Post by Joliette Thorne on Apr 17, 2010 15:04:56 GMT -5
Jolie eyed Steadman, who did his best to eye her back, with his solitary occupied socket. "The books are a mess."
The surly keep shrugged his thin shoulders, turning away to open a new keg. "I ain't the manager."
Jolie sighed. "The order forms were signed by you."
Steadman cracked the kegtap, his cheek twitching with a visible tic. "I ain't. The manager."
Jolie grumbled about him not being a lot of things, and got on with polishing the tankards.
Jacklin shouldered the doorway of the rarely visited Tavern open enough to slip her armored frame inside without much incident. Patiently she stood just before the doorway, cobalt pools regarding Jolie as she spoke to the other male. "Thorne?" she called solidly after silence fell again.
Jolie turned at the sound of her surname, pale eyes settling on the woman who'd entered. "I'm Joliette Thorne."
Jacklin lit a leather-bound index finger against her own chest, "And I'm Jack Erristyn. You sent me some crow and promises of rum."
Jolie made a silent 'ah' of understanding, and slipped her apron over her head, tossing it on the counter. "I was expecting to have to come to you.. but welcome, and please do take a seat by the fire. I'll have Steadman..." she gave the keep a flinty glance, ".. bring us some drinks. Whisky's your poison, I believe?"
Jacklin shrugs, moving toward the fire where she slid into the stoic embrace of a generic seat. "I liked to keep people surprised." In the chair at her side she rested the spear, her friend, for moment of relaxation. It was the least she could do, after all. Giving a curt nod of cranium toward Jolie as she spoke, "It is indeed. Now tell me, Thorne, what business have you with a simple warrior?"
Jolie stood until her guest was seated before settling into her own chair, and slid Jacklin a bemused and sideways look. "Hardly simple, Your Majesty." She grinned, adding, "I wanted to talk about matters of State. Namely, where our nations stand with each other." Steadman was, for once, prompt with the drinks, a bottle set on a small table between them with two small glasses. Jolie poured for her guest, then herself.
Parsithius enters quite simply; a thrust of a gauntlet parts the door, and through it he steps with the audible 'click' of armored greaves.
Jolie raised her eyes to the Knight's entrance, offering a single word of greeting, "Kinsman."
Jacklin waves off the title as if some pestering gnat, "Just Jack, Thorne. I'm hardly wearing a crown and this is not so much a grand Hall as it is storage for the poisons of liver and life." On that note, Jacklin again bestowed the woman a cordial dip of head and took the glass of whiskey with a jerk of wrist, the amber liquid burning its bitter course into her stomach. Replacing the drained container she boldly took hold of the bottle just then, indulging a little bit further. With a deep sigh of contentment the elder human engaged Jolie again, "That little pixie thing and I had an alliance."
Jacklin lifts the whiskey bottle toward Parsithius, "Evening, Armor."
Parsithius archs a brow at Jolie, and thereafter Jacklin due to her presence here. It is sufficient to say that he should stay, seeing as how one claims to be his kin, and the other is his mate. So therefore, the man 'clicks' his passage toward the bar, the hefty 'tap' of his enormous halberd's buttspike touching the floorboards in cadence.
Parsithius said to Jacklin, "Evening, Whiskey."
Jolie turned her attention back to her guest. "The.. pixie thing.. is Regent of the Necropolis. Vailkrin proper is mine. There's a Council, a vote is pending on my taking the role of Governer, or.. whatever. I expect the vote to favour me, and thus the need for this meeting." She took a deep sip, savoring the Kelayan liquor. "What was the nature of your alliance? I'd have asked the pixie but she's hard to find."
Jacklin wipes the droplets of whiskey from the corner of her lips as she refocuses on Jolie, "We were allies. All of us, the leaders, were combined in one guild. It was short but fruitful. An alliance was formed from this. I've no concern with this plot of land, Thorne, nor have I ever. Vailkrin doesn't really relate well to the human city of Larket as I'm sure you're well aware."
Parsithius 's figure finally manages to approach the bar, and promptly leans a gauntleted hand upon it to support himself as if some mithril column -not out of weariness, but rather a rather idle nature. In truth, he hates this damn place, and the city around it, because the dead and damned were nothing that the knight is fond of. "Whiskey," says the blonde-haired man to the eye-patched barkeep, and every once in awhile his azure eyes travel toward Jacklin in subtle appreciation.
