Open Where Strangers Meet

[Iskessah]

2 Fall, 513 Location: The Spot Upon stepping off the ferry into Ravok, Iskessah's first stop had been her friend Joshry's house, but he was not at home. After asking around, she finally discovered him at a place she'd never heard of before. She supposed things must have changed in the year she was gone, but it was still a shock to learnt hat the familiar patterns of the city were all different now. "The Spot," according to her information, was a mobile tavern of some sort, but was also a place to post jobs or find work. So, it was a cross between the old CEB and the House of Immortal Pleasures, Iskessah concluded. She asked directions, and was sent towards the Slave Market, a place she had not often been. The route took her through the Nitrozian Plaza, and as she passed "Odds and Ends," something in the window caught her eye. It was a broad-brimmed hat of brown leather, and the instant she saw it, she knew it had to be hers. She stepped into the shop and purchased it on the spot, and as she slipped it on her head, she felt a strange sense of confidence. She stood up straighter, and continued on her way to find her friend. It took Iskessah longer than usual to find "The Spot"; the first directions she received were faulty, so she had to ask again to find its true current location. She ran to her destination, skidding onto bridges over the canals, wanting to find the boat-tavern before it moved. She would definitely have to learn its schedule if she decided to frequent the place. She finally found it resting at the Shipyard. Upon entering, she scanned the room for Joshry and found him in the back, near a stage apparently designed for performers. He was watching the stage, so it wasn't difficult for her to keep behind him as she approached his table. The place was not crowded, but there was enough activity going on that her own footsteps got lost in the jumble. She reached Joshry's chair without him noticing her approach, but her shadow fell over him. Before he had a chance to look up and ruin her entrance, she said sardonically, "Pining away without me, are you?" Joshry jumped up and spun at the sound of her voice. "Kessi! You're back!" he practically shouted as he threw his arms around her. She almost patted him awkwardly, but turned the motion into pulling at his shoulder, attempting to separate them. He obligingly stepped back, and at first he didn't seem to know what to say. Iskessah smirked, which was as much and admission as she would give that she might have missed her human friend. "What, did you think I would not return?" Joshry looked away briefly and didn't answer, and when he spoke again, he had changed the subject. "When did you get back?" he finally looked at her in her entirety and added in a tone of distaste, "and where did you get that hat?" Iskessah swatted him on the head for his insolence, and said, "I returned only today, and you are not to malign my hat." She gestured for him to sit as she took another chair at the same table. "Now, tell me everything that happened while I traveled. I have been gone too long."

ReceiptLeather hat: 8 GM (hat = 4GM, Leather x2 multiplier)

[Amolina]

Amolina Moletta wasn’t visiting The Spot too often these days. She had been busy preparing and doing auditions for roles she didn’t get and the “volunteer job” at KRI had taken lots of time too. However, she had still not been paid for the obscure spy job she had been sent on for unknown purposes by unknown people (likely criminals). Nearly a season had passed and no mizas…but now and the Amolina checked up if there was something for her. She had after all spent time on doing a job and had not given up hope of being paid one of those days. This was the reason she was in The Spot right now. She had been speaking discretely with the barkeep. Bohir Adams had just shrugged. As usual there was nothing…absolutely nothing. That barmaid Alice Lark was dancing again. Amolina watched the dance with interest : after the odd dance performance she had done in the audition for The Happy Stryfer, she had been thinking of finding a dance teacher. But despite Ravok’s reputation as a city brimming with dark beauty, romance and culture there wasn’t a single dance teacher in the city. But Alice Lark…could perhaps teach Amolina a few dance steps? Amolina made a mental note to contact the barmaid when she wasn’t working and ask if it would be possible… Amolina was normally no fan of socializing in The Spot, but now she decided to linger a bit and study Alice Lark in action. She flapped her heavily painted eyelashes, smiled seductively at Bohir Adams in a blatantly overdone way, and ordered a Ravokian Dry, shaken not stirred. This would have made the man raise an eyebrow if he had not already seen and heard everything, like most barkeeps had. With her Ravokian Dry in a firm grip she looked around for somewhere to sit. The best option seemed to be a table in the back, near the stage. There were only two people sharing the table. One of them was a dark haired woman in her early thirties, wearing a broad-brimmed hat of brown leather. The other one was a somewhat daft looking young man who had shouted and hugged the woman a few chimes ago. Strangers. Odd strangers. But who cared. It was a far better place to sit, in comparison to other tables, where more or less inebriated patrons sat staring at Alice. Also, it could make it look like she already had company – sitting all alone was like asking for unwanted attention. Amolina walked through the room towards her intended chair. Her dark violet dress swished and rustled softly when she moved and her gait was smooth. Already starting to draw out one of the empty chairs she asked politely if it was free – if nobody stopped her she would sit down at the table, sip on her drink and study Alice Lark…

