[The Quill's Rest] Learning of the city for its worth

by **Fallon** on June 14th, 2015, 7:14 pm

10th Summer 515 AV
Morning

Fallon blinked, paused and exhaled. It was indeed the warmer season of the year, the light layer of sweat grasping around the back of her neck and the sticking sensation of the gloves upon her hand - the attempt to break the habit of wearing them in the summer had failed. She held her notebook regardless in the right, gently using it as a fan as she stuck to the shade of the city and took only the mere moments to dart across the light in the hunt of somewhere cool. It was in this occasion however that she was on the move for achieving a simple groundwork understanding of those above her, a basis in which to work up from in her investigations. And the best place to achieve that would be in any hub and hive of rumour.

In simple terms it would be one of the local watering hole, in this instance the Quill's Rest. Cooler than the outside world, a selection of light curtains were drawn to create a cool glow and block out the light, windows open a crack to let a cool through breeze. Fallon herself gently shifted, the small clinking of a bell as she traversed through the door and caught the faint scent of kelp tea. She did not dwell on it for too long, minding her business and appearing more as a student among the bodies than the private investigator. Regardless she kept the small and subtle hints there and available to those who looked carefully, the signet ring for one, the kukri she kept strapped to her among the other few tools of the designated "survival kit".

She noticed the occasional glance from one of the scribes working in one of the alcoves, a brief pause as they continued their working through the tasks set - before she moved her attention towards the small bar space. It was noticeably quiet, one she remembered when she was last in the city - a perfect spot to settle down, listen and learn the world without having to worry about the ruckus caused by the intoxicated. She could see the tender carefully cleaning out one of the teacups. With a small nod to the man she eased herself onto one of the stools and set her writing equipment before her. Placing down a pair of silvers the man took them and begun getting to work on a drink - he obviously knew what was meant by the gesture.

Dipping the quill into the vial, Fallon sat herself to work and what little she did know of Zeltiva. The nib gave a scratch upon the surface of the page as she wrote. Zeltiva, as far as she knew was made up of a governing body - the Lord of Council, with the title suggesting that beneath him was a council. The question then would be who made up and how many of them were there? She quickly scribbled the point in a corner as a reminder. Then, of course there was the big families of Zeltiva. While she had only really made contact with the Falconer's due to work, the others were still about and within the city themselves - no doubt she could summon up their names in good time. And finally there was the factions, if they could even be called that. She was no fool to know the University and the Sailors guild had their own agendas, though if there was other major or minor players beyond that she did not know.

At least not yet.

Quietly the tea was placed down with a clink, and she gave the man a nod in thanks before quietly posing a question in a hushed tone, "Sorry sir, I'm new to Zeltiva and don't know a lot about her ways." She could see him pause then, "Oh, forgive me. I am Fallon, I'm merely working on collecting some notes together on my experiences and knowledge of the city as I plan to take residence here for some time."
"I see. So you have taken a shine to Zeltiva then?"
"Oh very much so, she is a beautiful city. Though I am a little confused about the... if I may be so bold in saying, the class system that is present. I mean, those of higher standing than others. And of course... those who are lower than normal."
"You must be referring to East Street there. I would stay clear where possible. Very unrully bunch if I must say so myself," Fallon gave a nod to his words, "Better off pretending it... doesn't exist. As for those above, well there is the obvious wealthy who reside in the Ancient Quarter... And the big six families."

by **Felicity** on June 17th, 2015, 8:06 pm

Who am I today...? Felicity wondered, a question that was as much a part of her being as her limbs or hair. It was the only question that really mattered in the end, at least to her. That question had brought her here, to a part of Zeltiva she rarely went. West Street, a part of the Old Quarter, peculiar name that, and a place that more often than not decided she did not exist. She did not really belong here, among 'civilized' people she supposed. Then again maybe that was precisely why she had come.

