The woman - who should have been grateful that she stood up for her - was looking at the group with an expression that said she'd be thankful if they'd all sink into the ground where they stood. It threw Jester off balance, leaving her staring stupidly as her righteous fury vanished. And then, suddenly, there was a tantalizing offer of breakfast, because apparently her son had started all of the trouble, the woman smiling easily like she hadn't just been trying to stab them with her eyes.
Then the pale young man on the ground turned even paler, and mumbled something like an agreement in a voice tight with fear. Before she could even begin to understand that, the (not actually unpleasant) voice of that decidedly unpleasantly man broke her train of thought with some nonsense about villains and stomachs. He was acting as though he was in a play, and there was something almost rehearsed about the woman's sudden mood change, the young man's practically comical fright, his own inspired words when he'd had nothing to do with the incident.
Some instinct found her playing along in spite of herself, smiling and giving a short bow to the confused crowd. Until he rudely grabbed her by the elbow and whispered in her ear, "Come on, she's offering free food."
Did he really have no limits? Think so lowly of her? Jester was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his free food when her stomach made up her mind for her, contracting with an audible gurgle. She blushed, then gave the unpleasant man a look that could wilt flowers to show him she wasn't doing this because he had suggested it.
She could feel the situation slipping from her grasp, that there were factors moving it she couldn't see, and didn't like it at all. She scowled even more fiercely at the pale young man blinking at her, even though it was clear now he was just . . . something, she wasn't quite clear on how he had gotten where he was. Not a bad guy anyway, which meant she wouldn't get to dispense almighty justice on his head. She was upset about that.
"My baton..." she mumbled in a weak protest, the only way she could find to bring some sense back to the world.
In for a Bishan
Re: In for a Bishan
There was a special look reserved for men who did not hop to quickly enough for the women who asked requests of them, and Iarei was giving that look to Dirken as she stood, firmly holding the boy by the upper arm as she did so. He whined and sputtered at her in the way of the young, and she shut him up with another look that said something along the lines of the-more-trouble-you-give-me-now-the-worse-you'll-have-it-later. Being that he was a boy, and given to easy sullenness anyways, he shut up even though she didn't release his arm.
"Very good. Breakfast." She said as she looked around for any businesses that must cater to early morning food needs. She ignored the shallow interplays for dominance within her little group, seeing as how they weren't hers like the boy was hers, and so she could safely ignore them before they all scattered to the wind and she never saw them again. She did, however, fully intend for the boy to somehow make up for the severe lightening of her purse that was likely to occur after this venture; she didn't take loss of her hard earned bishani lightly.
Without looking to see if they were following (she didn't want to appear weak even if they weren't hers, though this was mostly due to the circling wolves just out of sight behind the dispersing crowd) she struck out along a likely route, glancing through business names for something that tipped more towards food and less towards tacky and sticky rings of drying alcohol and changers knew what else. Not that she intended to look all day. She didn't walk far when she spotted a delicately lettered sign offering fresh food and pointing to a tiny little entrance tucked halfway into an alley, which sported two large and nicely upkept windows, though the glass was thick enough to subtly warp the interior. Perfect.
She ducked inside, finally releasing the boy's arm which he yanked from her fingers at the last second and rearranged his clothing like some insulted feline, and she had to work to not acknowledge him. She peered out the door to see if everyone was accounted for, and then shrugged and took a seat at a large table, lifting an eyebrow at the boy until he took a seat next to her. A wench, attracted by the sound of feet, came forward to gather up orders, whereupon Iarei asked for breakfast large enough to feed five without skipping a beat -- it was only the drinks she left up to the whims of her sudden companions.
Business, she knew -- the matter of boy's adventures -- would come only too soon.
"Very good. Breakfast." She said as she looked around for any businesses that must cater to early morning food needs. She ignored the shallow interplays for dominance within her little group, seeing as how they weren't hers like the boy was hers, and so she could safely ignore them before they all scattered to the wind and she never saw them again. She did, however, fully intend for the boy to somehow make up for the severe lightening of her purse that was likely to occur after this venture; she didn't take loss of her hard earned bishani lightly.
Without looking to see if they were following (she didn't want to appear weak even if they weren't hers, though this was mostly due to the circling wolves just out of sight behind the dispersing crowd) she struck out along a likely route, glancing through business names for something that tipped more towards food and less towards tacky and sticky rings of drying alcohol and changers knew what else. Not that she intended to look all day. She didn't walk far when she spotted a delicately lettered sign offering fresh food and pointing to a tiny little entrance tucked halfway into an alley, which sported two large and nicely upkept windows, though the glass was thick enough to subtly warp the interior. Perfect.
