Closed Book II: Round and Round the Pycon Goes

[Matthew]

17th of Summer, 513 AV

A small bell signaled his arrival, and Matthew strode through the door, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He had actually timed his visit this time. He had waited until he knew it was just going to be the Nuit girl, and then he had waltzed on in. Hopefully his appearance would have the effect he was hoping for. Wide eyes, the sudden stammer, and the draining of what little color (if any) she had left on her Nuit face. Either that, or she would collapse into giggles at the sight of him. Oddly enough, his delight at the situation overcame his fear of her condition. Was that a bad thing? He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not that fun overcame danger. That was the logic of a young man who hadn't fully grown up yet. Was that what he was?

Gnawing his lower lip, mulling over the thought, he moved a bit more gracefully through the bookstore than last time. His steps were still precise, but he didn't glance around as much to avoid the various bookshelves and piles of dust that created a small maze.

Approaching the Nuit, he kept a calm professional exterior, though his eyes danced. "Hello, miss. I am looking for another book." He paused to let this sink in, then cleared his throat. "Or two books, actually. I was looking to research a little on Ionu and his Inverted, as well Akajia and her Irst." He gave her a blank stare, not at all showing signs that this request was much more normal than his last one. How simple. Was that all?

"Also..."

Here it was. She would be able to sense it, by the sudden jolt of electricity that seemed to arch through his gleeful blue eyes. "Pycon." Pycon? "How would someone pleasure a Pycon? Do they have senses? Do they have parts that allow for pleasure? Can they shape-shift parts that give them pleasure? If I were to simply sit a Pycon on me and spin her like a top, would that be enough for the little clay creature?" He had to be coming up with this stuff. There was no other explanation. He had to be sitting in his little flat, mulling over the weirdest of things to terrorize the Nuit with. Still as stone-faced as ever, Matthew leaned over the desk, setting an elbow on it as he peered at the Nuit shopkeeper. "What do you think?"

[Isolde Seibold]

The Nuit wasn't paying as much attention as she should have been. Hearing the door jangle, she didn't even bother to look up. Most people entering the store came looking to browse, she found; there had been an elderly man in this morning who had stayed for bells, picking something up here, setting it down there, out of place. Mr. Ariva had spent the entire time tugging angrily at his beard and his hair until his head had become a riotous mass of white strands sticking out in all directions, quite resembling a dandelion puff. Only instants after the man had left, Isolde had been tasked to try to fit the shop back together exactly as it had been before, and all under the watchful eye of her employer, no easy request when he kept interrupting to give her pointers that may or may not turn out to be helpful. Luckily for her, not long after she had started the old man had been called away by an acquaintance to take a look at some possible wares, leaving her to try to piece the shop back together alone and unpressured.

There had been another customer after that, a woman with a rather pinched expression who had entered, taken a look at the place, and nearly turned on her heel and strolled back out... but who had decided, after a long, contemptuous hesitation, to purchase a small book on natural remedies, detailing how to properly boil roots in tea to cure a cough or to dry the petals of certain flowers before consumption to be used to dull the sharp edge of a migraine, that sort of thing. After that lady had left, the store had been mercifully empty, allowing the Nuit to hurry back to her task of figuring out which things had been recently moved, and trying to check the cheat-sheet of the shelving that she had been steadily creating --which she had been reluctant to bring out in front of Mr. Ariva, and which she now gladly fell to while he was out of sight. Hopefully by the time Mr. Ariva got back she'd be done, and he would give her a sour look and then send her off to continue scribing that book on Kelvics...

Isolde happened to be behind the counter when the person entered, simply because she was looking for the item ledger as another aid for her mission, and she murmured a polite "Hello," to whoever had entered the store, rummaging around the desk. It was only once he had settled in front of the counter did she give a quick glance up, eyes turning down again... before her mouth popped open, and her blue eyes came soaring up to match his, and she said, "Oh. I-It's you-- M-Mr. Wayne. P-Pleasure to see you again." She had to look down again, the nervous smile already making an appearance, especially when she said the word 'pleasure'. To be honest, she had not expected him back so soon. She braced herself for whatever strange request might come, keeping her eyes intent on her hands, on her search for the missing ledger, as he spoke.

"Hello, miss. I am looking for another book. Or two books, actually. I was looking to research a little on Ionu and his Inverted, as well Akajia and her Irst."

It would not take one trained in Observation to see the way her shoulders relaxed, or hear the breath that she let out in a contented sigh. Ionu and Akajia? She couldn't vouch for his taste in gods or goddesses --weren't both of those rather sneaky sorts, she thought so-- but at least he hadn't asked for anything... erm, how had he put it last time? She'd called it 'romance' and he had corrected her-- sexual science? Had that been it? Yes, yes it had, hadn't it? At least he hadn't requested anything in-- in his so-called 'sexual science'.

