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RULE UPDATE [3/6/2022]
Your OC gets to trade items with the OC above them. Will they trade food? Pokemon cards? Are they trading uranium ore for a newborn puppy? We'll see.
RULES AND GUIDELINES:
- Keep NSFW to a minimum -- suggestions, implications, and innuendos are generally fine, but keep in mind that minors have access to this thread.
- Romantic interactions are allowed, but only between adult characters.
- Sensitive or gory interactions are also allowed, but must be put under a spoiler or blacked out.
- Remember to post IC! The IC button is on top of the field where you write your post, just switch it on and select the character you wish to use.
- There is a five sentence minimum!
- As a general suggestion, not quite a rule, however, please try to match half the post of the person you are responding to.
- It is also recommended that you write a follow-up to the person below you, either accepting, rejecting, or bargaining the trade.
- You may only post every three posts or three days after the last post, not three days after your own.
- Example: [You] [x] [x] [x] [You] or You [x] [x] [three days pass] [You]
- You may post a "claim" to avoid getting sniped, but please do not take too long on it!
- You will be pinged here with a reminder after twelve hours of an unfinished claim. After twenty-four hours of an unfinished claim, you can be skipped by the next person.
- Though this is not required, you can write down characterization notes and/or prompts -- in the case of this thread, what items they might have to trade.
- Be kind to your fellow players, but know that in-character views are not their own out-of-character. Just because their character's rude to yours doesn't mean they themselves feel that way!
- Do not skip over users who have you blocked or who you have blocked. Wait for someone else to respond to them before posting.
- I supervise this thread as much as I can, but if you spot problems, please either DM or ping me.
Maribelle looked up to the stag before her, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword and the other around a linen sack. There were a few things she could think of, she supposed, when it came down to what she wanted. She admired his antlers, and while she heard long ago that deer sometimes shed theirs, she wasn't sure how true that really was. There were also his silken gloves, and his jewels, both of which she would have preferred if only she were able to leave the base more often. There was no point in wearing them. Too expensive. Someone might steal them from her room, and though she hadn't had such things happen in a long time, and though she trusted most of Raphael and Pastel's men not to be fools, said trust was at times uncertain.
The girl's hand remained on her sword for several moments, and then, at last, let go to rub her nose. "If your antlers fall off..." She paused a moment as she looked at him. "If they can even do that... Can I have them? One of them? I'll give you something back. Promise."
She slumped her shoulders, her sack sliding off and landing onto the earth with a lazy little thud. There didn't seem to be much inside of the bag, but whatever was in there would do, she prayed. She took a knee next to it and reached inside. She rummaged about for far too long, perhaps reluctant, and hopefully Dernemine's attention didn't move on from her. She took out a little package, after a moment, and shook it. The cover had the image of an acorn... smoking a cigar...
"I've got these cigars, got them as a gift from a friend of mine. The detective. I don't like them as much as cigarettes, though." You're seventeen? "I'll trade you this box for just one antler."
oh no, here's a follow-up. maribelle cries part two.
Maribelle wasn't really sure what to think of Fitzgerald watching her as she scoured through her possessions, and had half the mind to walk up to him and pummel him for doing so, but as it turned out, she wasn't feeling up to it today. She slouched in her seat with a sour look on her face. She was so quiet that one might not even realize she was hanging out there, save for the shuffling of paper as she sorted her books and papers. She watched him out of the corner of her eye every now and then as she moved on to her insects. She glanced at the red bow in his hair. She thought about pulling on it. Or pulling on his hair.
When he spoke, the first thing she did was frown a little more. Just a little more. Her dark eyes narrowed upon hearing his insinuations, though she didn't seem as irritated by his words as much as she looked a little hurt. Gee, everyone is kicking her ass today. "I don't do that." she retorted, "I don't kill bugs like that. Don't hurt them like that." The temptation to turn around and whack him was steadily increasing. Instead, she hovered over the glass case where her insects laid, as though to obscure the man's view of them, as though to protect them.
She flinched when the chocolate bar was shoved in her face. She turned towards him like a frightened animal, shrinking back and glaring up at him. She was... literally almost on top of the case now.
Okay, might as well. The girl rose from her seat to meet Fitzgerald, but not to take the candy bar from him. Instead, she lashed out, at long last, propelling her hands forward to push him hard in the chest. It wouldn't be enough to smash every rib in his body, but hopefully just enough to get him to fuck off. She sniffled, balled her fists, and straightened herself out to loom over him. She still looked like she would start sobbing at any second, for she was simply pathetic.
"Leave me alone!" she snapped, "I don't want your stupid chocolate bars! You're not getting my dobson! Or my butterflies! You can't have any of my bugs!"
vv i noticed that he already got beat up today after i wrote this follow-up and i felt so bad lkdmfekfwekfmgf,,,,,
- this literally marks one out of two times that Fitzgerald gets beat up in one day, and I'm okay with this because it's what he deserves. rip his dynamic with Maribelle though lmfao.
edit: lmao don't feel bad for him because he had it coming dyfjgvdrfuv- he was literally like. a confrontational ass in both of his IC posts today, so he might as well get beat up twice for being a bitch- :")
If Fitzgerald's physique wasn't so measly that one step from the other party's steel-imbued boots would probably destroy him for good (as he deserved), he probably would've tried to use his typical arsenal to haggle with her: some rude words and maybe a bitch slap if he was feeling particularly aggressive. Fitzgerald, however, was a coward; if he wanted any chance of... Not getting beat up, he was going to have to try being more civil...