She ducked inside, finally releasing the boy's arm which he yanked from her fingers at the last second and rearranged his clothing like some insulted feline, and she had to work to not acknowledge him. She peered out the door to see if everyone was accounted for, and then shrugged and took a seat at a large table, lifting an eyebrow at the boy until he took a seat next to her. A wench, attracted by the sound of feet, came forward to gather up orders, whereupon Iarei asked for breakfast large enough to feed five without skipping a beat -- it was only the drinks she left up to the whims of her sudden companions.
Business, she knew -- the matter of boy's adventures -- would come only too soon.
Re: In for a Bishan
Everything seemed to be moving fast and slow at the same time, as though a moment lasted an hour, but as soon as it was gone, it was a distant memory. All eyes were on him; the crowd, the thugs, these strange people somehow caught up in all of this. He could do nothing but glance about him, silent but aware, until he noticed the somewhat generous woman begin to walk away, towards breakfast and the possibility of safety.
Eager to escape the current scene, Erryl followed quickly, keeping up with the fast pace of the woman and the boy she dragged along with her. His eyes kept forward, towards his destination, whilst his mind was focused behind him. He could tell he wasn't really leaving anything behind, could sense the negativity of the situation.
Breakfast came too soon. So soon, in fact, that the sudden disappearance of the woman and her son into the building caused momentary confusion as Erryl’s mind came back to focusing on the present rather than the unchangeable past and unpredictable future.
Resisting the urge to turn around, Erryl entered the establishment, located the woman, noted the presence of a serving girl, realised that their breakfast was in the process of being ordered, and took a seat at the table, opposite the other two. After ordering for himself a glass of water, he decided to remain silent for a while, instead choosing to observe his surroundings, the appearance of the room and the few customers within it, trying very hard not to think about what was to come.
Eager to escape the current scene, Erryl followed quickly, keeping up with the fast pace of the woman and the boy she dragged along with her. His eyes kept forward, towards his destination, whilst his mind was focused behind him. He could tell he wasn't really leaving anything behind, could sense the negativity of the situation.
Breakfast came too soon. So soon, in fact, that the sudden disappearance of the woman and her son into the building caused momentary confusion as Erryl’s mind came back to focusing on the present rather than the unchangeable past and unpredictable future.
Resisting the urge to turn around, Erryl entered the establishment, located the woman, noted the presence of a serving girl, realised that their breakfast was in the process of being ordered, and took a seat at the table, opposite the other two. After ordering for himself a glass of water, he decided to remain silent for a while, instead choosing to observe his surroundings, the appearance of the room and the few customers within it, trying very hard not to think about what was to come.
Re: In for a Bishan
The performer shot him a look of pure venom, and Dirk realised that he was going about everything entirely the wrong way.
He'd been around real bards too long, performers confident in their art and treated with respect. This girl was a street performer. She'd probably been treated like a beggar her whole life. She was too proud to be charmed with money.
He wordlessly handed her the baton and coin he'd picked up and put his mind to the more pressing problem of how to get out of the situation he'd recklessly dove into, preferably without leaving the poor woman and her child in it. He followed the woman into the shop (keeping one eye on the men stalking them like wolves waiting for a deer to turn her back on her baby) and sat at the table with the others. He himself was not too proud to be owon over with money, or at least breakfast. A meal in exchange for his presence to discourage a potential attacker? That sounded fair. After all, he was risking his own skin. And they had deprived the performer of a day's income, probably more, depending on how her ankle healed.
He cast an eye over the other man at the table, not really sure where he fit in. He seemed to be chasing the boy earlier, but he obviously wasn't with the men who had been chasing him, which led Dirk to wonder who exactly the boy had stolen from.
Dirk kept his ears open. The details would become clear sooner or later, and then he'd know what to do. They always did.
He'd been around real bards too long, performers confident in their art and treated with respect. This girl was a street performer. She'd probably been treated like a beggar her whole life. She was too proud to be charmed with money.
He wordlessly handed her the baton and coin he'd picked up and put his mind to the more pressing problem of how to get out of the situation he'd recklessly dove into, preferably without leaving the poor woman and her child in it. He followed the woman into the shop (keeping one eye on the men stalking them like wolves waiting for a deer to turn her back on her baby) and sat at the table with the others. He himself was not too proud to be owon over with money, or at least breakfast. A meal in exchange for his presence to discourage a potential attacker? That sounded fair. After all, he was risking his own skin. And they had deprived the performer of a day's income, probably more, depending on how her ankle healed.
