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 Posted: Fri Sep 16, 2011 7:55 pm
into the city
featuring valka a. tverskaya & robert fieford
location locksmithery, london
in which valka runs an errand for his master
*** 
London was enveloped by an ugly gray smog. The sky had taken on a bleak, colorless hue of gray and no sun and even the trees seemed deathly silent, rooted stiffly to the ground and not a drop of wind through their branches. Everywhere, the telltale signs of winter lingered, a malicious foreboding lurking against the backdrop of the city. It crept places, reaching farther and darker than Valka had thought possible.
A chill sidled up against him, slipping into the invisible cracks of his winters clothes. He shivered against its icy touch and tucked his collar closer to his neck. Behind him, the open-topped carriage trundled away. Valka's hazel eyes turned to follow its rickety figure as it disappeared down the cobbled road, the ringing of shod hooves against stone echoing even as the carriage rounded a corner and vanished from sight.
He tucked his ears into the hat atop his head, relishing in what little warmth and comfort it brought. There was little to be found. With a frown, he glanced down at the package clasped in his hands, a special delivery to be made in a timely manner to one mister Robert Fieford within the city of London. Why that was, Valka could not say. It was neither his place nor his interest to question the demands of his master, and it seemed enough that he knew the contents of the package. It was a set of lock picks, fashioned especially for said Mr. Fieford, though why that was, Valka could not say either.
It was simply an errand. Better get inside and out of the cold. Clutching the package against his coat, he hurried toward the door. The bell clanged when he rang it, and he waited against the door, watching silently as his breath fogged the air before him.
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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2011 10:22 pm
The frigid wind chilled even the inside of the locksmithery; a place where it was rarely below body temperature with the stoves on full. Morning and early afternoon was an even more ruthless time of day as night's uneasy chill. Thin walls, only enough to keep the wind from breaking it down protected the tools, stove and Robert.
Inside the smithery, away from the hustle and bustle of the busy London citizens, sat Roy as he slaved away meticulously at a fancy lock in the shape of a wine from a rose bush. Roy sat, legs extended,sleeves rolled up above his elbows and lock in hand. Soft mutters could be heard from Roy's mouth as the shaving sound of file against metal echoed through the smithery.
News came earlier about a gentleman by the name of Valka arriving to deliver him tools of the lock picking variety. Up until now, Roy had to make a second set of keys, all labelled with care in the quite likely case of a key going missing from a customer's hands. With this kit, he could easily open locks for those before he searched through tens or even hundreds of keys to find the right one. Contrary to popular belief, Roy was, in fact, not using it to break into places with items of value.
The sound of metal on metal of a different variety broke Roy's concentration. He clambered to his feet as he made his way to the door. Upon opening the door, he was greeted with a rude breath of wind, instantaneously making Roy shiver from his toes in leather shoes to the nape of his neck. As well, he noticed a red hat before noticing it was atop the head of a boy. "Hello." A soft, ambiguous greeting escaped his mouth to his visitor.
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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2011 11:06 pm
The open door was a welcome sight, and Valka wasted no time in slipping indoors. Tendrils of wind snaked in behind him, chilling the room, but the sight of the stoves flaming away seemed enough to warm him. The boy's gaze crossed from the stoves to the table on which the intricately designed lock lay and onto the walls. Fragile as they looked, he couldn't help but to appreciate their presence around him.
"Sir," he said in greeting, hastily pulling the hat from his head lest the locksmith found some offense in its presence. It took a conscious effort to suppress the thick Russian accent that laced his words and more willpower than Valka would have liked, but he felt it in his favor to test his surroundings before growing too comfortable. Not everybody was like his master, Valka reminded himself, no matter how they were affiliated to him. And, in this instance, he wondered if the locksmith did, indeed, have some ties to his master or if he was simply another customer along the way. Some things seemed more worth knowing than others.
"The delivery, sir, a full set of lock picks." Valka rubbed his hand against his coat to warm them before offering the clutched package out. He thought hard on his next words, trying to remember exactly what he had been told to relay. Years of being an assistant of sorts and countless errands run had lent to him a decent memory. "My master would have me inform you that he spent two days casting the metal and fashioning them, sir, and that you will not find any piece amiss." Valka certainly hoped so. He would have despised a second trip out into the city in similar weather.
