Ьȴʊє Ͻ a r a v a n 🚙 🚙 🚙 (new thread!)

Favorite Character Poll Round 10!

Lucien Balthazar Mchale - Vicious hunter of humans and dragons.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Vasul Calim Shahrad - Crown Prince of Shahrazad and righteous eagle among a flock of vultures.	9.1%	[ 1 ]
Lorelei 'Ellie' Katerini - Knight Errant and Defender of Justice who will kick your butt!	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Inyri Ven - Sharp-minded beauty and budding lady of wares.	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Eriol Epheis - Mysterious man with an eye for the prize.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Total Votes:			[ 11 ]

This poll closed on November 27, 2014.
No longer accepting new votes.

[Watervoir]

Ѵeȴɩus Kɩɾʈɑ
ɳoble

Clearly, the Beck and Rasheik had been readying to leave the vicinity, but Velius sensed no urgency. For one thing, Beck was willing to entertain him for nothing of worth but a few measly chuckles. While there was hardly truth in Beck’s retort, Velius couldn’t help but play along and chip in something that would surely get him on his toes. Accordingly, it was delivered with a suggestive simper.

“Now isn’t that a good thing?”

The slaver was exactly how he remembered him: gangly, pale and photophobic. Admittedly, Beck was not a friend in the typical sense. While the volleying of snide remarks would have indeed been indicative of a certain fondness, the age gap and their occupational differences barred whatever common friendship they might have developed. However, with Beck being a longstanding associate of the family, they were closer than regular business acquaintances and accordingly, this wasn’t the first time they met, nor was it the first time such absurd exchanges were made.

It was during his past experiences with him that Velius had learned to observe him, or more precisely learned he ought to observe him. From the moment he made his approach, his eyes had been trained on the man’s refined and delicate features. It was wise that he had, for it was only through doing so that he noticed the subtle expression on Beck’s face as he made to stroke Aria. It was one complete with yearning, a desire that if left unsatisfied would grow like a tumour and gnaw at the albino man’s mind. And then...there it was again, this time as a part of a brief glance at Rasheik. It was simple but full of meaning and significance, for not only was it more evidence of his desire for the seer, it also hinted at a relationship between the two. There was no need for the noble to rack his brain for the reason; the connection was made in an instant: much like Velius, Rasheik had a history with the slaver. His heart skipped a beat at the discovery. It was perfect, just perfect. At this rate, things were decidedly going to turn out better than expected.

His gaze drifted to Aria beside him and it was with mild surprise that he found Nesa by her side. It appeared that at some point during the short walk to Beck the brunette had joined them. Whether her company had been of curiosity or of precaution, Velius did not know and frankly, did not care. There wasn’t much she would be able to do now that his plan had started rolling.

This plan rested on the presence of Beck’s affinity to all things dainty and pale, which true to form had appeared like moth to a flame. Aria was actually quite attractive material, and Velius might have been just as superficial as Beck with her had he not met her wicked tongue and unlucky streak on day one.

Now to the seer’s favour. The caravan leader had been preoccupied with his own matters, first with an unknown woman and then with Abel. He hated to interrupt, as he never appreciated being interrupted himself, but he had to get things done. Velius called out to the man.

“Rasheik the Bold.” A smile of certainty spread upon his features as he announced the name in all its rightful glory. It was just like him to draw others’ attention by the most sensational means possible. Undoubtedly, the bandit king would now realize that Velius could see through his disguise. With a tone dashed with understated dignity, the noble continued. “We first met under different and rather inconvenient circumstances, so allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Velius, nice to meet you.” There was his introduction in the plainest sincerity. It was only fair to show courtesy to a king after all. Then, the noble inclined his head a little towards Aria. “The miss here would like to have a word with you.” The seer was brought in the limelight by a brusque hand, placing her in plain view of all three men. The hand remained on her shoulder, serving as both assurance for the woman and a caution against the tendencies of the slaver.

[jadeshaw88]

If only night could hold you...


Ari would have had a snapping reply for the man had she been given a chance but the moment he stopped talking, he placed a hand on her bare skin and she found herself swept up in swirling blurs. The the briefest of moments, she thought that she saw the hazy outline of a woman but it was gone before she could try to focus. She barely noticed that she was moving, so caught up was she in trying to keep her meager breakfast in her stomach. Hadn't she told him not to touch her? No, perhaps she hadn't. A shudder rippled through her body as the unclear images continued to assault her weary power. She would have told him what her problem was but they soon stopped as she was told to remain quiet. If her mind wasn't reeling and if her stomach wasn't still threatening to rebel, she would have had something to say about shushing her as well.

Through her swirling head, she heard Velius address someone who apparently had an umbrella. With a confused expression on what little of her face that could be seen under the crude blindfold, she held out her hand to see if it was raining. No, but then she knew that before she had even made the motion. The man, as she now realized it was a man, came back with a retort that brought a smirk to her face though it was short-lived. She felt someone reach out to her, their fingers where almost on her and she flinched back from it. That was the very last thing that she needed. Foggy visions of two people running a muck behind her eyelids. She bit hard on her lip to keep her mouth shut. She was going to listen to Velius for now. He knew these people apparently and she would rather not get herself into anymore serious trouble.