A blank slate that walked on two legs, that was what Felicity felt like today even as she stepped through into the far too clean establishment of the Quill's rest. Normally she never bothered coming here. They did not offer food, and the drink was not strong enough to provide any kind of real stimulation or interesting conversations. The people were too quiet, keeping to themselves and their reading and writing... whatever it was they were reading and writing. Poor sods who had wasted the mizas on an education that was completely useless in the real world. That at least is what Felicity believed. At the University you did not learn the things you needed to know on East Street. Where to find the best smoke, what allies to avoid come the darkening night, how to tell at a glance if that man offering to pay had anything foul you didn't want near your own privates. That was what they should be teaching. Useful things like that, and maybe how to brew your own ale. If they offered a course on that maybe Felicity would attend.

Settling on a stool at the bar Felicity glanced around, half expecting there to be a menu but it seemed that this was not the case. A little ways down from her she saw as another woman placed two silvers on the bar, the man behind the counter taking them and beginning to prepare something as if it made all the sense in the world. Clucking her tongue she looked away, resting her chin in her hand as she looked out the window toward the bay. What kind of bar did not have drinks? No ale of any kind? Food? What, did everyone on this side of the city live on knowledge and ink?

Breathing out a sigh through her nose Felicity ran a hand over her neck, across the inverted triangle located there and glanced absently back toward the woman who was now conversing with the man behind the bar. What he said made her snort, loudly and without any care for who heard as she looked away back out to the bay. Did he realize that she was the one he was telling this person to ignore? How could he not? She had not bothered to hide it. Simple clothing, worn at the edges and stained from use, shoes that were almost past their due date and blonde hair that could do with a washing. She really didn't belong here, among these scholarly types.

"To right, best to pretend the ugly East Street doesn't even exist. Terrible place, that. Hide your purses and your women lest they both be stolen from you right?" A dry, humorless laugh and Felicity turned to fully look at the man and the woman, crossing her legs while one hand absently trailed down her nearly bear thigh to her knee, "Then again, at least you know the place is rotten just by looking at it. It's the places that look clean and good that you got to be worried about. Who knows what they are hiding behind their airs of nobility?"

"I would rather take my chances with the scum of the city than the wolves of the upper class. Least one of them you will see coming."

by **Fallon** on June 18th, 2015, 6:17 pm

"All thieves there in East Street then?"
"Of course there is! Reckon there'd be cut throats and what not too."
"Oh really now?"

There was a pause in the tender unable to answer due to the interruption and the momentary shift of the gaze over to the new speaker. There was the briefest flicker of judgement upon his face. It was Fallon however that merely took her time to glance over, her head turning as she looked the other over. Perched upon one of the adjacent barstools the woman gave her laugh, while the inspector's ears gave a twitch, the eyes flickering down the displayed body language and attempting to pick out the social cues that were left. Jaw in the hand, the seeming disgruntled look taking over - worn clothing too. It was clear she was of the lower classes, though the employment she found herself working mentally around what she was.

"Do you require something miss?" he seemed to speak through tight lips. A whore perhaps? No, even when not at work they had a particular way of dressing to send off the subtle advertisement - less, that was the logic she had garnered from Sunberth. Mercenary perhaps? Then where was the weapon of trade? There was a gentle clink as the cup filled with steaming kelp tea was placed next to her. Her mind continued to flicker through the other trades, courier, thief, rogue, spy and informant. The latter would be most interesting to see, or at least understand how they may have differed here. Zeltiva was a different game after all. The orbs sharpened, held, before at last moving away - the analysis done and leaving her feeling somewhat unimpressed by the colours painted by the tender.

"You'd be one to talk," the man spoke sharply, face screwing up into an obvious frown, "Bet you're one of them. All tricks and wha-"
"Better the beast you know, than the monster you don't?" She let the gaze move away then, settling upon the cup and staring into the dark depths, "Let me guess, all the upper class always want something? Have their own desires and end goals, willing to use anyone as a pawn to get there?" She let the question hang there. It was no different to Sunberth, every gang fighting for territory and control. Pull a string here, make an acquaintance there, and soon the empire of information was available - yet all balance upon a delicate thread. She hummed, blowing over the rim of the cup as she continued to think, "I might just be an outsider who knows nothing of the city, her beauties, or what is or is not a wolf, but it sounds much like two sides of the same coin."
"Preposterous!" exclaimed the man.

