[Bizzare] Behind Schedule? {Derric ~ Mia}

[Sesha]

Timestamp: 35th of Winter A plume of smoke hovered surreptitiously beneath the overhang Sesha had been standing under for nearly a bell. She breathed in the charred flavour as it was funnelled between her lips through the elegant pipe obtained only this morning from a patron of The Withering Rose. She wore a heavy black cloak, with the hood pushed back to reveal a blossoming bouquet of flesh and color. A brilliant white flower sat nested in mahogany curls, which further went on to frame her dismal expression. It should be here by now, she moaned inside her own head. The Bizzare was not usually this finicky, and she’d spent the better part of her afternoon searching for it. Ionu’s clever illusion, rain from a cloudless sky, proved a vexing obstacle for the pickpocket, who had spent the better part of her morning perfecting her appearance. As illusory as the divine downpour was, it still chilled her to the bones and would surely soak her neatly arranged garb beyond repair. Suddenly it was there. She had only blinked and the vast entrance appeared as if on cue. Now, if only this rain would stop, Sesha prayed, taking a chance that Ionu had heard her earlier monologue. He didn’t. A peal thunder and swelling deluge soaked the streets further, causing a veritable bubbling brook over the cobblestones. “Fine!” she called out to no one, righting her hood and hiking her skirts up above the ankles. She sprinted for the opening, splashing pedestrians as she went. Screeching when a deceptively deep puddle soaked her stocking to the knee, Sesha passed through the gate to the Bizzare in a huff. Hawkers and buyers alike skirted the sopping walk about her feet; staring only briefly should something similar befall them. Sesha pivoted gracefully at the hushed sounds behind her. “Perfect,” she mused, observing the painfully dry path she’d taken. She bowed artfully for the presence of Ionu, unclasping the cloak and flinging droplets away in one quick motion. Looping the sodden garment through the hoop of her oversized purse, Sesha returned her gaze to the Bizzare as if nothing had happened, her oddly darkened footsteps telling a different story. Time to work.

[Derric]

Derric looked around, his eyes widening with each and every new oddity that he glimpsed. Countless rare and unusual trinkets lined the walls of the numerous shops, seeming to easily overshadow The Great Bazaar of Syliras. Despite having been in the city for about two weeks, this was the performers first, true foray into the magnificent Bizzare. And, similarly to most other aspects of the city, just when he thought things couldn't possible get more amazing, they did. He'd been in the Bizzare for the past two or three bells, though his pockets were as full as they'd been when he had arrived. The man's usual tendency to waste whatever money he made on useless things was overpowered by the sheer variety of items available for purchase. Back in Syliras, the first thing he saw had a habit of being the only thing worth buying. Yet, in the city of illusions, Derric was hesitant to make too quick of a decision in fear that he'd find something even more spectacular just around the corner. Captivated by everything he saw in the shops, Derric's attention was focused away from the people surrounding him as he walked. While the performer was aware enough to avoid most of the pedestrians, there came a point were his head was completely turned, having been drawn towards a particular item of interest. Then, regardless of how cliché it may seem, he collided with another being. It was nothing extreme; the event not much worse than a casual brush. However, it was with enough force that Derric's head immediately snapped towards the victim. "Oh, sorry about that," he said, maintaining a smooth sincerity as he looked into the eyes of Sesha. "Guess I may have gotten a little too encompassed in the excitement of this place." The man managed a simple laugh, and offered hardly more than a few seconds for her to respond before he began to turn and continue walking. Unconsciously, his hand momentarily slipped into his back pocket to brush against the mizas that it contained. He was, having come from relative poverty, completely unaware that such a simple action could possibly attract any attention whatsoever.

[Sesha]

“Of course,” Sesha said with a smile, penetrating eyes holding his while she palmed her quarry’s Mizas. “The fault is all mine,” she added with a graceful nod and hint of regret. Only after he’d returned to his original direction did she begin to move, turning bristly to the left and between a pair of stalls. The game had begun, at least in her mind. No good thief lingered more than was necessary, and she wanted to be far from this mark. Foreigners were often unpredictable when it came to their gold. She moved silently, swiftly, never staying still for too long. An unattended cart of silks provided her a chance at disguising her hair, the turquois scarf quickly concealing her dark curls and her distinct bare shoulders. A nearby stairway brought her to the second level, where she dodged pedestrians and pilfered a few more pockets, less rewarding than the first. She tossed a copper Miza in the direction of a vendor selling skewered pork bits and disappeared into an alleyway. Once she had alighted on the stooped rear exit of an obscure shop, Sesha lit the pipe and gingerly sucked ribbons of meat from her afternoon meal. The haze of smoke suddenly calmed her, and a smile came to her salted lips. Gripping the pipe between her teeth, Sesha reached into her pocketed skirts and eyed seven gold Mizas, along with a smattering of silvers and coppers from the other milling customers. She chuckled softly to herself, a real boon for her first of the day. I could take the evening off, she thought returning the coins to their rightful place. Another gentle laugh created a cloud of sweet smoke in which she privately finished the pork, dabbing her lips on the scarf and cinching it about her neck with one hand. She rose to her slippered feet and took stock of them for the first time since her arrival in the Bizzare. They were still soaking wet. A trail of reversed footsteps glistened in the ethereal light, leading directly to her hideaway. A look of dismay overcame her features, the earlier calm giving way to dread.

