Poisonous Affairs [Noven]

by **Sherashadiss** on December 15th, 2014, 7:23 am

Date: Day 50, Winter, 514 AV
Location: The Pig’s Foot Tavern

It was far too cold for the poison-crafter, in fact she had been half tempted to hibernate during the winter. For it would have been a much easier task, rather than have to battle a constant want to simply sleep the winter away. A yawn parted her lips as she pulled her black coat closer to her hunched over form while she tried to keep what little warmth she had left, close. The hood of her coat was pulled tightly over her head, covering her short grey hair, streaked with black and it also shadowed her crimson gaze. Her booted feet pushed through the snow that had long since begun to fall a long time ago and not for the first time that day, did she curse the white powder. Why did it have to fall? Why did the season winter, even have to exist? It was pointless really and she hoped that one day, someone would design something, or a god would give some person a power that would keep winter away. Hell, Shadiss would be happy if winter would just stay away for at least one cycle of the seasons. Let it just have longer falls and springs. However, she realized that not everything would go her way, even if she did craft poisons. Threatening a snow cloud with poison, just wouldn’t make it go away, she had tried it.

A simple sigh fell across her lips as her crimson gaze focussed upon the white powder upon the ground, her feet pushing through it with a sluggish motion. Ever since the temperatures had dropped, she had become slow and very tired. This led to her being very unpredictable, she could be very temperamental and impatient sometimes and at other times she could just simply be very depressed and feel like shyke. The woman most definitely felt like shyke at the moment, for it felt like every part of her body was cold, as if it had been frozen. An ice bock, her limbs felt like an ice block and it really annoyed her. Never would she feel warmth until spring came around, or until she made it to the Pig’s Foot Tavern, where she would order for something nice and warm. Something that would hopefully warm her from the inside out. However, as she pushed her slow way through the snow, a snowball went sailing through the way, and smacked her right in the back.

The event made the woman pause within her steps and grit her teeth for someone had just smacked her with a ball of winter. She angled her head slightly to the right as a sing song voice sang from a small distance away from her. ”I got the old woman! I got the old woman!” The children laughed as they continued on with their words, ”Looks like she forgot her walking stick!” Called out another and the Viper huffed as she pulled her coat closer to her and finally made her way into the Pig’s Foot Tavern. It was much warmer within this room and her mood improved somewhat, but she could still feel that snowball upon her back and she lifted a gloved hand to brush the white powder away. Slowly, she made her way towards the bar, settling herself down upon a stool as Merv made his way over towards her. ”What would it be?” The man asked as she brushed back the hood of her coat so then her unusual features could be seen by those surrounding her. Sometimes she attracted looks from people, but other times people rarely noticed her. This was one of those times that people noticed her, too engrossed in their own winter stories. Merv came back with a mug that most definitely seemed warm, for steam gently rose from the top of the liquid and he placed it upon the bar counter. ”Here a warm, berry cider, it is most definitely one of the most popular beverages at the moment.” The Viper managed a small smile and paid for it, her cold, gloved fingers sliding around the warmth of the mug.

by **Noven** on December 16th, 2014, 5:12 am

The cook stewed in regret as he stood before the backdoors of Sunset Orphanage's kitchens. He could feel the cold seeping in through various cracks between old, cheap planks, worming in like icy fingers trying to pry their way inside, itching to steal someone else's hard earned warmth. Had it not been for the naturally stifling conditions of the kitchens, none of the staff would have come willingly to work. They'd have gladly preferred the warmth of their own hearths. Doors barred, windows covered with sheets, and fire crackling merrily with a cup of hot tea in their hands.

That sounded nice. Nov wished he could remember what that felt like.

Sadly, he didn't. Because the general rule of thumb was that, if one wished to sit by a warm hearth, one needed to actually start a fire inside of it. And in order to achieve that one had to be physically present to do so.

