inside, drinking and gambling, not this petching nonsense. You can still turn this shyking boat around, go home. Its not too late. His regrets did not seem to sway him, which soured his mood further. Even admiring Shakune's derriere was subverted by her fleetness of foot and unorthodox road selection. Today was not working out as he had hoped.

Eventually she seemed to be slowing down, and he stopped entirely. Had they arrived or was she just catching her breath? Taking his chances that it was the former he slunk back behind a random alleyway wall before staring back onto the main road they had arrived on. Clouds hung over the moon, obscuring the area and his view of Shakune entirely This was a stupid idea he reminded himself, while pacing about. Do you even know where you are? Do you know what you're going to petching do once you do spot him? Then what? Glowingly at his own incompetence, Aerer bolted down the building, around the alleyway and up closer to where he believed she was waiting.

He hoped she hadn't spotted him.

He hoped the messenger hadn't spotted him.

He hoped he could get another round of Stammer and Blush in tonight, he was on fire.

An exhale of air, a calming of nerves. He thought of Alvadas briefly. The winding streets, the beautiful Sulvan Sea and the food. Oh the food. That was one thing Sunberth could never match. He missed the delectable delicacies and inexplicable cakes made out of gods know what. He missed home.

[Shakune]

The sensation of being followed clung to Shakune throughout her brisk journey. Pickpockets and spotty child-thieves were hideously common in Sunberth, tagging along with whomever took their fancy before their interest died and they dropped off to focus on a new target. Each day, she guessed that everyone in the city was followed, even those temporary stalks, several times a day. Everyone was a mark; hardly anyone escaped the peering eyes of criminals.

But it was a different experience entirely to know that someone was following her -- and her alone. Despite knowing who it was, and where she could most likely locate the male should she wish to at a future date, it was still menacing to consider that someone was lurking in the shadows, stepping her still-warm footprints. Every so often, Shakune would glance behind herself, as if she needed to prove to her own mind that someone was still there; a doubt that, of course, was not satiated because all she saw were alley-cats and rodents scurrying between the shadows.

It took just five chimes before someone approached the black-eyed courier. He was a tall man, all sharp angles and bones. His pinched-face was centred around a nose that looked remarkably like a fisherman's hook. He spoke with a gravelly, seedy voice that made Shakune think of men who eyed up little girls. "You're the courier."

Her nose wrinkled at that voice, and that stench! She forced herself to remain poker-face straight, but her eyes darted to the left and right behind the man. "You're not who I met before." She retorted. Her intial client, though his face had been covered, had spoken in a clear and pointed voice. "Who are you?"

The man snorted, hacked and spat. "Doesn't mat'er. Have you delivered our message?"

No verbal answer came from the half-breed, but she retrieved the signed parchment from within her breasts and reluctantly placed it in the male's bony claw. "Very good." He seemed less interested in the signature, and more interested from where she had retrieved it. "You desire a payment, I presume?"

Too shykin' right.

But instead of answering so enthusiastically, Shakune just nodded silently. "six gold mizas." It was one miza above the inital agreed price, but given the shadow that had followed her, the courier felt her new suggestion was warrented.

Unfortunately, the ratty man disagreed. "Four."

She folded her arms, black eyes narrowing. "Five. No less." Ultimately she was in no position to barter the price; given the suspicious nature of the first gentleman she had met with, the presence of this second, whoever had sent the letter obviously had numerous men at hand. Though nobody else was in eyeshot nearby them, Shakune guessed that there were other figures lukering in the shadows other than Aerer.

If he's even stuck around.

Thankfully, a gnarled claw slid five golden coins into Shakune's hand, and she grimaced at the lizard-like feel of them. With horror, she saw the stranger's green eyes star hungrily at her chest. His other hand, still holding the signature, wavered a few inches from her. "Allow me--"

A hand snapped out, catching his wrist as it loomed ever closer to Shakune's breasts. "You do that, and I'll kill you." She snarled, grabbing the paper and keeping it a safe distance from her body. Each word had dripped with hatred and disgust; the money was in her pocket now, there was no reason for her to keep up pleasantries.

She strode away, shivering as a nasally little giggle erupted from the foul man's narrow lips. Shakune half-ran, taking the same twisting route at earlier. By the time she erupted out of the final alleyway, she was panting heavily and had to double over to catch her breath. Few times had she felt so nervous, so obviously watched from hidden eyes. It took a few chimes for Shakune to steady her nerves, though even then it was not until the Drunken Fish was in sight that she dared to stop walking.

Black eyes scanned the seemingly empty shadows, and when Shakune spoke, it would appear to any observer that she was talking to herself: "Did'ya recognise him?"

[Aerer]

21 Bells – We just got a letter and we don't have more to say.


Sunberth, 2, Fall, 514 A.V

Possibly the worst aspect of this impromptu spying mission was that his eyesight was absolute rubbish. Attempting to spot the exchange was like attempting to spot the hungriest orphan on Sunset strip. Shadows flickered and danced as he moved, torn between a spot beside a trash can that puts him in danger of being seen and the side of an alley which left him no better at spotting the letter carrier then if he was back at the Drunken Fish. Aggravating. Curiosity, anger and stubbornness eventually won out against a a prudent instinct and he was took up residence near the trash can. Actors, to your positions.

