Pick a Gift to Impress the OC Above!

"That's some sweet tunes! Radical!" Xander told Jasper in an attempt to be hip with the kids. "Nice guitar too, " he added with a careful nod in the direction of the instrument. "Reminds me, " Xander said before carefully sitting down next to Jasper. Xander noticed the disgusting expression on the youth face, but decided not to comment on it, on the contrary. "I got some strings, " he said while digging through his instrument case. "They are from some high quality and give off a warm sound, " Xander continued. Still digging. Och, relatable really. When he finally found the small leather pouch, containing the strings, he held it out in Jasper's direction. "You don't have to take them but I'm offering you them for the free, good lad, " Xander said. He smiled. "I can help you tone them too if you want, but if your busy that's totally understandable "
--

"Oh no," Xander made a dismissive wave with his hand. "The honor is all mine! It's always good to see an old..friend," he eyed Seung-Cheol directly after saying the friend word, just to be sure to not discomfort the other party. "In this bright city." He smiled big. The smile grew even bigger when Seung-Cheol presented him the box. "Ohhh," he muttered under his breath while opening its lit. "Oh I can't accept this," he said. Clearly accepting it as he already as he pulled the crow towards himself. Rubbing the sharp edges of  its wings with his thumbs. "You sure i can have this? It's marvelous, just marvelous... You've got a talent for woodcarving, an eye for detail," Xander continued while inspecting the statue a bit closer. It had so many details, the feathers, the eye and claws. "Oh let me at least pay you for this grand piece, please," he said.  "That's the least I can offer."

"I'm very sorry that my husband won't be here to greet you as... as you might have hoped..." Hala uttered as she re-entered her office. She stopped to look out the window, towards the trees. The twin suns were shining, the skies were clear, and she assumed it would be the right time to send Seung-Cheol away.

"The war plagues us all." she carried on, "Him, especially. He doesn't come home as often as he once did." The last sentence was carried with a surprising amount of bitterness, though she sucked back a sigh and approached the desk. She fished underneath her patterned sash, taking out a tiny pouch. She placed it on the mahogany desk dividing him and her. "I gathered as much as you would need. There's an inn in the city, and... Well, it's a pretty cheap one, obviously, if you know anything about our currency, but..."

She paused, looking down at the coin purse. She reached a hand out to feel its velvet surface, and then its brass clip. She supposed he could keep it, too, considering that it wasn't really her favorite pouch. Not that it wasn't lovely, with little flowers patterning the fabric, but...

"I can also offer you naan for the travel." She said as she turned away from him. "I always have some put away..."

Trailing off, the woman frowned a bit as she faced the opened doorway. "Though your help here is appreciated, dear sir, and though your duties must have brought you here for a reason, um..." She stopped, adjusting her sleeves. "All I can offer you is the purse, and a few pieces of naan, and perhaps you may return another day to conclude your business..."

fun fact: leeches have thirty-two brains and ten stomachs.

"Well that is one pretty bird, " Nathaniel told Hala. Holding out one of his fingers for her hawk and pulled away júst in time not to get pecked. "I've considered getting into falconry myself, " he mused. Baring his sharp fangs in a grin. "But it turns out that birds don't like me. Or that I'm not good with birds, one way or the other I'm not suitable for falconry, " Nathaniel said. "It's the sport of the rich anyway, " he concluded with a shrug. "That being said, I'm here to talk business, if you don't mind. Not with your husband, but you." Another toothy grin. "I'm got a business on the side in old paintings. Boring stuff really, especially for a lady that's into falconry and knife collecting, " he said. A hint of a glimmer in his beast-like eyes. "But, I want my business to grow, and I need to get the accountability to do so. See, that high pricked art collectors don't care about an ol' sailors voice but yours? They will eat out of your hands like tame little doves, " Nathaniel said before leaning softly against his cart. Raising to his full height and so slightly towering over her as the prick he was. "Think about it, I can get you..Stuff, in return. Birds for example." Nathaniel laughed. "If they don't claw out me eyes first of course. Or other things." Nathaniel continued. He eyed her up and down then paused, "I got you an..example. Consider it a gift, if you will." Nathaniel turned around and grabbed the in leather-wrapped packaged that had been lying in his cart a this time. He removed the leather and showed Hala the sword he had gotten. "It's maybe a bit big for your collection, " he joked. "But sturdy, well balanced and trustworthy." It was a beautiful sword. Golden handle with some detailing. Not to much, making it reliable in combat. "Here, " he hold it out in her direction. "Take it." 