"I-I'm certain we have something on th-that-- I'll go check in j-just a moment--" she murmured, giving him something approximate to a smile, a subtle tipping at the corners of her mouth. The Nuit happened to glance up at him when she did, and lo and behold... there was a certain glimmer in his eye, and she ducked her head a bit, trying to concentrate even harder on locating the ledger without looking back up, because she could just tell, something was coming--

"Also..." There it was--

"Pycon." Pycon? What could he possibly-- "How would someone pleasure a Pycon? Do they have senses? Do they have parts that allow for pleasure? Can they shape-shift parts that give them pleasure? If I were to simply sit a Pycon on me and spin her like a top, would that be enough for the little clay creature? What do you think?"

The Nuit kept shuffling through papers as he asked the first question, and by the time he got to that last part she was moving her hands around the desk simply so that she wouldn't grab him by the shoulders and shake him. What the-- Why was he doing this? She took a tick to look up at him, searching his face incredulously for any sign or hint, but he was giving nothing away. She had to look back down. Finally she asked, already feeling the prickle of embarrassment at her ears and the back of her neck, "U-Uh. Why? D-Don't you have-- erm, uh, o-other escorts to a-ask these qu-questions to? L-Like... I'm s-sure your coworkers w-would know m-more on s-such topics... I mean, wouldn't they? I m-mean I w-work here and all but-- but I-- don't-- I'm no e-expert on s-such matters." Really she had no idea what the people at the Herald's Arms might know, but really they had to know more than her. She had met only one Pycon in her time and they had never dwelt on such topics, and it wasn't like she spent her free time researching such things... And gods, what had that last question been? Where had that come from? "B-But really. I imagine that a Pycon would hardly enjoy b-being spun around upon a p-person's lap-- I mean why would--" But then her words choked to a sudden halt. Gods, there it was, rising unbidden from her mind... there would be Matthew --she could picture it and she desperately tried to pull her mind away-- and there was the lucky Pycon lass, and she tried to think of other things, any other things as long as it wasn't that--

What to think, what to think! Ponies. Uh. Daisies. No, she needed something more mundane--!

Shoes. Lots of shoes. Shoes were good and boring, and there were lots of different types to think up. Boots with buckles, boots with laces, high-heeled boots, sandals, er-- uh, shiny black shoes that some rich people wore, erm, shoes made of-- of gold, or metal, shoes encrusted with rubies and sapphires and a whole matter of-- er, what other types? Big stomping brown boots for men who spent their lives in the wilds, steel-toed shoes, shoes with straps, those sorts of soft, lacy silk slippers that some harlots wore-- but no! That was bringing her full circle! Now she was thinking of harlots, soon her mind would make the leap to Matthew and his Pycon and their oh gods, their activities-- and she needed something else. Maybe she should head onto socks--? White socks, black socks, striped socks--

Gods, why was he doing this?
She realized that she had stopped and was staring forward at his chest with a look of utter concentration and dismay as she tried to keep her mind away from what things he might possibly try on a Pycon... and so she struggled to reign in her expression, desperately trying to keep her embarrassment at bay. Gods, he had probably said that stuff just so she would picture it, the statement was so outlandish her mind had to give it a go-- If only another customer would come in-- The Nuit shot a longing look at the door, but the bell there was hanging still and quiet, and how was it that he always managed to trap her, to make it so that she received his questions, and not Mr. Ariva--?

She had no idea, but --oh, here it came again, pink socks, purple socks, orange socks, socks with polka-dots-- she would do her best to --blue socks, grey socks, yellow socks, socks with lovely embroidery, knitted socks-- to help him find his books and send him merrily on his way.

"J-Just a m-moment p-p-please. I'll uh--" Had she already gone over red socks? What about-- uh, dyed! Dyed socks. Clean socks. Dirty socks. She tried to keep herself from dwelling too much on the word 'dirty', and tried to regroup. What had she been saying? She had no idea, and it would be obvious to him that he had managed to distract her. She gritted her teeth and plowed onward, glad she couldn't blush. "--you know, I'll j-just be l-looking for those b-books now." And hopefully he wouldn't insist on her answering his Pycon questions. Gods, what if he refused to leave until she did--? Please no. Please let him take mercy. She stumbled around the desk and past him, trying not to get too close, and now what had she been looking for? Something about-- All she could think of were socks. Green socks. Brown socks. The Nuit was forced to stop and face him again for the sake of asking, sounding mortified, "What was I looking for again?"

OOCSorry for the delay! ^^'

[Matthew]

Matthew glanced down at the desk with a small look of distaste, not so sure he liked the looks of the dust on it. He wasn't normally afraid of getting dirty, but for some reason, this place put him a bit on edge. He had this lurking suspicion that something was hiding in the shop. There was simply too many mounds of mystical clutter to be had, and he didn't like it. Nonetheless, he slowly put an elbow down on the counter, propped up his chin with his hand, and kept his blue gaze affixed upon the suddenly-flustered Nuit. So, he was right. Her weird behavior last time had been because of his request. Out of everyone he could have asked, he thought a Nuit would understand it the most. They had perhaps the most logical view of a mortal body, or at least he would think they did.