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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2011 11:38 pm
Before his greeting was addressed by this boy, he had slipped in, seeking warm salvation by the stove. He promptly closed the door behind them as he stepped back towards his visitor. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to the simple greeting. "Be careful around it." His voice apathetic as he pointed a forefinger to one of the long metal rods near the stove. Though it looked cooled, it could melt a variety of metals to a consistency of water.
Both hands reached out and received the picks from the boy. From the first greeting, it was nearly impossible to tell this boy was indeed of Russian descent. But as his voice lingered on, it grew odd to Roy. He couldn't pinpoint it, but he did not own a voice of your everyday London chap. "My greatest thanks to the master." He said with a small nod, brushing away his doubts. "And thank you to you... I don't believe we have ever met before." Roy was rarely about town to begin with, let alone being able to meet everyone in town.
Roy's feet carried him towards the working table where on the side was a pile of lock casings as well as silver coins. He began to gather coins from the holes and cracks between locks identical to the one beside it. "How much do I owe him?" A question addressed to the boy, but in a tone more to himself than anyone else with a pile of silver coins in his hands and his eyes locked onto finding enough shillings from the abyss of a work bench.
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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2011 11:58 pm
Valka eyed the stove from afar, and nodded his understanding at the locksmith's warning. He had had enough accidents and bad experiences around stoves and fires that steering clear of them had become almost second nature to him. Appreciating the warmth was one thing, but being seared to the bone was another entirely and the latter hardly appealed to him.
He snapped back to attention as he felt the package being lifted out of his grasp, and he offered his hand, half awkwardly, to compliment his introduction. "No, sir, we haven't. My name is Valka, sir." Announcing his name to a customer was a relatively uncommon activity for him, and it felt almost strange to be shaking hands with one. Most were concerned with the package, and that was that. Very few people ever took the time to gain an understanding of the messenger, but then again Valka couldn't say that he was complaining. At times, the less attention the better, it seemed.
"Uhm..." He watched the piled coins hungrily from across the room. "My master says it was his pleasure to offer his services, and that if you would consider returning to purchases future wares, then this set can serve as thanks for your patronage, sir." Valka himself would never have said such a thing, and the thought of watching those silver coins remain homeless and exposed on the table made him want to twice.
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Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2011 10:59 am
After he placed the picks carefully atop a pile of locks, he stepped over to the stove. “Would you care for a cup of tea?” From the looks of his guest, glued to the whereabouts of the stove, it was only proper to offer a warm drink. He placed a black kettle, dented inside and out from falls and accidents, upon the heated part of the stove. The smithery had served as both a workshop and living space. Many would argue that this was not safe practise, he refused to change his ways. After all, he was already dead, right?
"Valka..." Roy repeated, noting it mentally; he associated boy in red hat with this name. "A pleasure." He took the offer for a shake of the hand, returning it with a hardy dip of their hands before releasing. “You needn’t call me ‘sir’ if your master is not present.” It made him feel older than he looked and he did not believe in formalities betwixt those of working class.
His green eyes caught the hazel ones wandering over to his hands. From his response, he could tell that this boy was brought up by his master well. A quality that sometimes, was hard to come by. Many stories of children from the less fortunate families taking things from strangers were not that uncommon. "In that case," He began to slide the shillings into the depths of his pocket, but he picked out a single shiny shilling. “For your services.” He said in the same emotionless voice as his words before as he slipped the shilling into the hands of the boy.
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Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2011 10:59 pm
Tea seemed a delightful idea. Standing beside the stove was only doing so much to ward off the cold, and while Valka was certain the tea would have been futile on its own, the inner warmth it would bring combined with that of the stove promised a little respite from the early winter chill. "If it's not too much trouble, sir," he said, barely keeping the eagerness from slipping into his voice.
The original plan had been to hail the fastest carriage, drop the package off, decline payment and return to the relative warmth of the smithy in as short a time as possible. The open-topped carriages left the wind free to n** at unwitting passengers, and after his trip into the city, even the stove wasn't enough to warm him up again. Even so, accepting a cup of tea seemed a far more attractive alternative to stepping back out into the cold.
He nodded lightly as the locksmith repeated his name. Again, his eyes began to wander across the room, taking in every detail. He was so engrossed by his surroundings that it took him a short moment to reply. "Yes, sir," he managed with a wry smile. Much as he would have liked to take Roy's advice, Valka had never met anyone that he hadn't addressed as "sir" or "ma'am," no matter how young or old. Doing so now would have been... strange, to say the least. He was set enough in his ways that it would take more than a suggestion to change him.
