A Novice Vagrant [Open]

[Victor Lark]

Only a shrug of understanding replied to the answers Reaver gave. Victor was proud of the compliment and intrigued at the idea of sewing up some flesh, but it was all he could do to keep the mask up. He was content with seeming like an acrobatic fool or a fascinated boy, but he did not want the nuit to remember him as caring. He bent down distractedly and with his free left hand picked up the bloody, sandy knife. He tried to throw it up again, but did not catch it. Perhaps it would be a good thing to do, to train his left hand.

"Was there anything in particular you were hoping to learn?"

“Not particularly,” he responded, his eyes straying over Reaver’s shoulder and to the distant city, “You would know more than I do.”

Without unwrapping the stitched gauze on his arm, he stood temporarily akimbo. When the doctor mentioned supplies and sparing them, Lark realized that he had no material with which to use his newfound skills. He considered a few methods of manipulation and artifice, but he ultimately recognized that, in getting to know Reaver, his best method would be the straightforward one. What personality he had would respond better to straightforward truth than any act the prankster could put on. So he asked, “You have plenty of those threads and bandages and alcohols, I bet. What would you think of lending some to a traveller who could use them?”

[Reaver]

Reaver looked to Victor, and thought of his hurried nature. He sighed, as much as he wanted to help, he remembered his own situation always came first. "Lending, not the right word. The thread is cheap enough, I can spare a length. The needle is annoying to replace, so get your own. Anywhere you can buy thread would do. I could show you where to buy some gauze, they tend not to ask me questions anymore. If money is tight, any cloth that holds together would work. Just remember to clean where it touches the wound. Your shirt would do fine if torn up, for example. The alcohol is a touch expensive for me, however. I can rarely get it on my, less then steady income. Clean water would work well in it's place, I just like having an extra edge to help insure my income happens. And consider some medicine, for when it is your inside giving trouble instead of your outside."

Reaver went back twords the boat. He started putting his armor back on. "I'll assume that question means I'm done falling then. If you can get me some income, I could get you the supplies. A steady job once in a while could be nice. I doubt you'll stay around long enough to give me anything that useful. You can keep what I've used on you, minus the needle. If you are in dire need, I could also get you a book of mine on what is inside that body of yours. It might help if one of your bones is out of place, or worse. It might take me a day or two to copy over, however. I'll charge you for the ink and paper used. I'm sure you understand."

[Victor Lark]

As Reaver explained his refusal, the disappointed human frowned and turned to take the few steps toward his trunk. He only half listened to the various suggestions as he grabbed its handle, angry at himself for not thinking of a cleverer means of getting his way. When he looked up at the nuit, he found him preparing his things to leave as well. He stepped forward, toward the shore.

“We don’t have to be finished,” he replied politely even as his stomach growled again. He dropped the box again to show that he was not kidding, but his posture intentionally suggested his disinterest. “But all I could tell you is to practice. My art is not quite as critical or complicated as yours.”

His expression brightened a little when he heard what he could keep, and he immediately began picking at the stitches so that he could put away his latest prize. “I don’t want your book,” he mentioned, letting the offense slip in his haste, “but I’ll buy your needle, if you need income so badly. And your alcohol, if you’ve any to spare. I’d like to be out soon, you see. You could buy your replacements later and I can be on my way!”

He had already dug himself a hole of honesty, but at least he was rather good at detecting what a person wanted—and paying however he liked for the things he thought he needed.

[Reaver]

Reaver thought of the arguments presented before him. "I suppose such an agreement isn't unheard of. The needle, not much. 5, maybe 6 silver. The wine... tough. I've got this rather recently, and it cost me a good deal. We'll say, 8 gold? Get a container, and we could shift the price accordingly. I tend not to carry extra around."

OOCBottle is missing... what I've used in this thread, actually. The needle is rather worn, but otherwise useful, as he does clean it. Reaver rarely applies alcohol to his patients wounds, unless he thinks they actually intend to pay him.

