[IC] What would your oc do to the above oc?

"I'm middle-aged and still not used to having to talk with nobles," En laughed lightly before waving his hand dismissively. "I've always thought it was pointless. It's all politics and people trying to get favors off of you. Then again, I never grew up with a focus on this kind of training, it was more my brother." He was quiet for a moment before smiling at Fitzgerald. "You know, you remind me a lot of the sirens. They've always been the kind to focus on looks and the arts. They could say it's a nice day and you could say it feels a little hot and they'd take it as a personal attack." Ah. That was probably taken as a personal attack, wasn't it?
Oh boy, En thought to himself as he tried to continue smiling despite the beads of sweat rolling down his face. Maybe this was more a matter of what he shouldn't have done.
Yet, strangely enough, it didn't deter him from wanting to talk to Fitzgerald. In fact, he saw this as an opportunity. Like he'd said, Fitzgerald was a lot like the sirens, and if he could figure out how to properly converse with him and make him happy, then surely he'd learn how to make the sirens happy.
"If you want, why don't you stop by my castle now and then? Lunch, dinner, a simple tea break, you name it. I think you just might be the answer I've been needing."

"Hmm..." En's face was a mixture of blank with intrigued, both his eyes and his mouth shut into matching thin lines. He wasn't... quite... aware of what she was talking about. However, there was one word that struck out: Alkaev. Did she know Noel? By the sounds of it, she worked with him! So he was still around, that was good!
Unaware of the REAL Alkaev she was talking about, En eyed the vial set down between them. He reached for it, only to be stopped by an ominous presence behind him.
"I recommend not touching it, Sire," Clayton, his head butler, said from behind. En couldn't see him, but in Clayton's position his entire face was silhouetted save for one eye focused on Zuri.
"Oh...? Is that so..." The king leaned back in his seat. "I've been with Clayton for some time now, so I'll trust him, if you don't mind. However, I'm interested in your services. Less physical and more, uh, social? You mentioned Alkaev. Is it possible for you to introduce me to him? I could come with you, or he can come here! Maybe here would be better, we can even serve both of your favorite dishes, can't we, Clayton?" he smiled over his shoulder, though Clayton's glare didn't go away.

Zuri had seeped into the pockets of nobles over the years, though she rarely strayed from the top dog of her province, her duty having been to protect him, to rid him of those who wished to harm him, like washing fleas from a dog. En was different in some ways. His confidence in his own political power seemed nothing to her, but nevertheless, kings were rich men, and she liked rich men.

"I'm among the most efficient of my order, I can assure you." Her voice was a raspy hiss, barely heard over the sound of people bustling even in the opposite room. She sat at a small, round table across from the younger man, her head lowered as though, even now, she was timid. "Lord Alkaev wouldn't have appointed me to be his retainer otherwise, and especially if it's something quiet that you want, I can serve with a drop of pennyroyal oil, or maybe even ground leaves of meadow saffron. This is my duty presented to you with a cost."

She stood after a few moments, hovering over where En remained seated. She glanced over the back of his head, for a moment admiring his pale locks of hair before reaching into her jacket pocket. She set a little bottle down before the man. The liquid within was a sweet umber color.

"This is what I use, this vial." she informed him, "It's the oil. And maybe you don't want my help, not in the way of dealing with problems myself, but you may want the bottle. It has more important uses, I suppose. I like the smell."

Zuri traced her finger around the bottle's cap, and then added in a gentler voice, "Twenty for the oil, but if you want my help, we can talk a bit more about it."

asshole women follow-up

"So, I heard you are charged with... Killing people," Brown told the older woman with a silky smile, as she poured some tea for the both of them to drink. "That is admirable, to say the least. If I would, I would kill more people than just my husband, but I do not think that would give me any money. I would probably just end up getting arrested and losing all of my money that way, and wouldn't that be a real damn fucking shame?" She laughed as she leaned against the seat, allowing the other party to take in the scenery as needed.

