Ask a Favor of the OC Above You! (IC game)

Korrina studied Clarissa carefully. The teenage girl reminded of herself when she was young -- painfully naive, despite the world around her taking a turn for the worse. A funny thing, that, as she considered Clarissa's cutesy ballgown. It was... certainly charming, and would provide her an easy way fluttering about through nobility. She just hoped the girl had the attitude for it, as Korrina considered herself too old and conspicuous to go sneaking about.

Here's to hoping Clarissa was good at talking her way out of situations.

"There is one thing that I need from you while you're here, my dear." said Korrina, "It shouldn't be difficult for a pretty young lady such as yourself -- why, you'd be right at home here in Sauveterre, you know? It's just..." She paused, looking down at the girl's gloved hands. "I heard you have sneaky fingers."

Which wasn't a bad thing. In fact, a quick little thief was all she needed right now, as she cleared her throat and then added, "I could never even fight to compare, I'm afraid. I've always had small, fat hands. They're not good for dexterity." Haha handlets. "It isn't like what I'm trying to do requires dexterity, really, but... an unexpected interception does, I'm afraid." And that was where Clarissa came in.

"It's a quick task I'm going to offer you," she assured, "And you will be paid a handsome bit of coin if you can get to it as soon as possible. I'm sure that would go a long way with that child you're raising."

She reached underneath her waist sash with that, taking out a small copper coin with a hole printed through it. She fiddled with it, holding it in the air where the sunlight through the window could catch it and illuminate its surface. It was honestly a bit plain-looking, but... money is money, right?

"I need your hands, and your pretty face," she said, "And I need you to collect an envelope from my husband's office. It's pink, and is addressed from a place named Monflanquin. The quicker and smoother I have that letter, dear, the better your pay."

milf time..?

"Well, I am sure that my intern has said... A lot about you," remarked the middle-aged man, all while not looking at the other party. How respectful. But in all honesty, how was he supposed to navigate this entire interaction? Apparently, his intern had somewhat antagonized her - even if he insisted it was for a "relatively petty manner" - then became an absolute fucking wuss and begged for him to deal with her himself. Who knows? Maybe, as a man of science who sometimes associated with the rich folk, the grounding would be a bit more even? (Wait a minute...)

"Like... He told me that you were rather charming, if not a bit meek at first glance. But there is a real sweetness in the way that you speak, the way that you... Phrase yourself, I suppose. You somehow captured the interest of my intern, even if you did call him out a bit for his profane language." He awkwardly paused for a moment before leaning in, almost like he wanted to share some little secret like a middle-schooler. "I kind of have to agree," M. Pourife continued in a quieter voice, "I do find it odd how an aristocrat chooses to use such lowly words so... Freely."

Shut up, it was objectively funny when fancy rich (and supposedly "refined") people got to say "fuck." Looking at you, Brown and Fitzgerald.

Yet alas, M. Pourife continued to gripe about his supposed not-son, as he leaned back and continued in his normal voice, "I have to admit, though, I can see why you would get along well with him. He likes refined folk, you know. Those who can stoke his ego while also keeping him in check... Not that he really knows it..." Beads of sweat started to become the tiniest bit apparent on his forehead, though they were wiped off before they became too much of an issue. He did, however, chew on his lip ever so slightly...

"So, I have an idea for you, miss," he proposed after a few minutes of silence, "How about you accompany him for a bit? I am sure that he is itching for some company of, well, people like yourself. I think he told me that you liked him, but... Again, the attitude and vocabulary." He laughed with obvious uneasiness weighing down his tone before grinning and wringing his hands.

Was this a thinly veiled attempt to ditch his not-son for a bit, in a way that didn't make him whine like a little bitch? Perhaps! Don't try this at home, kids.

"You do not have to do this if you do not want to," M. Pourife remembered to swiftly remind her just seconds later, though... He didn't really mean it now, did he? The chances of that were so low... He sniffed before leaning back in his seat and adding with the same hastiness, "But maybe... Once a week at least could work? Of course, that could depend on your husband, son, and other obligations, but... I reckon that adding another fellow aristocrat in your arsenal is always a smart move, yes? Rich people flock together like birds anyway, at least from my observation."