She was shuffling and moving about, and finally, she looked up at him with dark eyes incredulous. He stared back, still the picture of perfect seriousness. He was serious, though he had been somewhat wordy with his request. He had wanted to see the reaction it would get, and here it was. Chewing his lower lip, he cocked his head, speaking quietly and calmly. It was an odd contrast, to have a Human calm in the face of a flustered Nuit. "Why? Why not? Since I do what I do, it is logical to assume that I might come across a Pycon who seeks my company. I have never encountered one, and it would be horribly rude to not know what I am doing if the Pycon were to ask to have relations. I certainly can't ask one to be my test subject- trust me, I've tried- so I just have to find out if there are other research materials on it. Just like I had asked you about your Nuit bodily functions. I mean, there aren't many people in my profession who would consider sleeping with a Nuit or a Pycon, so they don't look it up. But, we all have to do things we don't like to do. Like organize this place." He paused, casting a glance around at the books before returning to her. "Point is, it is like any other job to me. I am professional enough to disconnect from personal likes and dislikes, because those are not things Escorts should generally have. An Escort becomes what his client needs."

Even with his serious words and serious face, he couldn't help but chuckle a bit when all the puzzle pieces clicked in her head. Every single question had been serious except for that very one, and that was the one that took her the longest to actually process. She seemed to shut down, and he just waited, lifting his arms and crossing them over his broad chest as her mind struggled to work around the new thoughts he had blessed her brain with.

Finally, she moved, nearly bumping into him as she did, mumbling something under her breath. Finally, she paused, and he rose an eyebrow, waiting for the outcome. She turned, and her words made the man smile the smallest of smiles. Instinctively, his magic worded, Hypnotic suggestions teasing out to calm her down. He hadn't wanted to fluster her this much. In the back of his mind, without even realizing it, he was stroking her hair with his magic, soothing it down like a mother would to her excited child. Cooing whispers of 'It'll be alright' echoed in the back of his mind, some of them perhaps moving onto her. It was nothing specific, nothing pointed or aimed. Just a feel in the air. A sense. A touch. Hypnotism swirled in the air, driven by his slight desire to see her a little more comfortable.

"A large order; I can understand you not recalling it immediately. Whichever of these you can find. Any works on pleasuring Nuit or Pycon, which may not be even written. Any on the Inverted of Ionu, or the Irst of Akajia. Mostly their dealing with secrets." He paused, something suddenly rising within his mind, a memory of a rumor one of his clients had spoken of. "And anything on the Rogue Knight of Syliras, if available." He wondered if anyone had actually ever researched the ghostly rumor the painfully old-fashioned way. He purposefully left his last request a bit mysterious, aiming fro anything even a little related.

[Isolde Seibold]

He took her question to heart, it seemed, and delved straight into an answer, but the Nuit was happy about it. Conversation served as a way better distraction than white-sock, green-sock, red-sock, blue.

However, after a few moments she noticed that his explanation of why he was doing what he was doing was a bit off, and the Nuit just shook her head when he finished. "N-No~" she muttered, perhaps more to herself than him... Before she raised her volume a little, and perhaps he would hear or perhaps he wouldn't-- she didn't know if she wanted him to or not, really. "Not why you do it. I c-could see why you
might-- I mean, as an e-escort... wh-why those topics might, er, interest you. But I m-meant... w-why ask-- ask me? I-I'm not an-- an escort. I d-don't really know anything-- about--"

But here she trailed off, ducking her head as if suddenly embarrassed again, thinking of Vaughn. Thinking of how he had been her husband when her husband had been away. Yes, that had been quite the scandal in the close-knit little town of Mithryn, and she still remembered the whispers, the looks when she and Vaughn and their little Wynry would come back from a day picnicking in the woods, the three hand-in-hand and almost like a normal family. Of course there had been whispers, even though the people there had liked Vaughn and welcomed him into the community with open arms; he had been such a strong, reliable, kind man, great with stories and chickens, who wouldn't like him? Despite his acceptance, though, people couldn't help but talk... and she still remembered the look in Kale's eyes, that look that told her he knew though he never said a word. And he had to have known. Her husband had never been stupid, and when Wynry had been born it had been so obvious that he had tried so hard to love that baby girl who wasn't his. Just as it soon became obvious that he couldn't bear to have much to do with her-- Yes, Kale had known. But somehow, strangely, he'd never said a word. Well. Not until--

But no. No. She wouldn't go there. She didn't want to go there. And anyways. She was supposed-- Supposed to be-- To--

The Nuit put a hand to her head, brows drawing together, the embarrassment vanishing from her features as mild bemusement set in. What was that? For a moment, she had felt so-- so-- Well, it wasn't distracted, she had already been distracted, it was more like-- like the feeling you got when someone stroked a hand over your hair, or shushed you and told you it would be alright. It was like that, but somehow it had felt-- what was the word? Pointed, perhaps. Whatever it had been, the feeling had wiped away her chagrin, settling her down. She blinked for a moment, hand still raised up, eyes focused on Matthew in an absent sort of way, trying to place the feeling. It was very... odd. That was the only way she could think of it. An odd feeling to have. She wouldn't have even noticed it if it hadn't been for the oddness of it, because it had also been subtle as a whisper of wind. But-- but that sort of comfort was just too foreign to the Nuit to come quietly to her, unnoticed. Something she hadn't seen in-- in well, decades. How-- how very strange--

But well. No matter. It had run its course. The feeling was gone, vanished just as quickly as it had come. She was almost, almost, sorry to see it go. And in an instant, she couldn't quite remember what it was she had even felt, the touch had been so light. As Matthew spoke, she soon forgot altogether, lowering her hand from her head and peering at him with dull blue eyes.

