[SO Sahova] Plans on the high seas

[Fallon]

13th Spring 514 AV

It was the hum of waves lapping upon the hull that stirred Fallon. Eyes flickering, the mercenary took a moment to register the dull light of the space, the tied down cargo deep within the base. Overhead the oil lantern swung, the shadows turning and swaying back and forth, dipping the world into a multitude of hues. There was a second blink, her fingers curling and gripping into the fur of Orvin, the other around the spine of a book. It took her a moment to comprehend what was going on, her sluggish mind blinking in and out. Trying to remember almost what had occurred.

It was on the tenth they left the docks of Sahova, the slow sail out from the silent fog, the mist breaking as they escaped onto the rolling waters and crashing waves. And it was below the wood and huffing, the groaning ship as carved its route on through, that Fallon simply retreated. Time blurred together, her fatigued mind suffering and struggling to keep consciousness. Was it Zandelia who lead her down to where they would rest and spend the voyage? Who lead her through to the depths? It did not matter either way for it was those bells that were lost to her. It swirled around, her few things being left next to her and the black abyss greeting her.

And here they were, nestled in the safety of the hold among the storage - but that was the curse of simply being a tag along on this voyage. Orvin was with her, the sleeping mat beneath, the pack nestled against her form. By the looks of things everything was within her reach, or at least within stretching range.

There was a third blink, her head lifting her shoulders rolling forward as she turned thought over in her mind. A groan, a whine of noise as she lifted and pulled herself up. Her form ached, heavy and unresponsive, a growing hunger and thirst gnawing at her form. And all the while, the boat continued to rock. Turning onto her side, her palm pressing down on the wood floor, Fallon pushed herself up further - the mind still disorganized as it tried to grasp onto something, anything.

"Za... Za....Zandelia?" her voice mumbled, lost and confused sounding. How long had she been asleep for? Where was her assistant? Sucking in the air she spoke again, louder this time, "Zandelia? What? Where?" Her hands clawed forward, her form finally sat up. Brushing down the tangles of hair, she turned her eyes down to the heavily snoring Orvin, and then out, "Zandelia, are you here? Answer me... please?"

She waited in the silence, familiarising herself with the steady rocking. Somewhere above the hum of sailors existed, the sea shanties audible above the wave break. But that was not the concern of Fallon right now. Lips were licked, as she waited in the silence for some form of response - from a muffled groan to something a lot more verbal.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia wasn’t asleep, the rocking of the vessel upon the waves was proving to e a nice lulling towards lethargy but she was too cautious to sleep whilst she was trapped upon a wooden prison, at the mercy of a crew whom cold just as easily throw them into the vastness of the ocean than help them finish their journey. She was a paranoid sort, many would argue that fact but she saw little sense in both herself and Bitzer being asleep when it needn’t be the case. Besides, she had made an accord to be the other woman’s assistant and at times – she reasoned – that meant being a guard. As such she had wedged herself into a corner where she could see the door to what was proving to be a very cramped sleeping quarters.

I’m practically touching her, or would be if it weren’t for Orvin. Oh Orvin, you are a lovable beast but still a touch jealous I think she smiled down upon the wolf, running her fingers through the fur gently. The canine’s head came around and buried its nose into the crook of her arm.

She continued to apt him affectionately even as he drifted back into his own sleep, heaving a contentedly short sigh before burrowing into her enough to be comfortable. She returned her gaze to the door and tried to fight the swaying lantern’s light and the rocking of tranquillity. She had to admit that she was growing fond of their odd triplet. She glanced at the other woman, completely passed out and gripping a book as tightly as if it would hold back the world.


Bitzer…an enigma wrapped in a mystery and just as aloof. Sometimes. Yet other times very warm and open. Not too open though, no. There is a door…okay series of door…locked inside that woman. Shut tight against my probing. She fascinates. I wonder if she does it on purpose or if it really is just her she mused as a sudden jolting of the ship rolled her sideways so that she had to stop herself from smashing into Bitzer – hand thudding into the woodwork.