Especially when what he desired at the moment was one of those mounted bugs of the other party's. He didn't have a good reason for it; the young man had spotted it exactly one time, when she absentmindedly revealed an insect's wing while scuffling through her belongings, and the man instantly thought, Oh, this is worthy of studying! In reality, he likely just wanted the insect to be petty, and by that reasoning alone, Fitzgerald could've just stolen it from her. Fortunately, he really wasn't one to become like a thief, and he still wanted to assume the high ground. As fucking always.
He was still being a condescending bitch as always as he paced around the other party and asked with a slight coo, "You know, miss... I could really use onf your insects right now... You know, one of those creatures that you decide to stick a pin through after you find them dead? Or maybe you don't find them dead? You find them alive, then..." He drove a finger onto his palm, laughing contentedly in the process; this was an effective mask for how disturbed he actually felt by the hypothetical process, but... Alas. "Like that?" he asked her tauntingly, "Is that how you do it?"
Honestly, just rejecting his offer then punching him in the face would've made this trade a lot fairer.
The young man put his hand in his pockets for a second before taking out a chocolate bar and showing it in the girl's face.
"I could give you this exact chocolate bar, or several of them, in exchange for that bug. Any bug, or any chocolate bar," he stated with a flick of his hair, "I have the money to buy as much chocolate and other sweets as you need, but just know that the bugs themselves tend to be rare... I think..." Putting a hand to his chin, he absentmindedly scratched at his own ear before looking back at her with a cool yet completely obnoxious sneer. "So, how about it? Would that offer work for you?"
oh shit. a verdict. let's see what Fitzgerald thinks of this:
Fitzgerald eyed the other party with a clearly unimpressed pout, his brow raised as he looked over at him. It was kind of funny, seeing this judgmental man be silently torn apart with cruel thoughts here and there, but... Then again, it was something that was coming to him for a long time.
Still, at this moment, he was just convinced that the other party was taking their time - making sure that they accounted for every detail in his impression. It'd be foolish after all, he reasoned to himself as the tip of his frown twitched ever so slightly, if he were to assume something so foolhardy... And make himself look like a buffoon in the process. He lifted a hand and looked at it, so soft and delicate like it could easily be destroyed in a hypothetical arm-wrestling match. It, however, was always graceful, and that was what mattered; he flicked his wrist and watched it while definitely ignoring the other man.
Yet as time drew on, the young man found himself increasingly agitated. First he placed his hand down, then whatever smile he had on his face was replaced with an annoyed frown. His foot gently tapped against the floor as he groused, What's taking him so long!? He likely knows that I don't have all the time in the world! Fitzgerald let out a "hmph" and spun around on his heels, before skidding to a stop so that he was no longer facing him. Rude. I can't believe someone would try to waste my time like this... I should've known better than to even consider trading my belongings off... Especially to some damn plebeian who doesn't know any better!
The pique of a voice, however, was quick to reignite Fitzgerald's attention. Now, as he looked forward once more, he saw that the other party was talking about... Candy. Finally, some good fucking food. Unfortunately, the offer was complemented with words that Fitzgerald really didn't want to hear; they were so terrible and bitter that he almost wanted to reject the candy out of sheer spite. In the meanwhile, the young man had puffed himself like an offended cat, shooting daggers at the other party as he attempted to remain as calm and composed as possible.
Well, like such an attempt would go well in the first place.
"Useless, you say?" he replied with a jeer, "Candy isn't useless. Why do you think so much care goes into making the finest confections? You can't just shame such high-quality work like that." He stepped forward and took a closer look at the bag being offered. "So... You're just... Giving it to me? You're not even asking for any money, or one of my devices?" His voice sounded genuinely surprised as the youth looked back at eye-level, then shrugged without waiting for a reply. "Well, it's your loss if you want to get rid of something like that without even asking for a reparation," Fitzgerald stated with a huff before taking the bag, "Thank you, though. I do appreciate the... Present."
Did he really have to make that last word or so so bitter? Probably. It was clear that he was still abundantly pissed over the amount of acid in the other party's words. It'd be just like giving him a taste of his own medicine... Sure, Fitzgerald, sure.
Morgan couldn't help but to scrunch up his face in discontentment as he looked this man over from head to toe. He did not appreciate much of what a noble would have, and found most of it to be far too pretentious- there was no point to a golden dagger when the bronze one hidden in his clothes worked just as well. Though- he was intrigued by the wear at the hems of his clothes, as though he did more than sit around all day like other nobles. No magic, though... he'd have to hope this man had something by coincidence he might find useful. All in all- rather disappointing, Morgan concluded.