"A large order; I can understand you not recalling it immediately. Whichever of these you can find. Any works on pleasuring Nuit or Pycon, which may not be even written. Any on the Inverted of Ionu, or the Irst of Akajia. Mostly their dealing with secrets. And anything on the Rogue Knight of Syliras, if available."

Glad for something to focus on once more, the Nuit paused, quirking her lips, one hand on one cocked-out hip, obviously thinking. Her brow furrowed, eyes squinting into the distance, reviewing what she knew of the store. After a moment she said, noticeably stumbling less over her words than before, "Well. Let me think. I-I'm quite c-certain there will be n-nothing on pleasuring-- er, Nuits or Pycons. Y-You cleaned us c-clear out of the 'sexual science' genre last time you arrived, and u-unfortunately nothing else has t-turned up on that particular topic. Not y-yet at least. Give Mr. Ariva a bit more time, and I'm certain something will come up... though I c-can't promise it'll be on those races, specifically." She turned her thoughtful gaze to him, trying not to think of lap-dancing Pycons or petching socks. She was going to be thinking of socks for weeks, she had a feeling. The Nuit would be in the middle of a conversation somewhere, or practicing her Reimancy, or something-- and socks would suddenly leap to her mind. She shook her head and then shrugged, considering, and asked, "W-Would you like me to take a look for biology instead--? Or perhaps psychology would be better. Knowing how most Nuits and/or Pycons tick could certainly tip you o-off to how t-they, er, tick in other ways--" She tapped her fingers against her hip as she spoke, in a particular thu-thunk, thu-thunk beat that would come off, somehow, as both practiced and unthinking. A gesture trained to be idle, that was.

The Nuit didn't seem to notice, and after a few moments started moving her way deeper into the shop, thinking of the most likely place for each topic. As she vanished into the shelves she kept on, voice raised a little so he could hear her and place her position. "I think we s-should have something on Ionu and Akajia, and anything on those will naturally include t-their-- their cults. So that sh-shouldn't be a problem." There was the sound of rustling, as if she was displacing things, and then there was a peculiar, muted whoomph ing noise and a puffing cloud of dust rose into the air. This was followed by a surprised bout of light coughing and hand-waving. When most of the motes had settled, the Nuit poked her head out from behind some shelves, shoulders and hood coated with a fine layer of recently-upset dust, and she wrinkled her nose as she asked, "A-And if you don't mind me a-asking, what Knight are you t-talking about?"

OOCJust wanted to note here that I haven't heard anything back from Accolade on prices/inventory, so I can't be definite in my post about those things. Not yet at least.

[Matthew]

"Well, you are a Nuit, and you are in a book shop. I thought you might have read a thing or two over the years. Are you an old Nuit?" He had only met a handful of Nuit's, and they had all been quite bland and boring. However, they had also been wells of information, apparently being the studious type. Perhaps he was unfairly stereotyping Nuit from the ones he had encountered, and if so, that wasn't very fair to him. He made a small note in his mind to stop treating her like every other Nuit he had come across. He wasn't so sure if he would stop with the questions though. She was the only real source of books he had found in this castle city, and she was still fairly fun to tease. The ones back in Zeltiva hadn't been fun to tease at all. They had just stared at him with a blank look, and gone back to their work. It used to make him so very huffy.

He waved a hand at her suggestion for the psychology of the two requested races, declining it. "No thank you. I would normally agree, but I would much rather learn their psychology in the moment. I studied psychology a little bit in Zeltiva, and while it has some good basic concepts, it didn't actually seem to apply to anyone I met. The mind is such a vastly original thing sometimes, sadly enough. It would be much easier if everyone had the same tastes." What a very bland thing to say, he realized. "However, with the two Gods, if you could bring me really anything on Ionu, I would appreciate it. Just two or three of your choice. I feel like the God of Illusion's books won't be all that incredibly useful in single numbers. No doubt some of the books describe a completely different thing than the others. Maybe all of them will be different. It seems fitting. Hopefully records of the Inverted will remain similar though. I would very much like to see them one day. I feel like they would help me with what I want to do."

He paused, a strange look crossing his face. He hadn't meant to let that last bit slip out. Why was he so very talkative when it came to the book-store Nuit?

The beat she was faintly making with her fingers caught his attention, and he rose an eyebrow, an idea rushing to his head. He slowly started to tap his own fingers, moving to meet her own beat, lightly poking them in time against the counter top he was next to. He watched her as she moved around, wincing a bit as a little cloud of dust popped into the air. He could never do this job. He wouldn't trust that dust at all. It still made him uneasy, even if she seemed to survive bathing in it. He pulled his gaze from it, instead answering her question. "The Rogue Knight of Syliras. I don't know anything other than that. If you see anything that has that title, or looks similar, just grab that one. I can help you search, if you don't recall seeing anything off the top of your head." It was a completely wild guess, but he couldn't help but be curious. The woman had been very detailed in her rumors about the Knight, so detailed that it had piqued his interest. Such a Knight, an avenger of the city, would be useful.