Jolie nodded, using her thumb's pad to catch a drop of booze at the corner of her mouth. "Yet plenty of humans live and work here. I am human." In case there was a question of it. She swivelled to instruct Steadman to tend to the Knight, and continued, "I am not so worried about potential conflict as I am open to discussion of trade between our nations, and possibly a mutual defense arrangement."
Jacklin snorts sharply before slinging back another drink, "You're no human I care for." Chin lifted to indicate the other two, barkeep and Knight, "I hardly give a damn about that thing with the eye-patch and the other one, all in armor, is the future King of Larket." An elbow planted with a thud against the tabletop separating the two women, "Nothing pure about you, Thorne. You ain't full human and I bet my life on that one." Though the words were sharp, her face betrayed nothing of anger. Not even a twitching line to judge her by. "Trade would be fine, but my army -is- the finest in Hollow. And I don't know near enough about you to offer something that powerful."
Jacklin drank a whisky.
Jacklin drank a whisky.
Jacklin belches pleasantly.
Parsithius tilts his head slightly at Jacklin's speech, and knows full well the ground Jacklin stands on; that army isn't embellished at all. Parsithius had trained and coordinated most of the regiments himself, and they were already near-perfected when he started. The whiskey is taken hold of, scrutinized, then gulped back in a single swig -downing the entire glass in one fell tilt.
Jolie raised a brow. "I was born a human. I will likely die one. I don't have papers of pedigree, but those are fact. And Vailkrin has its human population, plenty of them, both native and immigrant. I understand that you might not care about any but your own, however." She finished the whisky, set her glass down. "I have heard of the efficacy and excellence of your army.. Jack. My own, though, exists in near-inexhaustible numbers, can be replenished on the battlefield itself, and require no rations. This lends it its own strength, as you might imagine. But I'm not here for a pissing contest, nor to beg favours. We shall, as you will, negotiate trade."
Jacklin stands abruptly from her own chair, properly drinking the remainder of whiskey from her bottle before casting the mess into the fire at their side. Palms set flat against the table she spoke still calmly as if no calamity had happened, "You think I'll give you any trade with a mouth like that. I should go ahead and pitch you into that fire right now. Before this meeting I knew not a lick about you, and now I wished I hadn't even stepped foot in this room. I'm keeping my alliance with Ginger, but you can sit here on your 'human' rump and excite yourself by thinking of that oh-so-wonderful army. The one which wouldn't last a second when coming toe to toe with my men." Turning toward Parsithius she made her way over, "Do you know her?"
Parsithius slides his gaze from Jacklin and toward Jolie with the onslaught of the former's words to the latter, then to himself, which begs the answer of a slight, almost inscrutable nod accompanied by a clear; "Aye. She's the lover to my half-brother's half-brother, Achilles." The man he'd sworn to hunt, and for the sake of Lucien, had given up that vendetta. Though, there is no hint of sadness in his eyes, neither anger nor frustration. In all respects, he supported Jacklin.
Jolie stood, also. "You speak of my manners. You might look at your own, as a guest in my home and my lands." The security detail bristled. "Hold." Her hand was raised, ceasing motion before it began. "Are you quite done posturing and hurling insult and threat?"
Jacklin groans at Parsithius, "What the hell is wrong with your family?" Shifting an eye to the standing Jolie she shakes her head, "I willfully admit to now having manners. But for all my lack of manners, I certainly have a good number of allies. Should speak volumes, Thorne."
Jolie merely nodded. "Good day to you, then. I have no time for bickering."
Parsithius shrugs a shoulder, the sound emitting a 'click' of armor around and finishing his third whiskey before standing; his azure eyes are in direct protection of his mate, eyeing a security detail that is not at all fit enough to take on the commander that killed a thousand men single-handedly in Rynvale's war. "Brigands and pirates tend to show off muscle, Jacklin. I met them this year." After being drugged, of course.
Jolie turned her gaze directly to the Knight. "You as well. Good day, Sir Knight."
Jacklin even after all this, Jacklin gave the other human a half-bow of sorts. Habit, of course. To Parsithius she gave his hand a small squeeze, assurance that she held nothing against him. "We've all our blemishes I suppose." On heel the elder turned and started toward the Tavern door, eyes narrowed at the security. "Oh go fall on your sword," she bleated before disappearing from the room.
Parsithius gives a curt nod toward Jolie, following Jacklin out.