[Kit Rowan]

x

This, Kit thought, hugging her leather jacket close to herself, was a mistake. She wandered into the spot, oddly self-conscious. Mostly she had come here on the odd one-off job for that extra bit of necessary coin, but she had seen the way some performers took to the back, inquired about it before she left for other pastures and wished she had the proper means to join them. Of course, Kit supposed she could have gone up there and done her thing in linens and leathers, but it was not quite the same . . .

Work had been long that day, and harsh, and in the moment it was over Kit had been certain that all she wanted to do would be test the audience's reaction to her new motley. But the noise of The Spot seemed louder, somehow, the drink, the stink of people repugnant. Why? Why? She had suffered through worse with a wink and a smile. What made this one special?

Her eyes froze as she found herself looking over the men. Her recent encounter in an alley had been thwarted, but in throwing the bastard down Kit's magic had etched his memory and her fear into the inside of her head. Would it fade? Kit hoped so. Hoped so. In the meantime she gave the tables with men a wide berth, and took a long, circuitous route through to the back of the Spot, eyes searching for the stage.

Kit scowled lightly as she found Alice Lark—the bint!—Hogging the stage as though she wouldn't have gotten tips from wandering around the bar flirting with anything who found itself particularly drawn to her neckline. She huffed, crossed her arms and slipped into an empty seat, measured by virtue of both being as close to the back and as far away from anyone else as possible. Kit stared, tapped her fingers against the table and left no doubt where exactly she wanted to be.

x

[Iskessah]

Joshry had just been describing the Wind Eagle visit--Iskessah was half-convinced he was making the whole thing up--when a woman joined them. Iskessah glanced to Joshry, wondering it this was a friend of his, but he just shrugged. Iskessah glanced around the room; there were empty tables, so for some reason, this woman had sought them out. Why? Was she here for Joshry, or Iskessah? Could Shannon have sent someone to check up on her so soon after she got back to the city? As paranoid questions whirled in Iskessah's head, Joshry took the initiative to be friendly. "Sure, yeah, go ahead and sit. We were just catching up, but I think Kessi's bored of me already," he told the newcomer with a sidelong grin at Iskessah. "I'm Joshry," he added, holding out a hand to shake. Iskessah hoped Joshry wouldn't let a pretty face cause him to do anything particularly stupid, but something caught her attention that would prevent her from intervening in his conversation. Two men were moving toward the stage, bearing the self-assured swagger that she'd come to associate with men who did not know their place. She watched them approaching a shy-looking girl who had taken a seat alone a few moments earlier. She could not hear the details of their conversation due to the noise of the music, but from their postures and that of the girl, it was obvious that their advances were unwelcome. A year ago, Iskessah would not have interfered, not wanting to risk calling attention to herself. But her journey had changed her. She was no longer a prisoner of fear, and she would not stand for this. She stood, leaving Joshry to his conversation with the woman, and approached the nearby table. Iskessah did not exactly tower over the two men, but she did match their height. She positioned herself next to the girl, where she would easily be able to step between her and the men if necessary. "Are the men bothering you?" she drawled, putting a hand lazily on her hip.

[Kit Rowan]

x

Alice Lark continued her lonely little dance on stage, step, step, step . . . She leaned over the edge of the stage, took the hand of a man who had been watching, enraptured and pulled him up. Propped his hand on her waist, gave him a seductive smile and led him on in the dance. His steps were clumsy, but it mostly made her seem more graceful by comparison.

Kit propped her elbow on the table and let cheek rest on her hand, watching with dubious appreciation. She could bend her body into shapes that would make Alice's eyes pop if she even realized they were possible. And yet Kit could not imitate those smooth motions, those elegant steps . . . Kit grumbled under her breath; imagine if she could do both! Imagine—

There was a sound of wood scraping on wood, so close that it made Kit start. It didn't take long for her to find the source of the sound; it was a man, pulling out the chair next to her. He was big, broad-shouldered, dressed in linens. His cheeks were flush with drink, his dappled with scraggly hair he maybe me called a beard in company too polite to call him out. "This seat taken?" He asked.

