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[Durvekral Wormwood]

Summer 30th 513 AV

Durvekral wandered around the Bizarre, analyzing all of the human faces around him. He couldn't help but revel in just how distracted everyone one was; they were all so caught up in the hustle and bustle of the market. If the patrons weren't caught up in the mad dash to find whatever good they were seeking then they were captured by the excitement of the busy marketplace.

The symenestra couldn't imagine ever letting himself become so defenseless. He didn't understand what was wrong with people, how they could get into such a flawed mindset. It never mattered, though; their slip ups allowed him to do his work. Today his work was "fundraising." The Bizarre was such a good place to earn a few mizas, certainly more profitable than schlepping mail around town.

Pickpocketing sometimes seemed a silly thing for the petty criminal to attempt. After all, you could only lift so many mizas from a pocket. He often wondered if the risk was worth it. Was a few lousy mizas really worth the possibility of attracting unneeded attention?

The issue was a bit more complicated than just the aforementioned concern though. Durvekral had killed before, maybe not professionally from the shadows as was his overarching goal, but he had taken lives. The risk of being caught while pickpocketing just wasn't as high as it was for some of the other laws he had broken.

This was Alvadas, not Syliras or Lhavit where he would be killed or expelled for nothing other than his race. Still, the Speakers could prove a creative little mob of torturers so there certainly was incentive to avoid detection. It was quite a respectable little system, actually. Durvekral felt a rare sense of respect for these town authorities, anyway. The Listeners moved, so efficiently from the shadows. They were so perfectly camouflaged into the mundane citizenry. It was a knack for stealth that Durvekral could respect, maybe even envy. As he looked around, trying to size up a victim, there was yet still no guarantee that he wouldn't be slipping his hands right into the pockets of a Listener. It was a gamble that a criminal simply had to contend with while living in Alvadas.

He wondered who might provide the best target for his crime. The weathered, frail, old man, purchasing fish? No, no, he seemed weak and defenseless but the old man was sure to have seen a lot in his day. He'd be on to Durvekral's plot in no time. How about the little child wandering, happily throughout the market? Easy enough target but there was sure to be a parent watching from afar.

Then, Durvekral's eyes caught the lovely form of a picturesque Inartan woman. She had dark red hair and pale, white skin. She wore thin, green robes that were nearly transparent in the humid air of the Bizarre in summer. She had just kissed and turned away from a man dressed in shiny, expensive purple and silver garments. It was as clear that this was a wealthy man about Alvadas as it was that she had some romantic connection with him. The pretty young affection of a rich merchant, it was perfect. Durvekral had found his target.

Without staring or violently pushing toward her, Durvekral made his way through the crowd and to his target. He waited for a moment where his left hand had a clear opening toward her satchel. While walking slightly behind and to the right of her, he reached inward.

Unfortunately for the symenestran, at that very moment, a reckless boy bumped into her, causing her to stumble forward. Luckily the woman was able to catch her feet but she felt a very strange pull about her left shoulder. It was the pull of a leather strap that didn't seem to want to travel with her. She violently whipped around and caught the criminal red-handed.

"What are you up to, you little petcher? I'm going to summon a Listener!" she spoke softly enough as to not make a scene. Still, her expression spoke volumes. Clearly, here was her strength. Where she lacked the physical prowress of a warrior or perhaps the financial savvy of her lover, she could command and captivate an audience with the strength of her will. Despite her small frame, she was intimidating in all of her malice. Durvekral had found himself in an unfortunate predicament.

[Sami]

Sami kept her head down and her eyes ahead as she worked through the Bizarre. She was still trying to get use the city, one that constantly spun her round and confused her. She could hardly keep up with the changes of it, the blurs of colour and the chatter of voices of the public. Everything seemed so loud and alive here. And daunting, but she was not about to admit that just yet. Or at least not any time soon. Keeping her belongings close, her blue eyes watched others carefully. She was already judging them from their looks, other than the already created branding of them as being odd and strange in comparison to others. So a few more prejudices about the general public would not hurt too much.

Never the less, her lurking gave her opportunity to try and understand the lay of the land. And its people. She was still deciding the best tactics on how to deal with people. They were all potentials for receiving some underhand passes and quick fingers upon their pockets. But before that she needed to learn how they would have reacted to such things. Was it part of life? Or were they strict on such things? She released a puff of air, and watched a group slink past. All dressed in their gaudy colours. Although she had nothing against bright colours, she did feel they clashed an awful lot. Wincing she kept her head low and stalked after them, hands thrusted into her pockets her eyes upon their backs.

Her plan was just to follow them for a while, nothing more. To study the way they acted and treated others. Or at least until her attention was forced to focus on something else. A boy barged past her, heavy foot falls upon the ground as he continued on his way. She could not help but glare after him, her fist raised in the air as she gave an angry shout of, “Watch where you’re running idiot!”

