[FIN] [PRP Oba] The Iron Price [Sajahka | Aqio]

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

The pad of Sajahka’s thumb rubbed—back, forth, back again, over, flip—pressing and turning at the coin in his pocket.

It was an alien feeling.

In all his life, never before had he once called coin his own. Of course, he had on rare occasions touched it. But those instances were indeed just that: rare, and never quite like this. In this case, the coin was his. Not originally, necessarily, and though that could technically be said of any coin — the nature of which it was to pass from hand to hand, pocket to pocket, purse to purse — this was different. It had been his masters’ coin, and it hadn’t come into his possession by ‘legitimate’ means in the strictest sense of the word.

But the means were legitimate enough for Sajah. All his life, all his hours, for every hour he had been old enough to be of any use to anyone, his time, his strength, his body, his mind, had all been at the service others and only ever in ‘return’ for the right to live. He didn’t consider that compensation adequate and thus, with escape plans finalizing and no intent to return, there was no better opportunity to take back some fraction of the value of his life’s toils. He would never see his masters again, and if he did, it would all but surely be the last time, regardless, before they subjected him to a chopping block—or some other ‘accidental’ and subtle method no more enjoyable, thanks to the new laws of Oba.

Regardless, this was his time, and if he was to be out in the world, he would need to arm himself, and do it well. Fortunately, he knew the market. Through his services to his masters, he knew which shops were where and who traded at which prices, and what all else he could possibly need to know about them. Thus, his stride through the familiar, hard-packed orange-clay paths that wound between vendor booths of all varieties was a confident one, and he stepped into the shade of his business of choice with assurance.

There, he waited, yellow eyes already flicking with keen attention over the merchandise therein. At the thought of gripping them — any one of them, all of them — and the power that came with such a right, set his pulse tripping upward with anticipatory, contained thrill.

There was nothing quite like the glint of an expertly crafted blade, or the sight and smell of metal and leather.  

[SwordOfTheDarkOnes]

The Only Black Uke

He tapped his foot in his impatience. This was taking entirely too long. The water youth wasn't going to let his ill temper boil over just because his foster father's order was taking too long. The youth stepped out into the open as he had been leaning on a barrel off to the side of the stall. The assassin in training had underwent a few outfit changes, the most notable being the ring which sat on one hip, various scarfs looped through it and around his waist, draping down his sides to act as a skirt of some sort. He could remove the ring as a secondary veil skirt laid underneath his scarf one. The ring concealed a few small blades that he could detach and throw for a covert kill. It was a technique that he was trying to develop, he'd seen a few similar ones.

As he came out into the light, one would notice that he had a veil around his shoulders and head. Most of his hair was up in random clasps and generally pretty things. Though the odd thing of that sole underrated plain leather bound braid that draped itself down the front of one shoulder was interesting. He walked a little ways in front of the stall. Arms crossed as he looked around, spotting a fellow water tribesmen he blinked. Odd. He would of figured everyone would of fled by now...  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Fortunately, Sajah was practiced at waiting.

When one had no tongue with which to draw others’ attention to himself, ‘Hello, yes, I am a customer. I do exist. I am waiting…’ waiting became a useful and even necessary talent. He considered himself blessed with patience, however, and was not bothered by the fact that no one immediately came to his attention as the shop’s owner or operator. It leant him the opportunity to study the merchandise in the meantime, which he felt he could do all day.

When one of the persons in the room moved—a boy, also Matori, perhaps within his age range—who had been propped against the far wall, Sajah’s attention moved there fleetingly, but didn’t openly linger despite his odd dress. Judging from posture and demeanor, the boy looked impatient as it was, which meant perhaps he was a customer himself—though between the veil, hair ornaments, and skirted sashes it seemed more likely that he was a hired prostitute for whoever was in charge.

Regardless, there was no reason to engage him absent some indication he was a part of the business itself.  

[SwordOfTheDarkOnes]

The Only Black Uke

Aqio wasn't exactly aware of how his current outfit came off as. Truthfully, he'd dress in duller clothes but since he was asked to pick up the order after a training session...he was sorta stuck looking like a dancer waiting for their lover to get off work....at least...that was his thought. He sighed as he reached up into his hair. Pulling out the clasps and ornaments to stow them away in his hidden pouches that laid along his waist. A few well tucked scarves is all it took to hide them. He pulled the veil down shaking out his fluffy hair and sighing in pure bordem.