Both women were seated in the salon, with the only background noise being the flickering of the fire in a nearby fireplace. Brown had thought of replacing that damn fireplace too many times before, but in this moment, it was tolerable, mostly because it eased the tension between the two. Not that the older woman posed any actual risk to the aristocrat, but she did work for someone whom Brown had spoken once with as a flirtation, and that by itself might've made it a little... Awkward?

She coughed into her sleeve before straightening her posture and grunting with an extended hand, "But the thing is... You do it all because of someone who treated you kindly... Once, I believe? Correct me if I am wrong in that regard, miss." A wry chuckle was allowed to come out, but it also had that... Somewhat wistful note to it, one that she'd normally never release. The woman blinked for a few seconds before wiping at her brow, then taking another sip of tea.

But wait, this wasn't supposed to be just any talk, right? Her eyes remained focused on the older woman before she shoved the teacup a considerable distance, then she continued to speak, but with hands in her lap this time:

"I hope the tea is passable for you, miss," she grunted with a raised brow, "I know for a fact that the tea I purchase tends to be on the herbal side of things, even if you do have a fondness for plants, which... Actually brings me to my point." Her shoulders previously hunched, the woman now relaxed herself considerably before fluttering her eyes at the other party.

"So, I heard," Brown mused aloud while gently tracing her finger against the pattern on the nearby table, "that you garden as a hobby, right? You love the flowers that grow in that noble's garden, and I have a feeling that the scents and sights appeal to you very much... Maybe... If you so desire, you can try... Taking a look at my garden, see which plants should grow next to which and the like? I have been growing them for years, and normally I would never let strangers just wallow in that part of my abode, but... Your expertise would make you an exception..."

She looked back out the window, to see the branches of oleander waving gently in the breeze, before adding calmly, "Besides, while you are at it, may you take some kudzu pods with you? That bastard vine is really threatening to overwhelm my garden at one point or another. Perhaps you can give them to that man if you do not wish to keep them yourself, which I would understand completely, but... Otherwise, I need them gone, and a woman like you is suitable for such an endeavor. Just... Do not worry about it right now. We should probably go back to the whole garden evaluation situation anyway."

*chants* frenemies, frenemies... though honestly it leans pretty heavily towards enemies because Brown is mean. :")

I'd die for Kiushhu once more, and here's a follow-up:

(^ I'm so glad you like kiushhu so much ;-;. also yeah...frenemies baybee!!)

Kiushhu rolled their shoulder back, sighing at the sight of Brown, yet again. They remembered the last few times the two had met, previously ending on a note of Brown demanding some kind of fossil, not that they had ever cared to do such for her. The uberhero flicked a leaf from their cape as they spoke.

"Miss Brown," Kiushhu glanced up at the woman, "We meet again I see."

It never seemed to go too terribly well with the two in the same room, with the hero constantly brushing off the other's attempts to act better-than-you. But, they didn't see her as much of a threat, just...an odd acquaintance they had made. The warrior turned half of their attention away, looking over the scenery with a little more interest. 

"I seem to recall you wanted to meet on a 'better foot', if I remember correctly," An almost bored tone met their voice, "Is that true?"

--

(crIEesspurenai I've missed seeing Cecili around)

"Cecili..." Kiushhu's voice was quieter as they hugged, tightening their grip just slightly, "...I would do anything to help you. Do not worry about asking me for advice or assistance."

With a chuckle as they released the woman, they half striked a pose to break the more serious tone, "Who would I be if I were not there to help those in need?"

The uberhero sat, motioning for Cecili to do the same alongside themselves, taking a more honest and relaxed tone.

"You are a true ally to me, one who means very much," Their eye crinkled up in a smile under the mask, "Our encounters are truly always pleasant to me." 

  "A... school?" Aster remarked, screwing his face up at the unfamiliar word. "As in... a real school?" 

  At the idea, his eye widened, and he nearly screeched, "You must tell me about it! A real school from times of yore? Well, what forbidden lore have you learned?"

  Unfortunately for Cecili, he had taken to shifting to sit uncomfortably close to a relative stranger- not that he really seemed to grasp that concept either. He was sheltered in a different way. Aster was vaguely aware of the fact that he accidentally elbowed her in his excited squirming to take his journal from his belt, and in the process of fumbling for a blank page. He had his quill ready, like a true eager student. 