Jolie watched them leave, her lips compressed to a thin line. She stood there a while, before trudging upstairs to see about those books.
The surly keep shrugged his thin shoulders, turning away to open a new keg. "I ain't the manager."
Jolie sighed. "The order forms were signed by you."
Steadman cracked the kegtap, his cheek twitching with a visible tic. "I ain't. The manager."
Jolie grumbled about him not being a lot of things, and got on with polishing the tankards.
Jacklin shouldered the doorway of the rarely visited Tavern open enough to slip her armored frame inside without much incident. Patiently she stood just before the doorway, cobalt pools regarding Jolie as she spoke to the other male. "Thorne?" she called solidly after silence fell again.
Jolie turned at the sound of her surname, pale eyes settling on the woman who'd entered. "I'm Joliette Thorne."
Jacklin lit a leather-bound index finger against her own chest, "And I'm Jack Erristyn. You sent me some crow and promises of rum."
Jolie made a silent 'ah' of understanding, and slipped her apron over her head, tossing it on the counter. "I was expecting to have to come to you.. but welcome, and please do take a seat by the fire. I'll have Steadman..." she gave the keep a flinty glance, ".. bring us some drinks. Whisky's your poison, I believe?"
Jacklin shrugs, moving toward the fire where she slid into the stoic embrace of a generic seat. "I liked to keep people surprised." In the chair at her side she rested the spear, her friend, for moment of relaxation. It was the least she could do, after all. Giving a curt nod of cranium toward Jolie as she spoke, "It is indeed. Now tell me, Thorne, what business have you with a simple warrior?"
Jolie stood until her guest was seated before settling into her own chair, and slid Jacklin a bemused and sideways look. "Hardly simple, Your Majesty." She grinned, adding, "I wanted to talk about matters of State. Namely, where our nations stand with each other." Steadman was, for once, prompt with the drinks, a bottle set on a small table between them with two small glasses. Jolie poured for her guest, then herself.
Parsithius enters quite simply; a thrust of a gauntlet parts the door, and through it he steps with the audible 'click' of armored greaves.
Jolie raised her eyes to the Knight's entrance, offering a single word of greeting, "Kinsman."
Jacklin waves off the title as if some pestering gnat, "Just Jack, Thorne. I'm hardly wearing a crown and this is not so much a grand Hall as it is storage for the poisons of liver and life." On that note, Jacklin again bestowed the woman a cordial dip of head and took the glass of whiskey with a jerk of wrist, the amber liquid burning its bitter course into her stomach. Replacing the drained container she boldly took hold of the bottle just then, indulging a little bit further. With a deep sigh of contentment the elder human engaged Jolie again, "That little pixie thing and I had an alliance."
Jacklin lifts the whiskey bottle toward Parsithius, "Evening, Armor."
Parsithius archs a brow at Jolie, and thereafter Jacklin due to her presence here. It is sufficient to say that he should stay, seeing as how one claims to be his kin, and the other is his mate. So therefore, the man 'clicks' his passage toward the bar, the hefty 'tap' of his enormous halberd's buttspike touching the floorboards in cadence.
Parsithius said to Jacklin, "Evening, Whiskey."
Jolie turned her attention back to her guest. "The.. pixie thing.. is Regent of the Necropolis. Vailkrin proper is mine. There's a Council, a vote is pending on my taking the role of Governer, or.. whatever. I expect the vote to favour me, and thus the need for this meeting." She took a deep sip, savoring the Kelayan liquor. "What was the nature of your alliance? I'd have asked the pixie but she's hard to find."
Jacklin wipes the droplets of whiskey from the corner of her lips as she refocuses on Jolie, "We were allies. All of us, the leaders, were combined in one guild. It was short but fruitful. An alliance was formed from this. I've no concern with this plot of land, Thorne, nor have I ever. Vailkrin doesn't really relate well to the human city of Larket as I'm sure you're well aware."
Parsithius 's figure finally manages to approach the bar, and promptly leans a gauntleted hand upon it to support himself as if some mithril column -not out of weariness, but rather a rather idle nature. In truth, he hates this damn place, and the city around it, because the dead and damned were nothing that the knight is fond of. "Whiskey," says the blonde-haired man to the eye-patched barkeep, and every once in awhile his azure eyes travel toward Jacklin in subtle appreciation.