She was a pretty enough lass Zandelia had to admit, not classically beautiful by any stretch of the imagination but with the blanket of dreams came a softer side, a more delicate cast to her features. She fancied she could almost see a true smile too. She pushed herself away and batted those thoughts aside. She was a contract after all, a lost wager. Pleasant company to talk to but she wasn’t going to take her chances with more and risk sinking any agreement made. They needed each other and that was all that mattered for now. It was just as she was beginning to be lulled to sleep, against her better nature, that Bitzer awoke.

About time too…been asleep for most of the day! she noted, she had spent a long time counting the Bells as best she could and y the cast of dingy light filtering below decks.

“I’m here Bitzer, hush. I am here” she reached out and patted the other woman’s shoulder in reassurance – there had seemed to be a panic in that tone of voice. As if Bitzer feared to be alone.

Strange… she mused.

“You’ve been asleep for a long time my dear. I almost nodded off myself there too. Orvin has missed you” she chuckled as the wolf jumped up and began to excitedly lap at Bitzer’s face. The master had awoken.

“You look better asleep though I have to say, the tired eyes look doesn’t suit you. Another day of nothing planned We wake up, eat some fish, sing some songs and help upon deck. Then come down here and fall asleep almost in each other’s arms? You do know how to treat a girl indeed” she smiled as she spoke, there was no sharp tone to the words only a playful teasing.

“Or is time for your…assistant to sleep? I have been keeping watch for you, you know. Boring, tiresome watching of salt stained woodwork I might point out” the unasked question hung between them.

They had spent several days upon their voyage now and had planned nothing more than to return to Sunberth. Time would soon run out, a handful of days slipping past until their opportunity of seclusion was ripped from them.

[Fallon]

There was a pause, then a flinch as the reassuring hand touched her. There was a twist, her shoulder pulling away out of reflex from the simple reassuring pat. And as her eyes blinked and tried to focus upon her shadow, the mumble of words repeating over in her head. Cramped in the space with the woman barely in touching distance, and a white wolf between them. No doubt this close quarters relationship would continued until they made landing - but never the less there was little that could be done about it.

The focusing continued even as Orvin rose up to greet her, his tail madly beating in the air and a pressing of his muzzle into her. Her hands rose to meet his head, her fingers massaging into his scalp and then down into his neck, the gentle rubbing and checking. There was only a curl of the lips as he gave a firm across her face, a slight recoil at the neck so she could get some more breathing space, "Yes Orvin, I'm awake. Down. Dowwwnnn..."

Her hands pressed against him, the low command escaping. Lowering himself, he took to nestling his form onto her legs, his large head resting against her stomach and those large eyes staring up at her in wanting. So, she took to simply petting him instead.

"My dear?" she questioned. Had their relationship suddenly turned intimate or was it simply just seeking it? A pet name? Or nothing more than common politeness? Her lips parted, a moment of hesitation as she tried to think of something, anything to say, "What? You've been awake since we've been on board? Gods above woman." Shaking her head, Fallon gave a firm - yet gentle - shove on the shoulder, a look of disapproval sweeping across her face and then eased off into one of concern, "You should rest too you know, I don't need an assistant to guard me when I sleep. I mean... nice gesture and all but I have Orvin do that for me."

For a moment her head swum, the entire boat tilting gently to one side so her shoulder bumped into the cargo next to her. How long was a long time? Could it be measured? A few bells? An entire day? Her mind swum with possibilities, just how tired was she? Enough so that she felt relatively refreshed in comparison to her stay in Sahova. But it was her rather matter of fact mind that was playing dominant at the moment, the flames of the awoken mind barely stirring into anything useful, "I... what? No. Tired eyes don't suit any one. They make the skin look pale too, and well... people treat differently." There was a shake of the head, her mind blinking in and out, "No... I wasn't planning on singing, or helping out. I mean... can you do anything related to boats? I'm sure I can't. And you really don't want to hear me sing. Plus I am in no way nice to cuddle, I'm all... bony. Yeah, let's go with that."