Velius' reply confused her and she wondered if she hadn't read the man wrong. She had thought that he preferred women to men but...it wasn't like it was the first time she had been wrong about such things. She was even more surprised when Velius introduced himself by his real name. Apparently his pretense as Marco was over. She wondered why he had dropped it so suddenly. Especially while addressing a man such as Rashiek the Bold. You didn't travel around the known world without hearing of the man and she knew enough that she wouldn't introduce herself if she was noble. So she was going to get herself into a little more trouble than she had anticipated. It didn't matter, what she had to say would not be smothered because the person she was scolding was a great and terrifying bandit. It probably wouldn't come to anything but she would make her demands anyway.

Then it was her turn to speak. Well good, it was about time. It took her a moment to call up her earlier argument and she stood straighter, pulling out her loftiest attitude. "Indeed I do!" She said, addressing the air since she "You spoke to another girl about prettying herself up and spoke of a healer. I demand to see one as well and a bathhouse. I am covered in dried blood and I have been holed up in a stifling wagon for ages. I do not know what you intend to do with the caravan and I could hardly care at the moment. What I do know is that if you wish for me to go quietly, my needs must be met." She paused for a breath and then thought about demanding a walking stick as well. Yes, it would be a trivial matter to him but not to her and she was already getting herself into trouble. In for a penny, in for a pound. "I will also require a walking stick if I am to be of any use to anyone and a decent meal rather than the stale bread and over brewed tea that I have been forced to live on until now. You needn't worry about the prices, I can afford these things on my own. Not that you'll see a penny of my earnings. I worked hard for those." She paused for another breath and then looked in the direction that she thought Velius was in. "And don't touch my bare skin again. I can't believe that I didn't tell you before but apparently it slipped my mind. Unless you want me to see something that you don't want me to see, stick to touching my clothing. Next time my power might not be as sick and I might actually see the girl in your past rather than a blurred outline." When she was sure that everything she had needed to say had been said, she gave a curt nod and then waited for a reaction.

...Where I can see you, my love

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

x
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ABEL'S FABLES
Volume Two Chapter Forty Five
In which Abel is given a mission.

Rasheik was beginning to make Abel question himself, and it made him uneasy that someone else could do that to him. Deep inside of him was the boy who was excited to go on adventures like Rashiek did. He still had the wonder that made all of the stories he'd heard about this man impressive. A part of him deep down wanted to be like Rashiek. That didn't mean he was cruel, but it did make him wonder about what he would do. What was wrong within him to admire someone like this man? He had seen Rasheik kill someone, right before him only days ago, and yet he didn't feel the same heroic surge to capture him as a bounty that he used to. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about Rasheik that made him hesitate.

When he had gone back to talk to the others and ensure them that Rasheik hadn't harmed him yet, he was embarrassed to find himself expounding upon the man's achievements. He had listened to them with rapt attention in the tavern what seemed like ages ago but was truly ...less than a week now, wasn't it? They were like the stories you heard when you were a little kid, except in these you got to meet the flesh and blood man who had made them. Was it worth it though? All the death and violence to make a name for oneself? These were the sorts of things Abel thought about and questioned Rasheik about. The answers were never satisfactory, but he figured he would just stick by what he always had. It had worked so far.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Rasheik wave for him to join them. He made sure that the horses were safely tied and that the wagons seemed to be in place before he headed in his direction. On his way there, he casually eyeballed any lady who passed, not being particularly subtle, but not staring enough to be offensive. When he approached the bandit king, he noticed that Rasheik was standing with men he didn't know. At first, he actually mistook one as a woman, the parasol and flowing black garb catching him off guard. But then he noticed that it was indeed a man, thin as a wraith and elegantly carved of marble. Beside him was a pale boy with dark hair who was sticking his tongue out at a lady. Weird.

Velius from the caravan soon joined them with Wee Miss and Blind Miss in tow, and Abel realized that their little group must have been extremely awkward looking.

"Ah, sir. M'ere. What'd ya need?"

Abel shuffled back and forth from foot to foot hesitantly, kicking a stone until it bounced off of one of the boy's feet. He immediately looked away.

"I need you to run an errand for me. It won't be easy, but you really don't have much of a choice -- "

Rashiek stopped mid-sentence as he was called by name by Velius. Abel paused, biting down on his lower lip. Weren't they in disguise for a reason?

"Uh..."

The look on Rasheik's face alone said enough, and Abel looked away, whistling softly. He felt pretty good because right now, he wasn't going to be the one who was about to get in trouble.

Sucks to be Velius.

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

x
x
x

Velius, for all of his pomp and fancy words, was a blithering idiot. Did he think he deserved a prize for figuring out he was in disguise? The look he shot him was cold, stern, and one that should make it perfectly clear that he had made a foul mistake.

"Did you think I was hiding from you, you nitwit?"