He cast an eye over the other man at the table, not really sure where he fit in. He seemed to be chasing the boy earlier, but he obviously wasn't with the men who had been chasing him, which led Dirk to wonder who exactly the boy had stolen from.
Dirk kept his ears open. The details would become clear sooner or later, and then he'd know what to do. They always did.
Re: In for a Bishan
Jester's plea for reason went unanswered as the rest were lured away by the promise of free food. Fine. She could deal with that. She accepted the baton - and the coin, which must have been cursed for him to want to get rid of it this bad - and refused to limp over to her final baton, though her ankle snapped at her for walking normally.
The much abused wood was cracked right through the middle, obvious even from a distance, but fixable if she could find some glue and paint for cheap. The free breakfast meant she could focus things other than survival for a while. She nodded firmly as she scooped it up: this was something she could handle, somewhere she could live, a task she would -
Something caught, no, drew, no - practically kidnapped her train of thought mid-sentence. A small white... statue? Lying inconspicuously near her foot. When she picked it up it proved to be a human-shaped mass of sun-warmed, silky ivory, thin lines of metallic decoration carving around it. They resembled jagged, ornate letters that Jester could almost make sense of, a sudden headache keeping them dancing infuriatingly just beyond comprehension.
Magic. And not any sort of pleasant magic, either. Jester scowled at the statue. The statue, impossibly, seemed to scowl back. It was probably some trinket of the elf; she had found it near where he fell, after all, though why he'd miss the headache she couldn't imagine. Still, she didn't want it. She tucked it in her bag for the moment as she hurried after the others, wincing with every other step.
She didn't notice the hungry wolves in the crowd, watching the weakest straggler of the group with calculating eyes.
In the shop, Jester could barely shove the statue into the pale young man's chest fast enough, muttering, "This is yours." before taking the seat farthest away from him. This put her between the boy and the unpleasant man, neither of whom she could particularly trust, but neither of whom were tainted by dark magic. She ordered a glass of water automatically, then looked expectantly at the woman, the only one who seemed to know what she was doing.
The much abused wood was cracked right through the middle, obvious even from a distance, but fixable if she could find some glue and paint for cheap. The free breakfast meant she could focus things other than survival for a while. She nodded firmly as she scooped it up: this was something she could handle, somewhere she could live, a task she would -
Something caught, no, drew, no - practically kidnapped her train of thought mid-sentence. A small white... statue? Lying inconspicuously near her foot. When she picked it up it proved to be a human-shaped mass of sun-warmed, silky ivory, thin lines of metallic decoration carving around it. They resembled jagged, ornate letters that Jester could almost make sense of, a sudden headache keeping them dancing infuriatingly just beyond comprehension.
Magic. And not any sort of pleasant magic, either. Jester scowled at the statue. The statue, impossibly, seemed to scowl back. It was probably some trinket of the elf; she had found it near where he fell, after all, though why he'd miss the headache she couldn't imagine. Still, she didn't want it. She tucked it in her bag for the moment as she hurried after the others, wincing with every other step.
She didn't notice the hungry wolves in the crowd, watching the weakest straggler of the group with calculating eyes.
In the shop, Jester could barely shove the statue into the pale young man's chest fast enough, muttering, "This is yours." before taking the seat farthest away from him. This put her between the boy and the unpleasant man, neither of whom she could particularly trust, but neither of whom were tainted by dark magic. She ordered a glass of water automatically, then looked expectantly at the woman, the only one who seemed to know what she was doing.
Re: In for a Bishan
The boy started, and made a small yelping sound when he saw his prize handed so casually, so nonchalantly, to another. Iarei, who'd been waiting for Aniseed in a silent brooding cloud of dark thoughts, hadn't made much of the exchange until the boy made his mistake of reacting. She'd thought by now that she'd beaten that sort of reaction out of him. And here she'd been ready to put the whole mess behind rather than ahead, but this couldn't go ignored.
The noise she made, half mother bear growl and half threatening glower, set the boy back in his seat: hangdog head and fingers nimbly climbing over each other in the only outward sign of his stress, even as his features settled into the grumpy neutral state she'd tried so hard to teach him to smooth over.
One thing at a time. Iarei was almost frustrated enough to give into melodrama. She reined that in.