--

Nathaniel smiled bright as he examed the instrument. Really brass, a real beauty. "Oh I do, I do like it, " he smiled. He looked up at the sky. "We don't have a lot of stars here, I've heard there are plenty more stars in other worlds, " he said. Weighted a bit. "Care to teach me a lesson or two?" 

"The unknown can be frightening."
A dark fog rolled over the waters, inching closer and closer as the temperature lowered. Beyond the sound of the ship's creaks were footsteps getting closer, and soon there was an image to match it: a tall man with the head of a lamp, and a ghostly blue flame burning inside it. He stopped just a few feet away from Cecili, arms folded behind his back as he looked up to the sky.
"Doubts cloud our mind, our judgement, and convinces us there will only be bad possibilities. What we know, the repetition we come from, it comforts us despite its dullness. Truly, it is a cage." He tilted his head down to face her. "But love and hope motivates us. It lights the way into the unknown, and the doubts can't reach us as easily as it once did." The fog around them sank away from them as if responding, and when she would look back at him, he wouldn't be there. Instead, there laid a decorative compass on the floor.
"Love encourages us and helps us grow so that we may face the unknown, and there we are rewarded with discoveries. Sometimes these discoveries are more than just artifacts."

Smith, unfortunately, thought the other party was neat, but that was sort of a given when even the most vaguely handsome man could make her heart flutter like there was no tomorrow. Johnson, her husband, was pissed over that trait as always, but it didn't stop her from sneaking off to meet the enigmatic fellow.

"I... I hope the entire party isn't that much of a problem for you," she told him while ever so obviously folding her pointer fingers together. Little did she know, she was not only conversing with a dead person, but also a reaper. This will be fine. "You like classy things, right? Like... You like it when it's luxurious, and other people pay attention to you, because... It's... Nice, I guess..." With a gentle laugh, the young aristocratic woman gazed off to the side while trying to hide the embarrassment bubbling inside of her.

Real smooth, though. Even if she technically wasn't trying to allude to herself in those remarks, it easily could've been interpreted as such.

With a sigh, she muttered, "Especially your hair. You like it when people compliment your hair and how soft it looks. And how smooth, too..." Smith paused with a squeak, then took a step back. Thank fuck she was saying that all so quietly. Her husband was just a few hundred feet away, speaking to some important man about political events and the like; Smith was kind of just there to look pretty, as well as entertain discussion about the weather every so often. Just as he told her to do. "... I mean... That's what I heard from you, I guess... I wouldn't know it for myself, but... I do like giving other people the benefit of the doubt."

Oh, sweet Smith, darling...

After a pause, the young woman pulled out what appeared to be a bottle of... Shampoo? Huh. Smith actually eyed the product for a second, holding it with one hand while running her fingers through her hair with another. It was... Almost as if it was originally meant for herself, but it was now to be given to the other party. Don't tell Johnson, obviously.

"You... You can have this if you want," she told him rather meekly while holding the bottle out, "For your hair. Not that it's bad, of course. But you must put a lot of effort into taking care of it, right? If you brag so much about it... At least, that's what I'd think of someone like you. I wouldn't blame you one bit. It does looks like it paid off, in a way." Smith coughed into her sleeve, then took a step back. This will be fine. "I... I do hope that it... Stays that way... Wouldn't... You... Agree?"

sweet Bonbon.... how I'd die for you.... via a follow-up.

How did Bonbon get into Smith's hospice room?

Don't worry about it.

The mare didn't like dreary places such as this, where the good ol' smell of pre-death lingered in the air. Not that Haratel was any better about its overwhelming gloom, but the horse didn't notice, for she could make no distinction between pessimism and optimism. She lived to eat, sleep, and sometimes be ridden for ten hours, and did all of this brainlessly. She couldn't care less if her owner always struggled not to cry himself to sleep at night, or that his daughter was hardcore going through her emo phase, or that Smith looked as though she was insanely bored with life and would much rather be a window.