Mr. knees and elbows, the couriers mysterious contact, was an unattractive sort. The nasally voice and rumpled countenance made Aerer attracted to the idea of introducing his fist to his face. Repeatedly. The unfortunate addendum being that the Sir. Crumples was not in anyway recognizable from his past and the time spent stressed and skulking about had been for naught. When nothing else could be gleaned from the exchange, he twisted about carefully and dashed back towards the tavern, hoping to rebuild the evening with a card game or eight. Thankfully he only managed to run into one of the trash bins on the way out, and only after he was half a block away.

“What were you even thinking was going to happen?” Aerer chastised himself aloud, taking a hard left down an alley that he vaguely recalled passing on the way in. Another stumble from the alcohol fueling his system and he nearly took a dive into a nearby booze hound passed out in the dirt. Steady as she goes. You're far away now. Nothing that can be done at this time Steps slowed down a crawl, catching his breath and minimizing the panic that had done nothing but ruin his evening. An exchange of masks, an impassive gaze with a hint of a smile as he spotted the sights and sounds of the Drunken Fish right around the bend. A familiar voice spoke up.

“Didya recognize him?”

Gods be good, she was fast. He stumbled a bit at the unexpected voice, like a first time ballerina on a balance beam. Swallowing the dry knot in his throat, he slunk out from the shadows. “Not in the slightest” He admitted, dejected. An awkward pause, a shuffling of feet, the most challenging aspect of his night – being appreciative. “I....ah...” His left hand rose to scratch the back of his neck. “Thanks. I...it means a lot. Just some run ins from the past that I'd rather not dredge up. Not sure what they're up to. Would rather not know. I...” He clamped his trap shut, recognizing the rambling as counterproductive, especially if he was attempting to salvage his pride. Especially since he knew she could care less.

“Thanks. Can I get you another drink?" He inclined his head towards the tavern. “Viles is paying for us.” He shook the coins in his coin purse and grinned that lopsided grin. Something genuine for once. “And I wouldn't mind another shot at retrieving that pen.” A playful wink.

[Shakune]

The promise of alcohol sparked some interest in Shakune, though the black-eyed woman did show it. Her brow was furrowed, head tilted, in thought. She had never been a deep thinker or great philosopher; the world was black-and-white simple in her eyes. But this new puzzle, and the young man attached to it, had caught her curiosity. He had not known the male she had met with, and neither had Shakune. She did, however, have several casual contacts within the many gangs of Sunberth (hey, criminals needed to post things, too!), and the courier was sure neither of the fine gentlemen were attached to any Sunberthian gang.

Rather begrudgingly, Shakune found herself swallowing down questions that bubbled up onto the tip of her tongue. It frustrated the woman that this rather ordinary-looking client had managed to capture her interest, with his bright eyes and mysterious past.

Must be the alcohol, she told herself stubbornly. That glass of wine earlier was stronger than ale.

She eventually responded to his suggestion with a slow nod. "You can buy me as many drinks as you like." Years spent with her old sailor friends had given the half-breed a tolerance for alcohol that was impressively high. Turning towards the Drunken Fish, she glanced him another devilish smirk. "My previous offer still stands, too--" Hoping that he knew exactly what she was referring to, Shakune yanked open the creaking door and led their way inside the tavern. She found a seat without much issue; the place had quietened down since they were last inside, "-- though I have questions, first."

A lady never fucks a man without knowing the basics about him, of course, the most immoral part of her conscious whispered as the half-breed released the highest of her shirt button.

[Avarice]

Aerer

Skill	Points
Gambling	+2
Subterfuge	+1
Observation	+5
Rhetoric	+5
Writing	+1
Socialization	+2
Flirting	+2
.	.
.	.
.	.

Lore

We Just Got a Letter, Wonder Who It's From?

Location: The Drunken Fish

Viles: A Gullable Gambling Partner

Victory Tastes Oh So Sweet

Shakune: A Fine Piece of Eye Candy

A Message of Ill Intent

Shakune: A Promise of Getting Laid

Frantic Thoughts Whilst Following a Courier

Confronting the Sins of the Past

"Sir Crumples": A Loathesome Target

Stuff?
Consequences, Injuries, Expenses, and More!

• Expenses: -4 cm (Refill of Ale), -5 cm (Glass of Wine)

Shakune

Skill	Points
Observation	+4
Rhetoric	+3
Flirting	+2
Socialization	+1
Organization	+2
Subterfuge	+2
Intelligence	+1
Intimidation	+1
Detection	+1
Negotiation	+1
Running	+1

Lore

Location: The Drunken Fish

I'm on Business, Not Pleasure...Sadly

Aerer: Called Me "My Lamb"

Aerer F. Varsethe: A Face to be Remembered

Aerer: To Bed, or not to Bed, That is the Question.

Seeing the Opportunity in Desperation

Emotional Outbursts Unsettle Me

A Favor to Aerer

Aerer: Someone's Getting Lucky Tonight

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Stuff?
Consequences, Injuries, Expenses, and More!

• Income: +5 gm (Delivery)

Comments

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