"You all have my apologies." She said finally, looking away from Jester after the woman had settled. "I do not think that the . . .figurine belongs to him. I think perhaps it has been misplaced, yes? Into certain grubby and disobedient hands, yes?" Her tones gradually descended into hell, and the boy's fingers moved quicker in their nervous patterns.
"Boy?"
He flinched at her anger.
"'Msorry." His words were there, barely audible, and she gave him a good long look in silence.
The noise she made, half mother bear growl and half threatening glower, set the boy back in his seat: hangdog head and fingers nimbly climbing over each other in the only outward sign of his stress, even as his features settled into the grumpy neutral state she'd tried so hard to teach him to smooth over.
One thing at a time. Iarei was almost frustrated enough to give into melodrama. She reined that in.
"You all have my apologies." She said finally, looking away from Jester after the woman had settled. "I do not think that the . . .figurine belongs to him. I think perhaps it has been misplaced, yes? Into certain grubby and disobedient hands, yes?" Her tones gradually descended into hell, and the boy's fingers moved quicker in their nervous patterns.
"Boy?"
He flinched at her anger.
"'Msorry." His words were there, barely audible, and she gave him a good long look in silence.
Re: In for a Bishan
Erryl's thoughts had begun to wander back to the hostile men, those who had chased him all the way down here, when the performer arrived and abruptly thrust something towards him, claiming that it was his. He could not recall having brought anything with him this morning but he took the object in his hands and, rather than admit that he did not own it, quietly studied its appearance.
He could hear the woman scolding her son for one reason or another as his eyes traced the lines of the figurine he held in his hands; a man carved in ivory, decorated with strange symbols of which Erryl felt sure he had seen before, or perhaps something similar. The ivory felt unusually warm, more so than you would expect from simply holding it in your hands, but when he ran his fingers over the carvings, they felt cold and somehow empty.
He felt a shiver run down his spine and placed the statue on the table beside him, looking around at the others seated at the table with him. Looking at the mother of the boy, Erryl wondered why she had not been around when the child had caused this whole big mess for them all. A question escaped his lips, directed at the woman, before he even realized he’d thought it, “What’s your name?”
He could hear the woman scolding her son for one reason or another as his eyes traced the lines of the figurine he held in his hands; a man carved in ivory, decorated with strange symbols of which Erryl felt sure he had seen before, or perhaps something similar. The ivory felt unusually warm, more so than you would expect from simply holding it in your hands, but when he ran his fingers over the carvings, they felt cold and somehow empty.
He felt a shiver run down his spine and placed the statue on the table beside him, looking around at the others seated at the table with him. Looking at the mother of the boy, Erryl wondered why she had not been around when the child had caused this whole big mess for them all. A question escaped his lips, directed at the woman, before he even realized he’d thought it, “What’s your name?”
Re: In for a Bishan
Dirken cast an experienced eye over the statue as it was passed over, knowing that nobody was likely to be paying him any attention. Whatever it was, it looked extremely valuable. It could of course be a good fake, in which case it was still extremely valuable to somebody of his trade if not a professional collector -- he wasn't an expert on any sort of curios or collectibles, although he frequently convinced people otherwise -- but he doubted it. It was obviously stolen, and people had clearly wanted it back, so unless the thieving child had pulled a switch (which was far beyond the average casual pickpocket's patience or planning ability), the object was probably the real deal.
But then, the kid wasn't working alone, was he? As well as the woman whom Dirken assumed was the child's mother, an obvious safety net, Dirken had concluded that the other man was the kid's accomplice; it was a common trick, for a 'pocket to palm the goods off onto a second, and the pair had fumbled the exchange and been caught. Surely, though, the man was old enough to have the sense not to rob such dangerous men of such an obviously high-risk item?
That aside, in Dirken's experience criminals rarely committed their first crimes as well-oiled groups. The three were probably wanted for other crimes, and worth something. If not... well, Dirken knew a good job when he saw one, and whatever was going on was obviously a good job. The trick was to be on the winning side, whether that was the smuggling or sale of the item, or turning in the criminals for a bounty.
Dirken was always on the winning side, because he kept all his options open until the winning side became obvious. He silently observed the group and awaited breakfast.
But then, the kid wasn't working alone, was he? As well as the woman whom Dirken assumed was the child's mother, an obvious safety net, Dirken had concluded that the other man was the kid's accomplice; it was a common trick, for a 'pocket to palm the goods off onto a second, and the pair had fumbled the exchange and been caught. Surely, though, the man was old enough to have the sense not to rob such dangerous men of such an obviously high-risk item?