  "I don't think any of those even exist anymore! All of them destroyed in the fighting, but I must have misunderstood- surely a place of such high distinction would be able to evade such an unrefined fate..." When he paused, it was only for a breath. "Is it true that you could find students from foreign places? As in, sitting in camaraderie, and not striving for violence? I am not affiliated with any one of those war bands, but it does not seem to me that there would be enough people like that in the current state of affairs- and yet! Were there really multiple?"

  Even though he sat down with the express purpose of taking notes, he had taken to scratching a drawing into the pages before him as he spoke. It was doubtful if he would even notice whether or not Cecili if she decided to speak up below his voice, and with his attention now given to his drawing. "What did you learn? Surely not everything, right? That would be far too much for one place to hold- The doctor has been grateful to share with me, but it is rare to find anyone with that many books. Were there that many books? There had to be, right? I must learn where to seek out such a place as well! How long have you been there? How long will you be there? Ah, the idea of spending any time there is enough to shake the heart of a warrior with excitement...!"

  He did not elaborate on whether or not "warrior" meant himself or not. He didn't have time to stop and elaborate on it when he had thousands of ideas to get out... his interrogation showed no signs of even slowing down.

The youth's energy, in a sense, unnerved Walker. She took one look at that grin and immediately gazed away, as if something about it... Seemed off. And it wasn't even his fault. She knew that all too well. There was something about it - that she couldn't determine just yet - that was so visceral that it made her stomach turn, but its novelty didn't seem too obvious as for a solid minute, she thought of the sentiment as just a bit too familiar for her personal comfort.

She bit down onto her lip and sighed, "Young man, you really are sheltered, if you approach an older aristocrat like that." But nevertheless, her lip twitched ever so slightly as the woman gave him a quick curtsy; the more standard formal greeting, a peck on the hand, didn't seem all too appealing at the moment.

"I understand the difficulty, however," she told him further with a nod, then the gentlest stretch of her arm, as if she wanted to wrap her arm around the youth in a motherly hug. Of course, however, stoic restraint prevented her from doing so. Actually, that was a bit too poetic. Being a cold bitch was the more crass but also more accurate way to describe it. "That is what happens when you get yourself too inclined towards one person for much of your life... And said person happens to be a man of science..." Walker gritted her teeth, veering her head away - if only so she could think more clearly...

Man, did this fellow remind her of her son. But Walker, of course, remained silent on the matter. Oh, how he might judge her if he found out that she was projecting onto him and his one eye, but... She coughed into her sleeve, because she knew that the facade she had worked for literal years to keep up was steadily crumbling as she regarded the younger party - more and more.

So, at some point, she had to explain herself, and she did by muttering ever so delicately, "You know, you remind me of someone familiar, and... I hope you do not mind that I will take you under my wing for a bit, if only for more leisurely pursuits." Whatever that meant. Also, way to dodge the subject like that!

"Would you mind going to my garden for a bit?" she asked after a pause, this time in a more clearly audible voice, "I understand if it may not be to your liking, given that aristocratic walks can be so droll at times, but... The flowers that dot the premises are quite beautiful, if you ask me, and..." Her voice started to hum, though it seemed a bit more tense than genuinely merry. "... Sometimes, if you think hard enough, you can have your thoughts wander. Normally, I would abhor such a practice, but for you, young lad..."

"... I think I just might encourage it, if only so your mind can stretch itself and not feel like a caged bird."

oh god..... high-key rip for Walker tbh....

time for.... a follow-up.

"Hey." Alcott closed the door to his classroom, leaving just the two of them. He'd asked Jean to stay behind after class, not indicating what for, and with his natural expression it could only be assumed it was for something bad.
He turned around and approached the student, gesturing to the hallway with his chin. "Those kids, are they picking on you?" He'd been suspicious for a while, seeing Jean quieter than usual, avoiding eye contact with some students. It wasn't like that particular class had the friendliest faces, either. He hadn't seen Jean doing much photography as of late either. Alcott leaned his lower back against the nearest desk, folding his arms. "Believe it or not, I was your age once," he started. "I know how tough high school can be in your shoes. That's why I want you to tell me if something's happening. I don't like seeing my students getting picked on." After a moment, he sighed and scratched the back of his head, looking out the window. "I'm not the easiest to talk to, but if you'd rather vent stuff out I can do that too. I just want to make sure you're okay, alright?"