Even her lids pinched slightly, her thoughts finally clicking into place, "I mean. I... well. You were joking. If you want to sleep I won't stop you, I need to plan some things though. Need to get the thoughts and ideas down. You know, for important things for Sunberth." For a moment there was a fumble about in the dull light, firstly to pull out her own lantern and then to dig deeper for her book and ink, "I mean, if you want to sleep I won't stop you. But I'll be here scheming and plotting. Need to."

Eyes looked about, adjusting to the low light as she did. More would be necessary to do any reading or writing. Plus the space was cramped, crying out for some readjustment for comfort and ease. Shifting her weight, the mercenary pulled herself up so she was leaning against the inner hull, and looking out to the rest of the hold, "Do as you wish, I'll be staying right here."

[Zandelia]

Zandelia couldn’t help it, the snort of laughter mixed with confusion ripped out of her as she descended into a series of chuckles, seemingly never ending for a while until they began to finally trail off into little giggles and then, finally into the petering out of a silent jerking of her torso. Tears had misted her vision and she wiped them away with back of her knuckles as the she rushed them across her eyelid. She sighed and breathed deeply, taking in the air she had not managed to inhale over the past few chimes. It was some time until she could speak properly however and instead she contented herself with using this small burst of energy to fish out her own hooded lantern and pass it to the woman.

“Yes…my dear Bitzer. I got bored of using an alias and instead came up with my own affectionate title until such time as your true name be revealed,” she responded with, a small yawn escaping her lips, “and for one so wise you seem less astute upon awakening. Perhaps I shall use that to my advantage tomorrow” she waved her hand slightly as if it was of little consequence.

The rocking o the ship did feel enormously inviting, wedged as she was in a hunched position and leaning into the inner hull. Its wood was rough and hard but in her tired state still felt possessed of immeasurable comfort. She could go to sleep, leave Bitzer to the schemes and the planning but she dared not do so. Deep down she thought the other woman didn’t truly understand Sunberth, or at least would benefit from someone who had lived most of their life there given their input. The city was a tricky beast at the best of times and Bitzer was planning on eradicating one of its larger Syndicates.

Difficult…very difficult…I wonder why she shoved my hand aside? Was it the touch? Or just awakening? she found her thoughts fragmenting and siding down several avenues at once.

She yawned again, louder this time.

“No, I will stay here and stay awake for as long as I must. And I’d rather sleep after…when you’re awake. Don’t trust sailors. And though Orvin is loveable I’d rather watch you for you than get him to do it. So don’t shove me about for being nice” she grunted and shoved Bitzer back gently a way to test a small theory perhaps.

She waited for the two lanterns to be lit and hung so as to illuminate the crabbed room as much as was possible, she didn’t have the energy to do it and so left it to Bitzer. Orvin nosed at her hips and she tousled his ears lightly before returning to crossing her arms over her chest and waiting. She had been thinking herself upon the thorny problem of Sunberth. Her mentality was likely different to Bitzer’s though and possessed more shadows and eyes than anything else. Fighting the gangs outright in a turf war, in her opinion, was akin to walking into Ravok with a banner praising Sylir – suicidal at best, torturous at worst.

“So what shall we plan my dear?” she looked at the other woman then to see if the pet name bothered her, if it would ever bother her enough to give out that precious true name.

“Sunberth is such a large topic to start on, why don’t we start smaller. What is it precisely you want to accomplish? Beyond Daggerhand death of course” she asked, opening the floor to ideas and schemes.

[Fallon]

Fallon was taken back, if only for a few ticks. The laughter, the merriment. Even in the gloom it rung out in a loud, chiming voice of amusement at her expense. And whilst one wore that expression, the grin and tears with the oil lantern being pulled out. Taking it she worked on lighting it, the words of Zandelia vibrating around the hollow in the meanwhile. Things were pushed about, the blanket and roll pressed against the vertical wall. The cloak was piled up to where her head would lay, and the bag was rested at her feet. It was only in the gap between that the kukri was lain. It was there that she left it in its sheath, her eyes looking up.

