OC Trading Post

     Smiley tilted his head down at Ace. She looked unusual compared to the other people he'd met, especially what what he could only assume were horns. However, she had a bright smile on her face, one that was bigger and better than most he'd seen. He appreciated it; it showed him just how happy she was, and that made him happy too.
     "I wonder, I wonder. Do you like books? :)" he hummed as he swayed to the other side, his head following. "I love them too. I love them, I love them. :) Books are so much fun, don't you think so? I think so. :) They can make you think of so many fun things! You can think of interesting places and peoples, or read about fun memories! :) I love to read books. The families I visit always have such wonderful ones to pick from. :) Say, say, say, what's your favorite kind of book? :) I love cooking books. :) Tasty meals make people happy, happy, happy, don't you think so? :)"
     Smiley leaned forward slightly. "Do you have any cooking books? Do you, do you? :) I would love to trade. :)" He reached into his shirt and pulled out a couple books, one being a new cookbook (specifically over desserts), and one being over magic tricks. "I was just on my way home to show this to my family. :) Aren't they nice? Aren't they lovely? :) I wouldn't mind trading one-- or maybe even both to you if you have any other cookbooks? :)"

Otto was perturbed. Surely. Who wouldn't be a little antsy when an immortal serial killer was hanging around them? He actually wasn't sure why Smiley was here at the outskirts of the small gathering, but he wasn't going to question it. There were enough guards on the estate that hopefully, maybe, Otto wouldn't get butchered. But that would be sad! Otto should get double-butchered, and maybe even flung around by his shitty little fucking legs.

"Maybe it would be a good idea for you to stay with the crowd." said Otto, swirling his half-empty glass, "Just to mingle with the people you love to see so happy." As if that wouldn't put more people in danger. Then again, Smiley seemed rather calm at the moment, so that chance was possibly low. Again, that was sad. "They're all quite joyful, I can assure you of that. And quite drunk. Do you drink, dear sir?"

Was the bag over his head too near and dear to him to take off for just a sip of brandy? ..That was fine.

Carefully, Otto then added, "I'll have to take your weapons before you go in, though. Surely you wouldn't mind that? I'm sure you understand that you can't wave a knife around while drinking. You wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, would you? I can..." He paused, mulling over the potential offer. He couldn't think of much to give Smiley. Until... "I have plenty of plush animals. Cute little things. I have a stuffed llama you may enjoy having and holding onto, and swinging it around won't hurt anyone... as much."

Perhaps far too rapidly for her own good (and her own exhausted lungs), Dolores managed to chirp to the younger man, "I do, uh, apologize if my arrival at Sauveterre isn't, well, particularly convenient for you at the moment. I know that you're a busy man, and that you likely have plenty of affairs to worry about." She turned her gaze to peer over her shoulder, chewing on her lip in the process. "I'm sure that you wouldn't have much time to deal with an old woman like myself, even if she's supposed to work-"

Dolores cut herself off, perhaps feeling the weight of her words on her tongue for the first time. Her pacing faltered slightly, and she lagged behind the nobleman ever so slightly... Though the former lasted for a moment, as she started to quicken herself once more... Even if she was no longer right next to the other party.

Perhaps that was for the best.

"- So, um, I can just make this quick, okay?" suggested Dolores sheepishly before breaking her own words off with a laugh- Oh, how she wanted to laugh! Mostly at herself, as her tone continually wavered at the moment, regardless of whether she was speaking or laughing. And, oh, how she was desperately hoping that he didn't think she was laughing at him, or his dignity- She had so little anyways; the elder might as well have absolved him of any blame if it turned out that he believed she was being jealous, and therefore spiteful, as a result.

It weighed down upon her mind even as she started to explain, "Well, back in Unova, there would always be some sort of contract written between the servants and their employers... Just as a way to keep things fair for both parties, you know? The servants give to their employers as much as they can, but they also should receive something in return for their work. Whether it be money, food, shelter- They never really asked much, at least from what I remember. I think it's just because the employers would terminate the contract if they knew that an employee - I mean, a servant - was leeching off of them like that..."

