OOC: I know Ivon's not someone most characters would approach, but there are a couple opportunities here. He's going to need a nice suit of clothes, nice enough that he can get away with talking to the servants of nobles without being thrown out -- so he will go and visit some kind of tailor or clothes-seller. He will also be stopping by a few market stalls, and if nothing else I can have him stop at a tavern to get something to eat on his way home. I would advise against any kind of thief trying to pick his pockets or such, since he has a ready reaction for that and it isn't pretty. But he isn't going to lash out without cause, so someone could certainly get away with asking him questions. He may also stop to examine someone with a Guardian, and would have a copper or two for anyone who let him look closely at their beast.
It is late afternoon when Ivon makes it back to Palisade, content with his work and pleased with the anticipation of a great reward, though none would be able to tell it from his expression. His face is completely blank and his steps are firm and even, with nothing the least like a bounce to any of them. It has been said that he is always as somber as a priest, though the blasphemy of comparing Ivon to a priest is inevitably brought up directly after. There is nothing holy about Ivon. The other thugs, thieves and criminals of the poorer quarters whisper to each other that Ivon killed his first man before he'd even become a man, and that the years have only made him that much better at it.
So when Ivon re-enters town after being gone for three days, most folk assume that he has left the city for a job. The fact that he has returned carrying a great big crate covered by a thick canvas cloth is noted but not remarked upon, because most folk do not dare to question anything he does. You do not prod a sleeping wolf, after all, just to see what it will do ..
Balancing the crate on one shoulder in a way that says its weight is negligible to Ivon's considerable strength, the hired muscle makes his way patiently down the street. He doubts anyone would ever guess what he has planned, but it will take time to bear fruit and require several more steps until he can consider the whole thing a success. He must get his secret burden back to his flat and hide it there, and then he must somewhere obtain a nicer suit of clothing than the practical (and much battered) clothing he currently owns. Then there are few things he needs to buy in the market, a few elbows he needs to grease, and then .. oh, yes, then he will have a nice little nest-egg of gold, not silver, and he will be able to buy the set of matched scimitars he has been lusting after for months.
Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2013 9:18 am
Ruse had had a wonderfully busy day- three people thus far had come into her shop, for refittings, repairs, and one whole dress, with a lovely embroidered bustle and skirt. She was currently leaning back against a lovely decorative tapestry, and fanning herself with a feathery fan. "There we go... Nice and cool again... Oh, I hope another customer comes in soon!" she smiled to herself, happily. A busy Ruse was a happy Ruse.
If the door of the shop has a bell it will ring, but just as audible to little Ruse will be the firm, heavy tread of a stranger walking into her shop door -- a man, by the sound of his hefty boots. He pauses just inside the shop, perhaps taking a look around, perhaps hesitating: in truth, he is not well enough dressed to be in a place like this one, and he expects considerable resistance from any shop-keeper her encounters.
.. but he had not expected that shop-keeper to be female, and that will give him pause as well.
He will greet her only after a long moment, the sound of his voice suggesting that he faces her directly. There is more than a touch of an accent in his voice, a hint that this man was not born here. " .. I have need of good suit," he says to her, in a deep and rumbling voice, and that is all.
Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 12:43 pm
Ruse's ears twitched a tiny bit as she heard her door open- it had a tiny, silver bell, but more than that, the heavy footfalls. She lifted her head slightly, eyes closed as she listened to the man- no woman would dare step that heavy in polite company- approach. At his request, she smiled- his voice was somewhat unusual, but the request was not.
Rising to her bare-but-hidden feet, she walked closer to him, not by sight, but by the sound of where his voice had been. "Of course, good ser- I have many suits premade, or I can make one to fit your tastes... And of course, all clothes will be fitted to you at no extra cost." she smiled, and then added, "My name is Ruse, and your name is..?"
Again there is another pause, as he draws in a slow breath when she approaches: something seems to have startled him, although it cannot be her blindness. She has as yet shown no sign of it, looking in his direction and even walking confidently toward him. (In truth, he is shocked by her size; have they left a child in charge of a shop? Why?)
" .. Ivon," he says finally, slowly, as if he pays the coin of his name as reluctantly as others might part with the contents of their purses. "I will be visiting a noble house," he offers also, standing stiffly in front of her. He would not dare say it, but he has absolutely no idea as to whether it will be better to create or alter, or even what sort of attire would be appropriate. He does have one thought, though, which he assumes that she can see clearly for herself: his shoulders are quite broad, as he is very muscular. "The second-hand shops had nothing which would fit." In other words, he would be surprised if her pre-made suits could be pulled across the breadth of his shoulders, even with alteration.
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 8:50 am
"Well, then, Ivon... Arms up straight out, and hold still. I'd like to get a good measure of you, and we'll see if I have anything your size..." Ruse smiled, nodding lightly, "And it's nice to meet you, Ivon." Ruse was surprised that he had such a deep voice, and hadn't yet commented on her not looking at him, or her lack of a measuring tape.
For now, though, she reached out, and, though it took her a couple of extra seconds to catch hold of Ivon's wrists, she was brisk in positioning them, and then giving him a quick couple of rough estimates with her hands, before blinking. "Quite understandable that second-hand stores would not have your size- it's rare enough that anyone would have your width of shoulder, let alone lack a significant gut to match. I can have something suitable made..."
There is a soft sound (wood on wood) as he sets something down to one side, away from them both, so that he can comply with her request. A crate? A wooden box? It is large enough that he sets it on the floor and does not fear it being broken.