Green orbs were set ablaze when the first was lit, the crescent of yellow cupping her features whilst sending others into shadow. Her head cocked to one side, her eyes following the hand that came her way and then leaned back to avoid it. But the expression largely remained the same. Barely a flicker of change whilst the body moved and the hand withdrew back. Taking up the notebook she turned to a blank page, and promptly set it down onto the floor - ready to be written in. Eyes looked up to Zandelia as she yawned, her head cocking to one side before she shuffled once more. Taking up a blanket she promptly threw it at the woman, "Wrap yourself up. Be comfier that way Madame Sleepy."

Her tone may have teased, but there was the edge that there was no room for argument on the matter. Still, she respected the wishes of the woman for now, and turned her hands down to fiddling about with the hooded lantern. Flint and steel sparked, the gentle clicking of surfaces striking each other as the oily wick was ignited. With a pleased nod, she took to setting it up securely. Orvin gave a huff, a lick on the cheek, and the firm shake after ruffle of the ears, before he slid himself away to their feet satisfied with the attention. Dipping the quill into the ink, Fallon released only a small frown of careful thought and contemplation as Zandelia continued to speak.

"Can you stop calling me 'my dear' please?" Fallon finally sighed, "It makes me feel uncomfortable." The nib scratched onto the surface of the page, a black line travelling down across it before lifting, "Lots of things. Preferably. I understand that the city cannot be taken in a day. And I understand that a direct assault would make us little more than lambs for the slaughter." She focused for a moment, her lips pursing into a line as she mouthed the word she was trying to spell - Isikai - and then continued, "I need to learn the local systems. Not be told, learn. See, hear and do. By finding it out myself it will stick more. I understand that much. Breathe the air, become part of the life blood of the city." She scratched at her head, her eyes focusing on the page and the bad attempt at spelling the ancient tongue upon it, "By doing that, other passages can be exploited outwards. Taking over trade and disrupting lines maybe. Even taking things in. People."

And then she simply released a sigh, "By having people it brings in focus... and pride I guess. And, with people more can be built and achieved. I don't know if that is right or not though." Blinking she exhaled, her eyes turning upwards to Zandelia. Uncertainty masked them, unsure on how to exactly bring it down into perspective or something that could be used, "We need people first, and with those people we need to be able to give them direction. A network. I think?"

[Zandelia]

“Very well…mistress” she sighed sadly, Bitzer was clearly in no mood for anything pretty and nice, “no more my dear. Though why it would make you uncomfortable…” she shrugged to herself as she took the blanket and wrapped it around herself as ordered, and it was an order.

Bitzer wished to plan and that was fine with Zandelia, she had wanted to do so for some time. However her shying away from physical contact reciprocated whilst being quite happy to act that way herself was interesting. Annoying but interesting and she resolved to puzzle upon it at a later time. Initial theories suggested some form of occurrence to cause such hypocritical distaste but she was too tired to argue the point at that moment. Instead she slipped into the role of advisor neatly and opted for Bitzer’s agenda.

Time enough for trivialities later she told herself gently, chiding her playful nature ad its limits.

“Madame…I have never been called a Madame before, makes me feel old” she yawned back from the comforting cocoon of the blanket.

She thought upon what Bitzer was asking of her, what she wished to know. The words were simple it seemed but in truth what she was asking for were a myriad of things. There were no fixed things within Sunberth, it was a never ending tapestry of change and deceit. Being a part of the city merely meant being a part of that change, and if you were lucky to control at least some of it. Owned businesses were controlled by the Syndicates and they were beacons of stability for the most part but even some of those changed hands on a seasonal basis. Still…a few places were good for starting. Her talk of people was more troubling to her though, people meant knowledge and knowledge was so easy to purchase.