M. Pourife will not be the magic man today, unfortunately- 😔

follow-up time.

"Hey, sir? Can i bother you for a moment? I need some help."

Ace pointed to a tavern across the street and explained, "I'm doing a magic show in about an hour, but my assistant had to drop out at the last second. Would you mind taking over for them?" She took out a normal looking silver ring and said "It's not difficult, all you have to do is wear this ring, raise your hand when i ask for a volunteer and act like you've never met me before. I should warn you that my show doesn't only involve magic tricks but real magic as well, but it won't hurt. At worst, you might be a little disoriented."

"Of course i'll make it worth your while, all your drinks are on me." Noticing the book he was carrying around, she added "And if you want, i can take you to Dantalion's library. You'd be one of the first humans to ever set foot in there."

"So? Will you help me?"

(kafkaesque Oh no, I forgot about this thread. Is it too late for a followup?... Whatever, I’ll write one anyways!)

In the middle of her performance, while she was preparing the audience for her next trick, the spotlight suddenly shifted to the side. Ace turned towards the unfamiliar woman who had apparently stumbled onto the stage. Security was moving in to remove her, but as the woman was apologizing for interrupting, Ace signaled them to stay back.

The woman seemed quite shy; Ace tried to encourage her, “Don’t worry, the night’s still young, we can pause the show for a bit. So, how can I help you?” After hearing Smith’s request, Ace answered, “A birthday party? Sure, why not.”

Wanting to talk about the details, she announced a short recess and signaled the barkeeper to give out a round at her cost and took Smith backstage. “Something exiting? I can do that; I’ll prepare some of my most spectacular acts. Your husband doesn’t need to know, if he’s not at his sons party then I don’t think it’s any of his business anyways.”

Smith glanced around for a few seconds before gradually advancing forward, Cashmere chittering as he remained wrapped around the young woman’s collar like a scarf. In all honesty, she looked a bit… Eccentric, with that sort of accessory on her, but it didn’t matter. Cashmere was cute, and besides, she did hope that it’d be a boon when the inevitable negotiation came. Her husband, after all, always told her that she wasn’t the best with such skills, yet…

He wasn’t here right now, so what could he do? The most was just learning after the fact, then-

“Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting the magic show like this," interjected Smith with a sheepish grin once she realized the spotlight was directed onto her. She raised her hands up while Cashmere let out a squeak. "I... I promise I don't mean anything illicit. Like... I won't try reporting this tavern performance to the, uh, authorities, or anything like that-" In a quieter voice, she whispered to nobody in particular, "Besides, I'm not even sure they'll take me seriously... I'm too young and naïve, they say. They'd rather listen to my husband any day-"

She froze again, before taking a step back. Goodness, I'm going to sound so stupid as she kept up her friendly, apologetic, yet still embarrassed smile while she slowly lowered her hands and allowed her ferret-like creature to become more visible to her audience.

After another cursory glance among the tavern and its patrons, Smith attempted to ignore the reek of alcohol and stepped forward, brushing some dust off her dress before explaining, "I... I just heard about some of your magic tricks from afar, and... Well... I was... I was wondering if..." Jumping when she heard footsteps from near the entrance of the building, the young woman continued inching towards the stage, before waving her hands again to prove that she was - indeed  - unarmed, and also purely mortal. "I was wondering if..."

"If... You could perform for my son for one of his birthdays? I know it sounds ridiculous because I heard that you do magic, and I don't think this is the type of magic with the top hats and bunnies, but..."

Unsuccessfully biting back a nervous laugh, Smith muttered so lowly that only the other party could really hear, "... He's always been antsy about something exciting, especially for his birthday. He... He just learned to walk recently, you know. And... I think it'd be an honor if you performed. Just please, please don't tell my husband this. He doesn't know, and... I... I don't think he'd be happy if he did." Already, Smith was dying inside and regretting this offer more and more, but... Again, maybe Cashmere could be of help here. Maybe.

time for... a semi-quick follow-up... I will die for Smith and Zinnia's dynamic, damn it- >:(

"Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Smith! Come in!" Zinnia squeaked, her grin growing wider as she watched the older woman walk into the building. Zinnia clasped her hands together, pulling the door shut before shuffling up to Smith's side.