"You probably don't have anything worth my time. I doubt it. Take this. I can't stand the taste of these confections. Something just as useless... I've heard of something called sea glass. Sounds pretentious. Someone like you with those clothes would probably have some. Can't be worth much, but at least they won't bring bugs into my quarters..." Morgan muttered as he held out a fist-sized satchel of hard candies.
"My chocolate milk? Mine?"
Morgan barked, "I'm not some helpless child, you naive ignoramus! I can take care of myself, understand?"
He could not even stand the smell of milk- how would he be expected to carry it with him? That was even ignoring the fact that he couldn't feel the cold... though it might have affected his body- he couldn't tell. He growled, "Worry about yourself."
He turned promptly on his heel and stalked off...
Shion paused, looking the boy over. Shoot. He always ended up in situations like this, fussing over kids in danger. It was freezing out, and Morgan had clearly not dressed for the weather. He sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to talk himself out of approaching--but it was too late, he'd already walked up.
"Hey," he said by way of greeting. When the kid didn't immediately run away or burst into tears--or kick him in the shin, rob him, and then run away, he pressed on. "It's pretty cold out." Wow, you think? "Here." He unraveled the purple scarf from his neck, unveiling his scars, and passed it over to the teen. "You can... have that." He paused, uncomfortable with the situation he'd created. The boy didn't look any less disturbed. "I'll trade it for your chocolate milk," Shion said, trying (failing?) to make the situation less awkward.
Yes, you nailed that human interaction! Not.
Skinner had been feeding the birds for some time prior to encountering the other man, so he was holding quite the obnoxiously large bag of bird feed as he sang to himself and made sure that his steps followed a certain rhythm.
He could be heard singing the lyrics to some nonsensical folk song, which went along the lines of "Pigeons, rooks, and crows... Which one doesn't belong? When I toss down my breadcrumbs, they all come fluttering down, then they fight to see whom belongs and whom doesn't... Only one or two always win; that I know... Three is a crowd, two is a party, one is domination... But by goodness, is one so lonely..." The lyrics eventually became indiscernible because he had forgotten them, so he resorted to humming after that became no longer practical.
And that was when he saw the other party.
Clutching the bag tightly in his hand, he hobbled over to him and waved his hand while greeting, "Oh, it's a good day out here, isn't it? Or was, given that the sun's going to set soon?" He laughed heartily before giving his bag of bird feed a good ol' shake. "I was just thinking about all the birds today," he mused aloud without even waiting for the other man's response (rude), "They always jostle whenever food is given, you know? Regardless of the type of bird or food..." He chuckled before waving his hand. "You know, though, as much as I like feeding the birds... I think I don't want this feed to go to waste. I don't always do it, and I do worry about it rotting. You should try feeding the birds sometimes though! It's nicer than it sounds, trust me." Ummm... What?
"I can take... Ummmm..." the older man remarked as he hopped around the other party, trying to scour him for any possessions that may be of interest to him. Like a fat pigeon, he cooed to himself before giving his bag another shake and nodding at the other party. "... Would a trade between my bird feed and that book of yours work? I know that it doesn't mean much, but..." He hummed to himself once more, brows clearly raised. "I'm always a reader, and I do like books more often than bird feed. Books are more useful too." He continued hopping around before finally throwing his arms out, spilling some seeds out onto the ground in the process. "So... What about it, sir? A deal's a deal?"
two disgusting men talk shit about a certain woman like their life depended on it. ew.
follow-up time nonetheless:
Hindsight would've been so, so helpful if Skinner wanted to realize why his wife was always so hostile to him, and why years later, she'd be joking - or was it not - about him dying if he didn't "shut his stupid mouth in approximately three seconds."
He tried not to think about it too much, of course, but as he walked alongside the noble in the garden, the rotten idea couldn't help but plant itself in his mind when the subject of Brown was brought up. Oh, how he wished that the previous topics could've magically conjured up so that they replaced... Her. It made him shudder: how she looked at him, how she spoke to him... They were always so cold, so tense. He could never wrap his head around it, yet when it came to talking with other parties, he at least pretended to have some idea of what was going on between him and his wife.
"Oh, don't worry too much about my daughter," the middle-aged man quipped with a gentle laugh, "I tend to be the predominant figure in her life anyways. Her mother is... Always such a cold person, and unfortunately her own child is no exception to that. She never tags along whenever I want to take the girl anywhere, and she begged for me to get a nurse when the girl was just a baby." He looked over at the other party with mock shock. "Can you believe that!? She told me that she didn't want to have to deal with the girl herself, and though I can't blame her too much, it just sounds so rough. I hope my daughter gets more of my traits than hers." Wow, what the fuck. (Also, how ironic considering what was going to happen later on.)