"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully, palming the shilling, half-surprised. It wasn't the first time he had stared at money like a hungry dog at roast beef, but that didn't mean that patrons made a habit of tipping him for his errand-running services. And a shilling... a whole shilling. He was at a loss for words as his fingers deftly flipped the coin around. Even the chill seemed less harsh now.
"Do you... have very many patrons, sir?" He asked hesitantly. It wasn't in his nature to probe, or even just to ask questions but there had to be a reason for Roy's willingness to part with money.
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Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2011 6:00 pm
Pulling off the lid, the water let out a puff of steam as if relieving tension. In a few pinches of dark tea leaves from a tin as beat up as the kettle, they floated atop the water being heated. He heard Valka's reply, but did nothing out of the ordinary except place an extra half pinch of tea leaves than normal. Tea was one of the few things Roy made safely. Heat bubbled through water and some leaves that looked like death but smelt glorious.
Though Roy had voiced for Valka to not call him with such formality, it seemed that he truly was quite polite. He had no regrets handing over the shilling to such a boy, even if it meant working a few more hours making a lock or two more.
“Quite a few, actually. Enough to keep me busy for months ahead.” He remembered days when people flooded in day in, day out. Not even a single moment when he could have just sat to work without any interruptions. But he was grateful for those kinds of days for they offered money to buy materials and feed himself. He did not believe in worldly indulgences. He did his job, people were happy, and he had fulfilled what he was sent to do.
Roy picked the kettle up by the handle and poured it into normal-looking cups, nothing fancy or even close to being decently appealing to look at. At least they were all clean as a whistle, although stained with the remnants of dark tea. As he handed one by the rim to Valka, he said “Hope you do not mind,” before pulling up a chair, which was the only chair in the smithery that belonged behind the desk, for Valka to sit. “What brings you to come on a journey alone? You seem quite… Young.” He made a wild guess by just looking at Valka’s face and general size.
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Posted: Tue Sep 20, 2011 3:34 pm
Valka took a sniff at the air as the soft aroma of tea wafted up from the kettle. There was something in that smell that reminded him of home, though neither of his parents had often indulged in tea. It had been an unnecessary luxury that they hadn't been able to afford, and now that they had passed away, Valka's list of luxuries had grown even thinner. He took his two meals with his master, so his salary covered only the very basic costs of living. It was an arrangement that neither he nor his master much minded, but after paying the rent, he rarely had the money to spend on anything other than clothes and candles.
"Oh. I suppose they pay quite generously for a locksmith's services. If... you don't mind my saying, sir," he added hastily. It wasn't really his place to question, or even to form conjectures about, somebody else's occupation. Not that Valka himself took offense when asked about his job, but Roy was obviously more successful and more entitled than he was, which meant that Valka was prepared to tread carefully. Money was power, after all. That much he knew, if nothing else.
"Oh, not at all, sir, thank you, sir." He reached out to clasp the cup in both hands, feeling the heat of the tea warming his hands through his thin woolen gloves. Tendrils of smoke curled up invitingly from the dark liquid inside, and he took a deep breath of the tea's scent before taking a slow sip. Valka couldn't help but smile a small smile as he peered into the reflective depths of the tea. So simple, and yet so satisfying.
"Sixteen Eleven next month, sir," he said with a nod, slipping gingerly onto the proffered chair as he took another long sip from the cup. "I'm told I don't look it, but I've worked for my master going on seven almost two years now. Mostly errands and such. He doesn't have much time to make deliveries himself. I suppose he's beginning to trust me." He smiled.
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Posted: Thu Sep 22, 2011 6:41 pm
“Quite.” Roy nodded as he replied. “Long ago, I've made a promise that every lock should be as well made as the next, no matter the payment.” He noted as he replaced the spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose. A bad rumour leading up to a climax of a notorious reputation of faulty locks would surely run him out of house and job. It’d be best for him to just make them to the liking of the customer than have regrets late on.