“Well the two of us could do well enough for some things but a few more of us would be welcome, though we’d have to be careful. Trustworthiness is not a common trait in Sunberth. We could be letting in someone who might end up betraying us,” she stated simply, “unless of course you know a few trustworthy sorts already?” she asked with a sleepy tone of voice and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“But let us say that we can use these people, for sake of argument, I wouldn’t give them full access to a network. I can build you a network if you like, it will be slow and small at first of course. There are a few favours that are still owed to me. I would suggest though that the majority of information go through us first and then get shared out. If you plan to lead then you need to make others follow. They can’t be given a position of power from which they can try to usurp you”

She sighed and looked into the flames of the lantern above her, watching it dance as the ship rocked back and forth in thought.

“Thieves would be best to start with, they are so easily lured in by the promise of coin. Con-artists and dodgers are quick learners and always ready with information for a price. Lushers – prostitutes – would be second on my list as they are often overlooked for their cunning and everyone wants to have a good time now and then” she continued in a dulled voice”

“Mercenaries and slavers are out as they are strong but disloyal. You want to be able to strike first, without expectation and claim somewhere for yourselves. A business perhaps of an easily held location that you can use to build something from but will not be overly contested by the Syndicates. If you want to hurt the Daggerhands then you’re talking about killing them where you can find them rather than snatching their economy. Take their money and they’ll just hunt you down unless they feel threatened enough to hang back”

“Unless you already have an idea as to how to do it without facing massive retribution?” she asked again, she needed more of an idea as to what Bitzer was thinking to truly help her.

“I can show you how the city works, or at least how my world within it works if you like. Might not be to a warriors taste though,” she smiled at that little teasing title, “I can build you a network. Or help you to of course. If you can stand my company too”

“You were there before, I know that. How many people were interested in the Scars? How many did you recruit? What can they do? Are they even considered a threat or more a side show? Let’s start there and from the people, as you say, perhaps we can come up with a better plan than making it up as we go along” she finished, blinking her eye furiously to stay awake.

[Fallon]

Fallon cocked her head at her and spoke deadpan, "But you are old."

Her entire brow knitted together not long after that, her attention diverting down to the page before her. She dragged the nib down to form a line, her lids twitching as she nodded. Slow and steady, the gentle scratching continued, the stilled cogs clicking into life and turning. Thought begun to erupt, ideas and memories flooding back in - almost as if the veil of Sahova had finally lifted from her mind. It was the quill that moved faster, impulsive as it simply pulled the black in across the page - her line of though stretching out with it.

"There are several," she began, a scratching pull as the nib went up and pulled into a shape, "I think I could just about count the numbers using both hands. Definitely half a dozen, a couple I have worked with myself on a few... things," Her eyes lifted, staring directly upon Zandelia, "And it is those I could deal with myself." Lowering her gaze she returned to her movements, another line pulling up slowly and carefully, "They can be used, some in more ways than one. That much I have confidence in."

Brushing her chin with the quill feather, Fallon paused and thought deeply, "An information network? Lines and webs where everything connects. Humming and vibrating when plucked. I..." She paused to purse her lips, her voice dropping to a mumble, "I need to learn how to do these things. Manage, keep organised, repeat... Only good at finding things out, who to ask and what to say and see." Her thumb rubbed against her gnosis at that point, a reminder of what she was capable of; perhaps with the right objects she could do a lot more.

"The people, they don't know a lot right now. All they know is that the group is for change, they wish to see the Daggerhand dealt with and that I am a contact of the Scars," Her lips pursed into a line, "Anything else is above them. Identities, missions, who else is tied in they do not know yet. Only myself or the br-" she corrected herself, "The Hound. We made sure to remain very tight lipped about that information."

The nib clinked in the ink vial, moistening the tip before she applied it once more to the page. Another line was pulled out, forming a base of the shape before she continued up once more at an angle. Blinking she pulled out the ink to form words once more, though barely a scribble of anything legible. Fallon snorted, "I know a male harlot. He has been helpful to us so far, so using them as a source of information is not beyond my comprehension - I find the issue is getting access with them. But thieves... well if they can be brought by coin then surely the can also be out brought? T'is a risky money business."