OOCNo rush at all.

[Isolde Seibold]

As she worked Matthew talked, and Isolde found his company --now that he'd stopped questioning her on the sexual exploits of the least-sexual races-- to be agreeable, much to her surprise. The Nuit wasn't what you could call the best conversationalist. When people took enough time to actually talk to her --which wasn't very often-- she always ended up stuttering and stammering and sometimes tripping over her words so much that it was a wonder anybody could understand her. Matthew didn't seem to mind, the way some people did; she thought of Kouri's impatience when the ghost girl spoke to her, of the annoyance that flashed in those crimson eyes when Isolde went sprawling over her own words. Though he had advised her to take a peek at a certain book on the matter --which she had steadfastly refused to do, out of principle and spite-- it had been more a joke than an insult. At least, that was how the Nuit saw it.

As she searched --and it was turning into quite the search, thanks to that old man who had spent the better half of the morning ruining the shop's already tenuous organization-- she occupied the empty time by attempting to hold up her side of the conversation. There were a lot of different subjects touched, so her responses came easily, very unlike her.

"Well, you are a Nuit, and you are in a book shop. I thought you might have read a thing or two over the years. Are you an old Nuit?"

To his first statement she said, "Actually, I j-just started working here, hmm--" She brushed her fingertips across the spine of a book and imagined it shiver, peering with dull blue eyes at the title, which was written in a silver script that was hard to read, "--on the 10th? What day is it-- w-was that a week ago?" She paused, considering, then shrugged and said, "Regardless, the f-first day you came into the shop w-with your-- er, qu-questions... that was my second d-day of work. Y-You were my v-very first customer, and you m-made it very... interesting. A-After you left I h-half wondered if everybody was going to be coming in, l-looking for such topics, a-asking me questions-- But it was o-only you."

After a lot of squinting and head-tilting, the Nuit finally deciphered the strange, blocky silver script. Not what she was looking for, and actually, didn't this book belong way over there, on the opposite end of the cramped store? Yes-- she thought it did. She pulled the book out of its place and saw the others around it relax as if letting out a breath. Yes. There was the proof. It had been crammed in there. Recently, too. Had that old man just been in here earlier for the sole perhaps of messing everything up--?

Then she had to stop. No. No, definitely not. That man had been a valued customer, even if he did cause... complications. She shouldn't think poorly of him, or she'd end up just as grumpy as Mr. Ariva himself, gods bless him.

"H-How old I am?" Isolde tucked the misplaced book under her arm, straightening up, passing by Matthew to put it in its proper place. Once that was done she hesitated, giving her customer a look, and said, "D-Don't you know i-it's impolite to a-ask a lady her age?" She shook her head, faux scorned, slipping by him again, noticing that the aisles certainly were narrow. And actually, to make it more comfortable for the both of them... "Y-You can go over b-behind the front desk i-if you like. M-More room back there, and it's a bit, er... cleaner." Dust free. "I-I'm sorry, but th-this might take a bit. There was a-another customer in, this morning. Dear old guy, having a great time, almost like a k-kid in a candy store... but unfortunately he couldn't keep his hands off anything. Everything's out of place enough th-that it makes it hard to figure out what goes where, and since I'm still new... Well, makes th-things harder than they need to be." Gods, she was chattering too much. He really could probably not care less what she had to say. But she had to find some way to occupy his time, so that he didn't have to just sit around and twiddle his thumbs.

"A-As for whether or not I'm an old Nuit--" She noticed a couple books whose order had been mixed up, and switched them back. "Stories of the Hidden People, Part II" actually came before "Stories of the Hidden People, Part I" on the shelves... She didn't know why but it did, and that was what mattered when it came to Mr. Ariva. Logic certainly had a role, somewhere... just not a place that she could easily see. "I d-don't really know, actually. I g-guess I don't know how-- how old old Nuits are. A hundred years? Two? Th-Three? More? I've n-never really met a-another Nuit." Other than those pale-faced men with their nauseating grins and cool hands, who had waited for her in the cavern-room where her life had been stolen away. Isolde felt an involuntary shudder break through her, and she hoped she'd been behind the shelves enough that Matthew hadn't seen. Those other Nuits... She'd never talked to them, other than a few terse questions after she had been... changed. Asking where the hurt man was, and where Kale had gone, and if Kale had taken him. And she'd never met another Nuit since. She didn't particularly want to.

Matthew's question was valid, regardless. How old was she, anyway? When had Wynry been born--? In life, she'd taken to judging her own age against her daughter's. Isolde had been, what-- twenty... three when Wynry had been born? And that had been-- Gods-- What year was it now? 513, right? That had been-- Her mind balked at the math, without enough information. How many years had she spent locking herself away, in front of the fire, remembering, regretting? How many-- A hundred and more. That made her pretty petching old, compared to young man in the shop. She didn't feel that old, what was it-- around 150 years altogether? She certainly didn't act it; most of the time, even in life, she'd been cursed by youthfulness, to the point that people didn't remember her proper age. She had always seemed younger than she was... and that applied to the here and now, didn't it? Yes, with her stuttering and stumbling and embarrassment and fear. Hardly better than a teenager. But she couldn't help it. This was who she was, now.