"Yeah, I recognize you," Alcott said when Smithson approached him. He inhaled slowly, pondering what was said to him and how to reply. After a thoughtful moment, he took his cigarette out of his mouth and blew a stream of smoke in the opposite direction of Smithson. "Just about all my kids are adults too, believe it or not," he chuckled as he dropped the cigarette's remnants onto the floor, rubbing the sole of his shoe against it. "Youngest one's finishing college, studying to be a teacher like me, even when I told her the pay wasn't good enough," he chuckled, a smile betraying his words. "I can't really help you in terms of toddlers and all that. It's been way too long and I don't plan to have any more. Not to mention all the changes with parenting laws and things like that. But if you're talking high schoolers, hell, there's no guide to them." He started reaching for the next pack of cigarettes. Smithson's look wasn't lost on him. He wasn't sure the man's reasons, but Alcott recognized that particular kind of wanting look, like someone thirsty staring at a cold glass of water. He only chuckled.
"Tell you what, why don't we find a place to take a load off and I'll tell you what I know about kids. It's a lot of horror stories, though. I'll expect some back from you too."

Smithson seemed rather oblivious to the concept of an angel, or that of a demon, and that was for the best as he eyed the other blond man with a raised brow.

"Didn't you ask me once about whether I had kids?" he piqued in with a prolonged drawl, though it didn't seem to stand out too much from his usual quiet, almost monotonous voice. He coughed into his sleeve before briskly whisking some dust off the collar of his cloak. "Like... On a bench, or something? I do apologize if it sounds a bit redundant, or even rude, but..." The man scratched at his temples, before concluding his previous thought:

"You seem a little familiar."

And once more, the gentle scent of tobacco started to waft into Smithson's nostrils, causing the middle-aged man to back up slightly. It had nothing to do with the memory of his son that also emerged in his mind at around roughly the same time, though he bit down onto his lip anyway. One of them was enough to stir a powerful connotation. Both, on the other hand... Hastily, the middle-aged man dug his hands into the sides of his cloak while glancing off to the side.

"I don't smoke, though," sighed the aristocrat, "so... No cigarette." That was a lie. Smithson continued to clamp down on his lip, as if he was trying to resist the temptation of that pungent tobacco... How symbolic. He swerved his head away before crossing his arms, though it was more in refusal of the potential offer than anything truly defensive... Then, after a minute or two, he dropped his hands in favor of something more... Casual?

Or whatever one considered casual, given that Smithson was literally just letting his hands lay languid against his sides, immobile to the point of being mechanical. Looks like someone was trying too hard to be relaxed.

"... That asides... I have a feeling that you have experience with children, right? I don't think they'd be as old as my son currently is, but... Children, nonetheless. People younger than you." Okay, old man. "So... If you have the time, would you mind just talking with me about... That? And... Well... How they should be raised? I don't have any infants or young children with me right now, obviously, and my only child is an adult now, but..." He winced, then sucked in a breath.

"... I just want to get some things straight, I guess? But... If we do that... Still, no cigarette, please." Willpower - or hubris - had won for today. Smithson wondered whether it'd remain consistent from there.

Syra is.... adorable.... and I'd very much die for her.... here's a follow-up, as I think the two have the potential to be quite interesting as a dynamic!!

Smithson intrigued her, to say the very least. She didn't know too much about him, aside from basics - he was of high standing, being some powerful ghost-type trainer, whatever that meant. The premise alone had her attention, & to say Syra was burningly curious was an understatement. 

Alongside her many, many questions, something about him had her on edge. Was it her own curiosities? Their last encounter? His status? All three, she figured. Considering those, this guy wasn't someone she should take lightly. 