And from there, she carefully suggested, "I don't know how it is in Yenereth, but... If you're open to that sort of thing, then perhaps we can strike a... Deal of sorts? Sir Alkaev? I can help tend the household for a bit, like back when I was a working maid, and... Maybe I can receive something in return?" She paused, then chuckled at her own words. "... Though not through money, of course. I don't want to be paid; I'm retired, and I sometimes make money through my baking, but... That's it..." Another pause. Dolores hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "... What I really want as repayment for my work is maybe, uh, some of the flowers from the gardens? At least... To remind me of home in a way, but... Flowers. Flowers for sure, not money..." Once she was finished, Dolores frowned before looking back over at the man and cocking her head at him.

"Would... Would that be all right with you, sir? Sir Alkaev, I mean? I really do apologize if it isn't. I'm... I'm always up for negotiations, really."

I just might do a follow-up for the next poster if I have the time. maybe. >:)c

Sophia didn't expect much from Dolores. The woman was, after all, much older than herself -- rapidly approaching her eighties, at that, and who knows what capabilities she even had left to wield or goods to share. So, she wasn't expecting much. For her service, however, Sophia had to take advantage of even the most destitute. Simply, that was how the world worked, and so coldly did she gaze upon the elderly woman with not a trace of warmth on her face.

Snowpoint City's name, however, presented an option to her. That certainly wasn't the name of a city where crops were grown, save for only the most resilient, but then that probably left very few options for Dolores to choose from. Haratel wasn't much better. Sophia only managed to raise tomatoes indoors and forage for fruit trees when she had the time to examine what few bushels she came across. Those bushels, however...

..Never mind. She could spare some fruits. "I offer to you more variety." Sophia spoke to Dolores, her tone as flat as it always was. "Sometimes, Balarazi caravans pass through the West. The rebellion is most profitable for those who dare to float between factions and all, but nor can I blame them. This conflict is a shitshow." Don't swear in front of grandma... Well, whatever. Sophia obviously didn't care an ounce for Dolores. For what Dolores could offer, Sophia pushed on. "Balarazi caravans carry fine goods. Though I hunt and scavenge, these supplies are difficult to come across -- but, they must think we need food more than we need medicine."

"Watermelon." Sophia murmured, "Precious Balarazi watermelon and mangoes, harvested from the province itself. I ration what I can, there is plenty to go around for those who can repay this kindness." She stepped around Dolores to search for the fruits in question. She had the mangoes in a basket somewhere, didn't she..? As she searched, she continued on, "I know that you enjoy cooking. Anything new is anything... well, new. It must be boring to eat the same things over and over again."

Sophia paused and faced Dolores. "So, for these fruits," she said, "Medicine. All medicine. Gauze, painkillers, stitching supplies. Having to make thread from animal intestine is mind-numbing, you know. So, what say you?"

auuauauashss follow-up

A rather large, oddly-colored wolf looks at Sophia from a stone perch in the fork of a crossroad, there's a sharpness in his eyes and the corners of his mouth seem to be turned up in an almost cocky smirk. He's holding what appears to be a large green gem in his mouth, the stone is somewhat ruggedly cut and has a light streak down the middle like a cat's eye. He has a rucksack swung over his back and it seems to be rather full, you can see the hint of a pearl necklace peeking out from the opening.

'Fancy a bit of a trade?' A voice seems to echo in her mind. 'I seem to have upset an acquantance of mine and am looking for something more... natural, with which to appease her.'

His ears twitch and he tilts his head slightly, 'Of course, if valuable trinkets are not of your interest I can get you something from my allies, I know a carver who can make good, sturdy needles from fossilized bone or perhaps I can canvince my keeper to part with some of her books? I can also offer my services as a guard or hunter, I am nothing if not flexible.'

Mary looked at the wolf with little emotion and her mouth a thin line across her face. With a blink of her one good eye, she sighed with a deep and strenuous breath. Her old age caused her bones to creak as her lungs expanded out of sheer exasperation over the offer. Blackout didn't seem to have any bit of commerce at all. "During my times in Karak-Vlag, not even the greedy Fyreslayers would be so bold as to induct trade with me when they had but...trinkets, you say, to offer."