"With mercenaries... you need to marry them to the cause, not the coin. Instil a different sense of loyalty. Those of blade when they work with others become loyal to their comrade in arms," Fallon looked Zandelia square on again, "I think I am a perfect example of that." Chewing her lip she continued her thinking, what of the others? Other people of service? "Bar tenders, builders and dock hands." She looked upon the page, the poorly drawn outline of a single tower marring it. Quickly, she moved onto the next tower, "One deals with loose lips, one will be contracted and the other sees the flow of traffic and what is to enter the city next. Or who is trying to leave."

"How are they supposed to hunt down someone who is invisible?" was the retort she gave, "A faceless shadow where no ties can be linked, no evidence left, just a name. Hound." The quill nib lifted from the page, but her eyes did not, "If there is anything I know about people, it is that they fear the unknown. If there is no trail for them to follow, no clues or lines for them to chase down, then they will tear themselves inside out trying to find it. An internal madness that devours from the core." Wiggling the quill, Fallon paused, "You start of small, feeling here and there. Testing and teasing. Break in but take nothing. And then, in one fell swoop when the strings are all in place... you pull. It is called patience."

Eyes glazed, her mind flickering through her memories. Warrior, fighter, squire, the flittering of designations and titles - all of which that sounded much more impressive than what she really saw herself as, "I'm no warrior. I told you that. I may wear the clothing of one but... Never mind." It was a useless piece of musing, her hand waving away the thought, "If I could not stand your company I would not have made that bet to begin with. Don't think I made that choice on a whim of me lacking intelligence and knowing that you could at least supplement my own. Believe it or not, it was a rather enjoyable conversation over tea - one I had yet to experience in a long while," there was a curling of the lips, the nib moving along and pulling out the shape of the third and final tower, "But yes. Assistance might be necessary, else I would be all fingers and thumbs."

And then, promptly Fallon glared. Her chin raised, the pupils growing sharp down onto her, "Never judge before you meet. Don't call them a side show." Her brow pinched, a firm point of the quill nib before it returned to being dunked in the ink vial. Scratching upon the page again she pulled out the ink into the formation of the final tower, "Some a fighters, some are sneakers, some are clever. Or more over... there is potential. With guidance it could be cultivated into something more. Then of course, there are people like you and I. Those with their heads screwed on straight and having a rough idea as to what exactly it is we're doing."

[Zandelia]

Zandelia’s head whipped around at Bitzer’s opening comment, gaze glaring daggers at the other woman and arm shooting out to throw the blanket at her – it didn’t make the distance and merely covered her feet. Not a decisive response but she didn’t care, the comment had caused a flash of wrath within her. She knew her years were passing her by but Bitzer couldn’t have known that she counted them as wasted. Zandelia knew she had all but waster her life, only now was she in a position to actually do anything about that fact. She settled down after that, listening to Bitzer’s words with arms crossed across her chest and slightly in a huff.

Petching youth and their petching ageism. I’ll show her that old isn’t necessarily crippled. One of these days I swear I’ll red her arse so bad she won’t sit down for days… the internal monologue played within her as the words flowed over her ears.

“Yes I am old, and ugly too. Thanks for not humouring me” she snorted out after Bitzer had finished her talking, “and don’t get your smallings in a twist just because I stated the truth either. I don’t need to meet them to know that they are outnumbered by the Daggerhands many times over. To Sunberth they would be a side show. Point of fact. The worth of the group is immaterial until it proves itself to the city. But potential…potential is good. We can use that” she responded, her tone a bit sharper than she had intended.

And she talks about the city as if it were alive…astute. But missing the point I think she mused as she left a moment of silence for contemplation.

"I would teach you Bitzer, if you had the mind but it is hard to do it by just talking. Intelligence isn't something you learn from a book or by words...well...most of it. You can start that way but sooner or later the only way to advance is with practical application. You want that then I'm happy to teach you. Otherwise you can leave it to me, I'll keep you in the loop. Organization though, I have never had the knack for it. I keep my knowledge in my head", she tapped her temple twice for emphasis.