"She's usually busy doing her own thing though," he continued, "Either training or dealing with those... Rocks of hers. I encourage the former for obvious reasons, but... As for the latter..." He laughed uneasily before rubbing the back of his neck. "I just don't know what to feel about it! I can never weed it out of her no matter how much I try. Every time she comes back with those dirt stains on her blouse, I can't help but wonder whether I should get someone to wash it, or just throw away the thing altogether. It's such a distraction to her, but it's also the only thing that keeps her happy..." He trailed off as the noble interjected and seemed... Oddly surprised when he remarked how pretty she was; Skinner guessed that was true, but he never could see it that well whenever he looked at her, so he just shrugged.
He also, for whatever fucking reason, didn't seem that fazed by the subtle jab against his capability as a husband. It was probably because he was at least somewhat aware that Brown... Didn't like him in that way. Hell, she resented him just for that, and he had the sinking feeling that she'd likely feel the same way towards pretty much every man she came across. And yes, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), this included the man before him.
Skinner shook his head and grunted, "No, I wouldn't think so, actually. She already gripes about how old I am compared to her anyway, but there's not much that either of us can do about it. Our union is strictly political, but political bonds are the tightest of them all - even tighter than what they call 'true love' anyhow..." Sighing to himself, he couldn't help but at least muse over what such a feeling would be like; he imagined that it was nice, though given that virtually all the couples he was aware of tended to be politically based... Yea, that would definitely influence his overall perception...
Still, a cabin always sounded nice. Plus, she did sometimes joke about killing him. Something like that. He was never too sure, but sometimes she'd swing that knife a certain way when preparing food, and it always made him take a step back. She said that it was just her habit, that she wanted to awe him, but... In what way? So, the trade did appeal to him in a way, though for all the wrong reasons. What the hell is this exchange?
"That seems a bit cheap for someone like her," the aristocrat stated with a somewhat disappointed tone, "She's not a poor woman by any means, though you're right in that her value is diminished by her interests and her standing." This is disgusting. What the actual fuck is this. "So... In a way, I could consider it. For politics. She'd appreciate the space too, I just know it... She might complain less around you than with me, anyways." Not when she finds out that she's literally being treated like livestock, you fucking idiot?
But yes, having his life spared was enticing to him, because he was disgusting when he thought of his wife.
"I'll think about it, sir. I'll let you know when I come to a decision."
In which Brown is shat on. Again.
Otto loved agony, especially if it was inflicted upon others, so here he was, and whatever he and Skinner conversed of before didn't matter. What did matter was that Otto was a horrific excuse for a human being... Okay, so, he wasn't that bad. Not right now, anyways, as he spoke to the other man. "I've heard that you have a young daughter. My condolences." he teased, "Daughters are more difficult than sons, as I've found. There's more you must work for into in regards to their future. It's a shame that your wife isn't fond of you, just for that." Gee, what a nice guy. "At least she's pretty... Though, then again, it would be more accurate to call her more handsome than pretty."
The middle-aged man scratched at his stubbled face, humming a little tune to himself as he continued down the path. Now he was thinking about his daughters. He dreaded having as many as he did, though he viewed it as a positive thing that he wouldn't have to deal with his youngest as she grew up. Still, his oldest was a boyish thing that liked to play at wartime, and his second was... the little mouse, unfortunately. There were so many things that went wrong within his brood. Like having a bad father.
"Maybe your wife just likes other, better men." Was that an insult? "Maybe she would like me better. What do you think of that, Skinner?" Otto then scoffed and glanced at the other's face, studying it for any change of expression.
"But," he added, "I'm sure your wife is really only worth a cabin."
Hey.
"I'd be willing to take her off your hands," Otto stated, "So then you won't have to worry about her murdering you in your sleep. Not that I would marry her. Her interests are shameful-- if any of my daughters dug around in the dirt, I would find it shameful." He let out a snort of laughter. "I'll trade a bundle of flowers and a cabin for her, but I suppose the real boon is that your life would be spared!"
my power shat itself so this is less stellar than i wanted it to be >( follow-up under spoiler as usual.
I, too, would give Otto a corpse.
The nobleman was preening himself, which was to be expected, when Archibald arrived. He glanced at the person from the corner of his eye, taking into account his attire, as he was unfamiliar with it. None of his servants wore such clothes, save for a tutor he hired to teach his children half a decade ago. Archibald looked a tad similar to said tutor, actually, albeit younger, less scarred, and not as stout. It was his expression, Otto assumed. They both had that businesslike quality that he appreciated, but didn't admire.
Otto combed his fingers through his hair as he listened, and then moved on to pick at a hangnail on his thumb that he wanted gone immediately. He gave an obvious wince as he tore it off. Was he even listening? For Archibald's sake, hopefully. It was something about a trade, and when the words registered, he looked at the younger man, only for his eyes to flutter towards the container of flowers behind him.
He took a step closer to the flowers and held a splayed hand over a specific crimson blossom that caught his eye most. Exotic indeed. He wanted to say they were hibiscuses, but he knew that wasn't correct, even if he already couldn't tell anyone the difference between a rose and a carnation without a reference readily available, and only kept his garden for the aesthetic. He supposed he could send these to someone with an easier understanding of botany later in the day, but as for the trade itself...