"Aqio, lad...where's Lord Laofay?" a burly voice asked. The male that called out was obviously the owner of the stall as they walked around to smile jovially at the youth.

Aqio's expression was hardly one to show excitement. His bored if not pissed, quirk of a brow a testament of said lack of excitement. "My Mentor, sent me in his place. He would like to know if his order is ready as promised or if your going to extend it once more." the lack of pure emotion in his voice was intimidating in the very least. The owner picked up on the youth's current mood and nodded as he returned to behind the stall. Aqio glanced to the other Matorian. "He's easy to intimidate if you glare." he explained.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

When someone with apparent authority arrived, Sajah’s attention focused there, eyeing the exchange between the animated shopkeeper and his strange — customer? — messenger for a customer, it seemed. So the boy answered to a Lord. Sajah’s eyes followed the merchant owner until he had retreated out of sight and the other in his company addressed him—or, apparently him, since no one else was about yet.

Sajah’s dotted eyebrows rose a half-nock. Intimidating? His gaze slid down again over the boy’s outfit, from his fully, wavy hair — evidently primped beforehand and pinned with its various ornate clasps — to the various veils and skirts that slid over his skin like an advertisement. When his eyes made it back to the boy’s face, it was with a subtle head tip. Intimidating?

But, he gave a small nod just the same. He didn’t have the means or motivation to attempt disputing the concept, and in his experience, unless it hurt him to do so, offering surface agreement was usually easiest and made exchanges simple. If the other imagined himself as imposing in his skirts and his dangling ornamentation, so be it. Sajahka took a step, moving to one of the nearer display walls and reaching for a blade that had stood out to him thus far. Simple, but an oddly familiar make that struck him as recognizable, though he couldn’t pin where from or why.

He took it down, thumbing over the hilt of it and then scuffing a finger over the blade to test its edge.  

[SwordOfTheDarkOnes]

The Only Black Uke

Aqio tilted his head as he watched the other youth. He walked forward and leaning around to see the blade the other was holding. He smiled. "That's one of his better works, though my Mentor's personal blacksmith does slightly differnt methods..." he slipped out a slender blade slightly cured at the end. "See? He curves the very tip, says its harder to remove if the blade gets stuck." he had a dark gleam to his eye as he spoke.

"I'm here picking up a lance tip that this craftsman made for my Mentor some time ago." he looked to the youth. "My name's Aqio. What's yours?"  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajahka paused, watching as his only company — temporarily — approached and began speaking. He listened with intent, for though this was a stranger, information about blades and their craftsmanship was always welcome. When the boy withdrew his own, Sajah’s eyes flit along the curve of the blade, imagining puncture and the rupture damage it would cause to have such a tool hooked into the flesh—but wouldn’t it be preferable to make withdrawal easier if he was going to be inflicting multiple incisions? Perhaps it was intended as a thrown weapon, or one of several to bury and then leave for the victim to scrabble at and do more damage in their attempts to remove them.

Aqio.

Sajah tipped his head, expression impassive for a moment as he debated before rolling his shoulders. He tapped his throat, made an open-close ‘talking’ gesture with his fingers like one might to indicate speech with a sock puppet, and then gave a cutting slice gesture back across his throat. No talking. After, his eyebrows quirked upward in inquiry, trying to gauge whether or not his message had gotten across.

The second option was always to open his mouth wide, but Sajah generally preferred to not.  

[SwordOfTheDarkOnes]

The Only Black Uke

Aqio mentally cringed when the other signed he was mute. "Ow..." he had seen one particularly nasty method of that affliction. He nodded. "One moment..." as he rummaged in his belt pouch he pulled out a small parchment book and a stick of coal. "Here." he handed it to the other. "Keep those, I have a few other pads in here. My Mentor's personal blacksmith had his throat slit...so he's unable to talk. Though our Mentor got him lessons to allow for communication."

As he spoke the youth sheathed his small dagger, chuckling as he glanced over to a few warriors. Knowing that he was teasing them. He turned his full attention to the water male in front of him. "Maybe this'll help." he shrugged.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajahka watched, eyebrows rising with surprise at what the other boy withdrew from his belt pockets. Did he just—carry an ample supply of parchment and coal with him everywhere he went? And though Sajah did indeed know the basics of written language, it certainly wasn’t a given. Most of his fellows among his masters’ — former masters’ — ‘help’ were not literate, or only very minimally so.