[Dramiana Rosenthal]

...but she was a thing of a different notion, trammeled and dangerous, wildly raging behind dim appearances and amethyst eyes. Small of frame and soft of voice, hardly anyone would take a girl of such stature seriously. She looked disturbed, troubled, and bored all at once, laboriously toiling to hold in her general disdain for interaction of any kind. The rain soaked to the bone, she not minding in the least. It was a fantastic accessory to a drab demeanor. Upon eyeing the little clash Sesha had exchanged with Derric, the girl’s whole body sneered (if you can imagine the dreadful recoiling of a snake mixed with the flexibility of a feline, you’ve gotten it) at the sloppy display. It was a tacky way to carry out a robbery, but Alvadas may have operated on old tricks being the best tricks. “Women,” she thought. “ They are the worst; lascivious caricatures of femininity long skewed by society and manipulation. Relying on wiles and physicality over intellect, pshaw, they whine and squeal at the slightest trifle of inconvenience.” “ Innate inanity…” the words were soft and audible, but no one heard them save for herself. Were it not so conspicuous to laugh, Dra-Miana might've. But in all honesty, it was Derric’s frock that pulled her eye. She had not seen such a well-tailored coat before, and she admired it with great jealousy. A shrewd, but monotone look was given him despite her being perpendicular to his parallel. Daring not to go near him out of an inner sense of etiquette, she leaned against one of the supports for a kiosk in the bizarre and opened her great grimoire out of a need to preoccupy her staring instead. The clatter of chains was noisy – all the more because of the rain and the dank, heavy sloshing of her once fluttering garments. With a subtle lean, the tome opened to a page that simply read: “Articles of clothing can never be indecent. A person, however, is another matter…” The young erudite sulked; could they not be trusted?

[Derric]

It hardly took him a chime to realize what had happened. "Shyke..." Derric muttered under his breath as he reached his hand into his pocket to find that it was considerably lacking in mizas. With a quick spin, he saw that the thief had long since begun to run away, but the man was quick to notice her major mistake. Her shoes must've been wet, for a trail of footprints led in the direction that the pickpocket seemed to have ran. The performer, nearly tripped over himself, began to sprint using the footprints as a guide. He probably looked like a fool, nearly knocking people over as he ran through the crowds. His earlier focus on the many stalls and shops had greatly waned, in its place was Sesha, who held his full attention. As he careened around the latest in a series of seemingly unending corners, Derric spotted the turquoise scarf. Recognizing the item as belonging to the thief, the man yelled out to her. "You! Stop there!". Alas, his voice must have been lost in the sea of people, all of whom seemed to be shouting just to hear each other, for the thief seemed to not have heard him. The trail began to become smudged and weakened as more people stepped over it, but the performer could just make the footprints out. His sprint had become more of a steady jog, but he was still quick enough to spot the pickpocket as she finished her pork. "Well, hello there," he said as he neared her, speaking more to himself than anybody in particular. By this point, Derric was well within earshot of Sesha, and she must have heard him even though he was panting similarly to a dog. "I believe you have something that belongs to me?" With one hand, he reached into his pocket and tightened his fingers around a cheap, dull eating knife. While it obviously wouldn't do anything against a real weapon, it was all he had.

[Sesha]

Sesha eyed the foreigner with a look of disdain, more disappointed in her own stupidity than this man’s obvious desire to collect his stolen Mizas. She’d long since abandoned the skewer to the cobbles and her skirts would make sparring difficult, but she felt confident in her strengths nonetheless. One did not grow up on the streets of Alvadas without learning a clever trick or two. “I suppose I do,” Sesha sighed, her expression melting into one of embarrassed defeat. She walked towards him, her coloured skirts swishing with her hips and a swirl of smoke trailing her. Coming up just short of his immediate reach, confidence radiated from her eyes and overall bearing. This was her city, and she was protected within its walls. “I wonder, however, if that toy in your pocket could do me any real harm?” It was a bluff, but so was the other’s hesitance to reveal his weapon. “I’m not much of a fighter,” she lied, “and I’ve got a lot of work to do today. So if you’ll kindly remove yourself from my path, we can both be on our way.” Her lashes fluttered innocently, but her tone of voice had become hard. It was a warning. “Unless you would have me scream for help? I dare say that you have the upper hand in this case. Though my being a resident of this city and your unfortunate lack of evidence weigh heavily in my favour.” Her eyes had become ice, and her fists clenched. “Help me,” she breathed softly, a guarded smile blooming. “This brute is trying to rape me.” She prayed that some illusion would occur unexpectedly and free her from this bind. Sadly, Ionu’s will was never so direct.