Fallon gave a shrug, "Perhaps. But as I said, I am just an outsider. Do you wish to correct me?"
"Without the upper class there would not be all the opportunities in the city. The university, the infrastructure and education available. And let us not forget the guilds too!"
"Counter argument?" Fallon looked upon the stranger then, eyes blinking twice before she took the cup up by the handle, "I mean, it does sound like a good case. But I think he may be missing something important." She took a sip, letting the strong taste rest upon her tongue before she lowered the cup - too hot still. She let her lips curl then, her voice dropping into a low purr, "Anyway, does it not takes a wolf to spy a wolf? Or is that not Zeltiva's way?"

by **Iblette** on June 19th, 2015, 8:20 pm

Out of the mass of people that bustled about that morning, one in particular stood out. A young looking, pale girl, with her curly platinum hair drawing unneeded attention, wove her way to the Quill's Rest, with a violin and bow in hand. Once she made it to the building, she sighed some relief, and sat on a bench that was propped outside. Taking out her instrument, she plucked the strings, tuning them until they made their proper chord. Once the strings were set, she bent down, grabbed her bow, placed it to the fiddle, and began to play.

She kept her notes quiet, so that those who did not wish to hear were not affected. Despite her awareness, however, the chords still carried, and the acoustics of the town carried the music a good distance. The barman, who was wiping off the counter at the time, turned his head to the direction of the music once he heard it. Once he realized who it was, he smiled, looking down and continuing to clean. All the while, he made his own personal comments:

"Ahhh, she's back again. It's good to hear that violin every now and then. She plays that fiddle quite sultrily."

by **Felicity** on June 19th, 2015, 8:46 pm

"I doubt you carry anything to suit my dirtied tastes." Felicity said to the man with a mocking smile, ending her interest with him by sticking out her tongue before looking away once more to stare out the window. They were all the same. The upper class, the university, even those found on East Street. People, all of them, were so alike that it was almost silly that they bothered to argue at all. Take up a cause, protect your pride, fight for what you believe in. Did they think that just because they thought or believed in something it made them right? If so, then what about the others in the world that thought and believed something different? In the end they were only fighting for themselves, yet still they could not find any common ground and there was conflict, and fighting and death. For Felicity it was a game so simple it was almost dull, and as she had nothing to fight for or believe in herself she did not feel any need to participate that often. Not until she figured out who she was and what she believed in that day that is. But what about today?

So she's an outsider then? Felicity looked back toward the woman, only now bothering to take more than a passing glance. It wasn't a searching gaze, or an all to interested one either. Just a look that held no real purpose at all. She had never been the type to analyze people, and really she was no good at it. Here, however, was something only slightly more interesting than every other person she met.

"A counter argument?" with a shrug she looked back at the woman, "You want my opinion? Alright. In that case I think its a load of rubbish." She shrugged at the barkeeper, "We, the scum of the world were here before the upper class. We were the first to build, the first to die, the first to petch in the dirt and start populating this whole shyke filled city. Upper class came later, when someone decided they wanted to live above the dirt and filth, but like my mother always said you can take the woman out of the skyke, but the shyke stays with the woman and makes her stink no matter how much she bathes."

It was a lie. Her mother had never said anything of the sort to Felicity, or really much at all. That drug addicted woman probably didn't even remember her daughters name half the time. That was Felicity's mother at least, but who she was now, it was that woman's mother that said those things.

Feeling around in the collar of her shirt Felicity produced two silvers, putting them down on the counter toward the barkeep, "Ill take a cup of that pansy water after all."

Without so much as a spare glance to the man Felicity gave Fallon her full attention, once more resting her cheek on her hand, "I don't know where you are from, but surely you know already. You don't spy a wolf. Everyone is a wolf, hunting for themselves. Just some do it better and more subtly than others."