"Of course, dear sir." he said, "It isn't like I have a shortage of keys. Locks rot and rooms change their occupants." And it wasn't like he would reject new additions to his hoard. He just needed to find a nice place to replant them in the gardens. The space near the vineyards were looking a little bare the last time he checked on them. "I know there are a few kept in the kitchens, if you will follow me. You may have the oldest or the most elegant key you'd like."
If Otto ever found out that these flowers were basically demon organs, he was going to flip his lid.
There was a whistle above head.
"Yo!" called out Jackson, who hung upside-down on a tree branch. He beamed at Archibald and hopped off, landing nearby. "Hey there, Beautiful. I saw you walking around and couldn't help but think you'd need something like this in your life!" He held up a set of keys, but they weren't just any keys, they were Archibald's! How and when Jackson managed to steal them was a mystery. Before Archibald could grab them, Jackson pulled them back. "Ah, ah! I'll trade you for them." He beamed. "A day! Trade me a day of your time in exchange for these. We'll go see a movie then have a nice dinner and go from there! What do you say?"
The thief had kept an eye on Archibald for a while - probably why he was able to take the keys easily - but he'd noticed something interesting: the guy and his friends seemed to treat him like he was average, almost like some kind of background character. Jackson himself couldn't see it. He saw the most gorgeous man in the world, so even if this trade was rejected, well, he'd try, try again.
Brown seemed to make part of her goal trying to get Jackson to feel bad or even remotely ashamed of his entire existence, though he seemed to deflect it all by the gleam of his smile. He ignored her vicious stares and the internal fight with her ego as he thought about what she'd offer him. What could she offer that could make her writhe in shame so much? Was it... a date?! That HAD to be it! And it was one he would gladly ac-
Jackson paused and stared at the sandwich presented to him. She held it as if it were contaminated. "You're... joking, right?" he guffawed and looked at her with disbelief. She had a look on her face saying that he should be honored to take it, combined with one threatening to kill him if he didn't. He frowned. "Wow." He knew aristocrats were greedy, both in terms of money and pride, it's what made them such easy targets, but this was a bit... much.
"I've got plenty of fossils in my stash, that includes more than one of those tusks. It's all been a pain to get. I've got a system of buyers who go easily into the millions and you, who has just as much money, thought a... grocery store sandwich would work?" He shook his head. "Sorry, not going to happen today. Besides, I'm waiting on a call back from the museum's curator. Now he's got something I want in exchange for those fossils." Without giving it much thought, he began twirling around Brown's wallet. "Oh well. Maybe someone else will want that! See ya!" With a cheesy grin, he tossed a smoke bomb onto the ground and disappeared into a cloud of smoke.
- pickle...... thank you for destroying her because honestly..... she deserves that (and worse)......... though it'd probably be a huge rip for Jackson if he encountered her later on lmfao.
Brown never saw herself as the type of person who mingled with men; ever since the travesty of her marriage, she decided to keep to herself, close herself off from those whom ended up reminding her of her husband. This poor thief was one of them, thanks to his vivacious energy and seemingly ever-lasting pep. She even found the youth rather annoying, regarding him with disapproval as she tapped her foot against the floor and waited for him to just... Collect himself.
Her offer was pretty serious, after all.
"This may come off as an insult, and I hope it does," she drawled dryly with a gentle rub of her chin, "but I heard that you are a... Thief, yes?" The woman tilted her head at him - that one hint of curiosity contrasting against a sea of wariness and potential hostility. The other party better enjoy it while he could. "As a result, you likely have a variety of items under your possession, which allows me to get to my next point..." Her cadence was rather slow, but it was still decidedly rough as she wrung her hands. If she erred and had her offer declined, Brown wouldn't be able to obtain what she wanted, and it'd be a bit of a blow to her ego (not that she didn't need it). Also her little heart, but...
The woman asked, "... Is it true that you have a mammoth tusk in that stash of yours?", before proceeding to guffaw bitterly. Holy shit, this is so stupid! I already sound like a fool here! It was nonetheless quite amusing for her, though she made sure to keep the laughter tense as she waved her hand asides. "I heard those types of fossils are quite rare," she mused further with a hint of dreamy longing in her voice, "Those things would be worth a lot of money in the market, though I'm sure you have a lot of that too - thanks to your thievery. As a result, I should probably offer you something more valuable than money." She stepped forward and pulled out a ham-and-cheese sandwich.
This had to be a cruel joke, huh? Brown knew it, but to be quite honest, she didn't really give a shit. She was well-aware of his... Flirtations with middle-aged people, and she technically fell under the demographic. The woman braced herself, just in case this offer spiraled out of control, and she was asked out onto a date. (Her pre-prepared answer? "No." The tusk could wait for another day if it came to that.)
With a sigh, she waved the sandwich - still in its wrapper - before droning, "I know that you enjoy eating food that could help you be a little... Sneakier in your heists, and I believe this sandwich would help you just fine. The ham has protein for your muscles, the cheese has calcium for your bones..." She trailed off because she knew absolutely nothing about nutrition except the bare basics. "... I think... There is a pickle slice somewhere in there too," Brown added with a sigh, "for... Fiber or something. I don't know. You probably know this shit better than me." What she did know at least, though, was that she bought it from the cheapest grocery store she could find, and that her time there was terrible So that came to another reason why she was so insistent about the offer: she didn't want to eat this sandwich herself.