That aside, in Dirken's experience criminals rarely committed their first crimes as well-oiled groups. The three were probably wanted for other crimes, and worth something. If not... well, Dirken knew a good job when he saw one, and whatever was going on was obviously a good job. The trick was to be on the winning side, whether that was the smuggling or sale of the item, or turning in the criminals for a bounty.
Dirken was always on the winning side, because he kept all his options open until the winning side became obvious. He silently observed the group and awaited breakfast.
Re: In for a Bishan
Jester scowled at the statue as it was set on the table. The air around it seemed to quaver slightly as it thunked against the wood, almost as if whatever magic was inside it wasn't the most stable of spells. But that was clearly Jester's imagination overreacting to the stink of bad magic; it was impossible for an ordinary person to notice little details like that. The elf might have been able to see it, but not someone like her.
Still...
She prodded it with a careful finger, unaware of the ridiculous picture she made, a grown woman hunching defensively behind the table as she poked at the small thing. It wobbled a bit. The air might have flexed, but then again it might not have. Jester glared. The statue's smugly blank eyes stared back.
The explanations of the other woman filtered only fractionally through the whirling cloud of suspicion and loathing directed toward the figurine. Well, of course something like that would be stolen. Probably that was why the elf had been so angry at the boy. If Jester was the sort to carry about disturbingly eager-feeling statues filled with bad magic, which she wasn't, and never would be, she would be upset too if it was stolen by a random street-child.
"You shouldn't let your son play with such dangerous things," she told the woman, the beginning of a lecture about why letting children steal dangerous magic objects was a Very Bad Idea, but the arrival of breakfast stole her attention away so fast the words she planned to say came out as a garbled "mgrhrmph." She swallowed the sudden saliva pooling in her mouth at the sight of her first warm meal in far too long, and tried not to look like she would trade her firstborn for a bite of those eggs.
Oblivious to the non breakfast-bearing world as Jester was, when the door swung open with such force it banged against the wall she jerked straight like the chair was electrified. She shot a guilty look over her shoulder, as though the strangers entering would look down on her for drooling over a simple platter of standard fare, but the interruption brought her back to her senses. She shook her head once, clearing all thoughts of meat - actual meat! But no, she must stay calm - from her head, and faced forward once more, determinedly focused on the matter at hand.
The three men, nothing in common between them but the sharp glint in their eyes, simply took a seat at another table, one far enough not to rouse unwanted suspicion, but close enough to clearly state to anyone looking that they were there on very specific business.
Still...
She prodded it with a careful finger, unaware of the ridiculous picture she made, a grown woman hunching defensively behind the table as she poked at the small thing. It wobbled a bit. The air might have flexed, but then again it might not have. Jester glared. The statue's smugly blank eyes stared back.
The explanations of the other woman filtered only fractionally through the whirling cloud of suspicion and loathing directed toward the figurine. Well, of course something like that would be stolen. Probably that was why the elf had been so angry at the boy. If Jester was the sort to carry about disturbingly eager-feeling statues filled with bad magic, which she wasn't, and never would be, she would be upset too if it was stolen by a random street-child.
"You shouldn't let your son play with such dangerous things," she told the woman, the beginning of a lecture about why letting children steal dangerous magic objects was a Very Bad Idea, but the arrival of breakfast stole her attention away so fast the words she planned to say came out as a garbled "mgrhrmph." She swallowed the sudden saliva pooling in her mouth at the sight of her first warm meal in far too long, and tried not to look like she would trade her firstborn for a bite of those eggs.
Oblivious to the non breakfast-bearing world as Jester was, when the door swung open with such force it banged against the wall she jerked straight like the chair was electrified. She shot a guilty look over her shoulder, as though the strangers entering would look down on her for drooling over a simple platter of standard fare, but the interruption brought her back to her senses. She shook her head once, clearing all thoughts of meat - actual meat! But no, she must stay calm - from her head, and faced forward once more, determinedly focused on the matter at hand.
The three men, nothing in common between them but the sharp glint in their eyes, simply took a seat at another table, one far enough not to rouse unwanted suspicion, but close enough to clearly state to anyone looking that they were there on very specific business.
Re: In for a Bishan
Introductions might be the place to start, Iarei decided, frozen for a brief period of time until Jester spoke and sent a lick of temper up to Iarei's temples. She was about to snap at the other woman when the arrival of breakfast ruined the moment, and Iarei instead set about charming the wench who was serving. It would do no good to leave a set of memories of an odd group of people with a grumpy bard at the helm. What sort of bard would she be if she was grumpy? No sort. So she forced a smile and pinched the boy's arm until he got the hint and smiled too. It wasn't a very good smile, but it was better than a frown.