Felicity had not noticed when the music began, though she spared a short glance to the one who played before quickly dismissing them. She hated music. Everyone around her always seemed to have such deep things to say, how it made them think and feel different things. It did none of that for Felicity. In the end it was just noise. She would rather listen to the sounds of her parents making love than bother with music.

by **Fallon** on June 21st, 2015, 4:39 pm

Somewhere in the background the sounds of strings begun to play, but at this moment of time it was no interest to Fallon. It simply fell into the background noise as the two sides of the city played out the performance before her. In the meanwhile the quill nib gave a dip into the ink, clinking at the side and scratching out words upon the page of her book.

Zeltiva holds a class system, each it seems, with their own beliefs on who is and is not right. Pride seems to be the strong fore in their discussions, though equal scorn for the other. A curious balance. She paused, gathered her thoughts and begun to listen once more. The quill lowered, the gloved hand rubbing into the palm of the other and massaging the muscle beneath. While there was a matter of fact tone to the woman's voice, yet there was still an element of what may be considered naivety. How did the upper class get to their position to begin with? They worked for it and invoked the ancient tradition of survival of the fittest. To get into such a position one had to work for it, put effort in and hope that it paid off - though whether or not luck would allow such things to work was another condition all together.

Though, of course, there was her as a potential example of success - she had risen up from nothing and gotten to where she was now, all through knuckling down and working, "Let me get this right. So... it is not right in Zeltiva to dream of being more and - to quote yourself - to live above the dirt and filth? And it is not right therefore to put in effort to get above such things? Because no matter what you'll always be what you were born to be, no matter how much you try to work against it?"

Fallon hummed then, her fingers tapping against her chin as she tried to gather her thoughts together into something more logical. While she understood that a city could not be built without its people, the same could be said for the other way round - it could not be designed, run, maintained and cared for without a mind to lead them. Even Sunberth, for all its anarchic ways still had some semblance of leaders and those above and below. One could not live without the other. The barkeep raised a brow to the request for tea, and with a grunt quietly went about his business at preparing the brew.

"Where I come from there is either predators or prey, not this single universal use of wolf to describe all. Some are just cattle, others are scavengers, others actively go out and hunt and so forth," she offered a shrug, "To be the Wolf means you have been noticed as not being just any old body, it means the city has noticed you and decided to give you a title." With a pause she took another slurp of the tea, "But, we're not here to talk about where I come from. So, Zeltiva." Fallon looked around the room, "So, you're a wolf, he's a wolf, whoever is playing that noise is a wolf, is the rats that get into the stores also wolves?" She gave a snort of amusement, "Wolf sized rats. I digress, but everyone is a wolf. So, does that mean there's nothing for the wolf to eat as everyone is a wolf? Or does that mean they all adopt a pack mentality and work as one unit, one family?"

by **Felicity** on June 22nd, 2015, 5:08 am

The cup of steaming kelp tea was accepted without even a glance toward the one who had created it, and when she raised it to her lips Felicity feigned a look of disgust as she sipped. Truth was she neither cared for the taste or disliked it so much that she would be vocal about it, but the person she was right now probably would not care for the taste. Thus she didn't. All the while she listened, only half so however, as her mind was wondering over a few other subjects that would be calling her attention before too long. There was a need for food soon, as signified by the slight grumble in her stomach, as well as a notice of the lightness of her coin purse that hung around her neck, hanging beneath her shirt now. Soon it would be time to do what she had to in order to refill it. Yet still she listened, impartial to anything that was really said to the point that for a few ticks she forgot she was supposed to have an opinion at all.

"I don't understand. Why can't rats be wolves too." the words blew across and scattered the steam from the cup, slipping through the cracks of the still forming mask of identity to give a glimpse into the uncaring nature beneath. Her voice was hollow, as the words held no passion or thought at all, as her eyes stared blankly down into the slightly rippling liquid in her cup, devoid of any real emotional response. Then, however, she blinked and remembered, and gave a sideways glance at the would be scholar of culture as she furrowed her brow in a way she had seen others do when they were annoyed.