He grunted, rocking the coal between two fingers in debate. Was it worth it to bother? Writing didn’t come easy to him, he had little to say, and he knew his penmanship left much to be desired. But. The boy did happen to have the materials on him and had asked his name. And he had little else to do until the merchant running the place re-emerged. So, Sajah pressed the parchment to the nearest wall, scrawling in messy black letters:

S A J A H

He held the paper out to where Aqio could see.  

[SwordOfTheDarkOnes]

The Only Black Uke

short, but feel free to take over for the merchant...its a rando NPC...

'Sajah' Aqio read the name carefully before pronouncing it slowly. Once he was sure he had it the youth spoke. "Sajah, its nice to meet you."

He looked up as the merchant walked out with a box. Accepting it he looked to his fellow Matorian. "My new friend is unable to talk, he'll use the parchment to convey what he wishes. I'm going to stand here and make sure you don't try to cheat him..."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajah dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement at the greeting, which would have to suffice for an, ‘And you.’

Then, the merchant reappeared. Sajah expected departure after that, he supposed. He didn’t much know the boy—but then he was speaking, and Sajah’s eyebrows rose in spite of himself. New ‘friend.’ He wasn’t about to contest the term, if it aided him in getting a fair deal. The boy certainly seemed to think he knew his way about, and that was better evidence than none, so far as Sajah was concerned. He debated the best way to go about describing what he needed. After, he put the parchment to the merchant’s counter.

5
1 lit - not hevy, cut throt
2 - hevy good for gut, brak bone
2 - qwik, ribs or throw  

[SwordOfTheDarkOnes]

The Only Black Uke

The merchant busied himself with getting the small set of five blades. Aqio blinked slightly impressed with how direct the youth was with his requests. He hummed. "Future reference. There's a blacksmith that does business on the corner of the market. The edge closest to the darker part of the city. If you showed him this list, he'd ask if you want the handle customized with a smaller second blade...for no charge."

Aqio knew the blacksmith well if only because the male's family are the personal blacksmiths to the Guild he was apart of. He hummed. "As a matter of fact...if the prices here aren't what you need...we could go there instead. He's an...eccentric sort, harmless really." the youth shrugged.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajahka watched the merchant initially, but his gaze soon flicked back to the other Matori—Aqio, he reminded himself. Not that it would likely matter. He wouldn’t ever get to speak the name, and was unlikely to encounter the boy again further on down the line. Still, names tended to stick with him as if out of some instinctive habit.

He grunted, twiddling the writing coal in thought at the other’s words.

He certainly didn’t want to waste his coin. It wasn’t strictly ‘hard earned’ in the sense that anyone had paid it to him, but he had done more than enough work for those he’d stolen it from to consider it earned regardless, and he only had so much. Eventually, he scuffed the parchment back to himself to write again.

qwality > coin
but if better + cheep, best go there - show me ?

Though the merchant here was already looking for the weapons he’d requested, Sajah couldn’t be bothered to notify him one way or the other if they were indeed leaving. His job was to sell blades, and if they walked out, someone else would fill in behind them. His time, however, was incredibly limited. And he fully intended to make the most of it.  

[SwordOfTheDarkOnes]

The Only Black Uke

Aqio smiled as he nodded. "This way..." he moved to guide the other calling out to the merchant. "We're going to check out a different stall...his tastes are more to my liking than yours." as he led the other away he explained in a low rushed tone. "He doesn't like the Guild." as they rounded a corner he waved to a hybrid youth.

"That's the blacksmiths son who does most of the price negotiations...he also does dagger work..." the slender water male looked back at his new friend. "Show him your list and you'll enjoy his reaction..." he said as they walked up.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

‘The guild.’

Sajahka studied his company, listening and processing without immediate reaction. He wondered — since the man had not ever mentioned or referenced a guild of any sort — what he was referring to, primarily, and secondarily how or why the other Matori had come to the private conclusion that he would know without any other form of reference.

Did he look like a guild member of some variety?

No matter, he supposed, so long as it got him the weapons he desired with lasting durability and full effectiveness. His eyes moved about the market as they walked, on alert, and every hyper-aware that making a scene of himself would spell immediate trouble. For now, however, the coast seemed clear enough, and when Aqio lead them up to a new stall, Sajah fished at his hip where he’d tucked the paper.

He set it on the counter, scuffing his thumb over the later writings to blur them and leaving only the initial list he’d given as to what he wanted.