He approached Velius, his hand moving to the handle of his sword to remind him it was there, but he did not draw it. Instead, he grasped Velius' chin in one hand, pinching it tighter than necessary and jerking his head to face him.

"Don't be so smug. I am in disguise for the sake of the entire caravan. Bandit kings are not readily welcome anywhere, and our safety could be compromised for your idiocy. Don't say a hiss of my name again you imbecile, or I'll cut that tongue from your pretty little mouth, and we'll see how glib you are."

Immediately he smiled widely as if it were a little joke, guffawed, and slapped Velius extra hard on the back. The few people whose eyes they had caught moved on, and Rasheik went back to speak to Abel. Despite all of his idiot ways, Abel had shown more sense than he had expected him to. It was surprising to say the least.

"As I was saying --"

Once more he was cut off as the seer began to speak. Good grief. What was up with all of these bossy women lately? First there was the bratty archer, then the raging aqua bint, and now the blind lady had to preach too. Being a man, he could only take so much of women, and as a collective, the ladies on this caravan were pushing the limit. Why couldn't they just be more like Panyin?

She wants this, and that, and this, and blah blah blah. She worked hard for the money so you better treat her right. Yeah yeah, he got it. Yeesh. If Beck wanted her, well...

"She's all yours." Rasheik motioned to the seer, making eye contact with his friend. "Miss, meet Beck, an acquaintance of mine. He'll make sure your needs are meet, because you both seem to be equally high maintenance. It also seems like you could play dress up with one another's wardrobes.

"And now, I want the boy. After I speak to Sable -- " Rasheik patted Abel hard on the back, eyes connecting with Velius as if to remind him that real names were not to be thrown about casually, " " You will take me to him."

Once more, he turned to the boy, and threw an arm around his shoulders. His voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "In the center of Belorner is a temple, and in this temple there is a fountain. The water in this fountain is extremely precious. I need you to get me a gourd of it. It is generally reserved for use by holy priests and healers. It is highly guarded. Have fun!"

With a shove, Rasheik sent a highly perplexed Abel on his way and waited for Beck to guide him. He couldn't say whether Abel would actually be successful, but the boy had a way with people. Perhaps that would help him now. He could only hope so, otherwise he'd have something else to feel guilty for.

x
x
x

[The Rectumbler]

Beck liked to have a front row seat for a show, especially if it involved a manly display of aggression. He especially liked it when it involved two men. Rasheik vs. Velius was absolutely delightful for him to watch. As he waited, he held his hand in front of Kingsley, who began to pick at his nails, removing any small debris that was there. He couldn't stand dirty nails. They were so unsightly and plebeian. His favorite part of the whole little man scene was how Velius' face looked when Rasheik sqooshed it all up with his big paw. Who has chubby cheeks? Velly well Welius does! He smirked, laughed in a gentle hum from his throat, and then congratulated Kingsley with a peach from the swirling fabrics of his robe for a job well done with his nails.

The new boy that Rasheik had called over, he was interesting to look at. Brawny and tall with a body used to labor. Those were always useful to have around. When the blind girl began to speak, Beck found himself enjoy her sass and the way she stood up to Rasheik. It was priceless. Especially with that 'oh just kill me now' look on Rasheik's face. And there, the slip in the conversation that made her even more valuable to him. She was a seer. His smile widened, and he pulled out a pair of elbow length gloves, slipping his hand into them soundlessly. Deep black against the pale white of his skin. The snake draped about his shoulders hissed, and swiveled down his upper arm, tongue flicking at the curve of Kingsley's ear.

"As the man said my darling," Beck said, his gloved hand taking her arm and supporting her beneath his parasol, "I will indeed do that and more. It's no wonder you're in such a state, what with being in the hands of Velius the Graceless Fruitcake and that oaf who raided your caravan. He has great arms though, if you're into that sort of thing. We should invest in a pair of gloves for you, then you can touch whoever you wish. Unless they're repulsive. I put on my latest pair, just bought them the other day. Haven't really been able to put them to use though.

"Can't really have you peering into my life. It's a long private affair of secrets. And Kingsley's little mind is like a pornography. I'm two snips away from fixing him. You wouldn't believe how many children he's fathered. Then some angry woman comes to me, claiming that my male slave knocked up her daughter, or her slave, or her sheep. That's when we go to Plan B and he puts on a little lacy frock, and I lie through my teeth and say that I don't have a male slave. Such a nuisance, but he's a good boy nonetheless. Just needs to keep his willy in his pants." Beck patted the boy's head and rubbed gently behind his ear.

With a curling finger, he beckoned for Rasheik to follow and turned to leave the farmboy, the flippant fop and small girl in their wake. So smoothly, he had gotten precisely what he wanted from the man he wanted it from. Never would be bite the hand that feeds.