"Wolf, rat, sheep, cow. Just titles people give each other because they think they are all so different. What makes a wolf a wolf is exactly what makes a sheep a sheep. All the same, just wolves in different clothing. Some bigger, some smaller, all hunt alone, and all hunt each other. Some just die before they get their fangs." She took another sip of the tea and grimaced, the corners of her lips turning down in a frown, "Doesn't matter if you get more money. Doesn't matter if you get more property, or if you get an education. You are still just the same as the lowest piece of shyke in the gutters. Just because you can buy half the homes in East Street don't mean you're different, and you will bleed just as much as the addicts if you get stabbed in the throat or the back."

Rolling the cups in her hands Felicity looked at the brew, eyes staring now with something like passion as she tried to make her gaze as focused as possible, like she was thinking of something with all of her heart and soul, "High class, how class, no class. In the end whoever or whatever you are you are hunting something or someone. This stupid city was built on the blood shed by the scum, and the blood of the higher ups. We all bleed the same but somehow everyone acts like they are different. Blood and pain and death went into everything you see, built everything around you." Looking up once more from her cup Felicity pointed to the woman's drink, blue eyes almost glaring as she tried to feign the passion she did not feel, "Even that drink you are sipping was made with someone else's blood."

It was a small thing, a little twinge on her neck as her eyes narrowed slightly at the cup. A taste of copper and iron, thick upon the tongue. That was what Felicity summoned to mind, and cast the illusion of such a taste into the woman's drink. It would not change the look, or the aroma. Only the taste. Then this person could taste the sacrifice someone else made for her to have this luxury.

Both hands then returned to clasp her own drink which she swirled around within its container, "In the end only those with their nose turned up think they are different, but that is just because they cannot smell the dung they walk through to get where they are going."

by **Fallon** on June 25th, 2015, 10:09 pm

"I think you do understand," she shrugged, "For if wolf is a title, and through a title is a name, then we would have a lot of confusion if everything in this room is suddenly wolf. Beware. Vicious chairs do nibble at your ankles." She gave a snort, "Everything is different, nothing is ever the same. I, alas by your logic, are little more than a toothless pup. Forever alone, a lone wolf. How romantic... and boring." Fallon gently swirled the contents of her cup around, listening to the sloshing within, "Everyone the same. It makes things predictable. But, what do I know? I am just ignorant to the world."

Fallon had tasted blood before. She had tasted the rich red iron, the tang of copper upon her lips and tongue - it was not a foreign element to her, nor was it something she shied away from. Everyone had blood inside them, yet if one was not cut then it would remain within. So when the flavour warped and changed, timed with the words of the stranger - which made her immediately thing that something was amiss - she continued the motion of drinking, taking a long sip and gradually lowering it from her lips.

But that was not all. The Lykata upon the back of her hand gave an uncomfortable twitch, a gentle edging on as she rubbed her gloved thumb against the rim. It continued, unflinching as the face fell into neutrality. The gentle whispers rested there, her mind attempting to process and push the event before her. It came to her as little more than a hum; Taste, blood, from tea, bitter tea, dark still, shimmered normally, looks normal, why blood? Not proper. Not true. Something wrong. No, not wrong. Out of place. It was with a tilt of the head that she looked upon the stranger, the chill summoning up through her throat into little more than cold words. A quiet declaration that rolled from her lips and was directed solely to the one next to her, "Fake."

The gaze held, sharpening and looking to meet the opposite. The lips peeled back, the wolfish look plastering across her face. The charade of the eyes, the pose acted so. The chin gave a lift, a challenge to contradict or argue against her and the lips letting out barely a whisper, "All of it. All of you. I understand now. They are not your words. There is no care. There is no want or desire. Just merely a mask with no personality behind it. Empty and false. Makes one wonder if there is any truth either."