"O-Old enough," she finally said. Not that experience filled the years. Quite the opposite. She'd probably lost most of her life, her memories, when she fell into
that-- that fog. And how long before she forgot it all, every last drop of her real life, Wynry and Vaughn included?

Never. She would never let that happen, gods be damned. Time be damned. She wouldn't let herself forget. She wouldn't let herself turn into-- into nothing again. She was glad her voice only contained the merest quiver of her dark thoughts when she spoke. "Th-Though pr-probably I'm still a babe when it comes to some. I imagine some Nuits have k-kept on going for wh-what seems like time infinite. W-Watching the world pass--" And never a part of it. Not like people like Matthew. He would have his life and he would have his death and Isolde would be the same. In another body on another day, but the same. It was a miserable thought, and yet she couldn't contest it. What was the alternative? That she would have been slain, by somebody who hated her for what she was? She supposed it was a possibility. A big one.

But she didn't want to depress her customer. So she left it unsaid, and continued searching, occasionally rearranging the shelves where they needed it, and at least it seemed she didn't actually need that ledger she'd been looking for. Not yet.

The Nuit was suddenly quite tired of thinking of herself, and so she grasped at the information Matthew had slipped out, turning the conversation to that. Certainly he'd like talking about himself more. And actually, she was interested, too. "Y-You were at the University of Zeltiva? I-I've n-never been, but I th-thought sometime I'd go. Study there instead of here, buried amongst th-these books and baubles." But, huh. If he had been there... That begged the question what he was doing here. As an escort. Strange shift of fate. But it would be rude of her to ask about things that were likely to be very personal. Still, she couldn't help but try to pry some information from him. "W-Was the psychology for-- for training... to be an escort?" She didn't know, it could be... and anyways, he seemed to take his job quite seriously. Unfortunately she couldn't help the next question that popped from her mouth, automatically repeating back his words with a questioning inflection, "What you w-want to do--?" Something more than what he was doing already? And something to do with the Inverted... a theater troupe, right? Focusing on Illusion. Perhaps that could have to do with his own profession, yes, maybe she could see it. She hovered in the middle of an aisle, casting a curious look up his way.

OOCI write so much it's sad.
Also, nothing yet on prices and such. I don't think Acco's seen my message yet.

[Matthew]

Another small smile crossed his face as he realized he had been one of the first to set the tone of this place for her. While there were plenty of other things besides books, he was sure it was horrifying to find out what sort of books were actually in there. Such documents were rare in Mizahar, so to find two of the kind that he had wanted... well, the shop owner did have that reputation of his. He was quiet though, letting her stumble her way through her words, moving like instructed to behind the counter and peering around. Half of the objects he couldn't make heads or tails of, and half of the objects looked like they could be books. That half was hidden behind the other half though, and he didn't dare actually stick his fingers there. Instead he just craned his head, blue eyes straining to see if he could make out any titles. Once again, he was reminded of how silly his illogical fear was, but he didn't care. Sometimes a gut feeling could trump logic, especially in a place where most of his logic was calling him 'stupid' for even being here.

She continued to talk, and he glanced her way, marveling at how he had managed to open her up. Every Nuit was indeed quite different, or at least some of them were different from others. She had talked enough to say more than he had ever heard from his other encounters combined. He couldn't tell if that was impressive of her or sad of the others.

He noticed a question to her words, and he tilted his head her wait, straightening from behind the counter and dusting himself off a little bit. She was right, it had been cleaner, but he had still managed to stumble on a few mites here and there. Chewing his lower lip, he considered her curiosity. He paused for a moment longer, then slowly shrugged his shoulders, rolling them in a casual motion. "I was originally studying to become a doctor, but then started to apply that information to my current field. And now here I am. As for what I want to do... a business. Multiple businesses. Sex sells, as you may have noticed. Someone who can control sex... that is an interesting concept and a power thing, don't you think? Imagine if someone could hear every whisper ever gasped out in brothels across Syliria. What would they hear?" He gave her a mysterious smile, not elaborating any further.

"As for Zeltiva, you should visit sometime. People have a lot of misguided thoughts when it comes to their library and classes, as they are all very focused. I certainly couldn't find the sort of books I want there. Someone like you might like it, though. Plenty of knowledge to be gained, and knowledge is such a delightful thing." He crossed his arms, smiling softly at her as she watched him, blue eyes never waivering from her own.

[Isolde Seibold]

So he had studied to be a doctor... and somehow that had brought him to here, to Syliras as an escort... and now he was thinking of starting up a business of some sort...? Putting what he had said about a person who could control sex, about the power of it, together with his interest in Ionu and Akajia and his mysterious little smile, and also adding in his parting statement: "Imagine if someone could hear every whisper ever gasped out in brothels across Syliria. What would they hear?" ...and it did paint quite the picture in the imaginative little Nuit's clever head.