[artfreek]

~~~~Nesa Comec~~~~


The pale man was strange and Nesa didn't like how he was eying Aria. As he reached out to touch her she almost grabbed Aria and yanked her away. He creeped her out and the boy standing next to him didn't seem much better. She wondered if it was just her being suspicious, but she would rather me safe than sorry. If she was wrong, she could apologize for misjudging character later.

Velius addressed Rasheik in the holier-than-thou tone of his and Rasheik came at him practically growling. Nesa's hand hovered close to Aria as the Bandit king told the noble off in case things got too rowdy. He didn't speak long though and her caution was unnecessary. Despite the grudge Nesa held with Rasheik, him scolding Velius was quite satisfying, though he had some violent threats.

When Aria spoke about what she wanted Nesa wished she would have just asked her. She would have taken her where she needed to go, but Aria most likely wanted to get her words out for Rasheik to her. That's just how she was, not that Nesa could blame her. Then Rasheik's words gave her a shock and she wanted to say a few choice words to him. Aria wasn't something he could just offer up to another person. As Beck hooked arms with her Nesa's went after then. She didn't want to leave Aria with him.

When she caught up Nesa put a hand on Aria's shoulder. “Will you be alright with Beck?” She asked hoping that somehow she could go with her. She wanted to keep an eye on her. Make sure nothing bad happened.

[jadeshaw88]

If only night could hold you...


Ari jumped a little at the sudden outburst of temper so close to her but then smirked when she realized who it was directed it. Well it served him right! If she had learned anything in the last week, it was that people didn't appreciate when their disguises were shattered. She maybe would have warned him herself had he not been such a pain in her a**. Clearly he hadn't listened to her when she told him her story. If he had, he might have known better through her experiences. She would give two Silver to see the look on Velius' face right now. She bet that he looked pretty shocked...maybe even scared. No, he wouldn't let anyone see he was scared. He was too arrogant to let anyone think they had shaken him up. Jerk.

When Rashiek's words turned on her, she faltered a little. He hadn't even gotten upset. Was he...selling her? No, she had heard nothing about currency being exchanged. Perhaps she had missed it. He did mention that the man would give her what she needed. She knew that she was high maintenance so that wasn't exactly a slur at her. And what was so wrong with wanting to be clean and healthy?! No, she wouldn't get into that line of thought just now. Still, she couldn't believe that she was being turned over to someone else just like that. Was he simply telling her that she would get what she wanted so that she would go quietly?

She tensed when someone took her arm and would have tried to pull away but whoever it was continued. He seemed reasonable enough, offering her what she desired and apparently more, though she couldn't think of what else she could possibly need. His status went up in her books when he insulted both Velius and Rashiek. She was so baffled, however, but the sudden kindness that she didn't know what to think of it. He too could be coddling her until he got her alone. She gave an unladylike snort when he said that Rashiek had nice arms. The last time she was in the man's arms he wasn't a man at all. She wondered if this new fellow would like that story. Probably, she decided but she also chose to save it for later. She would only reward him with a story if he behaved himself.

When he spoke of gloves and secrets she nodded. It was for the best that she didn't seeing anything from him. She probably wouldn't like what she saw, after all, and she would rather not have the picture that she painted of this man tainted before it needed to be. His comments about his slave startled a giggle out of her that surprised even herself. How long had it been since she had laughed? "If the mother's were so worried about their daughters...and sheep birthing babes, they should have looked into pregnancy charms." She told him, humor in her voice. She couldn't help it. This man seemed to be nice enough...even if it was just an act. "A man is a man, he can hardly be expected to help himself under the spell of fluttering lashes and maidenly giggles." The fact that the boy was a slave was not lost on her but she chose to tuck that away into a deep dark corner of her mind. He didn't act like a slaver. Not yet at least and she was not going to work herself into a state just because it appeared that she was once again a slave herself.

A gentle hand on her shoulder and a few soft spoken words told her that Nesa had come up behind her. Now how curious was that? She had thought that the girl was in the priests wagon with the rest of the caravan members. When had she come? Her question made her bite her lip in thought. It didn't seem like there was much of a choice in the matter and he did promise to take care of her. A slaver's promise wasn't worth a Copper but she couldn't think poorly of the man, not yet. She would keep her guard up but for now she was going to stick to her delusion. "Probably not but then...I'm not really alright with anyone." She finally answered her with a sigh, her good cheer drooping. "You go back and watch the others though. If things turn for the worst, I always make out okay at the end. I'm tougher than I look, you know. I can't say the same for the rest of our crew. Thank you, Nesa." She told the girl softly, praying to the goddess that everything worked out well for her. She was too sweet to be a slave and she would be better help to the Caravan. Ari was bound to get herself into trouble anyway and she didn't want Nesa to be caught up in it.

...Where I can see you, my love

[nouveau-riche]

Women.