Roy blew against the top of his cup as steam drifted and disappeared into thin air. Taking a sip, he dipped his head and with a brief close of his eyelids. The smile on Valka’s face made the tea all the more soothing. It wasn’t the finest tea, nor did it hold some poetic name, dubbed by a scholarly figure. Needless to say, it reassured him that Valka seemed to have gotten more comfortable in his presence. Or perhaps that was just his words about not minding the cup that has clearly seen better days.
He had guessed silently in his mind that Valka was much younger, perhaps only ten or twelve. . So he had guessed right. A rare feat for Roy who told no sign of aging. He could hardly believe that the boy was already almost a fifth of his lifespan.Though it was a big step for mortals, it is but a small scratch at life for those who were dead. “That’s quite the long time.” Roy commented. “To only do these kinds of errands?” There must have been someone who could have taken the journey rather than a boy of but eleven years. It was cold not to mention a tempting prey to hungry thugs.
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Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2011 9:59 am
"Sort of like a blacksmith, then," Valka mused, nodding his head in comprehension. What little education he had had from his parents didn't prepare him to understand many abstract concepts, but he was good enough with his hands and from there, he had found that he could relate a good many things to what he did with them. Like smithying. He was beginning to form a clearer picture of what exactly a locksmith did, though he imagined it was a much more delicate process.
But like Valka's master, Roy had dedicated himself to perfecting every order that came through, and the time commitment required of such a promise was one that the hazel-eyed youth well understood. It took true skill and devotion to ensure that every sword forged had perfect balance, and that every gate made would swing together with ease.
"Yes, sir," Valka replied, bobbing his head in affirmation as he took another sip of tea. He was beginning to feel thoroughly unfrozen by now, which he took to be a good thing - a very good thing, considering how quickly that situation would be remedied upon stepping out into the cold. "Well, for the first several years mostly. I'm learning the trade, or beginning to. I'm learning how to make the horseshoes." It was a small step, but and exciting one and at least his arms were beginning to recognize grow accustomed to the weight of the heavy hammers and the repetitive motion of forging. It was almost therapeutic, in a way, and his master's wife liked to smile and tell him that he would soon grow to be as strong and well-muscled as his master, and when that happened, any pretty lass would be see him and swoon. Valka himself wasn't so sure.
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Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 1:57 pm
"You could say it like that." Roy murmured as Valka made the connection between the two kinds of smiths. "It isn't quite as strenuous as a locksmith though. I would imagine that a blacksmith would carry much more metal than I." He rarely ever picked up more than a few pounds of metal at a time and his hammer barely weighed a third of him. For someone of Valka's age, though he seemed to look like he was growing into a fine young man, Roy thought it to be quite the task to smith swords as his master did.
"Horseshoes, hmmm? Would you mind showing me your workshop one day?" Roy questioned. It would be interesting to see the shops aside from the walls of his own. "and all of them fit to the horse who wears them?" He asked as he finished off the last of his tea. He never truly understood how horses were unaffected by the nail driven up their hooves and constantly walking around the cobblestone roads with it attached. He, himself, could barely stand walking a few steps with blunt rocks in the soles of his shoes let alone iron fittings.
Roy poured another half-cup of steaming tea. He offered the kettle in Valka's general direction, a silent nudge if he wanted some more in his cup or if he wanted to re-heat his tea. The cold did tea no justice as it stole the heat right from the surface of the water.
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Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 5:18 pm
Valka nodded his agreement. Blacksmiths did handle heavy burdens of metal regularly, and Valka was certain that his master, a man almost three times his size, had biceps as thick as the young apprentice's thighs. There were days when Valka had to wonder if he would one day look like that. No doubt, continued affiliation with blacksmithy would one day give him the same sort of build as his master, but... the man was absolutely gigantic.
But perhaps Valka did not have to same genetic propensity to bulk up quite the same way. Both his parents had been tall, slender individuals, and Valka himself had been somewhat willowy all his life. Now that he was beginning to grow - and truly grow - his limbs had decided to lengthen, and he had about him the scrawny look of a young lad on the cusp of adolescence. Long and thin and skinny everywhere, with tousled black hair that seemed to add to his scruffy appearance. His master would not have been pleased to see him make deliveries looking so much like the little ragamuffin that he was, but some things simply could not be helped. It was only now that he had begun to get acquainted with hammer and metal that he was filling out his frame and seeming better put together. He neither looked nor felt as gangly as he he had several years early.