With a scowl fixed on her face, her eyes followed after him as the same mistake was made once more. Giving a huff she watched the scene unfold with little more than a smirk forming from the previously annoyed look. A man, she presumed, had tried to make a grab at a woman’s satchel. Not that it had seemed to work particularly well. For the moment the boy made contact with him, did things appear to go wrong. The woman span round, and glared upon the potential criminal with a look of disgust. Sami slunk closer, gentle steps reeling her into the scene with her ears twitching to key words.

Summon a Listener? Her eyes narrowed as she found herself leaning in. Perhaps they were the equivalent of guards? She did not know, but she made sure to try and remember the word. Her nostrils flared as she watched the man come face to face with this growing issue, and mused on the spot for a moment. It was time for some long overdue fun. Closing in, her eyes sized the pair up as she tried to work out the best way to intervene. She could just throw herself at them, or she could try and make subtle distractions. Lips pursing together, she put on a grin and put a bounce in her step.

“Uncle!” she announced as she grabbed the Symestra – as she suddenly realised what he was – by the arm, “Are you trying to be fox again? You trying to flirt with the ladies?” She gave a wicked grin to him and then to the woman, her Inarta accent ringing out clear, “You need to realise you’re never going to be good enough for pretty ladies like this? Come, come, and stop being such a letch.” She turned her head away from the woman, and gave him only a quick look with an incline of the head. A hint that perhaps they should indeed make a move. And quickly.

[Durvekral Wormwood]

Durvekral couldn't identify this woman who had spontaneously come to his rescue. This wasn't a face he had ever seen before. He couldn't, in that moment, surmise any reason that she should come to his aid. After all, she was a total stranger. What good could come to her from this risky behavior?

Perhaps this was a trap; it very well could have been an elaborate scheme, perpetrated to destroy him. Very possible but that possibility was simply irrelevant to this particular moment. Right now, at this moment in the Bizarre the greatest threat to Durvekral was not the stranger who sought to portray him as an brash lecher. His greatest threat was the would-be victim of his pickpocketing and, strangely enough, that insipid little brat. "Oh how I'd like to give him a quick slash of these razors..." Durvekral briefly fantasized. But he didn't have time for this.

"Oh here comes my nuisance of a charge, again." He took on an air that was totally alien to him. It felt strange to portray this character. He was familiar with the need to impersonate guards, peasants, beggers and royalty but never before had he found himself needed to act like a filthy lecher. He gave her a strained smile; it was the type of smile that one would give to a nagging mother or a teasing sibling. He made sure to turn toward the stranger and gestured toward an opening in the crowd. He generally wanted to get the petch out of here as fast as he could without drawing any further suspicion. "Then leave me to my failing!" he nagged back. "Im sure you can see that if I shoot a dozen arrows, one of them is bound to find its way to the bullseye. The Bizzare is full of delicious, young targets!" Durvekral reluctantly pressed the classless, obscene statement through his lips in an attempt to both sell the character and to generally disgust the failed victim away from the scene of the crime.

The Symenestra was lucky on this particular day because the woman saw no need to further humiliate herself in such a ludicrous, and certainly undignified, conversation. Durvekral couldn't believe that he had been delivered safely out of that awful situation. He was thrilled to have been allowed to recover, so gracefully, from the slip-up. He would, however, never allow this perfect stranger to know that.

"Thank you,"he hummed in an overly casual tone. "What a clever human you are," he offered, at least this much, in his gratitude. "You have quite the talent for deception. Alvadas is the right place for that," he spoke with a subtle smile that didn't truly display any openness or gratitude but certainly revealed a respect for her handiwork, back there.

[Sami]

Sami looked upon the symestra as he struggled with his words and tried to fill the role she had suddenly thrusted upon him. She gave a grin, her eyes sharpening with amusement as a mocking lecture erupted out. Even more so when he indeed finally played the role of a supposed letch. The woman seemed to almost writhe, disgust and displeasure creeping in as their escape was quickly made. The crowd closed in behind them and the girl released him, with a grin plastered upon her face. For the moment he was out of the fire, but how long was that going to last?

Her ears twitched to his thanks, her eyebrow cocked and raised. Good, he should thank her. She had done him a favour by pulling him away from a potentially sticky situation after all. Who knows what would happen if she had not stepped in. Then again, it could have been interesting to watch the scene unfold and the potential fate revealed to her. It would have supplied her information on the city and its inhabitants. And who these ‘Listeners’ were. With a quicker step, the girl turned her head to him and held her palm open.
“Saving your hind fees,” she addressed him, her finger inclining to her palm, “Services like that aren’t cheap after all.”

A crude form of business. If it could even be called that. She held her ground and stared up at him, a look of defiance on her face. Her lips curled into a smirk, and the Inartan accent rung out once more, “That and I saw what you were trying to do. You make a bad thief. Bet I could do better.” Walking backwards so she faced him, and her head occasionally turning to see where she was going, Sami continued, “Guess you are a cheap man? It is why you are doing jobs such as that?” She gave a tut and shook her head, “Wrong method, need a better one for you and your creepy face.”