They never failed to amuse him. The way their lashes fluttered about as they giggled behind their dainty, little fingers, pretending to be so coy and oh-so fragile—it was adorable, to say the least. A sly simper danced across his lips. He adored women, but only because they were so easy. It didn’t take more than the smallest compliment, the slightest gesture, to make them his. All of them. Even the ones that denied it at first, the ones that scoffed at his confidence, they always came back in the end—crawling, too, begging him to forgive their doubt.

Women.

They never failed to amuse him. Like an endless supply of toys, wherein he’d replace one with another the moment it lost its lustre. He’d always been the spoiled son of the family, always gotten what he’d wanted since birth. No one was there to teach him a lesson, no one except her—the one woman that never fell for his charms, the sole female who was able to hold him on a leash. But no matter, she wasn’t around anymore. So here he was, Lucien de Valence, twenty-eight, and still as spoiled as ever, always getting his way.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he rose from his seat, stamping a single gold coin on the wooden table before making his leave. “Thank you for your generous hospitality, ladies.” And with a grateful nod, he exited the tiny farmhouse. It was a pigsty in his eyes, too cramped and too dirty to satisfy a man of his nobility. But he didn’t have any complaints. Suppose he enjoyed the modesty of the way these people lived. They were happy, most of the time, and that appealed to him. It warmed his heart, somewhat. The messiness, the ‘humble’ lifestyle, at times he’d even consider the peaceful route for himself.

His ears perked, word of a new caravan that had just settled within the walls of Belorner sparking his interest. Maybe, he thought, maybe he could hitch a ride later on. The thought of group travel didn’t sound too bad. It would be like going to camp, meeting new people and making new friends—or not. A look of disgust found his features. Friends were a frustrating disposition, only second to women. Nobody stayed in his life for too long, so why bother? He was only setting himself up for emotional despair, dropping his guard and revealing his weaknesses. He’d be debilitated, defenceless—vulnerable.

Another scowl.

How disgusting.

Vulnerability was disgusting. Weakness was disgusting. Yet, despite his delusions of grandeur, even he knew that he had flaws of his own… At least, at least nobody else knew about them.

Gloved fingers curled around the brim of his hat, its shade subtly masking his silhouette. The corner of his mouth edged up into a crooked grin. In the distance, he could just make out a long chain: small, wheeled compartments strung together and curved like a caterpillar. It wasn’t there when he’d arrived in Belorner; it must have been that caravan the farmers talked about.

He approached with caution, his movement swift and soundless. He could hear voices coming from the front, but only in soft murmurs. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice, he thought, as he carefully climbed into what appeared to be a storage wagon, possibly for the travellers’ luggage. It was difficult to see anything in the darkness. Even with squinted eyes, Lucien could only just decipher the shape of a few items.

“Let’s see here…” Trunks, more trunks, books, furniture, clothes—feminine clothes: garters, stockings… bloomers? A grin, both knowing and entertained, spread his lips at his findings. “So, a caravan filled with women, huh?” he chuckled softly, settling down in a corner where darkness loomed its deepest shade. Travelling ladies, the thought amused him greatly. He figured that they were just a new breed of women, much stronger and more independent than those found in towns. Though, it was the docility and submission that attracted him to the female population in the first place, despite his first (and last) love.

She was his only exception.

[Unais]

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX╠ Ҏᾀηɏῑɴ Ѥ
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX"I'm bad luck?"

She receives his coin with two hands, just remembering the state of her clothing. If she ran it through some water it’d turn back to some sort of linen at the least. But as a request she could go find something made more professionally.

He brings up a good point in having Panyin heal the child-archer. Perhaps that will make it more difficult for her to prattle on with complaints. And there is the point that the leg can always be broken again. Panyin’d been wary of healing her at this early stage in observance that the archer seemed to be looking for any excuse out. Giving her working legs would be one of them.

Not the aqua bint, a different one. As Rasheik adds to her task, an offhand comment, for some reason, makes her mouth curl.

He takes her hand, gold folded inside, and she nods, heading away immediately. She goes back to the sticky merchant caravan to grab a pair of bottles. If both are extensively injured, two should be plenty.

Panyin steps outside and sighs, the beautiful day becoming apparent to her. She’d only vaguely noted where the brat had gone, and as for the other surprisingly idiotic one she’d hardly seeked to take notice. But it’s time to find them now. When she had gone into the merchant’s caravan, the child had moved further down the line. Panyin searches the wagons that’d trailed behind.

It doesn’t take long, two caravans down and she opens another one to let the light in. There the archer holds up a hand to shield from the burst of light. She was tying on her boots. Panyin steps inside and, holding a thumb over the mouth of the bottle, drizzles the archer with potion.

As she starts spitting curses at her, Panyin gets to her leg and soaks the pantleg there. It’s hard to get to her midrift, but she manages to splash some on her shirt and that should do. And even then, she pours more on the teenage-woman’s shoulder. If it gets in the wound there, it’ll go down and fix other injuries from the inside. She doesn’t care for a thorough job, but as she leaves, she is halted by the complications of seeming to have an incomplete healing and if that disappointed Rasheik or was brought up then her skills are not well represented so… With a sigh of near disgust, Panyin comes back and kneels down with her, pulling her shirt up to see the faint injuries and tossing a bit more liquid on it. It seals and she stands.