"Nyet, not at all, sir," he replied with a shake of his head, letting slip some Russian in his haste. "If it pleases you to see it, then it would be my pleasure, sir." Having finished speaking, he chewed anxiously on the inside of his bottom lip. The locksmith seemed friendly enough, but it was difficult to really anticipate how he would react upon discovering Valka's foreign ethnicity. He had met plenty of people before who had been less than cordial to the fact that he had a Russian heritage.
"Uhm, well I just help make the models, sir. Three different sizes, standard, but the man who shoes the horses shapes them to the hooves." Of course, "help" was a term loosely defined. The extent of his responsibilities at this point was the occasional hammerstroke and making sure that the bucket of water for cooling the metal was kept full.
He reached to take hold of the kettle eagerly, already anticipating some more hot tea in his cup. The tea and conversation had done a fine job of keeping the bitter cold at bay, and he was reluctant to let either go.
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Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 8:30 pm
The unfamiliar word travelled to rumble Roy’s ear drum. Nyet. It wasn’t a word you heard everyday. He pressed his glasses up with the back of his wrist, digging deep into his memory for a second before coming with a conclusion of which language and where it was from. He really couldn’t discriminate against the boy. After all, Roy was already dead. A Russian lad in England wasn’t even the most unique of the variety of ethnicities. “Well, whenever you would like me to go or if your master requests me, do send me a letter in the post or come by for a visit and a tea?” Roy responded with a question to his statement. He tried not to add any more to the heavy air that seemed to form around their heads.
“At least it is something to keep you busy when you are not out on errands, no?” He asked. His side of the conversation seemed to mostly be questions, but he preferred it this way. At least he didn’t have to think of answers, just toss down questions. Valka’s hands motioned to the kettle, but with his cup filled hand pressed the boy’s hands back down. Despite it being out for quite some time, he didn’t want to risk the boy burning his hand upon the kettle. His master might take a trip to the small locksmith’s shop and teach him a thing or two about harming his young apprentice. Roy had only one pair of glasses and he wasn’t prepared to have them broken by the hands of the robust master. “Put it forward.” He motioned to the cup in Valka’s hands as he tipped the kettle just a tad to not spill any water.
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Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 9:02 pm
For a moment, he couldn't help but regard the locksmith with curiosity. Such indifference was almost unprecedented, and it was certainly a welcome change. Many living in the slum in which Valka's parents had taken up residence upon reaching London came from foreign backgrounds - most had been driven to the city in search of a better life. Even so, the prejudice that English-born residents held for those that weren't was palpable, and most days, Valka's usual Russian accent warranted less-than-hospitable stares.
He was used to it there, though. A vulgar word thrown his way or conspicuous spitting on the floor had long since become regular occurrences in his daily routine. Many of the residents had known his family and its background since the day they had moved in. But outside of the slum, somehow, it was different. Valka took much greater care in concealing his identity outside, in part because of a lack of understanding. At the very least, he knew that the prejudice inside the slum would be limited to gestures and harsh words. Outside it, who knew. Perhaps physical violence could come into play.
"I'll do that, sir," he agreed, making a mental note to relay the message to his master upon his return. This was already a much nicer part of the city than where they were located, though, and Valka wondered what his master would think about inviting the locksmith into such a desolate part of town. It wasn't the type of place that most wished to spend their time.
It was probably for the best to let Roy pour the tea. Much as Valka had experience handling hot forges and red metal, kettles were another matter entirely, and no doubt forging horseshoes would have been painful with a severely burned hand. He held the cup forward, and watched as the water filled it and mist curled gently up from the surface once again.
"Oh, yes, sir," he said with a nod. "Better than sweeping, in any case." Not that hammering the shoes into shape was any less repetitive than sweeping. But at the very least, he got to see an end product in forging horseshoes, and if he was lucky, his master gave him a slim cut of the profits. "And if I muck it up, nobody dies." There was much less at stake with horseshoes than with swords, which suited Valka just fine. A horse with a hoof-ache was less likely to come back to bite him in the behind than a nobleman with a puncture wound
((So! I forgot that this RP would have to be a flashback. In that case, Valka would have to be between 9 and 11 to fit into the time frame properly, so I chose something in between. I underlined the changes that I made to make them more visible, but there might be one or two parts of Roy's reaction that might need to be edited XD; I tried to keep the text as similar as possible though, so hopefully there isn't much to change. APOLOGIES! XD))
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