Speaking of, Bonbon stared at the window. Or, more so her reflection in the glass. Anything to keep herself from having to look at the woman flopped down miserably in her bed, though that didn't really help, as Bonbon could still spot Smith at the corner of the window. Her, and that little table lamp some ways from her.

It was then that Bonbon had an idea-- if she could even have ideas-- as she snaked away from the window, turning towards the light with her hooves clicking hushedly on the floor. Her dark, horsey eyes stared upon the lamp for several moments, before she lunged, taking the pipe in between her teeth and then pulling back. The bulb darkened as the cord was torn from its outlet, but hey, that's okay. It was still a pretty neat gift, the horse thought, maybe, as she made her way closer to the bed.

She dropped the lamp at Smith's feet. Go into the light, old lady. Don't be afraid.

fun fact: absolutely batshit insane roman emperor caligula actually never made his horse, incitatus, a consul. caligula was just an asshole and thought the senate was useless, so it was more likely he just wanted to poke fun at them.

Oh man, Salvador was familiar with horses. Horses and ponies. The village he grew up in was chuck full of them, the mines he had worked in? You guessed: some of his colleges we're..horses. Pulling minecarts underground, having their own stables underground and once they got old enough, they went back up and retired in one of the many farms. Oh the perks of being a fantasy-victorian-area kid that grew up outside the cities. Not that there weren't any horses in the big city he lived in now... They say once automobiles got invented and commonly used the horse population shrank with 90%. But Sal had never heard of an auto, so you could only imagine how many horses he had seen in his life! A lot! And yet- 

Salvador let out a loud whistle. -And yet he wasn't a horse gouroe. Just a kid. Once he got Bonbon's attention, Salvador searched his pockets and plucked a small sugar cube, he'd stolen, out of it. He placed it on top of his gloved hand palm, extending it out for Bonbon to snatch. Oh that excitement everyone gets when horses ate out of their hands! Even though Salvador couldn't feel Bonbon's rough lips thanks too his gloves, he still got a ton of her horse-breath directly blown in his face. Which made the whole 'stuffing your coats full with sugar cubes while your boss tells you his plan for his big heist' debuckle worth it. The worst thing about having coat pockets full of sugar in a city like Drakenburg was that it rained...A lot! And his clothing wasn't water-resistant, meaning that most of Salvador's pockets had been turned into sugary, sticky, glue. Worth it though. Now that Bonbon was eating the sugar cube out of his hand he could..pet her nose! So cool!
--
Salvador's eyes went wide, holy shit. He held the watch in his hand as if it was the most precious thing this world and the next had to over. It was a clock, like pocketwatch size but one that you could, Salvador placed the band on his lowerarm, could put on your arm!
"Oy! Héy! Thanks," he shouted after Chester. "Maybe keep those keys of yours in your inside pocket. The pocket inside your jacket?! Makes it hard to steal!"

Chester eyed the rather.. short man standing below him. He didn't know what to do, the small man had just attempted to seize Chester's car keys, what the hell does one do in this situation, anyway? He had turned around when he felt something nabbing at his pocket, only to be staring at each other awkwardly right after. How absurd, truly! Chester scratched the back of his head and slowly plucked the keys out of the blonds hand. "What.. hehah.. I'm a tad bit confused.."  He awkwardly chortled once more. "How did you even manage to get these..?" He put them back into his pocket, brushing his fingers among something else while he was at it. A watch. A broken one. 

Chester noticed Salvador didn't have one on his wrist, figured it'd be handy for everyone to have a watch, right? Even a broken one? Serves him right for trying to take something, I suppose. Plus, what was he gonna do with it anyway? Chester pulled out the watch by its thin, silver wristband and handed it to Salvador. 