With her attention turning back to the cup and the sea green orbs peeling away, Fallon took a long sip of it - drinking and partaking regardless. It was merely taste, she could not smell a difference. It made her wonder exactly was done beyond it simply being untrue. But, she did not dally long, her attention returning to the note book and flicking back through the pages, before at last returning to what she was working on. Flexing her fingers she took up the quill, dipping it in once more to the ink and scratching out a few more words; The Class System ranges from upper to lower class. However there is almost a faction system also at play within the city, for example; The Wave Guard, the Guilds, the University and so forth (Must acquire a full list of groups and alliances). Not everyone seems to respect them however, may be case by case basis.

She took another sip, contemplating where to take her notes yet and what questions she could lead into. For the most part however she pushed aside the thought that the stranger was next to her, biding her time and letting a low hum fill her thoughts. There was only the briefest nods for the tender to refill her cup, before the inspector gave a brief break to the opposite page. It was there that she listed what factions she did know so far, leaving a blank space ready for additional information to be input. It was to herself then that she mumbled, "What else?"

Note :

by **Iblette** on July 11th, 2015, 9:58 pm

After a moment of her fiddling, she counted up her received coin from the mass who appreciated her music. She had enough for some food and drink, thankfully. Those who were nearby were thanked by the quiet girl, and she quietly made her way over to the bar which she asked for some bread and water.

"Gladly." The bartender replied, and got her some. She only had a few coins left once she paid, and she thanked him for his hospitality. Choosing a round table in the far back, Iblette settled down and quietly began to eat, so that she would not disturb the two other occupants of the bar table. Her violin sat on the bench next to her, the heat from the played strings dissipating from the twine.

by **Felicity** on August 6th, 2015, 5:49 pm

It wasn't that Felicity was looking for a particular reaction out of the woman. She didn't want her to spit out the drink and throw the cup aside, or cause a huge commotion. Nothing like that, but even so... No reaction at all? That puzzled Felicity as she absently rubbed the back of her neck, brows lifting slightly as she wondered if, perhaps, the gnosis had not worked? That had never happened before of course, and it was absurd to think that it would this time. Tugging at the edge of her empty mind was the barest traces of disappointment. At the very least she could have grimaced.

The next words came after a short time, all the while Felicity watched those eyes as they seemed in thought. It gave her some time to think for herself. What was it that this woman really believed? Everyone was different? Even if she did not fully believe the words spoken before, Felicity could still somewhat stand behind her opinion that everyone was, in essence, the same. No one liked dying, everyone liked comfort, and everyone acted in their own best interest. These were simple, well known facts available to anyone with two eyes and a mind not clouded by moral or possibly religious filters. It wasn't a question about what was right or wrong either, it imply was the way the world worked. Everyone wanted something and that made everyone act in similar ways, if using different methods deemed 'right' or even 'just'. This, however, Felicity didn't say and just sipped her tea, plastering the fake grimace on her features once more.

Then the word Fake was uttered, and the mask cracked at the edges at Felicity looked back at the woman. The grimace lessened to only a slight frown, features relaxing as she forgot what face she was supposed to be making, so taken aback by the sudden outburst that for a few ticks she was not sure what to say or do. And yes, indeed she did open her mouth to argue, but then just as quickly shut it and looked down at the mug with the rippling liquid inside.

It was like dropping a porcelain doll on the hard stones, cracks running up the sides and over it's face as its features distorted and revealed that, inside, there was only a hollow emptiness. That was what it felt like to Felicity at least as she felt her own Facade cracking under the strain until, with a sigh, she relaxed and let her face fall back to it's neutral state.

"What a shame." She whispered with a shrug, setting the cup down and leaning her cheek on one hand that propped against the bar, "I was just beginning to enjoy our conversation." she lied.

Looking down at the book as Fallon began to write, Felicity uncrossed and recrossed her legs, having gotten rid of any shred of her old personality as she asked with an almost disinterested tone, "How did you know? Was it the eyebrows? I can never figure out how they are supposed to move. Not like lips. Lips are easy." As if to show how easy the corners of her's turned up in a half smile, "What gave me away?"

Closed [The Quill's Rest] Learning of the city for its worth