He keeps his silence as she moves around him, watching her, and when she utters her comment regarding his lack of a 'significant gut' he snorts a laugh. Like his voice, his laughter is big and deep and rough, like making him sound rather like a large bull. "You make a living by your needle. I make mine by my strength."
Posted: Wed Jan 16, 2013 9:51 am
LoveByLetters
Not sure if you saw this, so I reposted it.
Ruse grinned, nodding slightly, and then beckoned a worker, speaking softly, "I'd like some of the silk and finer fabrics... I'll need at least a full bolt... Oh, and, Ivon, would you like pants to match the coat and shirt?" she spoke that bit turning back towards him, without opening her eyes, but she made an error in judging his spot- she was turned more towards his crate.
As the assistant bowed a bit, and then turned on his heel, and walked away to gather up what Ruse had requested. "I don't have anything that would look decent on you at a party after alterations... I'll have to make you a new suit, but it shouldn't take too long..." As she moved around him, she kept her eyes closed... until she bumped into, and tripped over his box, unaware of her surroundings having been changed.
There is silence as she speaks to the other worker, and she of course cannot see the flicker of confusion that passes over his bland expression. Why is she just standing there with her eyes closed? Is this some peculiar new game? He remains puzzled, listening to her with only half his attention, until she trips over the crate.
Several things will seem to happen all at once: first and perhaps most important is that she will not land on the sharp-edged wooden crate. A strong arm (she can feel the corded muscle bunch underneath her) snakes around her middle and lifts her entirely up off of the floor, balancing her as gently as if her slight weight means nothing to him. She can hear Ivon hiss through his teeth in worry and surprise, and then sigh once he has caught her .. and she can probably also hear a startled shifting inside the crate, as whatever is being held in there moves about in response to the jolting she has given the crate.
" .. you are blind," Ivon says as he sets her on her feet; it is not an insult, it is not angry, it is simply a statement of fact that he is looking for her to confirm.
Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2013 1:44 pm
LoveByLetters
"Indeed... I am blind..." Ruse confirmed his question, and then shifted her weight slightly, blushing a bit as she felt him set her down gently, surprised by his strength, and nimbleness. "You... caught me..." she grinned, tilting her head and opening up her eyes, so he could see the cloudiness over them. "Oh... something moved... what's in your box, if you don't mind me asking?"
He is a fighter by trade, a mercenary: he relies on that strength and speed to preserve his life, just as she perhaps relies on her ability to accurately judge sizes, or to pull a needle through cloth and keep the stitches straight. But to feel his strength in comparison with how gently he handles her may surprise the young tailor, as perhaps the awkward little pat he gives her on the shoulder to reassure her. "Yes," he says simply; of course he caught her!
She will not of course see him glance down at the crate with a frown, nor that he looks about the shop to make certain that no one else is present. He will make sure that the other employee has not returned before he crouches down in front of her: she will hear the creak of leather, and then that when he speaks his voice is much closer than before. "It is a secret," he tells her very solemnly, reaching out to take her hands. "You must not speak on it, but I will show you."
He pulls her gently forward so that she is standing just in front of the crate, and holds her hands against the edge so that she can feel as he opens it just a bit. Then he guides her hand inside the opening, and down just a bit, to where she can feel the shape of something incredibly soft that shifts under her hand. If she curls her hand and pets what is obviously a small animal, she may be able to trace the shape of a tiny fawn the size of a small cat.
Posted: Tue Mar 12, 2013 8:38 am
((*beats the RL monster back with a stick* I am sorry! It ate me for a bit, so I had to slingshot its uvula.))
Ruse felt him move her, and refrained (barely) from protesting to the action. When he held her hands to the opening crate, she had been half-terrified of having some beast lunge out at her, but that fear passed as he guided one of her slender hands into the crate. Her lips formed a happily surprised 'o', and she leaned forward slightly, starting to pet it gently, curious. It was slender, gracefully so. Its hooves were somewhat soft yet, but held a quiet strength, and she moved to its delicate legs, up to its warm, soft back, and grinned at him widely. She moved to its ears, gently rubbing them between her fingers.
"Beautiful... so small," she whispered, entranced. She wanted one, but tamped down the want. It was a fawn- she had nowhere to keep the little thing. Still, her heart protested, and she worried her lip slightly. "Where... where do you find her? or him?"
(( xD No worries! I am a very patient person. :3 And I totally understand RL issues .. that's what's been slowing ME down on getting posts through! ))
"Them," he says firmly, as other little wet noses press into her hand, snuffling at her fingers. The fawn seems to adore being caressed, and nuzzles into her touch; he is dreadfully, wonderfully soft. She may be able to count three of them, each roughly the same size, with the same soft pelts and damp little noses. Ivon answers her questions carefully, with words so few that he seems to measure each phrase before he expends it, using only the words which are required. "In the forest. Mothers were killed." He continues to crouch beside her, letting her pet them to her heart's content, for this can only improve the disposition of the small creatures. "Ordinary fawns," he murmurs as a side note, and perhaps crushing her dreams of keeping one for his own, he continues. "I will sell them to nobles who can dream they are Guardians."
Posted: Thu Mar 14, 2013 1:36 am
"Ah... it s a shame... they are beautiful. My brother would have likely loved to see them; he makes creatures from metal, and somehow manages to make them move, and his favorites are fawns... and these little ones... so unafraid and curious.... How did their mothers die?" she asked, leaning forward, and opening the crate a bit further, carefully planting one hand on the ground before nearly climbing in with them. She sat up partially with one folded in her arms, smiling slightly as she nuzzled into its warm, soft form. "I hope they find wonderful homes..." she murmured wistfully, not letting go of the fawn just yet.