Noven was almost never inside of his apartments. Not anymore, not after the doctor's disappearance. He kept himself busy as often as possible, no longer grumbling over his increasingly less part-time shifts, and going so far as to check in now and then on the few he could call friends. Most of the time he just passed by a window or favorite leisure spot. A simple matter of making sure they hadn't up and disappeared into a puff of smoke, too. He even stopped by the Pig's Foot occasionally to watch Caela dance, though the sight of all those men jeering at her tended to drive him back out of the raucous tavern within chimes.

It was more for the sake of Merv's business and reputation that he chose to leave quietly than anything else; Nov found his life now held alarmingly few things that kept him civil. As civil as a Sunberthian could be, anyway.

Because, while others had friends and loved ones--wives, husbands, parents, children--to wait patiently by the hearth, keeping the flames alive until everyone came home, Noven had no one. Nobody waiting for him by the fireside if he returned, and nothing to keep him there when he did. His apartment was as cold and barren as the man himself felt. It served better as a storage unit than a home.

Not that it made a lick of difference to the mercenary. Maybe the change of scenery during his stay in Sahova had done him so good after all. There was only so much living amongst walking, talking corpses one could take before questioning existence itself altogether. I mean, not even my situation's that bad, he had admitted to himself one night as he tried to fall asleep inside of his eerie, closet-sized quarters back on the island. At least I can still eat, drink, and petch. Those poor sods...what do they even do? How do they live with themselves?

Course, Nov wasn't stupid enough to repeat his questions out loud. But working with Nuits did give him some new perspectives to chew over. Which had led him to this very moment, standing with indecision weighing heavily on his shoulders as Winter blazed on outside.

"Screw it," the cook muttered to himself, "I asked for the night off and the boss lady actually gave it to me, for once. No point in wasting it."

And with that he pushed through the door to be met with an onslaught of freezing air. Slamming it shut behind him, Nov stuffed his hands into his pockets and wasted no time. His boots left large dimples across the fresh, powdery snow as he trekked toward Pig's Foot, shoulders hunched forward to better defend against the biting cold. Once his rust colored eyes locked onto the right direction he made a beeline for the tavern and was prepared to stop for nothing.

At some point, however, a loud thud! and ensuing lilt of children's voices drew his attention away from his destination. Some ne'er-do-wells had thrown a snowball at an old woman. They were laughing and mocking her now, shouting something about her forgetting her walking stick. Huffing, their grey-haired victim merely pulled her coat closer and plowed on, walking right into the Pig's Foot without so much as a backwards glance.

Noven observed it all with far less of an inclination towards mercy. He dealt with unruly children every day; letting even just one of them get away with a rotten deed went against his moral code, ambiguously greyish as that code was.

Without a shred of hesitance, the cook bent down and began gathering snow with his gloved hands. Two chimes later he had an icy ball about the size of a melon cradled in his arms as he approached the rambunctious children. Still laughing and shouting at one another, neither heard Nov's approach until it was far, far too late.

They took one look at the mammoth sized snowball held high above his head and screamed. The sound was loud enough to draw the attention of Merv's customers inside Pig's Foot, causing several of them to peer out the windows in surprise. Anyone who did at that moment would have witnessed two children, a girl and a boy, staring up from their small, bundled forms at a man wielding the biggest snowball this side of Sunberth had ever seen. They would have then watched the children turn tail to run, still shrieking in naked fear. But their attacker was stronger than they were speedy, not to mention the innate difficulty in running through powdered ice, and hurled the melon-sized snowball straight at their retreating backs.

The missile was large enough that it knocked both children face first into the snow upon impact. White chunks of ice exploded in every direction.

For a moment, all was silent. Then Nov walked up to his fallen targets, not even winded, and said, "Oy, runts. What's wrong? Can't take a dose of your own medicine? Or are you two done with picking on old ladies. Not a good feeling to have stuff thrown at you, little shykes that you are, innit?"

The children got up wobbily to their feet and nodded in terror. "W-we're sorry!" the boy stammered, wiping snow feverishly from his wan little face. "We won't do it again!" his compatriot chimed in. Then they ran off and disappeared down the street, leaving the cook to stand here by himself, a faintly smug expression spreading across his features.