"So here, take it," Brown grunted to the youth, "if the offer appeals to you, of course. I do not have all day, so it is best that you come to a decision quickly. You know how aristocrats are with their time." She laughed haughtily once more, putting up a coy facade just so that her thinly veiled apprehension towards this entire situation could be a little less... Thin.
OUCH. RIP EVERYONE EXCEPT NATH APPARENTLY. HERE'S A FOLLOW-UP. (also lmao this doesn't count as the reveal yet, just.... more foreshadowing/implying rip *pensive*)
edit: I just realized how long my follow-up is, so fdjkhvdfsfygrvsyrufvrsfuvrgfvsuvgsfusdf................ spoiler box is a friend AGAIN.
With a coy wave of her hand, Brown seated herself across from her ally as he prepared the desk for their meeting. It was less tense than last time, given their established alliance, though maybe she was just a little bit sloshed from the wine she had earlier tried at the bar. This was going to be fine.
"Oh, I do apologize for not being there in person last time, then," she told the Easterling, "I just had affairs to attend to with another aristocrat. They needed me for some... Fighting recommendations, I think." The woman leaned back against the chair with a pleasant smirk. "I hope you at least tolerated Johnson... I know you two men don't... Get along, but I just couldn't think of anyone else to send over on my behalf..." Goodness, did her voice ring with saccharine; she genuinely believed that she didn't need to apologize for this, though she did anyways out of the sake for "social propriety." That phrase made her shudder, and she was more than relieved when the topic shifted to somewhere else.
And as if on cue, he started talking about fossils. Brown leaned in for a moment, only to lean back once more when he gave her the disappointing news: no fossils yet. At least his reasoning seems to add up?
She did, however, shrug before replying, "Well, that is understandable. Memory is finite, after all. It won't be long before they forget that you even existed, if you hide in the shadows long enough. Nobody likes dealing with the fucked up shit people do anyways, even if it is a necessary evil." Then chuckling pleasantly, the woman allowed the smile on her face to grow to the point that it was almost like a grin. Almost. "But they will come soon, yes?" Brown asked him with a quick flutter of her eyes, "Their memory cannot last that long, right?" She leaned in just a bit, teeth clenching slightly. "Right?"
That fossil talk would be something she cherished, though not just for sentimental reasons. It was also way, way too fucking short.
As soon as the subject shifted to Roswell, Brown's grin suddenly diminished into a thin, somewhat strained smile as she leaned back against her seat and shifted within it. It was true that her ally didn't get along with the Crow, but... Her eyes drifted to the floor. It was also true that she had thought of slitting open his throat at some point, making her a real killer, but... She crossed her arms. And it was even more true that the scarecrow really, really wasn't that good at fighting; she could've easily won both of those times, but... Her shoulders tensed for a second, then relaxed.
"A knife?" Brown piqued in with some interest, though there was also that... Feeling. It was unfamiliar, but it certainly felt like the opposite of enthusiasm as she regarded the box and took in its sweet tobacco scent. It relaxed her slightly, and she needed it. What she also needed was the knife, with its ivory handle and finely crafted blade. It looked as if it had a lot of love placed into its making, and the aristocrat danced with the idea of donning the knife for ceremonial purposes. Or something like that.
However, if her ally asked her to use that knife to actually maim or kill his rival, Brown would hold the knife, clench it tightly with her fingers even. But would she really drive the blade into its intended target?
Brown actually spent some time trying to answer the question, though she didn't dare utter any of her debate out loud. She instead just nodded as the Easterling continued to speak.
Then another familiar name came up, this time more directly. Oh, thank goodness for that, she thought as she sat upright in her seat, the mind games prior to that were a bit... Exhausting. And it seemed that he wanted to just get... Information about him? For a knife as pretty and potentially effective as the one presented to her, this was surprisingly cheap. In other words, hell yea was she down to snitch on Johnson! (She did think, after all, he had done the same to her a few times before. Give him a taste of his own medicine, Brown reasoned based off that belief.)
"About Johnson, huh?" Brown reiterated with the same grin she had as when the conversation orbited around fossils. Immediately, the woman scooted her seat in as a glint started to appear in her eyes. As with last time, she was now so close that if she wanted to, she could just pluck out a tooth. Delicately, of course. "He is... An enigma... I would indeed call him a friend, but even then, we do have our fights... He is always so fickle, but then again, all men are." She giggled harshly, as if her conversation partner wasn't a man. Okay. "I imagine him being someone with many secrets up his sleeve, but I believe you already know that. However, I must ask... What type of information do you need about him precisely? I cannot guarantee that I can provide what you need, given that he is distant even with me at times, but... I will do my best to satisfy my terms of the trade, of course."
"Ah misses Brown," Nathaniel said in a chirpy tune. "You finally decided to show up, in person." Nathaniel smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. He, obviously, didn't like the switch-a-roo from last time.