Yet she spoke to him like any other. Syra hummed, making up some random tune on the fly. "You're, like, a ghost trainer, mister! That's so coolll! Are you a ghost too?! Do you haunt people? Oooh! What's it like in Unova? I heard it's all city and desert and stuff! Is it? What do people do there?!"  Oh god. Here she goes, asking a barrage of questions at high speeds - launching into her usual chatter. 

A brief pause for breath. She skipped ahead just a little, waiting before she continued speaking.

"Also, have - have you been to the sundial here? It's, like, sooo cool! I can show you how to get there, too! Or anywhere around!" Syra extended a hand to him with a smile - an offer. /v :

Lagoon drifted along the tides bordering Anistar city, not particularly caring where the sea takes him. The towering sundial hung in the distance, reflecting the setting sun and the Ghost/Water type found himself mesmerized by the sight. Before he knew it he found himself brushing up against the stone barrier between the city and the vastness of the ocean. He slowly lifted his head, though he still managed to spook a Wingull that had been roosting on a nearby railing. But the bird Pokemon wasn't the only one there. A pair of crimson eyes peered at him curiously from the floating face of a Banette. And beside the grinning ghost type was a human. He was perusing something on some sort of human device, unaware of the Pokemon now starring at him from among the flotsam. Something about this human... appealed to him. Made him feel more at ease. Most humans looked upon him with confusion, fear, or disgust. His eyes sad and lifeless, his once shiny trinkets completely rusted over, and his seaweed like fur smelled heavily of brine. He couldn't blame them. But he wanted this human to look at him, to see something else... what, exactly, he doesn't know. A low droning noise rose from his throat, the lonely Pokemon calling to the black-clad human...

"Oi can believe oi'm doing this, " Roswell told himself. He had seen the creatures for days now, whaling in loneliness and shuffling along the shorelines. Every night the old thief heard it's crying, every night it wrenched his guts. He maybe old and a thief, but even Roswell sometimes had a heart.
"Roight, just don't tell anyone, " he said before setting down a bag of..carrots?
"Oi'm no expert in cows or..mythical blue ones, " Roswell continued talking in that soft type of voice every human ever uses on their pets,
"but yer looked loike yer we're starvin' gran' fellow, ur at least sounded loike it." Roswell kicked the bag on inside, allowing the carrots to spill our.
"Come 'ere big boy, you won't hurt ya.. Oi just want a good night rest and no heartstring-pulling noises."

--

You know how crows stalk wolves to get a bite out of their kill? Roswell acted the same. Although he didn't followed the trails of the actual Wolf this time, Johnson and Jp were his leads. Void, he didn't even knew Brown was here. Roswell had heard about this party from Johnson and when the other man had mentioned Jan-Paul, he knéw he had to pay them a (uninvited) visit. Roswell had required the guards' scheduled, some weeks prior. And even though these things changes from minute to minute, there was a small time window where the west wing was unguarded. There were they displayed flowers and jewelry. Shiny, precious jewelry. It was a risky plan, one that maybe let him end up in the  hands of the law or worse, Nathaniel, but it was worth it.
Roswell didn't hear Brown's footsteps. He was too busy with the noble task of cutting the glass. Roswell had warmed the glass with his tinderbox and now was trying to get a grip on it with his glasscutter, when Brown approached him.
""You know you do not need to hide from me, right? Even if this mask is scary as all shit."
Roswell dropped the glasscutter in shook. Grabbing the hilt of his kram before turning on his heels, to see it was Brown that had approached him. His hand relaxed immediately and he smiled. "Oi'm afraid oi'm under dressed, my'lady." Roswell patted the glass splinters from his thieving-outfit with a brush of his hand before making a quick bow. He smiled bigger at her laughter. Her raw and low voice made his heart flutter. "Och, at least wolves 'ave fangs," he said. "Krō's just got some sharp beaks but are annoying little pests. Dat knuk yisser valuables an' shoite on yisser crops." I mean, very fitting. For a minute Roswell considered stealing one of the flowers to present it to her, but that would come off as extremely cheap, now would it. His gaze shifted back to the glass box he was cutting. Roswell unseated his kram and used it's handle as a hammer. Breaking the already weaken glass. It wasn't a perfect circle but it functioned. He snatched the wristband. Pocketed it quickly as she approached him and let her hold his (slightly bloodied I mean glass does that to a man), hands. Roswell smiled innocently and softly squeezed his fingers around hers. They were warm and rough.
"'Old still," Roswell instructed her.  
Carefully he let go of one of her hand, grabbing the wristband he just had snatched, blew most of the glass shards off it before put it around Brown's wrist in a careful manner. His fingers softly stroking her skin while he was finding with the ends of  the jewelry. "Oi stole the guards' schedule from his desk," Roswell confessed between his lips. His smile was a bit tóo big. "Copied and put the original back the next day. Oi don't think he missed it."
Roswell looked up from Brown's suggestion. She was right, this wasn't the time to talk about their mutual friend. Roswell directly nodded. "Can yer climb sweetcakes?" he asked before nodding in the direction of the window he used as an entree. It had a climbinghook (a hemp rope with a iron hook on the top), that was carefully secured on the frame. He smiled, as he slowly removed her mask. Placing it on top of the broken glass box as some kind of ominous trophy. "Come on we 'av de entire noight in front av us!"