"I—" But he had already slipped into the chair next to her anyway. Her hand darted for her dagger . . . and remembered that she wasn't wearing her belt today. It was sitting on her bedroll along with her courier's leather, discarded to try on her performing clothes, left for fear it might endanger a negative reaction. Magic? Her fingers twitched, eager to release a spell. Kit shook her head . . . She couldn't, not here, not now, before the gods and everyone! Other options!

But the man had already scooted closer, wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Kit remembered a dead man's face, felt a surge of anger and hate that turned her expression into a hideous snarl. NO ONE hurts me! Kit saw a dead man, eyes empty and white and accusing, sinking into the darkness of the lake. She felt dizzy, sick, delirious. "Oh, color and shade . . ." She didn't know if she wanted to kill the man or vomit on the table. This had been a terrible idea. Kit tried to stand up out of her chair, leave the other direction . . . but there was another man! Tall and lanky and thin, with a brown hat with a short brim and a rounded top. Set down one hand on the table to her side, blocking her escape.

"Hang on there little miss," he said, nodding his head, tipping his hat. "I don't think we've seen you around too much? But I guess, it's no wonder we haven't. You're so small!" He chuckled. "It's adorable, really." He plucked her jacket's edge and peered at the performing motley underneath. "Wow! You've picked your shirt real well. I don't think anything else would show your assets."

Her tunic was woven so close it was almost skin-tight. Kit flushed, scowled. "Ge—"

"Hey!" Scraggly yelled at a passing serving wench, slamming his fist on the table. "Strongest thing you have for the girl! On me!"

Kit's hands were shaking. She remembered probing hands down her side. The best are the little ones, the fragile ones, the nubile creatures who actually believe they can get away. The crack of a throat caving inward. Why couldn't everyone, why couldn't her own half-crazed mind leave her in peace!?

And then the first person who'd talked to her that night without her addled mind twisting into pretzel shapes approached the table. The man with the hat stood up straight, offended. "I will have you know, miss, we are doing our part to make sure this young lady feels welco—"

"Yes," Kit hissed. "I mean, no they're not. I mean—"

"You heard the girl!" Scraggly said, waving Iskessah away, pulling Kit possessively close. "She's perfectly fine!"

"THEY ARE BOTHERING ME!" Kit shouted, finally managing volume, but pitching too high, so loud the whole back of the tavern could hear it clear as smooth crystal.

x

[Amolina]

The unknown young man seemed to be an easygoing and cheery personality. Amolina smiled at him and shook his hand. “Amolina.” Alice Lark leaned over the edge of the stage, took the hand of a man who had been watching, enraptured and pulled him up. Propped his hand on her waist, gave him a seductive smile and led him on in the dance. His steps were clumsy, but it mostly made her seem more graceful by comparison. “She’s really having a good time” Amolina said with a nod towards Alice Lark. She sipped on her drink and watched the stranger. Joshry. But the dark haired woman with the hat had walked over to another table where two men had joined a girl…one of them big and broad shouldered, the other one tall and lanky and thin. The big broad shouldered one yelled for a strong drink for her…the girl didn’t seem to like the company though. Amolina couldn’t hear anything but it was obvious that it was the usual thing – men who made advances despite not being welcome. Then again, sitting alone like that was like asking for trouble, just like Amolina had thought a few chimes earlier. "THEY ARE BOTHERING ME!" The girls sudden shout rose over the noise. Oh dear. This looked like the start of a tavern brawl. All that was needed now was that somebody tried to defend the girl – or grab her for his own ends – and the feelings of the drunk patrons could start to boil. It would be a good idea to leave now…but she was in the back of the room and chances were it would be hard to make it through the room if a brawl started. Amolina glanced around, looking for a reasonably safe place. Alice Lark didn’t seem to be bothered at all. She just danced on with her clumsy dance partner. Amolina realized the scene might actually be the safest place in the whole room. She swallowed the remainder of her drink far too quickly and put the glass on the table, grabbed the hand of the stranger Joshry again. “Come and let’s dance too !” She would try to make him follow her up on the scene, and join Alice Lark and the clumsy man in their happy dancing.