[Victor Lark]

Victor considered the price seriously, his face flat. He had bought his share of valuable liquors, but that did not mean he wanted to pay fairly. He shrugged and replied, “All I have is my waterskin, and it’s for water.” He leaned to the side to look at the boat’s supplies and pointed to the bottle of alcohol in question. “It seems to me you’ve used some of it. Looks like there’s... five gold mizas left in it? And—” He realized he had no idea how much the needle was worth, but he could not tell Reaver that.

So he summarized his pause with an invented number. “And I could give you two silvers for the needle. Three if you cut me out of my own stitches!” There he offered his arm to the doctor one last time, smiling as he eyed the skinning knife.

[Reaver]

Reaver finished donning his armor. He thought of the offers, but not for very long. "Those prices, were not to be negotiated. Perhaps, you could find better in town then, yes? They are more apt to haggling then I. You could consider another form of payment, or we could part ways then. I suspect you have no reason to return to town then." During his talk, he donned his medical bag, then cloak over that. He donned his mask with one final veiled warning, no-longer attempting to hide his distaste. "For your sake, I hope Kelwyn is around to guide you." He took one more look to Victor, in hopes that the warning didn't go un-noticed like his last.

[Victor Lark]

Victor thought of frowning, but he was too glad to see some semblance of a sentiment in Reaver’s expression just as the mask covered it for good. He did not much care what this man thought of him, who still seemed a stranger after their morning together, but he was thrilled to see that an opinion existed. With his secondary request ignored, the novice doctor used his own knife to cut the long end of the thread, then tugged on the needle end when it seemed loose enough. “I hope so, too!” He replied, riding the wave of annoyance.

His smile did not falter as he wiped the blade on his leg and crouched to open his trunk. “Well, I cannot pay for more product than you’re giving me. How about eight, for both,” he rose again with shining coins where his knife had been, “to make up for the liquor I’ll lose?”

He stepped up to Reaver, offering the money in one hand and the needle in the other, eyebrows raised in happy proposition.

[Reaver]

Reaver will watch the conflicting emotions of the one before him amused. This time, a much better offer. "I suppose that's much closer to my offer. Half a golden Miza off, a much better attempt. I'll take you up on this particular offer. I'm still losing out, but your survival might work a touch better for it. Kelwyn aren't the only ones hoping to see fools survive, I suppose." Reaver walks over, with his drink this time. He offers his hands out, one gripped tight, the other open and waiting for payment.

OOCI'll edit if need be.

With the transaction completed, Reaver took to his boat, taking some time to push it back into the water. "Well then, I hope to hear of your tales in another city then. If news can travel all the way back here, you're obviously doing well." Reaver hoped he sounded sincere, he didn't want to take the chance on making enemies in other cities before he had a chance to arrive.

[Victor Lark]

Victor made the exchange with a diplomatic grin, dissatisfied with the price but nonetheless happy with the trade. He looked through the bottle at the sun for a moment, as if he were inspecting it, then turned to his trunk and deposited it there. He reached to finally unravel the gauze, but paused once more so that he could regard Reaver as he left.

A peculiarly graceful nod accepted his well wishes. The boat scraped against the sand and sloshed through the water. If the wise nuit were to look back at the foolish boy, he would have seen him bent into a ridiculously deep bow, one leg crossed over the other and arms splayed wide in mocking graciousness. The bandages hung from his forearm and the needle danced in the lakeside breeze on the end of the thread between his fingers. He waited until the boat was sufficiently far before he stood straight, packed up the rest, and skirted the shore, walking west.

[Reaver]

Reaver looked back before getting in the boat, only to see his bow done without the flowing cape or strange attire. He couldn't hold back, Reaver let out a nice chuckle. He followed the display with his own bow, as over-dramatic as the first. He gave the boat one final shove before hopping onto the side, climbing in as it left. He waved goodbye, and set his sights to the city. Reaver hoped that Victor would not actually need Kelwyn's aid.