[PRP] Errand Day [Freds & Striga]

[phoenix kiss]

Striga considers it a good day when he eats. The hedgewitch is not, by necessity, a bad person; he is just a poor one, and generally misliked by the richer populace of Sunderland. It means Palisade is not a good place for him to go when he is down on his luck.

He thinks, darkly, it is because of the hat.

Its broad brim keeps the sun off of his face as he eats a stolen mincemeat pastry, long nimble fingers picking off pieces of crust to pop them into his mouth. The hat is eminently visible: broad-brimmed, dark brown, with a long feather hanging off of it. The feather is enough to earn him looks, but when they see the rook--

If only people knew the truth of hedgewitches, Striga thinks, sourly, finishing off the pastry.

A moment later he hops down from the low stone wall he'd been sitting on, tucks a strand of silver hair idly behind one pierced ear, puts two fingers in his mouth .. and whistles. First and Last should be about, if he guesses correctly. It's almost like they carry their own smell.

Above him, a rook quorks; the sound is almost like a chuckle.  

[LoveByLetters]

Directly behind him he can hear someone swear, and feel the faint breeze as something passes close enough to his hat to ruffle the feather on top of it. Close? Apparently one of the brothers had been just behind the wall, and on the verge of swiping his infamous hat when he'd whistled. Whether he'd been aware of their presence or not, the twins will no doubt assume that his own uncanny nature had informed him of their silent approach.

It's First who pops up over the top of the wall, and then hangs halfway over it, scowling at Striga -- though Last is only moments behind, sauntering around the corner as if it's nothing to do with the whistle; he just so happens to be passing by.

"Goin' to get me that one one've these days," First tells Striga amiably, with a broad grin.

"And then what?" Last grumbles. "I ain't wearin' it, and I don't have a mind to try finding one like it."

The brothers look as they always do, well-dressed in perfect likeness of each other: down to the bandages they each wear, covering one shoulder and wrapped around one leg. They even have matching cuts over the same side of their face, just above the eye -- healing now into matching scars.  

[phoenix kiss]

"If you take this hat," Striga says -- in as amicable a voice as one would ever hope to hear, "I will curse you. The both of you." His eyes widen. He leaves this open to imagination; both of the Freds know he is a witch. Garnet, who watches with solemn beady eyes, suddenly flaps his wings and then screams. It is as if he does this on cue, or perhaps there has been some mystical communication between hedgewitch and familiar. "Not only will your bacon always burn--"

He blinks; the threat is laid aside so the overactive imaginations of the boys can get to work. "Now. What did you want me for?"  

[LoveByLetters]

The twin who has sauntered so amiably around the corner looks more than a little uneasy at that threat: in fact, Last looks more nervous then he has in the past when such threats were made. They have until now afforded him a certain level of respect and even nurtured a certain amount of admiration for him .. but it's as if a chill goes up Last's spine when he hears the word "curse." Even first, draped over the wall just behind Striga, gives the rook an uncertain glance, and the bard will be privy to a look shared between the two boys, a mutual agreement to treat Striga very carefully.

"Ain't no cause for all that," Last mutters, shuffling his feet; a scraping behind Striga heralds his brother climbing over the wall and coming to join him.

"Got a posh lady as wants some information about some folk -- not high-circle information, right?" First seems a little bit steadier, a little less likely to bolt if Garnet squawks at him again.

"She's lookin' for things our lot'd know about him." Last seems on firmer ground now, and flashes Striga a grin at the foolishness of nobles .. but far be it for them not to take advantage!

"What his servants are sayin', y'know?" First agrees with a nod, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops.  

[phoenix kiss]

"Who are they looking for?" One of the hedgewitch's brows quirks up. It is not widely known, but this particular witch has focused on the arts of communication to specialize in -- not to mention that many people mistake Garnet for another common crow, given that he is plain, sooty black. They don't recognize the bird for what it is, and tend to .. speak their minds.

"And who is it? If I get my head lopped off for eavesdropping it won't do anyone any good."  

[LoveByLetters]

"Looking for any dirty secrets, any mess in his household that nobbles ain't gonna hear about in their luncheons and tea." First shrugs, as if all of this just goes to show how much smarter the servants are than the nobility, to know all sorts of things they can't find out otherwise.

"Where the by-blows are," continues Last, "How much of the silver's stolen, whether or not the coffers really are full or empty. If there's been stuff covered up, y'know." He grins, knowing that they could hardly have picked a better person for the task.

"And naw, he ain't so high as all that. Just some fop, prolly one she's thinking about getting hitched to if he ain't got no skeletons in his closet." Now First grins, too, at the thought of a lady bold enough to actively seek secrets like this out. "It's honor'ble Viscount Paul Blair who we're setting you after."