[Iskessah]

Iskessah was dimly aware of Joshry being dragged up tot he dancing stage. His willingness was questionable, but he did not particularly resist, though his eyes remained glued to the scene about to erupt with his friend at the center. Iskessah herself was more concerned with teaching these arrogant fools a lesson. A year ago she might have kept her head down, not gotten involved, been too afraid of any scrutiny uncovering secrets that would lead to uncomfortable questions. But now, whatever she'd been afraid of seemed so small, and she could not keep silent when men failed to realized their place. The man's arm was wrapped around the girl,, so Iskessah grabbed that first. Holding his wrist in a vice-like grip, she casually peeled it away from the girl's shoulders before yanking hard, tossing the man to the ground. "I believe the lady would like you to go away." She glanced at the man's companion, a daring little smirk on her lips. She wondered if he would try anything stupid,, and part of her hoped he would. Just in case, she put a protective arm behind her, toward the girl. If the men wanted her, they would have to go through Kess. Joshry watched the affair apprehensively. It looked like Kessi was about to get herself into trouble, and he wanted to be by her side. But at the same time, he was dancing (dubiously) with a beautiful woman, and that had him too flustered to think straight. "Sorry," he mumbled as he stepped on her toes, for neither the first nor the last time.

[Kit Rowan]

x

The moment Iskessah pulled the hand off her shoulder Kit slipped out of her chair, ducking underneath Iskessah's arm, hating how weak and powerless she must have seemed, needing a gods-damned rescue like this. Another spike of hatred, sudden and strong, made her fists clench tight and her lips curling down into an expression nearly violence its own right.

The man fallen to the floor stared up at Iskessah, his face a mask of something between anger and bewilderment. The one left standing put his hands on his sides, scanned the room, and Kit followed his eyes. They had attracted an audience, Kit realized, some wary, some hungry for a close up look at violence. It had happened too fast, no one was coming down to intervene just yet. The man in the lanky man smiled, lifted his hat and tipped it in Iskessah's direction . . . In Kit's.

No, Kit thought, her teeth grating. No, you don't get away with that. Her eyes turned to the squat man. Everyone was looking at the man who was talking, no one at the one who had been knocked over. Kit took advantage of it. Much of Ionu's gift was taken up in maintaining her disguise, but not all.

"No need to be uncivilized, ladies." Lanky said, smooth and unperturbed. "Violence is the road the savage travels, and we are none of us savages."

There was nothing on Kit's mind aside from small vengeance. NO ONE hurts me! Kit fashioned an illusion meant only for Iskessah over the squat man's face and hand. She made his expression seem a rictus scowl, built a false image of his hand clenched around a wicked dagger as he pushed himself to his feet. Kit's rescuer would see this, but no one else would.

The rest, Kit trusted, would work itself out on its own.

x

[Amolina]

Amolina tried to imitate Alice Lark, and took the same dancing steps as well as she could, turned around in the same way as Alice and tried to make her dancing partner follow the same way Alice did. The young man named Joshry was clearly torn between dancing with her and keeping an eye on the woman he had been sitting with and the situation at the other table. The brawl was already in the air, thought nothing could be seen yet and everybody seemed to be very calm. Amolina wanted to stay where she was, but she bet her dancing partner would want to rush to his friends rescue if something happened. He was glancing that way every now and then and Amolina was keeping and eye at it too, albeit more discretely. If he would feel he was needed over there, she wouldn’t try to stop him from leaving her and join his friend. It was good enough that he had allowed her to drag him up on the stage to dance. If he left, well, she was already on the stage and could just stay there without drawing much attention – it wasn’t like she could steal the show from Alice. She took small steps forward, to the side, and back again, turned around and made the movements with her hands that she had seen Alice do. It wasn’t a complicated dance, just easy things, likely because Alice’s dance partner wasn’t so skilled. For Amolina it was perfect and…Joshry seemed to have much left to learn too. She wouldn’t try to stop him from helping his friend, but she didn’t want him to stop dancing until something (perhaps) happened. So she smiled at him while they danced on and even gave him a seductive glance or two into the bargain. Not much, just small flirting for fun. That couldn’t hurt, could it?

[Iskessah]

When the smooth-talking individual spoke up, trying to defuse the situation, Iskessah flicked her eyes in his direction with a glare that might chill the bones of lesser men. In a friendlier situation, she might have taken the time to chat about the various merits of violence as a recreational passtime--especially if your victims couldn't fight back--but perceived danger claimed her attention. The man she had thrown to the ground seemed set on revenge, and Iskessah tensed. Weapons were not an unusual sight in Ravok, but there could be no mistaking the man's intentions with that dagger. She settled into a defensive posture, fairly confident that she would be quick enough to disarm the man should he be so foolish as to go through with his attack. She focused on the man's eyes and said evenly, "Time for you to go." If the man was lucky, or smart, he would take the hint.

OOCSorry it's not much, but I feel like I shouldn't do more until the situation changes ^^;