Post by Joliette Thorne on Jun 28, 2008 15:19:34 GMT -5
--The Streets of Cenril--
Garrit stood on the street, on either side of him stood a bickering merchant, their arms flailing at one another as their voices, filled with anger and annoyance, leaped in decibels as the addressed one another. Sighing with a shake of his head, Garrit listened on, acting as a mediator for Demont and the Church." Gentlemen, I'm sure you can both travel along the same pass without even coming in contact again. Or just leave on different days..." But of course, the merchants heeded no attention to the young squire. Losing hope on the situation, Garrit would just continue to listen to the bickering, hoping they could fix it themselves at this point.
Tenebrae didn't -need- the money, as much she believed that a skill earned and then left to atrophy was a shameful waste of everybody's time. So it was that she ducked and wove between the quarrelling marketeers, doing a very good impersonation of a down-at-heel lady merely trying to fill her basket with groceries despite the chaos around her. Never mind her face was still present on a faded 'Wanted' poster in the jailhouse-- she was wearing a raggedy cloak, the hood drooping to obscure features. As she squeezed through the crowd, none would notice for some time, with a bit of luck, that their coinpurses and pockets were slightly lighter for her passing. As her own pouch grew fat, and one seedy fruiterer's eyes lingered too long on her, she decided now was a good time to make a dash toward clearer ground. And, with her attention on that wary seller, collided wholly with a busily mediating Garrit.
Garrit releases a sort of 'gah' sound as he tumbles forward a bit into the merchants whom now were in one another's face. Of course, this set of a chain reaction causing them to tumble to the ground now, their well clothed bodies becoming covered in a mixture of dirt and excrement, but that’s a story for another day. Garrit turning to spot the one who had collided with him, would raise a brow. Attempting to get a good luck under her hood, he'd ponder before speaking," Don't I know you from somewhere miss?"
Tenebrae made a shrill little noise that was intended to sound dismayed, and grabbed for the arm of the lad who'd stumbled, as though to stop his abrupt flight, and tossed a handful of goodies from her pouch onto the ground before her -- including the lovely emerald anniversary gift the fruiterer's wife had so lovingly worn, before showing Tene her watermelons-- and pointed, exclaiming loudly, "OH LOOK, you dropped some things, boy." She was close enough to show him a soft smirk before rising, tugging her askew hood back into place, where she came face to face with a very displeased fruit merchant and his jowly, suspicious spouse. "Poor lad," she said to them, her tone dripping sympathy. "Must've been shopping for 'is sweetheart, or 'is poor old Mam." She made sure to point out the choker.
Garrit moved to speak out against Tenebrae's accusations of him shopping here but only to be silenced for a moment, he was confused, thoroughly. Locking his eyes on the form of the woman, he wanted to ask her why. Still believing he knew her, he would offer the things to her ma'am," These aren't mine... are you sure you didn't drop them?"
Tenebrae made a slightly embarrassed face, and shook her head. "Oh not, gods bless ye' lad. Poor old Mavis'd never afford a lovely trinket like...." But the fruiterer and his lumpish wife were steadily advancing on the boy, faces like twin, red stormclouds. "GUARD!" Shouted the wife, her voice shrill as a startled seabird's. "Thief!" shouted the merchant.
Tene snickered, scooping up her ill-gotten gains, making a show of handing back the emeralds. "'Ere go, Missus. And awh, poor boy, he comes from a drunkard's home. Ill-bred, you know the sort. Dunno what gets into the young 'uns these days..." As the heavy boots of the guard sounded down the street, tromping rapidly closer, she'd take Garrit by one arm and hastily scurry him away, chiding loudly. "You wait til your Da' hears about this, boyo. Lucky old Mavis is 'ere to sort y'out, aint it?" And then she'd point south, and whisper, "Run."
Garrit stared among the chaos in the intersection, whether it was the strange woman trying to pin now what was stolen goods on him, or whether it was the guards coming from a stand to gather him and the woman up. " What in the gracious name of lord Sven himself is going on?" asked the boy as he started to take off in the southern direction. Who was this woman to lie for him, who tried to given him pilfered goods and to then attempt to help him get out of here. Today was just going to be one of those days..