"I don't have your /new/ batch of fossils yet," he muttered while softly stroking his beard. "I don't want the Jakes to be suspicious of me. It's bad for business. Gettin' hunted by the Citywatch and all. So I have to wait for a bit. That's unfortunately out of my control," Nathaniel said with a shrug. "But I bet that a woman like you, are interested in other things besides rocks and old bones, right?" another smile. One that was slightly more genuine. "I've heard you scraped someones face a while back. You didn't scrap it enough in my honest opinion," he said while bellying out a laughter. "But I can maybe change that." Nathaniel opened a hidden drawer in his heavy wooden bureau. With his free hand he wiped his unending stack of paperwork aside and set a small box on the table. It was slightly bigger then a cigar box but made of the same wooden materials. It smelled like tobacco and old wood. A nice smell. "Its a knife," Nathaniel deadpan said.
He then carefully opened the lit. It was a knife indeed. The inside of the box was padded with weathered red linen. The knife was a sharp one, handle made from pure ivory and the blade from some good looking metal.
"I do like our, collaboration, but I cant give away this knife for free you know," he eyed her. His golden eyes almost lighting up as he smiled again. This time bearing his teeth. "Everything has a small price here, but I'm this time not looking for money." Nathaniel patted his still heavy coin purse Johnson gave a while back ago. "I want you to find some things out, simple things don't worry, it would be worth the afford." Nathaniel said. He frowned. Softly closed the lit again.
"I want to gather some information on a.. fellow aristocrat," he smiled weak. "What can you tell me about your friend? Johnson? Are you even his friend?"
--
His eyes widen with joy and a beaming smile crept on the old man's face. "I give you every tea you want for that one sweetheart, " he said. "Ginger lemon? Well you knocked on the right ginger's door" he said bellying out a laughter.
Hala had been sent a whole ass set of tea packages by her husband, and as much as she adored him... She honestly didn't want some of what he had gifted her. She didn't need to tell him, and he was out-of-province, so it wasn't like he would know about her giving this away. But, liquorice tea, she was entirely unwilling to try. It reminded her of when she was a child, and when she and her siblings would chew on liquorice, as it was the only treat their parents would give to them. She wasn't sure how it would taste in a tea, but she didn't want to find out. Nor did she want to waste it.
So, when she heard that Nathaniel was fonder of the sweet than she was, she prayed to all twenty gods that he would appreciate it better than her. Her footsteps soft, she approached him, a little box in her hand. She smiled sweetly. It was good to smile, she thought. It was easier to get rid of things, then. She stopped before him and held out the tin. She opened it and the smell of the liquorice within was... nauseating to her.
"I like tea." she said, laughing gently, "But, I thought I might share this with you. I know how much you like things like these, and while I'm not really sure if you're as fond of tea... I'm not entirely sure if I can drink this, anyway..."
She supposed something in exchange would be nice, too, though. At least to make up for the missing packages. She rubbed the side of her neck with her free hand, letting out a sigh.
"In exchange, though, could you please get me something else? Other teas?" she requested, "I'd like either ginger or lemon balm, really. I hope that isn't asking for too much, but... I think most teas would help. If not those, maybe you could... find some chocolate? Or, perhaps some bacon. I would like any of those."
here is a follow-up. hala would die for walker now.
Hala was so ready to accept these pens and quills without trying them out first, given that squid ink was difficult to come across, but remembered that, yes, she should check the validity of this trade before initiating it. Nevertheless, she smiled at the other woman and she reached towards the bottom drawer of her escritoire. "You're so kind." She said. She pulled a hefty notebook out of the drawer and then slapped it down on top of the desk. "Don't be offended, though, I would just like to try these before I hand anything over to you..."
"That encyclopedia?" Hala casted her gaze to the shelf. "That was a gift from a friend... Or, well, not my friend, really, I'm-- I'm not entirely sure if we're friends. He's friends with my husband, old friends." She forced a chuckle, though it unintentionally sounded pitiful. "Not that that should matter. I haven't picked up that book since I was first married, I'm afraid, so even if I just gave it to you, it wouldn't be too much of a loss for me. I suppose I'm not as interested in metals as the two of you are..."
She flipped open the notebook, and then reached for the fountain pen, plucking it neatly from the messy arrangement of utensils. She pressed the point down on the paper gently and starting writing... or drawing? She drew a flower, and then a circle, because they were the only things she had left in her miniscule brain, before moving on to try the inkwell and goose-feather quill. Both seemed to work quite well. The ink flowed perfectly onto the paper.
With a smile, she looked back at Walker. "Honestly, this is quite generous of you, madame." she told her, "Maybe you're not... used to being told such, but--"
Hala laughed. Again. It was still a very soft, miserable laugh, but a laugh nonetheless, as she left her seat and walked towards the little library behind her. She eased the encyclopedia from the shelf and weighed it in her hand as she started back towards Walker. With a sigh, she held it out to the older woman, and murmured, "Thank you very much."