“Is everything healed?” When given some affirmative, she leaves. Continues searching.

She opens up a few more caravans, locked or not, locking them when she’s finished, and realizes she’s looking at mostly storage when she pauses at the fourth one. She stops, and sighs, but is caught midway. Her eyes find something in the dark. Fixate. She hops inside, compulsion stringing her along. There’s a dried bouquet, and some things hidden inside it. Some very important things that she’d love to have. Natae divae weaved along common wildflowers. The sleek, slender leaves shriveled but preserved from the dry air. She swallows, reaches up and begins to pick the dead plant from the mass. Her hands work carefully, but every little fleck that is lost burns a hole in her. Finally, she has extracted all of it, or what is possible, and tucks it safely into an empty vial on her person. Breath exudes from her mouth. She hadn’t noticed if she was holding it.

Panyin turns back toward the exit thinking that they won’t miss it.

___________________________________
¤ "Hardly."

[Watervoir]

■ □ ■ - - Evelyn Alinari

┐

Being a bodyguard was no cakewalk. Always, the job required a relentless adherence to patience, devotion and the preservation of a heightened sense of awareness. It certainly wasn’t always eventful, to say the least. Presently in Belorner, for example, while there were rather pleasant exchanges being made amongst the members by the front of the caravan, it was still a simple thing to let one’s mind wander and attention be swallowed by the more stimulating sights and sounds of the festivities and the buzz of crowds as they made their ways. For one thing, She had nothing to do with the conversations and she would not have been there had her client not been.

Evelyn was dutiful, and then some. Even with hindrances such as the unwavering mass of Rasheik’s power presently weighing on her, she was on constant watch for hazards or anything that was a potential threat. This proved to be a rather daunting activity over time, as rarely did Velius mingle with anything that was safe. It could have been said that the man liked to push his limits, but it was more likely that the dangerous, like Rasheik, and the weird, like Beck, were the ones who would have been valuable to a man like him.

Evelyn had never met Beck before. Warily, she looked him over, lingering only to eye the serpent dangling lazily on the slaver’s neck, until that got tedious enough and she glanced over to the boy at his side. He was just around her age, if not a tad older, meek and submissive. He was rather lethargic; his consciousness seemed to drift to and fro, just there for a second while Beck made use of him, gone the next, and then back again at the prospect of a juicy treat. His listlessness was reminiscent of an old dog and Evelyn speculated upon the ordeals required to make one subdue to becoming such a disgrace of human dignity.

Once again, her attention was back on Velius. It never truly left him to begin with, so it would have been more accurate to say that she now had her full attention on him. In a flash, her hand gripped the handle of the blade at her hip in preparation to put an end to Rasheik’s surmounting demonstration of violence. The sword remained sheathed however as the threat soon passed and the noble was dismissed, albeit quite roughly, without a scratch. She saw Velius stagger a little at the force of the clap on his back. She took a decisive step forward, hand never having left on her blade, and stopped at the sight of a slight movement of his hung head. “Don’t,” it told her.

She stayed where she was, and it was with anxious eyes that she watched him straightened up, bringing a hand up to his face to massage the spots Rasheik had gripped. There wasn’t the usual smile on his face and he looked a little unsettled, but apart from that the look on his face was indecipherable. He stood there, quietly observing as Rasheik flitted back over to Abel and Beck and Aria made small talk. Evelyn, in turn, unable to make out what was being said in the former conversation, diverted a portion of her focus to the latter.

There was a mention of Velius and the noble crossed his arms, a finger tapping on his arm in a display of annoyance. At the end of the talk, with a chuckle and a delectably compassionate voice he told Aria, “Get some gloves, but don’t let Beck pick them unless you want people to give you weird looks. Frilly umbrellas are not the only divine things in this world that he treasures. Oh, and as charming as he may be, it’s best not to hang onto him for too long after you’re done. This guy’s nuttier than a fruitcake and has this maddening ‘shop ‘til you drop’ attitude. His slave boy’s not the only thing he can’t control.”

“Alas, I’ll be leaving you two to your own devices as I’ve got matters to attend to. See you all later!” Just as Evelyn remembered the names they had intended to give Beck, Velius’ hand patted Aria’s shoulder twice in what appeared to be a gesture of assurance before he broke out of the little circle of men and women. This was their signal to leave and without a word Evelyn followed Velius away. The two disappeared, blending seamlessly into the lively hustle and bustle of the crowds drunk under the spirit of the festivities.



└

[artfreek]

}|{Joesephine Jenkins}|{

Joese smiled at the man as he thanked her. However her smile was dashed away as she heard cry of pain sound over the noise of the street. She knew screams of pain all to well, and they brought back horrible memories that she would rather stay hidden in the recesses of her mind. She cringed away from them sound half hiding behind the man. She shut her eyes tight and hugged her chest.

The girl could only nod as the man advised her to leave, but she didn't want to be alone and as the man was the only person she knew at all she decided she would stay with him. So she grabbed onto his sleeve, opened her eyes, and started walking. She kept her other hand close to her face, head low. She glanced around as she walked staying close to the man. Her fear gradually faded as they walked farther down the street, but she still clung to the man's sleeve. “So what's your name? Mine's Joesephine, but you can call me Joese.” She rattled off, her fear gone. She got to caught up in the streets excitement to be scared.