The idol had been left on the table too long, and Iarei snatched it up a second too late, after the door had been opened and men of a rather thuggish bearing had tromped in. Well then, that wasn't very good. She bundled it away into her coin purse, settling it so its edges didn't show, and trying not to wince too obviously at handling something that was so obviously valuable. She didn't notice the warping of the air around it.
Boy was scowling as he ate.
She immediately tried to act as though they were in the middle of a delightful and casual conversation.
"So then, well, I suppose I should introduce myself properly since there was no time to earlier, now that we are discreet allies in a, shall we say, business venture it should be a priority." She gave a significantly casual look to each in turn, striving to meet their eyes should they be looking at her. She gave an even more casually purposeful stare in the boy's direction, who was even more directly avoiding her gaze that she felt inclined to give his ear a twist. He gave a muffled yelp around the large chunk of bread in his mouth.
"Manners, boy. Animals chew with their mouths gaping open. People chew with their mouths closed. So, my fellows, I -- as you may know -- am a bard. I am called Iarei. The boy is my assistant, and on good days my apprentice. I have no children, thankfully. I would hate to loiter in this fine business while we discuss our own, but perhaps while we eat we may better acquaint ourselves."
She began to eat, and added a silent, and hopefully no one will be too obvious and I might come up with a means of dumping those brutish cretins who are insistent on following. Maybe a fine inn with good security and greasy palms.
The idol had been left on the table too long, and Iarei snatched it up a second too late, after the door had been opened and men of a rather thuggish bearing had tromped in. Well then, that wasn't very good. She bundled it away into her coin purse, settling it so its edges didn't show, and trying not to wince too obviously at handling something that was so obviously valuable. She didn't notice the warping of the air around it.
Boy was scowling as he ate.
She immediately tried to act as though they were in the middle of a delightful and casual conversation.
"So then, well, I suppose I should introduce myself properly since there was no time to earlier, now that we are discreet allies in a, shall we say, business venture it should be a priority." She gave a significantly casual look to each in turn, striving to meet their eyes should they be looking at her. She gave an even more casually purposeful stare in the boy's direction, who was even more directly avoiding her gaze that she felt inclined to give his ear a twist. He gave a muffled yelp around the large chunk of bread in his mouth.
"Manners, boy. Animals chew with their mouths gaping open. People chew with their mouths closed. So, my fellows, I -- as you may know -- am a bard. I am called Iarei. The boy is my assistant, and on good days my apprentice. I have no children, thankfully. I would hate to loiter in this fine business while we discuss our own, but perhaps while we eat we may better acquaint ourselves."
She began to eat, and added a silent, and hopefully no one will be too obvious and I might come up with a means of dumping those brutish cretins who are insistent on following. Maybe a fine inn with good security and greasy palms.
Re: In for a Bishan
Erryl took little notice of the food as it was served, feeling too ill from the earlier events of the morning to care, even if he needed to make up the energy from all of that running. He watched the expressions of the others around him, feeling a mixture of emotions. The two women and the boy all seemed irritated, unsurprisingly, but the man had very little feeling about him at all. Like Erryl, he was simply watching the others in silence.
As the door swung open loudly, the performer - who, from the way she was eating, must have been starving - nearly jumped out of her seat. As he looked towards her, Erryl noticed the other woman, the boy's mother, take the small statue and put it away. Before he had a chance to say anything about it, however, she began to speak.
"I -- as you may know -- am a bard. I am called Iarei. The boy is my assistant..."
Iarei... a bard... and not the mother of the boy, either. She had failed to mention the boy's name, he noticed, but it was probably irrelevant, if he was simply the woman's mischievous little apprentice. Either way, Erryl was more interested in the identity of the other two, reluctant to introduce himself until he'd heard what they had to say.
Finally being given some real information, he realized just how hungry he was, for both food and knowledge. Taking a sip of water, he started on breakfast, the figurine momentarily forgotten as he waited for the others to introduce themselves.
As the door swung open loudly, the performer - who, from the way she was eating, must have been starving - nearly jumped out of her seat. As he looked towards her, Erryl noticed the other woman, the boy's mother, take the small statue and put it away. Before he had a chance to say anything about it, however, she began to speak.
"I -- as you may know -- am a bard. I am called Iarei. The boy is my assistant..."