As she finished from her backpack, a millipede of bright red color crawled out onto her shoulder. Around the size of a python, it proceeded to curl around her shoulders to loop back and aim its antenna at Blackout. Not even looking back at the insect, she cratched its underside with a gloved hand. "If you truly want to trade, however. I suggest making it a convincing offer. I want no talisman of god; show me what you have. Derkin here, while a favorite of mine, is perfect for sending messages around a small area. Fast and ok with you tying something to her. So again. Make a good offer"

Manual, sorry

"You're an awfully interesting character, Miss Carter," Fannie comments with a smile. She twirls her umbrella on her shoulder with ease as she surveys Mary, just as she does every sorry sap that crosses her. Mary doesn't seem like the type to believe in ghost stories. She makes for a challenge to Fannie's craft. The woman, a few decades her elder, was a staunch opposite of young Fannie; where Mary was pocked with scars that told stories and a glare that could see past a thousand yards, Fannie was unblemished by age or strife and callously aware of it, flaunting it with every little move. Perhaps it was cruel, self-centered, but it was natural in each movement -- as natural as her tendency to lie. 

Fannie starts with another grin, pressing her lips together and ignoring the fact that the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm not religious, madam, though superstition's got its grip on me, so I won't waste your time with silly mythology and I hope you won't waste mine." She raises a few trinkets from her pockets, small and shiny and... well, a little cheap-looking. But that smile of hers is authentic, and it almost makes her knick-knacks look the same. "But I'm inclined to believe in lucky charms, and with your battle scars and you still living to tell your tale, it seems like you're a lucky charm all your own! Though a little extra luck never hurts, doesn't it? " 

She ushers her hand forward, but Mary's skepticism leaves Fannie rolling her eyes. She sorts through her handful of trinkets and places in Mary's hand a four-leaf clover, pressed into glass and dangling from a silver chain.  "Go on, take it, I've got plenty; horseshoes, rabbit feet, you name it. And besides, if I don't give these to someone, my brother'll have my head for having bought so many of them." 

  An abrupt "psst" is heard from behind Fannie as an attempt to get her attention, the salesman slinking out his hiding spot. There was a slight crackling sound as he hid his second pair of arms from view before Fannie could even face him. "Hello, missus... Magoria, I'm usually not one ta' sneak up on people like that, but what you've got in store has caught my eye." The salesman slipped his hands behind his back, staring intently at his acquaintance. He tilted his head down, the rim of his fedora obscuring that piercing gaze of his as he seemingly pulled his briefcase out of what was nothing. He then leaned in as if he were trying to make his towering stature less off-putting, offering his hand to her so she could shake it. His spindly fingers would clutch her hand tightly.
 
  "Listen, I'm not here for any of the tricks you got up your sleeve, but I've got the offer of a lifetime." The salesman narrowed his eyes, observing how she seemed practically spotless, though something felt off about her. He didn't hesitate to return the sentiment, refusing to let go of the damsel's hand, and instead began to harshly draw her in, "I know exactly what keeps you up at night, I've got the solution just for you right in my briefcase." He rasped. "Just say the word, and it's a deal." As soon as the words escaped his lips, that grating crackle was back again, a second hand clinging onto Fannie. The salesman gave her a crude grin, daring her to do so much as think about what was inside his briefcase. 

Lychee was pretty used to the sleazeballs, the shady businessmen, the door-to-door moments that always ended with her politely waving off their approach and then punching the shit out of some drywall in her kitchen, but that was all unnecessary to now. She was naturally wary of the salesman before her, again thanks to the trauma of having to tell telemarketers that, no, she wasn't interested in their magazine subscriptions, but push had come to shove! ..And she needed a couple things she was certain only he would have, at least out of all the underground vendors in the area.

So, here she was. You know. Like nya.

"I'm going to just need a couple've things. Best I've to even offer you right now, though, it's just like... how's about... five hundred? You've gots a bunch've guns or something in that there suitcase, rightsies?" She hoped so, or else she would have come here for nothing. But now come to think of it... did she even know what he sold? She never got a clear answer on what was going on in there...

"Ugh, like, you know? Just five hundred bucks for, ummmmm..." She paused. "I don't even know much much a gun's supposed to cost! Just gimme whatever costs five hundred, I'unno."

Nya...

isolde gets called a bimbo in this i am so sorry