The Inarta shrugged, and withdrew her hand. There was no use in harassing him; she doubted he would cough up anyway. Even if she did give him an ultimatum. People and beings were greedy and cheap, with she herself being no different. Still, at least she managed to get some fun out of a potentially dull day.

[Durvekral Wormwood]

Durvekral smiled at the sight of Sami's open palm. He stared right back at her, not with a confrontational glare but instead with a patronizing smile. Perhaps this had been the only reason that she had decided to save him; it would have been the only reason that made sense, anyway.

Despite the fact that she had pulled her hand away, he verbally reacted to her gesture. "There it is, that's the reason for your intervention," he maintained his smile. "But it seems you also know better than to ask a scoundrel like myself for any kind of fair payment for services."

He was immediately struck by her sense of insight, perception and general "street smarts." Durvekral's passion was to become a stalker in the shadows; he wanted to hunt prey and bring about their swift end. It wasn't his lot to master life on the streets, however. The interaction was proving that this woman was quite adept in manipulating the streets and fashioning a life seemingly from nothing at all. So young too; Durvekral didn't particularly care to research her story but he surmised that she must have grown up either poor or orphaned.

“Guess you are a cheap man? It is why you are doing jobs such as that?”

Durvekral chose not to divulge why he was doing what he was doing. It didn't help him to reveal whether he was garnering funds for something, going about his typical routine or pursuing any other possible motivation. It was a threat to his safety and irrelevant to his goals in this conversation.

“Wrong method, need a better one for you and your creepy face.”

He emitted a low-pitched growl of a chuckle after the comment about his Symenestran appearance. In a way, she was right, though. Whenever endeavored on any "official" work, he wore his dark purple mask. He relied on camouflage, not disguise. Durvekral had thought that the Bizarre might be the best place to blend in and inconspicuously lift a few mizas. As he had learned, today, disguises were simply not his way of fading from attention; the Symenestran would have to stick to the darkness.

"Clever and sharp tongued, Durvekral responded. "I can see how that skill would be important for a child of the streets," he chided. He wasn't sure if the word was accurate but she had boasted herself a valuable thief and that was enough for Durvekral to throw the verbal jab.

"I think I'm going to loathe you a little less than everyone else around here,"Durvkeral was almost able to summon a non-ironic chuckle at this delivery. He very specifically refrained from asking about names. No need. If she was important enough, in Alvadas, he would see her again. Similarly, he would see to it that he himself, whether through word or deed, was significant enough to cross her path again.

[Sami]

Sami watched the flicker of annoyance in the face of the symestra, the patronising tone ringing out and meeting her ears. Both seemed sharp as one and other, quick to make assumptions and choices. Still, she continued to hold her ground with her hands planted firmly on her hips and her eyes unwavering. She gave a purse of her lips, followed by a huff to his words before finally she turned to a more defiant nature.

“Loathe me?” The red-head raised an eyebrow, her blue eyes quickly growing sharp, “Why would they loathe me? Watch your mouth old man!” A spark of anger perhaps, or more of cheek mixed with ill manners. She may have not been fluent in the common tongue, but she still managed to pick up it was a negative word. And perhaps an insult to boot. Ears twitched to the chuckle, and her finger extended to give him a firm point and prod towards his chest, “Don’t you laugh at me Mister Creepers!” Her cheeks flushed as she felt herself going red, her once quiet voice steadily growing louder by the tick. Not intentionally of course. Then again most things she did were far from intentional. Or so she liked to tell herself. She snapped her head away, “Still think I can do better than you. Don’t make me prove it!”

Her bait had been laid. She would prove that she was nothing something to loathe and was worth time. Or something or other. The girl herself was no longer sure exactly in what she was achieving other than simply ‘winning’. She gave a gesture to the crowd around them, a gloved hand gesturing to the people, “Go on, pick one, any one you like. I’ll do a job and I’ll prove what I can do to you.” Ignorance in its finest form. Still she had risen to give a challenge of sorts, now it was time to see if he would follow through. If he even cared, he might be like the other adults of the world after all.

[Durvekral Wormwood]

"Both impassioned and impulsive," Durvekral laughed upon seeing her quick reaction to his statement. He gathered, both by her accent and by the context, that she hadn't grasped the full meaning of his statement but that she had come close. "A careful combination for sure," he chuckled.

"However, as adorable as your little game is, I fear that I cannot oblige. I thank you for assisting me today but I have more important things to do than proving myself to a juvenile." Although certainly curt, his exit wasn't altogether rude. The shape of his mouth was flat; not a smile but certainly closer to it than the scrutinizing scowl which he usually wore.

With a wave that was cold and distanced but also mildly approving, he turned away and disappeared into the busy hustle and bustle of the market. It had been an eventful day; this morning's was enough of a lesson in pickpocketing. For now, anyway. Durvekral's fingers were too clumsy. His hand had hung to heavily from the wrist. He knew, once again, what it meant to fail in his attempt to stealthily lift something from an unsuspecting pocket. At the very least, he was one more mistake closer to learning his desired skill.