Iarei... a bard... and not the mother of the boy, either. She had failed to mention the boy's name, he noticed, but it was probably irrelevant, if he was simply the woman's mischievous little apprentice. Either way, Erryl was more interested in the identity of the other two, reluctant to introduce himself until he'd heard what they had to say.
Finally being given some real information, he realized just how hungry he was, for both food and knowledge. Taking a sip of water, he started on breakfast, the figurine momentarily forgotten as he waited for the others to introduce themselves.
Re: In for a Bishan
Although he noticed the predator men entering and taking their table, Dirken paid them no attention and kept his manner relaxed and easy. His manners as he ate were finicky but neat, mildly reminiscent of courtly manners but devoud of any particular giveaway highborn habits. "My name is Dirk," he said politely, "I'm a bit of a freelance problem-solver." He paused, giving people a moment to draw their own conclusions. "Of course, before we can worry about business transactions, we need to do something about the... competition." He kept his voice relaxed, and didn't even glance at the table of dangerous-looking men, "but so long as we keep talking here they shouldn't be a problem." That wouldn't solve anything, of course, but Dirken had noticed the other man's hesitation to speak. Most people jumped into any gap to speak in, especially in stressful situations; sitting back and observing was downright suspicious. But if Dirken's conclusions were correct, he was a thief... that would explain it. "What are our assets here?"
Re: In for a Bishan
A bard. That would explain the smoothness in which the woman -- in which Iarei had managed to lead a group of strangers to an inn to discuss a 'business venture' none of them knew anything about. Little moments that hadn't matched up with the image of a young mother looking out for her kid fit more easily with the idea of a polished bard and her apprentice.
Jester felt the faint tickling of embarrassment in her throat for her earlier comment, but swallowed it along with her second helping of eggs. Iarei didn't seem to be bothered by it, after all, and bringing it up again would only make the situation awkward again. The arrival of breakfast had done a lot to lower the tension, but that meant nothing when shoulders were still tensed and eyes were still wary.
The elf had come upon a good plan in introductions, though he still hadn't offered his name. If they were more familiar with each other they would be more open as well. Then maybe one of the others would explain all this talk of 'competition' and 'assets,' that, as far as she could tell, didn't have anything to do with returning a stolen statue to its rightful owner.
Swallowing her latest mouthful, and smoothing out the confusion from her voice, she said, "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Iarei," purposefully ignoring the 'freelance problem solver' -- and who did he think he was fooling with that title? A rogue and an indiscriminate sword-for-hire, that was what he was -- to give him a taste of his own rudeness. "I'm also a professional entertainer. A jester, actually. It's a title that came from around Keir, did you know? It spread across Eyropa and now you can hardly find a troupe without one. But it's not as idiotic as it seems -- I mean, of course the point is to make the audience laugh, but it really takes a lot of skill to perform the acroba...tics..."
She blushed, a blotchy red that clashed with her tan skin. She was babbling in her excitement of finding another performer, even if a bard wasn't exactly an acrobat, and she knew it. It was just that she was suddenly itching to ask Iarei what troupes she had been with, where she had traveled, what tricks she was familiar with, anything to connect her to the world that she only just realized she still ached to be in. She must have looked like the fool she had just said she wasn't, going on and on about things that didn't matter to the current business, whatever it was.
She coughed, and gamely tried to pretend she hadn't sounded like a giddy child, looking each of the members of the table firmly in the eye as she continued, "but, anyway. That's my name. Um, Jester, I mean. My name is Jester. Pleased to meet you."
Jester felt the faint tickling of embarrassment in her throat for her earlier comment, but swallowed it along with her second helping of eggs. Iarei didn't seem to be bothered by it, after all, and bringing it up again would only make the situation awkward again. The arrival of breakfast had done a lot to lower the tension, but that meant nothing when shoulders were still tensed and eyes were still wary.
The elf had come upon a good plan in introductions, though he still hadn't offered his name. If they were more familiar with each other they would be more open as well. Then maybe one of the others would explain all this talk of 'competition' and 'assets,' that, as far as she could tell, didn't have anything to do with returning a stolen statue to its rightful owner.
Swallowing her latest mouthful, and smoothing out the confusion from her voice, she said, "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Iarei," purposefully ignoring the 'freelance problem solver' -- and who did he think he was fooling with that title? A rogue and an indiscriminate sword-for-hire, that was what he was -- to give him a taste of his own rudeness. "I'm also a professional entertainer. A jester, actually. It's a title that came from around Keir, did you know? It spread across Eyropa and now you can hardly find a troupe without one. But it's not as idiotic as it seems -- I mean, of course the point is to make the audience laugh, but it really takes a lot of skill to perform the acroba...tics..."