Back inside of the tavern, most of the adults snorted with laughter as they returned to their chatter and merriment, the ruckus outside having been nothing more than a momentary distraction. Everything had returned to normal by the time Nov ducked in through the doors, stomping snow from his boots as his gaze met that of Merv's. The barkeep signaled there was an empty seat by the bar and Nov strode over with a nod of gratitude. "Just the usual," he answered the unspoken question upon taking his seat. "Petching cold out there."

Coin and a steaming mug of berry cider were exchanged within ticks, and the merc wrapped his damp gloves around the drink with a sigh of contentment. He had just raised the mug for a hearty gulp when Nov caught sight of the grey haired figure beside him and nearly choked on his cider.

He thought at first it was the granny who had taken a snowball to the back, but she wasn't old. Not in the slightest. Plus, she had unusual, crimson eyes that seemed that glittered in stark contrast to her pale skin.

Bloody hell, he had just called some foreign lass an old lady in front of all of Pig's Foot, and now he was sitting down right next to her, sputtering through his cider like some kind of asshat imbecile. "Shit," Noven blurted as he set down the mug and wiped his chin with his coat sleeve. "I mean...uh..."

He did his best to school his face into an expression of absolute nonchalance. The cook cleared his throat and muttered something along the lines of, "Kids these days, no respect."

Then he took another long draught of berry cider and avoided all eye contact.

by **Sherashadiss** on December 23rd, 2014, 10:03 pm

The Pig’s Foot never changed, at least not to Shadiss, for every time that she did visit, it was just as loud as it usually was. People moved in and around tables and chairs with drinks in hand. Women peered up at men from underneath their eyelashes and flirted their way into the beds of those that seemed worthy of their time. Shadiss, however, had no interest in such things at the moment. For the only thing that held her current attention, was the warm berry cider that her gloved hands were wrapped around. It tasted like heaven and gave her a warmth that she had been seeking ever since the snows began to fall. A warmth that seemed to be as rare as some plants were, which was both of an annoyance to the poison-crafter. Suddenly, a sound was drawing most of the tavern’s occupant’s attention, a sound that could only be described as screams. The woman lifted the warm drink to her lips as she too turned her attention to the window, a small flare of hope welling within her as she hoped that someone was being killed. Instead, what she saw, made the mug that she had lifted pause within the air, as her crimson eyes settled upon a man towering over two children. The pair were kids that she recognized as the two trouble-makers that had tossed the snowball at her.

A brow lifted when the man began to talk, especially when he had mentioned the small fact about snowballs and old ladies. Is he punishing the children for throwing a snowball at me? She silently questioned and a slow smirk slipped onto her lips. If only that he knew that she wasn’t old. Well, to some she might be considered old, but within the dhani race, she was still considered to be a young adult. As the children turned away, she returned back to her drink, taking a blissful mouthful of warm liquid. The door opened to allow another patron into the tavern and she rested her elbows upon the counter of the bar in front of her so then the lip of the mug rested just in front of her lips. The man’s voice that had been heard from outside of the tavern, suddenly reached her hearing and it was much closer as he settled down beside her. She angled her head so then her gaze could drift over the figure of the man that was now choking on his drink. Silently, she listened as he attempted to back track while she continued to glance over the man. The man was well-built and she had to admit, he looked strong, built to fight and survive the streets of Sunberth.