Tenebrae wasn't far behind him, shucking off her raggedy cloak and tossing it to the lad as they dashed along the cobbled streets, the vampiress now revealed in all her ebon-haired and shapely glory. "Stick that on, and run to the end of the street and then stop." She'd bolt ahead, a vampire's speed put on so that she'd be there before him, coyly leaning on a lamp-post and winking at a sailor. Behind them both, a small troop of men gathered, momentarily confused as to their vanishing prey. That's -if- Garrit had put that blasted robe on.
Garrit was soon slapped in the face by a rather large piece of cloth, he'd been trying to escape, now he was being assaulted with clothing? Throwing the garment on, the young male didn't run as far as Tene instructed him too, he merely moved a few more places ahead to another intersection and stood there, a bead of sweat coming down on his forehead as the guard patrol came close to him and walked away, the booming voices looking for a cloaked woman and her thieving companion. Luckily, the guards had take a bit too many blows to the helmet and didn't spot the too. As they passed, Garrit turned to Tenebrae," You're the woman from the tavern last night..."
Tenebrae spoke a few soft words to the sailor, who was grinning widely and tilting his head toward the inn to the north. After she spoke, the lecherous seaman nodded and trotted off eagerly to their non-existent rendezvous, and Tene was left to stand alone, though the fool boy hovered too close for comfort. She gave the soldiers a salacious little smile, more than one returning the gesture, and when they finally passed she'd hear the lad's words and break out into a soft but highly amused laugh. "Aye, sonny, that's me. And I think you're on your way to making a very fine pickpocket." Whatever his expression, she'd likely find it only fuelling her mirth. "We should get out of here, and divvy up the loot. Know any good hidey-spots?"
Garrit was somewhat struck by the idea of him being a thief," I am no thief ma'am! I'm a knight in training, I have no reason to steal." Garrit had temptations yes, but this was not one of those. Shaking his head he would begin to speak," If you need to rest, I can take you to the Cathedral, I have a room under it that you can finish up your evil deeds..."
"Stop blathering, then, lad..." Her voice was hiss, and the soldier's boots sounded once more on the cobbles, approaching. "And get us there."
Garrit stood on the street, on either side of him stood a bickering merchant, their arms flailing at one another as their voices, filled with anger and annoyance, leaped in decibels as the addressed one another. Sighing with a shake of his head, Garrit listened on, acting as a mediator for Demont and the Church." Gentlemen, I'm sure you can both travel along the same pass without even coming in contact again. Or just leave on different days..." But of course, the merchants heeded no attention to the young squire. Losing hope on the situation, Garrit would just continue to listen to the bickering, hoping they could fix it themselves at this point.
Tenebrae didn't -need- the money, as much she believed that a skill earned and then left to atrophy was a shameful waste of everybody's time. So it was that she ducked and wove between the quarrelling marketeers, doing a very good impersonation of a down-at-heel lady merely trying to fill her basket with groceries despite the chaos around her. Never mind her face was still present on a faded 'Wanted' poster in the jailhouse-- she was wearing a raggedy cloak, the hood drooping to obscure features. As she squeezed through the crowd, none would notice for some time, with a bit of luck, that their coinpurses and pockets were slightly lighter for her passing. As her own pouch grew fat, and one seedy fruiterer's eyes lingered too long on her, she decided now was a good time to make a dash toward clearer ground. And, with her attention on that wary seller, collided wholly with a busily mediating Garrit.
Garrit releases a sort of 'gah' sound as he tumbles forward a bit into the merchants whom now were in one another's face. Of course, this set of a chain reaction causing them to tumble to the ground now, their well clothed bodies becoming covered in a mixture of dirt and excrement, but that’s a story for another day. Garrit turning to spot the one who had collided with him, would raise a brow. Attempting to get a good luck under her hood, he'd ponder before speaking," Don't I know you from somewhere miss?"