She blushed, a blotchy red that clashed with her tan skin. She was babbling in her excitement of finding another performer, even if a bard wasn't exactly an acrobat, and she knew it. It was just that she was suddenly itching to ask Iarei what troupes she had been with, where she had traveled, what tricks she was familiar with, anything to connect her to the world that she only just realized she still ached to be in. She must have looked like the fool she had just said she wasn't, going on and on about things that didn't matter to the current business, whatever it was.
She coughed, and gamely tried to pretend she hadn't sounded like a giddy child, looking each of the members of the table firmly in the eye as she continued, "but, anyway. That's my name. Um, Jester, I mean. My name is Jester. Pleased to meet you."
Re: In for a Bishan
Erryl's silence caught the sharp edge of Iarei's nerve, and she found herself giving him a more calculating stare than she'd intended at that particular moment. She covered it by smiling and nodding at Dirk, and then the jester. What was the young man playing at? She'd no inclination to trust any of them, but his simple refusal to speak before the others (eyes averted, mouth filled with food) made Iarei that much more wary. These should all be innocent bystanders. Well, the jester was, even if she had not given any particular name to go by.
The silent one, the rogue, and the nameless entertainer (jester wasn't a name, it was a profession) who was more emotive than boy. Well, that was to be expected of her, since most of that particular crowd were fair lighthearted. But oh, the complications that could arise if she had traveled with Eyropan troupes. Iarei covered that thought with a vicious gulp of eggs and water, and smiled pleasantly like a crocodile. At the very least, Dirk knew what was on about. One out of three wasn't terribly bad.
"Pleasure. Yes, yes, we do have much do discuss about our assets, but I think you'll find we'll be down to our wits. I think perhaps after breakfast we might retire to a place with more comfortable accommodations; I do know of a place eager for customers, yes, I think it shall do. I do run on though. Young man, I don't believe we caught your name?"
She looked expectantly at Erryl; he'd already walked a thin line for bowling her over in the street and acting suspiciously (he should be smiling more, damn him, and not acting like he'd just been dragged off the street). By that alone, he might be the most ordinary person boy'd put into the whole mess, but she would not take any chances. Not when there were already thugs sitting a few tables by, just waiting. With no signs of leaving. She suppressed a sigh.
The silent one, the rogue, and the nameless entertainer (jester wasn't a name, it was a profession) who was more emotive than boy. Well, that was to be expected of her, since most of that particular crowd were fair lighthearted. But oh, the complications that could arise if she had traveled with Eyropan troupes. Iarei covered that thought with a vicious gulp of eggs and water, and smiled pleasantly like a crocodile. At the very least, Dirk knew what was on about. One out of three wasn't terribly bad.
"Pleasure. Yes, yes, we do have much do discuss about our assets, but I think you'll find we'll be down to our wits. I think perhaps after breakfast we might retire to a place with more comfortable accommodations; I do know of a place eager for customers, yes, I think it shall do. I do run on though. Young man, I don't believe we caught your name?"
She looked expectantly at Erryl; he'd already walked a thin line for bowling her over in the street and acting suspiciously (he should be smiling more, damn him, and not acting like he'd just been dragged off the street). By that alone, he might be the most ordinary person boy'd put into the whole mess, but she would not take any chances. Not when there were already thugs sitting a few tables by, just waiting. With no signs of leaving. She suppressed a sigh.
Re: In for a Bishan
He hesitated a moment longer before stating simply, "My name is Erryl." What else was there to say, after all? He was merely a victim, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had little to do with any of this. Besides, he was not a performer, or a... whatever that man had claimed to be, or anything else worth mentioning.
The attention that leaving his introduction until last had brought him - that which he had failed to anticipate - made him incredibly uneasy, and he decided it was time to change the topic. Putting on a smile, he looked at Iarei.
"Where is this place so eager for customers? Not far from here, I hope, with Jester's injury," he said, turning his smile to Jester. "How is your leg, by the way? I noticed you looked quite uncomfortable on it earlier, and that fall looked rather painful."
The attention that leaving his introduction until last had brought him - that which he had failed to anticipate - made him incredibly uneasy, and he decided it was time to change the topic. Putting on a smile, he looked at Iarei.
"Where is this place so eager for customers? Not far from here, I hope, with Jester's injury," he said, turning his smile to Jester. "How is your leg, by the way? I noticed you looked quite uncomfortable on it earlier, and that fall looked rather painful."