"Thanks for coming over, but we can't hang out as long tonight! Anyways, I thought a little about what you said, and I, uh, I convinced Aiden to come to a party with me!" she beamed. Her grip on her hands tightened before she allowed her arms to fall to her side. She then briefly raised her hand to scratch the ears of the Furret perched on her shoulders.

"Ooh, Mrs. Smith! I'll be right back!" Upon completing her sentence, Zinnia abruptly shuffled into the restroom. After a few minutes, she scurried back out, making a beeline over to the older aristocrat. Then, she dumped out all the contents she was carrying: a variety of makeup and brushes have spilled on top of the coffee table. The teenager then sat down next to Smith, maintaining her excited as she squirmed around in her spot.

"Mrs. Smith? I'm sorry, but...can you...make me pretty?" she squeaked, lifting up one of her palettes and holding it out to her. Her smile grew as she perked her head up and allowed her eyelashes to flutter.

"I just—I really, really want to look nice for him, and I'd really appreciate that."

Void. It was the same girl Who got that order first in that pub. With that blond silk hair and soft expression! Life sure had its way of rubbing salt in someone wounds.
Graak inhaled sharply through her nose while eying the way younger party.
This entire situation was..a mess
"Well sweetheart, you're the ónly one who reacted to my advertisement," Graak said. She knocked the back of one of the many pamphlets she'd plastered around in the city. A simple paper, black and white with a text:

'Looking for a dog-sitter'
I'm looking for an experience animal handler who can take care of my dog when I'm away.
My dog is more important then Your Life, so treat him well.
No Zeewolven or Krakers gespans-lieden.
Must be young, cause you're going to walk a lot.

Graak shoved the brochure on her bureau. She then pinched her nose-bridge.
"So I give you a chance. A try-out, or a favor if you will," Graak said.
"If my hound likes you, you're hired," Graak paused. "If not: I don't want to see you near me ór my dog ever again. Do you understand?" Graak leaned closer. Her eyes inspected Zinnia's face strictly.
"Good." She leand  back. Graak whistled on her fingers and deep from the shadows a beast manifested itself... Benvolio.
The overweight, age-old dachshund.
Benvolio yawned. His snout once colored a dark brown, had hints of grey in it. The small legs of the wiener dog made its that the terrifying beast waddled. Lazily Benvolio made his way over. His tail half-wagging. He sniffed Zinnia's shoes, then looked up to Graak. Expectantly.
Graak knelt next to her dog and giving him a good pet on the head.
"Now do be careful out there Benny," Graak told her dog. "You are going to take a walkie with this lovely lady over here while I take care of some...People." Graak rubbed the dachshund's ears. "And you're both are going to have a fantastic time. Right?" her gaze shifted to Zinnia as she narrowed her eyes, "sweetheart?"

--
i LOVE: these two

"I'm not going to wait here forever. I need to get back home as soon as possible." Noel didn't like hanging out amongst civilization, anyhow. To an extent, he found the wooded mountains where he lived currently to be peaceful, albeit quite the inconvenience considering its distance from any known towns and cities. Maybe, he thought, he should start bringing the girl along with him. It was safer that way, wasn't it?

"It's a fetch quest, but I need you to deliver some things to my cabin first thing tomorrow morning." he droned on, rising from his seat and dusting off his ragged old coat, "I ordered a box of medicinal tablets, but they won't arrive until then, apparently. It should at... eighteen, I think." He bit back a curse. He knew it wasn't the fault of the apothecary, but he felt a level of bitterness towards them anyway. The girl had survived cradle flu years ago, but a lack of exposure left her susceptible to the cold season.

It wasn't terrible, but it was enough to make Noel feel uneasy. A cold could turn into something worse if left untreated.