"I i-imagine one w-would hear a g-great many things... A t-ton of unimportant blather a-about the l-lives of unimportant p-people, and e-even more about th-their aspirations and their t-troubles. Bed talk, that sort of th-thing. A-And then..." She paused for a moment, considering, pursing her lips and studying Matthew right back, though it was force of habit that caused her to break eye contact. That sort of connection, and for such a long amount of time, was entirely too personal for the Nuit, who usually kept her gaze away from a person's face out of respect of their insecurities with her race and out of her own fear of offending them. She said the next bit thoughtfully, her voice lowered though she kept the same carefully offhand tone as before, "I'd also imagine that the same sorts of information could be learned concerning a n-number of people of i-influence." Hmm. P-Power indeed. She turned to head back to her task, mulling over the thought and its implications, and finding herself hoping that Matthew was not going to end up in trouble due to his own aspirations, of which she knew so very little... enough that it was hard for her to imagine what sort of trouble he would even be in. But certainly the rich and famous and those already with power would not take kindly to a man knowing too much about their... secrets.

But no, what was she thinking? Obviously she was being... dramatic. Matthew would be fine. And his statements, well. She had obviously over-thought them. Putting the little details together in the most spectacular way she could imagine. No. No, whatever he was planning... No, it most likely wasn't that. She had no need to concern herself about it, regardless. Better to move on with her job.

The Nuit's brow furrowed as she came across what she thought was what had previously been the religion section. Or at least, this section might be classified as that by a normal person, with a few seemingly-extraneous items parked here and there, things like an old clock --still ticking-- and a few strange bottles of unknown liquids, and an odd, wide book that turned out not to be a book at all, but a compress for a variety of dried --or still drying-- plants... and actually, half the things over here didn't seem to have anything to do with religion... at least, not overtly. Still, she was certain she'd found the right place, at last... and after pawing aside a variety of odd objects and items, the Nuit had unearthed Undeniable Interests' small collection of books on the gods and goddesses. A nice, tidy little collection, and one Isolde herself would have been very interested to devour, in her youth. As she was she simply picked out the two-- no, three books that looked like they were related to Ionu or Akajia... two looked to be about Ionu, explicitly, and there was certain to be something about the Inverted in there, yes, definitely. The third seemed to disclose about a variety of the gods and goddesses... Ionu and Akajia, both, but also Sagallius, Rhysol, Nysel, Eyris, and even Leth. Isolde didn't think that this was really what her customer was looking for... but, one never knew, and she didn't see anything else about Akajia, so... might as well bring it along.

Three books stacked on her lap --she had had to crouch down to explore this section, and was feeling ridiculously like a spelunker-- she carefully put everything back where it had been before, then stood, taking the books with her, dusting them off as best she could. She dropped these off at the counter for Matthew to peruse-- pointing at each one by one and saying, "Those two concern themselves with Ionu, though the second one seems more promising by the title-- Tricksters and Troupes. The third seems to be a compilation about a variety of gods... Sagallius, of Puppetry... Rhysol--" she crinkled her nose a little in distaste, "--of Chaos, Lies, Betrayal. Looks like there's a few chapters o-on Leth, Eyris, and Nysel... as well as both Akajia and Ionu. I didn't really know how useful this might be for your... purposes, but I thought I'd bring it over regardless. There didn't really seem to be anything on Akajia alone..." She gave a grimace of apology, then turned and skipped away, back deeper into the store, doing another, quick round... before returning empty-handed. "I double-checked, but there's nothing in yet on, er... the s-sexual sciences. A-And I checked what we have on the Knights, but there was nothing mentioning a 'Rogue Knight', so... s-sorry about that. Our s-supply of books is rather... limited." Perhaps the Nuit could someday convince Mr. Ariva to turn his mind towards searching out a bit more literature and less... everything else. For now, though, that wouldn't help her customer.

Oh, prices. She really needed to remember to mention those right away-- but it looked like Matthew was still taking a peek at the contents, so hopefully that was occupying his time enough to cover up her fumble. "T-These sorts of books are pretty rare to find in Syliras, and, a-as the only store that r-really bothers with books at a-all--" though perhaps there might be something in the Bazaar, one never knew, "--unfortunately they're a bit more pricey. Any one of these c-could easily go for 30 GM..." There was an obvious wince in her words as she ran through the calculations again, her mouth working as she thought up figures, checking her work based on the system that Mr. Ariva had taught her... and was sorry to find that her figures were correct. Still, she hurried to say, "Though I s-suppose i-if you w-were willing to b-buy two I c-could settle the price at 50 for both, which would knock the price of each individually down to a mere 25 GM. That, at least, is s-something of a better deal." She still had a bit of wiggle room to work with, if Matthew wanted to attempt to haggle down the price... but, any further than the percentage that she was allowed would come straight out of her own paycheck. Mr. Ariva had sternly beaten into her head that a business was not a place for charity. Even if Isolde could sympathize greatly with her customer.

OOCSorry about the prices... ^^' Must come as a shock after 5 GM for the others, but that's how it is, I guess.