Walker remembered meeting the writer once before, and she always thought it odd as to how the latter always referred to her with a hint of deference even if... Well... The aristocrat saw no reason for that. Didn't the other party assemble a reputation for herself through her work? That was admirable at the very least. To be able to call oneself famous - even if it was just through a pen name - because of one's own merits.
The money and standing, of course, do help, she thought to herself as she eyed the other woman with a cool stare, though it was notably less... Harsh than what she was accustomed to offering. One could even detect the faintest glimmer of regard as Walker nodded and turned to face the other woman.
"I came to your dwelling today because I have something to offer to you, in exchange for something that I want," she explained matter-of-factly. It didn't make the exchange any less awkward as Walker shifted forward without a word. Her hands were still tightly clenched together as she bit down on her lip; if it weren't for the context, this could've looked like some awkward diplomatic trip that their husbands had arranged in order for the two to get to know each other better. It'd be a bit funny if Smithson was the one planning it out - of course - but if that gruff man whom the woman was married to turned out to be the mastermind... It'd be more cruel than anything else. Poor Walker, but also not really.
Finally, she pulled out what she had intended to bring over: a neatly arranged set of writing utensils. Actually, it was more haphazard than anything else. There was a ballpoint pen, then a fountain one... Then a goose-feather quill, then one that looked like it was freshly plucked from an ostrich. It was a bit of a mess, really, but at least the quills were accompanied with a pot of ink that appeared to contain ink of a reasonable quality.
"This will not clot under normal circumstances," Walker merely told the other party with a nod, "since it is made out of squid's ink... Though overall, I believe you would find this package reasonable, since if I remember correctly, you have a little trinket that I would like to have." She set down the box for a second before nodding again, but this time in the direction of the desired object: a tightly bound leather encyclopedia neatly tucked in one of the shelves in the woman's room. Weird object to be trying to trade for, but okay.
"I know it seems bizarre," she sighed while trying not to seem too coarse in her tone; that, of course, failed miserably as she was quick to cough into her sleeve just moments later - to distract herself from how impossibly gravelly her voice was. "But I heard that book contains a lot about... Ores, or something along those lines? I think metallurgy, to be more precise..." The middle-aged woman started to wring her hands as she tried her best to wring a smile onto her face. "It sort of makes sense for my specialty, since I do train creatures involved with metal. Just like how the box could help you with your writing... I just... I just hope that is a fair trade for you, miss, though I would understand if that is not the case."
Brown angst, in my Walker post? it's more likely than you think!
time for... a follow-up. B)
As she looked over at the other party, Walker couldn't help but feel a rising sense of nervousness in her bones. There was really no reason for her to feeling this way. She just... Did.
Perhaps it was because of the way he stood, or the way he held himself with such a lofty air. Or maybe it was the lack of discernible expression on his face, the cue that felt oddly visceral to a woman who was used to expressing little to nothing when addressing others.
It was this stoicism that she was dedicated to uphold as she merely gave the approaching figure a bow of acknowledgement.
"Of course," she told him with a wave of her hand, "I have the time. My husband is the one who tends to get more pressed about such things, if you need a reference." The woman chuckled lightly into her palm - as if she felt self-conscious about it; even then, there was no reason for her to have this type of apprehension, since she did aim that comment to be a harmless tease. She loved her husband, and he was aware of that. And if he ended up taking it the wrong way... He wasn't here at the moment, wasn't he?
She took a step forward before adding further, "I do hope that it is important nonetheless, like you said. Just because I have a lot of time on my hands does not mean that I will tolerate any waste of my time or energy." Ending her words with a huff, the aristocrat soon coughed into her sleeve, then allowed her arms to remain tense. What was it exactly that the other party was so determined to give her? Well... There was only one way to find out in that regard...
Walker took the letter from the other party, who now seemed to act as a messenger instead of the person who actually wanted to trade with her. She was all right with this; he was a little imposing anyhow, and the tone of the letter at least seemed more gentle... At first glance, of course. As she started to read between the lines, her blood froze, and she allowed her focus to shift back to the spoken words of the other man. The woman gulped, though, because she had the feeling she had to remember the letter's contents for something important later on...
... And that was addressing her mother's associate.
"Song, of course," she half-whispered, her voice almost out of breath as she gave him a quick nod. "I will partake in the exchange later on, of course. It seems important based off the writing and your own words." She chuckled once more, but it was obvious that it was tense and the slightest bit helpless. She thought the death of her father - as well as the aftermath - ended up isolating her mother, but... No. She was still able to form social contacts, though there was that inkling of a sentiment that told her that maybe the way she was construing things was wrong. (And what a scandal that would create if it was!)
With a sigh, Walker added somberly, "Well, if we are talking of the same relative, then I doubt she would have ever been that intrigued by ores... I think... Fossils would be more like it." Goodness, did the words taste like acid against her tongue. She wanted to gag in this moment; she really did. Instead, though, she bit down on her lip while looking over at the man. "Either way, my previous remarks about holding up the arrangement are still relevant... If only because they contain matters that I find personal as well as urgent."