"I'll pay you what I can." he then muttered as he lifted his hood over his head, "Just for the travel, you can have a twenty. Does that sound good to you?"

It was the most generous he was willing to give to the younger man. He wasn't too charitable with his fellows -- funny, considering he expected Coy to be so. Twenty Yene wasn't much in his opinion, but it would pay for the groceries... Actually, speaking of... Maybe he should cut it down to a ten for the sake of having more cash to spend the next time he went shopping? He glanced to the window, struggling to decide. He already made his offer. If he wanted it to stick, he shouldn't try and negotiate the favor any further.

"I only need to buy a few pounds of potatoes and another pound of rice." Noel might purchase a chicken, too, but who knows? "Then, I'll be on my way. If I'm not at the cabin, knock twice and leave the medicine at the door. Don't knock too hard. The door's flimsy."

i WILL write a follow-up post.

"It is always a joy to see someone with a remotely detectable sense of intellect around here," Rochester joked in front of the large, imposing man, in spite of... Well... Being aware that he was the slightest bit unpredictable. There was a reason, after all, why he was sometimes dubbed as "The Cannibal," but... Throwing much of her preconceptions aside, the elderly woman seriously doubted that someone with that menacing spark in his eyes could - well - regress to that level of brutality- Maybe?

She was well-aware that he could easily kick her ass if this went wrong. The elder, in fact, wasn't new to legends around cannibals; there was actually one she knew well, back then, but she didn't know whether it was true. She didn't want it to be true, either. Both were muscular, both were intimidating, and both acted with purpose. It was a bit visceral for her liking, really...

Perhaps Rochester's subtle uneasiness was why Spot remained eerily silent, as she attempted to ignore her slug's terror in favor of explaining further with a wave of her hand, "I mean... Not that I want it to be an exclusive trait by any means, which is why I used to try teaching people to become intellectuals - and not just idolizers of them - but..." She leaned in slightly to gently rub her cheek with her fingers. "Obviously, I am retired. And I doubt my political connections of yesteryear will be very useful to you. You probably know that though, mm? People forget all the time."

"I won't be the slightest bit fucking shocked if they took one look at my face and recoiled in pity. Or horror. Something like that."

"Besides, I think it would be an insult to someone as capable as yourself," laughed the elder, "if I said that you were a fool, or something along those lines. You are nothing like that, as far as I am concerned. Which is why I allowed you inside this house in the first place..." Well... The door was always unlocked, so what? She better not give him something stupidly menial as a favor then - like cleaning the kitchen, or sorting through her mess of a bookshelf (full of unread books and obsolete treatises galore). And, indeed, Rochester did pull out a book, but when she opened it, the pages weren't about birds or mollusks; rather, they were about hardened criminals and ruffians, faces that would probably be more familiar to him than her.

Pointing a finger at one of the inscribed faces, Rochester sighed, "Don't tell Beatrice this, but... This guy? This guy is a factory owner, back in her home region." The fellow in question was angular in shape, with the slightest cleft in his chin. Piercing hazel eyes looked back at them before she continued. "He has some power still. I did my research. He works on producing iron for like... Guns and shit. Never bothered to look into the details. But either way, he's a menace. Asshole didn't exactly treat her well back in the day. Had to get her out of there myself." Her voice twisted with bitterness before she nudged the book closer to her guest.

"I was merely wondering whether you could help me find out more about him, besides what the books and films imply," grunted Rochester with a raised brow, "You have some power in all this, I assume. But if that is too much work for you..." She smirked slightly. "You could just find him and kill him. Make it look like an accident. It's only the least the prick deserves, really. Trust me on that. I will try my best to pay you with cash, but I can compensate through other means as needed."

Spot gets paid in exposure as he deserves. semi-quick follow-up time.

"Excuse me, ma'am!" Zack called out while hurrying towards Rochester. He took a moment to catch his breath before saying, "Your slug. I've never seen anything like it." His gaze shifted to the blue slug gurgling on her shoulder. "It's incredible. It reminds me of the creatures I'd recently taken pictures of. That's why I'm here too." He held up the camera strapped around his neck. "I run a blog about animals. I'd like to ask if I can take pictures of your pet, too. I'm not asking to do it for free, I'll give you a discount at my store for any of the merchandise or food, and if the pictures get popular I'll give you a large cut of the profits."