[Matthew]

"Couldn't it though?" His eyes sparked, a raging sea of blue fire. "It is almost silly how the most powerful of men and women are subject to the needs of their bodies. Rarely can we escape it, unless we find another way out." His eyes briefly slid to her, a flicker of a frown passing across his handsome face before it was gone. She had put words to some of his very own thoughts, and he was pleased to see that she had come to the same conclusion he had.

But she had come across his secret, without even knowing it. Putting the little details together in the most spectacular fashion one could imagine...

So much was hidden in all the little details.

He watched her carefully as she dove within all the books and artifacts, curious if she would be able to find what she was looking for. Even though there weren't that many tomes to search through, he couldn't see the rhyme or reason to how they were displayed. There were so many other Odds and Ends tucked away in all the little shelves that who knew what was what. Wasn't she ever worried that one of them may reach out and grab her? Hopefully the old man wouldn't actually put something in his shop that was alive, though. The thought in mind, Matthew uncomfortably shifted as far away from everything as he could. It put him in the middle of a little clearing near the counter, an uncomfortable look still apparent on his young features.

She soon came and showed off what she had found, and his eyes quickly scanned each one. He held no particular bias for any of the Gods, though one could easily see where some of their actions had fallen short from a moral standpoint. Still, he also had no interest in most of them, and that caused the generalized religion book to fall from his wanted list. Really, it came down to the two books on Ionu... and since he couldn't purchase both, he decided to purchase one. "How about the Tricksters and Troupes book, then? 25 GM just for the one would be appreciated, as I think we are building a relationship that has me constantly coming in here to try and give you Mizas."

His purse was out in a heartbeart, the 25 Mizas spread out on the table in front of him to show her that he indeed had the money and was willing to hand it over. He was getting close to his budget, and was already going to have to be a bit frugal with his quality of life expenses.

[Isolde Seibold]

"It is almost silly how the most powerful of men and women are subject to the needs of their bodies. Rarely can we escape it, unless we find another way out."

The Nuit bit her lower lip, something she rarely, if ever, did... probably because it was one of Matthew's common habits, and since she was with him it just unconsciously came to mind that it was what she should do. Her blue eyes, much duller than his, their sharpness blunted by the years and by memories and by living daily with pain and fear, flashed over to him, her brows drawing down. For some reason the way he said, Unless we find another way out, set off some strange feeling in her. It wasn't alarm or dismay, the feeling wasn't that keen. It was more like... a warning. But actually... well, not exactly. She didn't know what it was. It was very hard to quantify. A warning was close, but wasn't exactly right. That word, warning, was still too strong.

Perhaps she couldn't identify the feeling, coming to her like the barest sliver of fear... but that wasn't right either. Whatever it was, she knew that it had come in response to his last statement, as if he had been alluding to her... own condition. Such simple words, and yet they jangled her nerves. Finding another way out. Yes, she had done that, hadn't she? Unwittingly, unwillingly, this was how she paid for her crimes in life, and the way he had phrased it made it seem like it had something she had tried to do. The Nuit turned her eyes to the counter, sliding behind it, now that he had wandered back out, clearing the space. Once more, she was probably making something of nothing. Over-thinking his words. It made her feel peculiar. She wondered if she did this all the time, and was just now starting to notice.

One thing was certain to her. He hadn't purposefully tried to upset her. Was that what this feeling was? Isolde was upset by one insignificant little sentence that he had probably not even tried to use to hurt her. She needed to get it together. He was just making conversation, not referring to anything. Just... talking.

"How about the Tricksters and Troupes book, then? 25 GM just for the one would be appreciated, as I think we are building a relationship that has me constantly coming in here to try and give you Mizas."

The young man's words brought her back to Undeniable Interests, back to her job, and she leaned against the counter, eyeing the Mizas there, calculating, counting, chewing over prices and noticing his counter offer. 30 Mizas dropped to 25 for a single book, instead of a deal for two.... but she wasn't going to bully him about it. He should try to get the best deal possible. And wasn't it her job to get him the best deal?

...No. Really, it wasn't. Mr. Ariva would hate that way of thinking. If anything, the old man would want her to try to barter up the price, to clean the customer of their coin.

Well... just this once couldn't hurt. Sighing, knowing that she was cutting it a bit close, the Nuit said, " H-How about w-we m-make it 20 GM, instead? T-Think of it as an invitation. 'W-Welcome to the store, please come back for more'." The little rhyme brought a small smile of inane amusement to her face, which quickly and quietly vanished as if it had never been. She idly tapped her fingers against the counter in that oddly familiar tha-thunk beat, waiting for his reaction, not yet touching the shining golden coins, their gleaming cleanliness so out of place in this dusty little shop. Almost like Matthew, himself. Immaculate, well-dressed, handsome, and she wondered if it bothered him to be here.

She almost said something about how she'd turned the tables on him, that usually it was women coming to him to offer him their gold... but no, that would be entirely inappropriate. She was working after all. Better keep it professional. Though the man before her had a certain knack for making that hard. There was just something about him. Isolde looked up from the Mizas, considering him casually. Probably it was a professionally-trained allure, to aid in his occupation. But there was something more to it than that. He also had this air about him, which made him seem harmless. Not in an incompetent way. In a way that made you feel like he should be trusted.

It made her wonder if it would be unwise to do so.