Tenebrae made a shrill little noise that was intended to sound dismayed, and grabbed for the arm of the lad who'd stumbled, as though to stop his abrupt flight, and tossed a handful of goodies from her pouch onto the ground before her -- including the lovely emerald anniversary gift the fruiterer's wife had so lovingly worn, before showing Tene her watermelons-- and pointed, exclaiming loudly, "OH LOOK, you dropped some things, boy." She was close enough to show him a soft smirk before rising, tugging her askew hood back into place, where she came face to face with a very displeased fruit merchant and his jowly, suspicious spouse. "Poor lad," she said to them, her tone dripping sympathy. "Must've been shopping for 'is sweetheart, or 'is poor old Mam." She made sure to point out the choker.
Garrit moved to speak out against Tenebrae's accusations of him shopping here but only to be silenced for a moment, he was confused, thoroughly. Locking his eyes on the form of the woman, he wanted to ask her why. Still believing he knew her, he would offer the things to her ma'am," These aren't mine... are you sure you didn't drop them?"
Tenebrae made a slightly embarrassed face, and shook her head. "Oh not, gods bless ye' lad. Poor old Mavis'd never afford a lovely trinket like...." But the fruiterer and his lumpish wife were steadily advancing on the boy, faces like twin, red stormclouds. "GUARD!" Shouted the wife, her voice shrill as a startled seabird's. "Thief!" shouted the merchant.
Tene snickered, scooping up her ill-gotten gains, making a show of handing back the emeralds. "'Ere go, Missus. And awh, poor boy, he comes from a drunkard's home. Ill-bred, you know the sort. Dunno what gets into the young 'uns these days..." As the heavy boots of the guard sounded down the street, tromping rapidly closer, she'd take Garrit by one arm and hastily scurry him away, chiding loudly. "You wait til your Da' hears about this, boyo. Lucky old Mavis is 'ere to sort y'out, aint it?" And then she'd point south, and whisper, "Run."
Garrit stared among the chaos in the intersection, whether it was the strange woman trying to pin now what was stolen goods on him, or whether it was the guards coming from a stand to gather him and the woman up. " What in the gracious name of lord Sven himself is going on?" asked the boy as he started to take off in the southern direction. Who was this woman to lie for him, who tried to given him pilfered goods and to then attempt to help him get out of here. Today was just going to be one of those days..
Tenebrae wasn't far behind him, shucking off her raggedy cloak and tossing it to the lad as they dashed along the cobbled streets, the vampiress now revealed in all her ebon-haired and shapely glory. "Stick that on, and run to the end of the street and then stop." She'd bolt ahead, a vampire's speed put on so that she'd be there before him, coyly leaning on a lamp-post and winking at a sailor. Behind them both, a small troop of men gathered, momentarily confused as to their vanishing prey. That's -if- Garrit had put that blasted robe on.
Garrit was soon slapped in the face by a rather large piece of cloth, he'd been trying to escape, now he was being assaulted with clothing? Throwing the garment on, the young male didn't run as far as Tene instructed him too, he merely moved a few more places ahead to another intersection and stood there, a bead of sweat coming down on his forehead as the guard patrol came close to him and walked away, the booming voices looking for a cloaked woman and her thieving companion. Luckily, the guards had take a bit too many blows to the helmet and didn't spot the too. As they passed, Garrit turned to Tenebrae," You're the woman from the tavern last night..."
Tenebrae spoke a few soft words to the sailor, who was grinning widely and tilting his head toward the inn to the north. After she spoke, the lecherous seaman nodded and trotted off eagerly to their non-existent rendezvous, and Tene was left to stand alone, though the fool boy hovered too close for comfort. She gave the soldiers a salacious little smile, more than one returning the gesture, and when they finally passed she'd hear the lad's words and break out into a soft but highly amused laugh. "Aye, sonny, that's me. And I think you're on your way to making a very fine pickpocket." Whatever his expression, she'd likely find it only fuelling her mirth. "We should get out of here, and divvy up the loot. Know any good hidey-spots?"
Garrit was somewhat struck by the idea of him being a thief," I am no thief ma'am! I'm a knight in training, I have no reason to steal." Garrit had temptations yes, but this was not one of those. Shaking his head he would begin to speak," If you need to rest, I can take you to the Cathedral, I have a room under it that you can finish up your evil deeds..."
"Stop blathering, then, lad..." Her voice was hiss, and the soldier's boots sounded once more on the cobbles, approaching. "And get us there."