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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ABEL'S FABLES
Volume Two Chapter Forty Six
In which Abel does not have fun.

Have fun? That didn't sound like Abel's brand of fun at all. In fact, it sounded kind of stressful, and possibly even dangerous. Usually when someone told you to have fun, they were sending you off to play outdoors or to spend time with friends. Maybe you'd be on the verge of a trip that promised to be relaxing and enlightening. It wasn't something you said before sending someone off on a mission to steal precious water that was highly guarded from people who weren't priests or healers. Abel happened to be neither, and he didn't even know how to pass himself off as one or the other. Sure, maybe Rasheik could do that sort of thing at the drop of a pin because he was The Prime a*****e of the Sand Dunes, but Abel had no idea how to even start. Maybe if he adjusted the scarf about his face and knotted it differently?

He wanted to protest, to tell Rasheik that this wasn't a mission he could succeed at, and maybe he should just go and do it himself if he wanted this water so badly. Someone else would pay for his insolence though, and Abel didn't want to have to deal with that laying heavily on his conscience. Also, there was a need inside of him to prove himself to this bandit king. He didn't know where this need came from. Generally he never felt like he had to prove himself to anymore, but Abel wanted to feel the satisfaction of taking the bandit king down a peg. He would show this man that a Conway boy was slicker than Rasheik would think.

Without another word, he left them, all of them parting and fanning out, spreading in different directions like the petals of a blooming flower.

Then he had a second thought. Rasheik hadn't specifically said he needed to go alone, and it never hurt to have someone else with you. Especially when you were in foreign territory. Turning tail, he went to the wagons of the caravan, looking for anyone who might be willing to help him. Maybe Krios could pop up. He seemed to have a solid head on his shoulders, and although he didn't use a sword, he did seem to know how to handle himself in a fight. Or maybe he could grab that large sand guy -- who would totally tell Rasheik that he'd needed help like a big baby. Nope. He wouldn't go to him. Someone else not so closely linked with Rasheik. Particularly a priest or a healer. Wasn't Krios something like that? Even someone who looked like a priest or healer would do. He peeked his head into empty wagon after empty wagon, passing by the slave wagon with a shudder rolling down his spine. No way was he asking that creeper. He eventually found himself near the merchant's wagons, and he peeked around. He could hear the voices of ladies inside, and he waited, not wanting to interrupt. He had learned at a very young age that a boy must never interrupt girl talk unless he wanted to be shrieked at and slapped with delicate lady hands. All he could do now was hope someone saw him and asked him what he needed.

A friend in need is a friend indeed.

[No Eul]

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The caravan had been taken over quite easily. Either the caravan had been significantly weaker than it had been previously, or their leader had proven himself (or herself, Ailbhe tried not to think too hard on the matter) to be more competent than she thought. It was like to be a combination of the two, but the young woman chose to credit the caravan's weakness to their previous bandit raid-- the one before her true leader had been murdered. Her true leader... She had become too accustomed to that particular barbarian-- no, she was becoming too accustomed to living amongst the barbarians. She was becoming a barbarian. They were infecting her with some sort of disease that increased complacency and she could see the forced resistance that she presented.

With that thought in mind, she had purposely isolated herself from the rest of the caravan the remainder of the journey to Belorner. The wagon she had chosen had no windows and consisted mainly of storage items. It was an uncomfortable quarters, but she had hardly noticed as her body kept her mind shut down a greater portion of the time. Her body wanted to deal with its injuries and kept the woman asleep, which was like to be a godsend to the people who had forced her participation in the raid. By the time that the string of wagons had settled down, her body was feeling much better than it had. There was still a ways until full recovery, but Ailbhe considered herself well enough to walk about.

It was with the intention to rework her joints that she had sat up and began to put on her boots. However, as she was tying up the first boot, light invaded the wagon she had been staying in and she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the painful rays. Who had decided to intrude upon herself was undecided and she squinted her eyes in attempt to find out. Ailbhe was still struggling with identification when liquid was suddenly rained upon her and a strange feeling bubbled over her wounds. Startled, she began to hiss nasty words in her native tongue at the intruder while attempted to move out of the line of the liquid's fire. This was harder than her body wanted as moving about with a single boot half-strapped to her leg was awkward. Eventually the liquid attack is halted though, and the intruder moved to leave as the other glared daggers at the person. The intruder seemed to notice though and turned back, inquiring about the injuries while violating her. "They're fine! They need not your witchcraft!" the archer raged; although before she could continue, the alchemist woman was already departing.