   - FIZZ THIS IS SO SWEET I'M GOING TO LOSE MY SHIT FGDVFVRFDGVSFDRV- their ultimate power move here really is going out on a date with stolen jewelry while their associates wonder where tf they are..... rip that one guard whom Brown low-key ghosted in the process- :")))

Brown, underneath her wolf's mask, was pretty fucking pissed when she heard that someone uninvited - and unmasked - had entered the premises and was likely trying to steal from the attendees.

"Fucking shit," she hissed to a guard before giving them a hard nudge on the collarbone, "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Now I have to pause things a bit and make sure no scandal is caused. Keep everyone calm and make sure nobody loses their shit while I deal with this asshole myself." And that was a tactical decision! Sometimes the guards were a little too quick to jump to conclusions, and an innocent aristocrat had somehow forgotten the invitation requirement and came without a mask. Of course, the woman would still kick their ass, but it was still something to look out for - just in case.

Or... In this particular scenario, the intruder happened to be Roswell, whom she... Actually didn't want booted out. Besides, as far as she was concerned, his presence was a welcome change from the stuffy atmosphere that parties like hers so often tended to cultivate.

Thus, when the woman saw him, she was suddenly no longer pissed.

Instead, she just cleared her throat and sighed, "You know you do not need to hide from me, right? Even if this mask is scary as all shit." She barked with laughter while keeping the mask on, though she did imagine him wearing an otter's mask. One to befit his mustache, his slippery mannerisms... The woman coughed into the crook of her elbow before taking a step closer, carefully disguising the former as her running out of breath. "I promise that the wolf symbol is one that too many of the folks around here are prudent about using. Consider it, in other words, reserved for myself." Another step closer.

She knew that this was a relatively secluded part of the party, a welcome compromise between the both of them. There was little opulence except in terms of the vegetation, and a floral scent imbued the air - albeit subtly. The only blooms around were of carnations, daffodils, and lilies - flowers that Brown didn't care about too much given that they were all basic shit to her - yet if the thief somehow thought that giving them to her was a good idea, she wouldn't mind. A floral head, or a cluster of them, was better than a dead mouse at least.

"But you are real brave to be here," she teased to Roswell, "especially considering that I doubt my friend has really bribed the guards yet for this month... Does he even know that you would be here at this time? He must still be convinced you focus on the poorer, filth-covered parts of town. And if you went to the wrong house, you could've been arrested..." She clicked her tongue against her palate before tittering once more and going for it: carefully holding his hands with her own. Brown glanced down for a moment, as if to get a better feel of his leathery palms and fingers, then looked back up.

"... He doesn't matter right now though. Not one bit. You want to get out of this stupid place with me? Run the streets for the night?" Weird way to ask someone out on a date, but okay. "I know the aristocrats won't miss me one bit. In fact, they'd probably consider it more convenient if we're both gone, chaos and potential scandal aside..."

oh goodness. it's follow-up time. Brown deserves to be flipped off, but..... the cost of doing so..... rip Aiden tbh, but he gets points for trying-