"Well, buddy... you don't have a watch. Everyone needs a watch, to tell the time, see? Just.. stop taking things that aren't yours.. please? it makes me nervous, to be frank.." He scoffed and stepped three steps backward before turning around and walking off.

im so sorry if this is bad its 10:00AM and i havent slept yet

Porto watched the blonde fellow for a while, and noted that he seemed a little on edge as he interacted with the world around him - he was trying his very best to seem on-top of things, but underneath it, he seemed befuddled and distressed. "He could do with some cheering up, probably," he thought to himself. Seeing no reason he shouldn't, he decided to take the task on.

How was he to do it, though? Well, ask any halfling, anywhere, and he's likely to say that a tasty treat would pick up anyone's spirits in no time. Porto set down his pack and began to rifle through it - he knew good and well he was always stocked with some sort of food, but surely he had something that was particularly special, suitable for a pleasant gift.

Apples? No, too plain. Smoked cheese? Well, maybe, but perhaps not everyone's cup of tea. His flask of rivengut whisky? A fine gift, but... no, he couldn't bear to part with it, and he didn't fancy buying a new flask.

Ah, yes - now here was something special! Porto pulled out a small paper package, tied with ribbon that bore signs of having been opened several times before. He had been given a gift after a performance in a fancy tavern - bonbons, made of white-and-dark marbled chocolate and filled with salted caramel. He had already eaten two, but there were a few left - to him, they were quite large, and he wasn't sure when he'd ever finish them, otherwise. With a satisfied smile, he approached Chester, package in hand.

"Pardon me, sir," he said, voice bright and warm, as he extended his arms in offering - quite upward; Chester was, compared to a halfling at least, rather tall. "You see, I received these chocolate caramels, and while they're quite good, I'm afraid I couldn't possibly finish them. I was wondering, might you like to have them? Perhaps you'll be able to appreciate them more than I have."

He had put on his usual display of utmost politeness when the young girl had approached, with a courteous half-bow and pleasant smile, the moment he had seen the young girl approach. However, the moment she pulled out the jar of berry compote and offered it to him, Porto's sense of decorum left him, replaced by excitement in the form of a gasp and hands clasping over his cheeks and mouth.

"Oh! My goodness," he cried. "This is - I'm just - really? For me? Why, I'm... I'm speechless. Tha - "

Not that word! Come now, Porto, you know better. Before he could allow a full "thank you" to cross his lips, he shook himself from his stupor and cleared his throat as he accepted the jar with another polite bow, though he could do nothing to diminish the beaming smile on his face.

"This is most kind of you, young miss," he said. "A lovely gesture. You have my utmost gratitude."

Upon noticing the humanoid, Zinnia's lips curled into a smile. The blonde hesitantly approached Porto, her hands held behind her back. Her eyelashes fluttered as she tilted her head up.

"Hey, so, uhm, don't tell anyone I told you...I have this huge raspberry bush and blackberry bush in my backyard, and, well, my sister and I collected too much. So...I have a few bottles of some compotes. You can have one if you like..." She stated, her voice becoming quieter as she continued to speak. Then, she revealed one of the jars, which was being held behind her back.

"Oh, we don't need money! Don't—just—just put your money away! You can have it for free, consider it a gift!" She smiled as she pawned the jar into his hands.

"I insist, I just want some of it gone, sir... Well, I'll see myself out. Bye..."

--------

NP, here's Zinnia's dA ref!

"Oy, kiddo! I got you something, " the sailor bared his teeth in a grin. "As payment for that fish, all those weeks ago, tadaa.." Nathaniel said before holding up a smaller version of his yellow oilskin. Inclusive zippers and buttons. 

"Come on try it on!" He said as he handed her the sailcloth piece of clothing. "It should protect you against every type of weather."

--

The old fisherman was clearly on edge. His face had turned into a snarl when a hand had you d his shoulder, but when he heard that familiar voice and turned around, the snarl eased. "Ah, my friend, " he said. As if nothing happened. Just like a cat that washed after doing something stupid, Nathaniel straight out his necktie. His ears pricked by seeing the comb and he carefully took it over. Testing one of the teeth with his gloved thumb. "Are you saying that my hair is a mess I'sen, " he said with a reading smile. "I mean you're not wrong, " he added. While softly rubbing his beard with his other hand. "Thank you, it's a very good comb. Sturdy!"