“This Hound could be hunted easily enough if you knew how, we could be too. Keeping things secret is hard when there is a Syndicate dedicated entirely to ferreting them out. Misinformation will be our friend there, feeling out the people and feeding them the idea that he is gone…dead perhaps. Mask our presence until we are ready to strike. Kicking over the ant hill will only serve to garner more attention in our formative stages – that’s bad. We have to be strong when they attack us” she continued thoughtfully, fist gripping in front of her to emphasise the last point.

“But the fact that the people know little…that is good. Less known is less hated. The people control Sunberth, even the Syndicates know that. They operate with the people’s consent not the other way around as many believe. We need to be liked, to enhance our image. Everyone loves an underdog so we should exploit that. Perhaps killing some Daggershands…but make sure they are ones caught harassing the people, shop keepers perhaps. If we help the people whilst gaining our own ends then all the better”

She stopped there, she had never thought of doing things that way before but it somehow seemed right to her. The people were in control so why not exploit that? They didn’t like the Syndicates much but the Syndicates kept things organized, kept the money flowing and so were tolerated. Bit what if they were given a new Syndicate? One which fought for them as well as operating against them in terms of personal interest and control? The velvet glove of nicety coupled with the brutal fist of reality.

I like it she mused to herself.

“Stick with me and you’ll see how useful thieves and beggars can be I promise you that. We may be forming our own Syndicate but we shouldn’t narrow our focus to merely those within our fold. Using others outside is the key to success I think. Dockhands…barkeepers…yes I like that. We could exploit them fairly easily. I know Merv too – I could start there. The Trotter Trough is frequented by enough Daggerhands that we can undermine them there. Or…it was last I was there”

“I’d still be more comfortable getting an actual building for us though. Tent city isn’t secure and we can’t live there forever if we want to be respected. We need an establishment of some sort. Any ideas?

[Fallon]

There was a grin - a wicked, scheming one at that. Her eyes glinted with mischief, the lips parting to show her teeth, "Keep that scowl you'll form wrinkles quicker." She held it, devilish tones escaping from her lips; daring almost for Zandelia to react from the safety of her cocoon – which she did with the throwing of the blanket . Never the less, Fallon continued, "Besides, I'm sure with age you've matured like a fine wine. Or turn sour if you allow exposure to air."

There was a nonchalant shrug, but the smirk remained as she dipped the nib into the ink. Finishing pulling out the shape of the third tower, Fallon gave a pause, her eyes blinking as she raised the nib across the first tower. Slowly she pulled it down across the page, a slash that cut through the towers. Precise, purposeful, the nod of the head to the words. Acceptance of the offer but without a single noise. There was a pause, the nib rising across once more, slow and deliberately returning to the page. Her voice dropped to that of a mumble, her brow creasing with careful thought, ”I would like that. I… like learning. And experiencing. Hear, see and do.”

The tip of the quill tickled at her jaw, that look of careful thought and contemplation covering her features. Slow, steady, the gradual planning coming out before her. The second line had slashed its way through the towers now, a rip of black upon their badly drawn shapes, ”I will handle the organization. I need the practice. It will be useful to have in good time, if things get bigger.”

Lowering her tool, she picked up the blanket and offered it back to Zandelia to take – and should she not the fabric would have been placed across her knees regardless.

”The Hound could only be hunted if he is in Sunberth,” that wicked grin formed again, ”You ever chased a just a name?” She let the words hang for a moment, her quill being taken up and poised ready over the tower once more. Eyes burned, the lids pinching in some form of amusement – in what exactly was beyond her. ”I mean, even I know a name has a point of origin, but how long do you think it will take to chase a name? And just a name. No looks, no prints, no identity.” The final slash across came, sharp and ripping with noise. Placing down the quill she gripped the book firmly, her fingers tightly holding the page open in her grasp. Turning it over she presented it to Zandelia, an inky finger tapping twice next to it in mimic to her own, ”This. This is the mark of the Scars. Try your best to remember it.”