Jolie nodded, using her thumb's pad to catch a drop of booze at the corner of her mouth. "Yet plenty of humans live and work here. I am human." In case there was a question of it. She swivelled to instruct Steadman to tend to the Knight, and continued, "I am not so worried about potential conflict as I am open to discussion of trade between our nations, and possibly a mutual defense arrangement."
Jacklin snorts sharply before slinging back another drink, "You're no human I care for." Chin lifted to indicate the other two, barkeep and Knight, "I hardly give a damn about that thing with the eye-patch and the other one, all in armor, is the future King of Larket." An elbow planted with a thud against the tabletop separating the two women, "Nothing pure about you, Thorne. You ain't full human and I bet my life on that one." Though the words were sharp, her face betrayed nothing of anger. Not even a twitching line to judge her by. "Trade would be fine, but my army -is- the finest in Hollow. And I don't know near enough about you to offer something that powerful."
Jacklin drank a whisky.
Jacklin drank a whisky.
Jacklin belches pleasantly.
Parsithius tilts his head slightly at Jacklin's speech, and knows full well the ground Jacklin stands on; that army isn't embellished at all. Parsithius had trained and coordinated most of the regiments himself, and they were already near-perfected when he started. The whiskey is taken hold of, scrutinized, then gulped back in a single swig -downing the entire glass in one fell tilt.
Jolie raised a brow. "I was born a human. I will likely die one. I don't have papers of pedigree, but those are fact. And Vailkrin has its human population, plenty of them, both native and immigrant. I understand that you might not care about any but your own, however." She finished the whisky, set her glass down. "I have heard of the efficacy and excellence of your army.. Jack. My own, though, exists in near-inexhaustible numbers, can be replenished on the battlefield itself, and require no rations. This lends it its own strength, as you might imagine. But I'm not here for a pissing contest, nor to beg favours. We shall, as you will, negotiate trade."
Jacklin stands abruptly from her own chair, properly drinking the remainder of whiskey from her bottle before casting the mess into the fire at their side. Palms set flat against the table she spoke still calmly as if no calamity had happened, "You think I'll give you any trade with a mouth like that. I should go ahead and pitch you into that fire right now. Before this meeting I knew not a lick about you, and now I wished I hadn't even stepped foot in this room. I'm keeping my alliance with Ginger, but you can sit here on your 'human' rump and excite yourself by thinking of that oh-so-wonderful army. The one which wouldn't last a second when coming toe to toe with my men." Turning toward Parsithius she made her way over, "Do you know her?"
Parsithius slides his gaze from Jacklin and toward Jolie with the onslaught of the former's words to the latter, then to himself, which begs the answer of a slight, almost inscrutable nod accompanied by a clear; "Aye. She's the lover to my half-brother's half-brother, Achilles." The man he'd sworn to hunt, and for the sake of Lucien, had given up that vendetta. Though, there is no hint of sadness in his eyes, neither anger nor frustration. In all respects, he supported Jacklin.
Jolie stood, also. "You speak of my manners. You might look at your own, as a guest in my home and my lands." The security detail bristled. "Hold." Her hand was raised, ceasing motion before it began. "Are you quite done posturing and hurling insult and threat?"
Jacklin groans at Parsithius, "What the hell is wrong with your family?" Shifting an eye to the standing Jolie she shakes her head, "I willfully admit to now having manners. But for all my lack of manners, I certainly have a good number of allies. Should speak volumes, Thorne."
Jolie merely nodded. "Good day to you, then. I have no time for bickering."
Parsithius shrugs a shoulder, the sound emitting a 'click' of armor around and finishing his third whiskey before standing; his azure eyes are in direct protection of his mate, eyeing a security detail that is not at all fit enough to take on the commander that killed a thousand men single-handedly in Rynvale's war. "Brigands and pirates tend to show off muscle, Jacklin. I met them this year." After being drugged, of course.
Jolie turned her gaze directly to the Knight. "You as well. Good day, Sir Knight."
Jacklin even after all this, Jacklin gave the other human a half-bow of sorts. Habit, of course. To Parsithius she gave his hand a small squeeze, assurance that she held nothing against him. "We've all our blemishes I suppose." On heel the elder turned and started toward the Tavern door, eyes narrowed at the security. "Oh go fall on your sword," she bleated before disappearing from the room.
Parsithius gives a curt nod toward Jolie, following Jacklin out.
Jolie watched them leave, her lips compressed to a thin line. She stood there a while, before trudging upstairs to see about those books.