Finally, Viper turned her gaze from the sight of the brown locks that was now hiding the rust-coloured eyes from her view, a soft chuckle upon her lips. A chuckle that she didn’t think could even happen during winter, for most of her amusement had been sucked out by the cold. ”I’m sure that their ssswift punissshment would have been found, sssooner or later.” She lifted the mug to her lips to sip the warm beverage, her crimson gaze peering just over the lip of the mug as she swallowed before she spoke once again. ”Faccce-down dead. Sssuch isss the way of Sssunberth.” She pressed her lips tightly together as one corner turned upwards in a lopsided smirk. Indeed, she might be handicapped by the cold, but she could still poison those that annoyed her. Gently she placed the mug down upon the bar and held a hand out to the man for him to shake, her crimson gaze focusing upon the man’s face. Her eyes held a silent challenge within them, for she was quite aware that the man had been unsettled when he had learned that she was indeed not an old lady. ”The name isss Viper.”

by **Noven** on January 2nd, 2015, 6:02 am

Nov didn't usually enjoy sweet food or drink, but berry cider was in season. And it beat having to guzzle down that dish water passing for ale. Make no mistake, ale served its purpose well enough when the occasion called for it. But gods did it taste like the backend of a--

The old woman who was not an old woman was talking. She had a strange lisp to her words, the sound reminding him of the hiss of smoke when kitchen fires were doused. Had Noven been less ignorant of the myriad races that walked the face of Mizahar he might have put two and two together. Alas, he'd never set foot outside of The Berth, and all he knew about the notorious Dhani were that they were giant, man eating snakes. None of my business unless one of them mistakes me for dinner, was Nov's personal opinion on the matter.

But to him, for the time being, the grey haired lass was just one more eccentricity in a city of misfits. She seemed at least to have a sense of humor, albeit a rather macabre one. Nov found her statement true enough. Joke or no joke, people of all ages, sizes, and races ended up face down dead every day of the season. Poor, rich, strong, weak--didn't matter, even the best would find themselves done in eventually. Not even Robern had been immune. And when it came to children...

He worked in an orphanage. The cook knew their odds better than most.

Amidst the brief silence that followed, he could see he was being appraised. Nov endured it without a second thought; 'twas the norm in the slums. Even when someone wasn't trying to directly petch, rob, or murder you, sizing a person up was necessary. Instinctual, even, in the face of survival. For fighting, for fleeing, for just about anything that pertained to life in Sunberth. But, before he could return the favor, the young woman was holding out her hand and offering a name. Viper.

Noven stared at the extended hand for a tick. Then he wiped his mouth against the arm that held his mug and returned the gesture with his other. Unflinching, their hands clasped firmly. There wasn't much in terms of warmth or friendliness in his gaze; the bitter hole that the doctor had left in her wake was still as vacant and cold as the first day it'd been formed. But he could still respect honest manners, and he knew, however deep down inside, that this sort of normal, non-violence inducing interaction was crucial for maintaining one's sanity. It just wasn't the kind of thing he usually thought to seek out in his spare time.

"Noven," the merc answered soberly. The cider was like warm amber in his belly, but it would take more than a pint to get him anywhere near forgetful oblivion.

A subtle challenge written in her bold gaze, Viper struck Nov as everything her namesake entailed. Keen, deceptive in appearance, and probably not afraid to bite. Though, yet again, his thick skull proved thicker still. It seemed only a coincidence to the man. Plenty of youths and mobsters liked to parade out on the streets, boasting fiercesome or deadly nicknames. Maybe this Viper was a gang member herself. Maybe she wasn't, and then hopefully Nov wasn't getting himself into a whole lot of trouble just by talking to her.

"So, Viper," the cook initiated, finding himself willing to meet the lass's challenge. He held her gaze for a tick longer before turning back to stare at the swirling contents of his mug. Nov wasn't exactly deft when it came to small talk, but it would look plain cowardly if he turned tail now. Especially after making such a glaring mistake. "I take it you're not from around these parts...how's The Berth been treating you?"

He nudged a thumb back over his shoulder. "Aside from having to deal with the local brats, 'o course."

by **Elias Caldera** on April 22nd, 2015, 4:23 am

Behold, Your Just Reward!

Noven

Experience and Lore :

Miscellaneous :

Comments :

Don't Forget

Now that your thread is graded, be sure to edit your grade request. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to send me a private message and we'll work it out together.

Closed Poisonous Affairs [Noven]