[Derric]

Derric Derric eyed the woman angrily. "You wouldn't dare..." But the words were weak, lacking in certainty and power. He saw her point; there was little he could do to harm her without getting in trouble himself. Yet, at the very least, he could attempt to void her threat. The man took a single stride back, lifting his hands so they were about equal to his stomach in a gesture that seemed to say, "I don't want any trouble, I'm not going to touch you." "Listen," Derric said, working hard to seem confident, "I don't want any more trouble than necessary. Just hand over my money, and I'll leave." Then, not without the slightest chuckle, he added, "Besides, where's your evidence?" Still unsatisfied with the strength of his response, he took a final precaution. Bending down the slightest bit, Derric tensed his legs. Should the man see that the pickpocket was about to carry out her threat and scream for help, he would pounce into action. He hoped he could move with the speed required to clamp the thief's mouth shut and intercept the shout. The plan wasn't a good one, but it was all he could think of. So, with those thoughts he grew silent and waited for a response.

[Sesha]

Sesha’s demeanour became one of bored frustration. Obviously this man would be more trouble than his Mizas were worth, regardless of his insecurities within the walls of Alvadas. She considered him for a moment, blowing a plume of smoke in his general direction. They were at an impasse, and that allowed her whatever time she needed to drink this man in before parting ways. He was a giant of a fellow, if somewhat gangly looking and unbearably polite. She couldn’t guess at his lineage but assumed he must be from far to the East given his accent. It was clear that he wouldn't back off without some kind of confrontation, however, and that made Sesha nervous. Her regal disposition, did not belie this fact, but it did bring a frown to her face. “Fine,” she nearly hissed. Slowly reaching into her pocket and plucking the gold Mizas from their resting place. One… two… three… four… five… six… seven. The coins chimed drearily as they plunked, one by one, to the cobbles at her feet. “You have your gold. It is of little consequence to me that some other sinister plot shall surely wrest them from your grip. You should have just left them in my care and saved yourself some trouble.” She smiled sweetly. “May Ionu watch over you, dear sweet boy.” She stepped aside, the coins visible, though it would take some time to collect them all; just enough for her to escape to a less conspicuous quarter of the city. It was a shame, really. She flashed the coins one last regrettable look, and then returned her eyes to the man, hoping that he would keep his end of the bargain. If not, things would get much more complicated.

[Dramiana Rosenthal]

The girl had stalked them silently, moving with an unusually fluid grace that Symanestra often possessed but with an awkward bulkiness that balanced her equilibrium for the worse. Normally, the long chain had a habit of ensnaring crowds in their links, but Derric was such a boisterously clumsy fellow that most of the denizens had parted behind him just to avoid his stumbling after the assailant. Unfortunately, Dra-Miana was quite slow, for long chains are heavy burdens and troublesome while keeping pace. It was because of this that only after Sesha had already dropped her coins in apology did the normally reserved summoner begin her unusually flamboyant encounter: “Pardon me, Sir,” there was a cordial chime below Derric, faint of nature. But the strangest thing that had happened by far was that Sesha would find a large, antiquated, heavy, open book shoved into her face. It had intended to stifle her ability to shout, no doubt. What was also tremendously odd was the curious way in which the girl had approached. Her chains seemed too heavy for her and were slowly dangling off of her shoulder and arm as she walked around and in front of Sesha admiring the street performer’s coat. While he was examined, the chain fell in subtle increments. What was queerer still was that Mia had let go of the book after making the motion to shove it in the thief’s face (similar to the motion of shoving a pie into someone’s face) leaving the vagrant with two options: she could either go to grab it or she could let the heavy tome fall on her delicate toes. “Your garb is remarkable. Surely, you will show me where I can attain it?” continued she, circumventing Derric as her chain kept falling. Trying her best to adjust it, it became cumbersome and taught the more it was fiddled with. Once more, she had neither pockets nor coin purse – only ill manners.

[Derric]

Derric Derric's eyes widened out of confusion. Sesha had handed over the Mizas all too easily, and the action had caught him off guard. His mouth was slightly opened too, and overall he looked rather stupid. However, the magician was quick to realize how he must have seemed to another person and quickly worked to regain his earlier collectedness. Satisfied, Derric bent to retrieve the stolen money, only to be interrupted by a another woman as he attempted to do so. The performer jumped back in order to avoid a collision, and in doing so left the gold mizas on the ground. It was almost as though they mocked him from the floor; even after he'd come so close, there was yet another obstacle to overcome before he'd be able to reclaim the coins. "Excuse me," he said, his tone more than hinted at his displeasure. Yet, the words seemed to mean nothing to the ill-mannered Symenestra and she simply continued with a question that seemed to match her manners. "These?" Derric said, motioning to his clothes as he took a step back to increase his distance from the stranger. "I don't know, the Syliras Bazaar, I suppose. Hey, who are you anyway?" The woman seemed to remind him of another Symenestra that he'd met earlier that season. But this one seemed to be far more intrusive, and a tad less insane. On the other hand, it could of just been the woman's race, in which case Derric felt the slightest bit of guilt for connecting to two in that manner. However, it could have also been that they both freaked him out, and the man wondered if that was a quality that all Symenestra shared. Of course, that was a question that was probably better left unasked.