With some delicacy in her gesture, Walker nudged a bottle of Wolvesmilk forward, though... She had a feeling that the spiced, fermented sheep's milk was better with the arbiter's father than the arbiter himself. An unfortunate arrangement, really. She had just gotten to reconnect with the older man after a period of disconnect, and... Now, I suppose, is an appropriate time to try doing the same with his son. He must be carrying something around in that regard, right?

Right?

"I understand if you do not drink very much," sniffed the aristocrat with a frown, "I probably got the wrong type." Sure... She glanced off to the side, just to see if there was anyone passing by in the hallway. You know, so she could probably bother them to take in her stead. "Or at all, really. I find it best for one to remain as rational and as grounded as humanly possible when it comes to the mind, and alcohol interferes with that/ Especially because I know for a fact that, well, you are a rather busy individual. You cannot waste too much time with drink, or with futile talk... Mm?" That was meant to be a compliment, apparently.

So, she gently nudged the flask back. Now that she thought about it, the slight reek of canine was going to kick her ass later on. Wolf never smelled pleasing. It always smelled acrid, like gunpowder at best and like dried, almost festered blood at worst - it was enough to make her stomach turn regardless, and it showed.

"With that asides, then," concluded Walker with a huff, "I might as well keep this short. You probably have other cases to attend to anyway." With a gingerly chuckle, she therefore shifted her gaze over to her side, where... She tapped, her fingers making a soft thump against the couch's fabric. Oh? Then, sighing somewhat heavily, the older woman looked up just to see if it did anything (besides probably confuse the other party), before-

There was suddenly a loud barking sound as a large fluffy dog approached from one side of the hallway, then into the room. its long fur brushing rather discretely while she allowed the pooch to approach. That was going to be a lot of dog hair to clean up later on. A noticeably uneasy Walker then bit back a grimace before starting to rub the dog's forehead and the back of its ears, forcing out a hum to make it seem like she actually gave a shit about this pet who... technically wasn't hers.

Biting down on her lip, she muttered while stroking the dog's cheeks, "This might not be the best choice, but... I have been getting busy lately with political affairs, and so has been my husband. We rarely have time to attend to the servants in the house, and even less to attend to... Pup. Our dog. Actually... He is my son's dog, but we decided to take care of him ever since he disappeared. I hope this changes soon, but... You know..." Gee. "... For now, I do regret the sudden shift of attention away from him, given that he is our son's prized companion, so... Would you mind taking him in for a period of time? He is... Surprisingly manageable once you get past the fur and size. I can give you further instruction on this, but... Only if you agree, of course."

time for a follow-up. Walker would probably die if she knew about the criminal aspect of the Dead Sun.

WHERE ARE ALL OF YOUR CHARACTERS I LOVE THEM, claim time, but I'm going to try my best to remember Sola's mannerisms! I'm sorry if I get her wrong ResearcherAndFriends

"So... you're basically an astronaut?" Zinnia tentatively inquired, nervously wringing around her fingers while she followed Sola around. She could feel the ball of her heels scrape against the concrete, as well as the tension that lingered in the air.

"My mom said that that's not a woman's job, but I don't believe that. She works as a photographer...for a magazine. She takes pictures of ladies—pretty ladies...wearing... swimsuits...She always brings home those ones, as well as those belonging to other magazine companies. I always take them to my room and look at the ladies because—well, I'd love to be pretty like them! I wanna be tall, and thin, and—Oh, I'm speaking too much, aren't I?" Zinnia allowed her expression to shift into an embarrassed one upon processing how much she said. Remaining silent, Zinnia tilted her head down and intently watched her hands.

"You're going to...tell people about life out there, right?" the teenager hesitantly inquired.

"I'm genuinely curious. If you get the chance, can you...tell me first?"