In a huff, Ailbhe returned to putting on her shoes and grabbed her bow before touching her assaulted wounds-- or where they had been. Running her fingers over the skin continually, the original expression of surprise slowly sank into its usual scowl. The alchemist's liquid had healed her wounds completely and while she should have been grateful, the archer was displeased. Happy that she was completely recovered? There was no denying that she had wished her wounds to disappear. Then what made her so unhappy? The barbarians had, yet again, helped her. She did not want their help, yet despite her attitude, she was forced to take their aid.

Stepping out of the wagon, still shielding the rays of sun from her face, the scowl on the woman's face had grown. They were in a city once more, and it was not one that she was familiar with. Her previous leader had favored the Westerwood over the rest of the world. The world revolved around the Westerwood so the most money could be made from picking the people living in that region. If she took a moment to think about the direction of where the caravan had been headed, the young woman could have figured it out on her own, but as it was, she continued to wallow in sour ignorance. She needed to find her new "leader" and figure out what her role was. She needed a role in this barbaric world or she believed she would go crazy. No strength to meet her current goals gave her no purpose. She could not remain this way.

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[Lady Knives]

The entire time that pallid skinned woman worked with their things Ebosia glared at her (for as long as she could keep her eyes open, of course!). She glared....and glared and glared..and fell asleep for a while, then woke up, and GLARED some more! Ebosia could tell that the woman was abnormally timid, but that she held the attitude of expectation to be able to use anything and everything. Then she realized as she watched just how much of her things the woman used. GREAT! Now she would need to go around this town when they stopped and gather more herbs, powders, and raw regents.

"Ey' Mo. I'm getting pretty ******** sick of being pushed around so much. I'm about to slit someone's throat." She whispered to the blue merchant at one point, eyes glistening with a growing hate that sparkled quite loudly in her eyes.

She arched her body as she laid down in the cot that was hung underneath the cabinets, watching the shuffling off the woman's legs and feet as she came and went, grabbing things, mixing them, and not bothering to leave any money to replace any of the things she used. Ebosia shook her head at the rudeness, making a mental note in her head to murder the s**t out of that woman one day.

The anger in the woman rose as the days passed, but it quickly disappeared when she realized they had arrived at the city. It was a strange town that she had never been to before, but it would be a brand new adventure for her and her entourage. The first thing she would do is get to her sack of gold/silvers/coppers and get ready to screen through the shops and such. She would then scout the territory and gauge whether or not there would be any herbs around the area to collect.

A shadow passed across the canvas that covered one of the windows near the door, then stopped. It made it seem like they were waiting for someone to come out. Alright then, they wanted to talk to someone, they would talk to Ebosia herself.

How can I help you? she spouted with a half-frown, gazing up at the face of that burly fellow from earlier on in the trip.

m yxxh e a r txxi sxxp h o s p h o r ,
s e axxr o l l sxxa n dxxd e a t hxxt o l l s .

b r e a kxxt h exxs u r f a c e - -
d o n ' txxb r e a kxxm yxxb o n e sxx!

[nouveau-riche]

A sharp alarm rang in his head, the remaining drops of sleep flushed away from his body as he heard footsteps nearing towards him. Lucien was bound to be discovered, it was an imminent fact, but he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Nevertheless, he scrambled back to his feet and hid behind shelves, careful not to make a sound.

The sudden ray of light blinded him, almost. He had to blink a few times before his vision readjusted to its brighter surroundings. A figure of subtle curves and delicate limbs—a woman, as expected, but in no way a disappointment. The corner of his lips curled into a knowing smirk at the hasty confirmation of his hypothesis. She didn’t appear to him as a threat, as with most females, but, being a man with countless battles under his belt, he knew better than to underestimate his opponents. This was not to say that he considered her to be an opponent in the first place—he didn’t.

A watchful gaze trailed her every movement, fingers slowly coiling around the hilt of his sword. She looked fragile, almost as brittle as the shrivelled leaves in her hands. She wasn’t the kind of person he’d expected to see, but suppose every flock of sheep had a lamb or two. Soon enough, her back was facing him. Soon enough, he approached her.

In an instant, the distance between their bodies evaporated. The swordsman stood less than a step behind her, his gloved palm clasping over her mouth tightly to prevent even the slightest of squeaks from escaping. He held her close with a swift tug, the blade of his sword vacillating about her final breath. And in that moment, he could feel her heartbeat, pitter-pattering in jagged rhythms. The scent of fear, it thrilled him.

“Now, now,” he whispered, his head dipping only so low as to have his lips brush against the apple of her cheekbone. He lingered, for an instant, breathing, “We don’t want to spoil the surprise just yet.”

Lucien parted his hand from her lips, the sinister blade a reminder of what could happen should she utter a cry. It was no intention of his to hurt her, but all the same, he’d already come too far to free her. “Suspicious, this caravan,” he murmured, inching the sharp edge closer to her throat, “Suspicious items, suspicious timing…” Gentle fingers reached up, sliding under her chin to bring her gaze to his. “It’s almost as if you’re up to no good.” A smile, both charming and entertained, spread his lips at her struggle.

Honestly? He couldn’t care less about what the travellers’ true intentions were. All he looked for was a means of transport. Of course, if they demanded payment in the form of money, he could grant them tenfold. But the toying, the pretend interrogation and mock curiosity, it was all too amusing.