Withdrawing, she returned to her writing, a messy scrawl of words forming in the blank spaces. The slow nodding returned, her lips pursing into a line, ”But what is it the people want? There are multiple things, different views, and different desires.”There was a pause, her hand open in gesture, ”Unless you have some idea, I am simply going to be guessing blind on what people want. I can only make suggestions after all.”

And then a thought struck her, the words of an artist turning around in her mind, ”I… remember now. The people do not like being taken from, they want their own, they want to be able to stand up and be heard. Change. But…” There was a wince, ”I don’t know. They want to thrive, they want to not be taken from, yet will not work together to do so. They want safety, but cannot get it without a price or begs from the gangs.”

Pinching her brow, the girl left a black smear and sighed. For the experiences she could pull upon it would have been unsuitable, Sunberth was not like Syliras in any manner. There was no premade structure for them to begin with, no overruling power to fall beneath. It was segmented, broken and fractured in multiple ways. Barely organised in any form or manner. Then again, the Sunberthians do hate such things. A low hum escaped, a mumble words expressing her thoughts, ”Silently spread, gather and unify. Be the voice of the people, be… you get the idea.”

The quill nib scribbled out a word, ”No ideas on establishment. Can’t afford that sort of thing myself, or put coin into stake claiming,” she frowned, ”Curse of being vagabond I suppose, settling is hard to do and you spend more coin on resupplying for the next adventure because you don’t have enough to stop.”

[Zandelia]

“My wrinkles will remain and grow in number no matter what I do young pup and you won’t know whether I’m a fine wine unless you partake, which you won’t as you are too much a cautious trickster,” she returned will a small frown that turned to a smile as she faced Bitzer then just to see the reaction, “and you’d do well to stop teasing me on them before I red your arse like the youth that you are and no mistake” she finished, looking the woman in the eye.

Though that would be fun to do anyway she told herself privately.

She looked upon the symbol and committed it to memory, it was not overly difficult. She was good at noting things and recognition and it was a fairly simple one to recall – a castle of three parts with three slashes running through it. Those lines that cut through resembled the namesake she reasoned – Scars. She shrugged and nodded to Bitzer to assure her she had committed the symbol to memory before considering the other words that were said. Not to mention the ones that were not. It was strange to think that this force was being gathered and there was no overriding imperative for doing so, no revelation of detailed plan to follow through with. She was still sure Bitzer was lying to her on that score but she held no proof to force the issue.

Or do I? she considered, wondering whether she could tease it out by way of conversation and association.

“You talk as if these plans with me are the only ones you have made Bitzer, why have you not thought things through before? Why form the Scars with no pre-envisioned direction in mind? Oh I understand what you want to do. I agree with it up to a point,” she thought out loud, allowing the other woman to follow her thinking, “but why did you not plan out the how first?”

“No matter,” she sighed, thinking upon what to say next, “to the establishment I’d say we should take a tavern or brothel first. Those are the real hives of business and information – both tings we will need to further the cause. You can’t persuade people without coin and you can’t act without knowledge. If we are to do this we should make it as easy for ourselves as possible. Set up shop somewhere and start expanding outwards, as it were” she continued smoothly, folding her questions in with a response.

“And yes, I have chased mere names before – Lhavit, Ravok and Nyka,” she listed the cities as she counted upon her fingers, “names breed symbols and figureheads. These are easy enough to track. The Hound might not technically be with us but if you Bitzer are associated with him then he risks your safety eventually. I merely cared enough about you to point it out” she smiled then, she would enjoy the reaction to those words of unwarranted intimacy and watched Bitzer carefully.

“As to the people, well we can gain the support of some of them simply enough – though I would say we should do so personally at first to build a foundation and then blend it into the Scars as we go along. Much better for us two to gain a reputation and then use it to bolster the Scars than the other way around. People distrust new organizations easier than saviour individuals. We could do much together, you and I, without even breathing mention of the Scars”

And how this feels familiar, like we’ve sat here and talked about such things before. Why…. she mused.