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June 5, 2004 | |
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Landen - Main Square...
Alastor is playing to a mixed audience; mostly children, one sleeping dog, and a couple of idle traders. He accompanies himself on the harp as he sings folk tunes and folk words.
Yosannah appears in a shimmer between two buildings, rather unnoticeable given the performance being held in the square. She steps out into the streetsin the direction of the Academy.
Alastor tells a stall-holder to put his hands over a little girl's ears, and gets a little boy to do the same to a dog, then starts on a bawdy version of the Wild Rover.
The auburn haired woman raises a brow as the music plays. She slows her steady pace and looks over her shoulder, regarding the musician as he strums. Above, the sky is peppered with an occasional cumulus, billowing and floating quietly past. Yosannah brushes a strand of her locks from her face, fighting the light wind that seems determined to obscure her line of sight to Alastor.
Alastor is leaning against a wall, rhyming 'floor' with more words than the song really needs. One of the boys watching him has obviously just found a new hero. Most of the rest don't understand.
Yosannah stops now to watch the show, though she lingers just beyond the collection of onlookers. Her arms go over her chest as she studies the mucician, crookes smile lingering on her lips. At her wrist, a flash of brilliance as the sun's light reflects off a white opaque stone of her bracelet.
Alastor might see the new addition, but he keeps playing until the end of the song, adds a new verse about beer, and then stops short. "Beer," he says in an undertone. "Perhaps, as I have entertained you all a while, you'd give me leave to leave, and rent what passes for beer at the nearest hostelry?" He steps forward, pulls a battered cap from his pocket, and passes it to the star-struck boy to pass round.
Yosannah shakes her head, smiling still lingering on her lips, arms remain crossed over her chest. She steps in the direction of the fountain at the center of the square. At the same time, a rather large gentlemen of six and a half feet raises his tankard of ale in toast to Alastor's suggestion and encouragement, "Here, here!" As Yosannah passes under his arm she is doused with the drink as it spills from the man's cup. She inhales in a gasp and raises her arms over her head instinctively.
Alastor calls out, "Watch it, good sir - the lady's thirsty, but not by so much you need to donate your own!" He keeps his eyes on the pair just in case, the beginnings of recognition on his face.
The large man billows in toothy laughter as to those around him. He reaches out an arm, slides it about her waist and pulls Yosannah to him, "The lady don't mind, do ya lass."
She is obviously taken by surprise and has little time to do much else besides squirm and push at his chest in an effort to distance herself. She is unsuccessful.
Alastor sighs slightly, puts the harp down and says to the boy looking after his money, "Just keep an eye on her for a moment." By her he must mean the instrument. "The lady's with me," he says calmly. "My perogative, and all that?" He gives a crooked smile.
The small boy nods repeatedly and nears the instrument. Determined to do as directed.
Yosannah frowns, distastefully, as the oaf of a man breaths in her face and laughs.
Alastor reaches the man after a moment. "Let go of her," he says.
If the man hears Alastor's command, he makes no gesture at following it. Instead, he moves in closer to Yosannah in an effort to sneek a snog.
Alastor's left hand shoots out at shoulder level, and his body moves behind it in the natural motion of a boxer punching at midair. Instead, however, he grabs the man's wrist, as well as a handful of Yosannah's clothing into the bargain.
Yosannah grunts as her efforts to escape are thwarted. Her jaw clenches once, determined, followed by a litany of muttering under her breath. Should Alastor have the wherewithall to listen, one word in particular might catch his ear as repeated during the incantation. At her wrist, the opaque stone begins to pulse rhythmically.
The crowd that surrounds the trio begins to cheer and hoot, pointing and laughing.
Alastor jerks the wrist away and out, a considerable amount of strength in the movement. The man's options are probably to give way entirely or to have his hand broken.
The woman's muttering ceases just as the drunkard pulls her nearer once again. His nose bulbous and red from the drink.
About the crowd, the air becomes static and dry. Overhead, the clouds seem to rush past where they but billowed moments before.
Alastor steps smoothly left, unpeeling the man's right arm from Yo by putting pressure on her shoulder so she can't come along. He transfers the wrist he holds to his right hand as he twirls, leaving Yosannah behind and then bringing one hand down and the other up and around to put the man in a brutal arm-lock a second later.
At that moment a hurrican burst of wind emits from the thing at Yosannah's wrist. The burst expands outward from the woman in a single direction at a 90 degree trajectory and dissipates after fifty yards. It's primary target is the drunkard now engaged with Alastor.
Yosannah falls as she is thrust aside and backward, eyes wide in realization that Alastor is caught in the range of her magics. Her left hand goes, instinctively, to brace her fall. Her right hand is outreached.
Alastor is flung sideways, releasing the arm-lock to try to break his fall. He's the lucky one, as he manages it. The drunkard is facing the wrong way to fall easily. Alastor takes most of the force on his hand and arm, a little on his cheekbone.
The portion of the crowd that is caught in the gust is sent flying. Lifted from the ground as easily as feathers and leaves and tossed some twenty feet away.
Alastor is one of the first up, looking around not for Yosannah, but for the crowd around where his harp is or was.
The lady rolls to her side and lifts herself on all fours, head drooping and breath coming quickly. She peers up, slowly, noting her suroundings and the man that came to her aid.
There is much moaning and groaning though the drunkard remains still for the moment. Unconscious from the fall and too much drink as evidenced from the rise and fall of his chest.
Alastor reaches down and pulls someone to their feet with an abesnt motion and no apparent effort. He steps through the crowd to his harp.
Alastor gives the boy a pat on the head and takes the capful of change. He gives a copper out for the young fellow and takes the harp into one hand, the one he didn't land on.
Finally, as if in realization, there is a hollar from the crowd, "That's her! The woman that vanished in the flame!" And then another, "Yes! Yes, she didn't burn!"
Yosannah rises now and takes a step in retreat, reluctant and dubious.
Alastor cries out, "Stumped by magic tricks, friends?" His voice carries, and he sounds confident.
Most eyes now turn to Alastor though the crowd is seemingly doubtful about the entire affair and the woman that stands pitifully before them.
Yosannah continues to back away to the apparent safety of Alastor and his harp.
Alastor chuckles slightly. "I heard there was a magician at the loose, letting fires burn out of control, but I didn't think you'd fall for such tricks! Come, are you going to be called simple by the academy, over a little illusion?"
There are murmerings about the crowd.
"He's right, they'll think us fools."
"But the witch..."
"I'll not have them call me a simpleton."
The lady looks this way and that and then peers at Alastor over her shoulder, her breath still coming quick.
"She's no witch!" Comes a call.
"An illusion, that's all. The bard is correct."
Alastor says to the lady, "You'll have to be careful," and then a little louder, "But the men here are no fools. They know illusion from strife magic, and they know you're the victim of a trick. This is a good town, and so they were alarmed for your safety as well as their own. We are good people in Kryonia."
The town folk seem agreeable on this point. Nods and chuckles pass through the crowd now as their mood is placated by the bard's words.
For her part, Yosannah intones to Alastor, "My thanks."
Alastor shrugs, and murmurs, "I am a wordsmith, when I'm at my best. Could you help me pack my harp? My hand's bleeding."
Yosannah nods, distracted, "Certainly." And then, in realization, "You're hand. Oh, Jesus. I'm sorry." She reaches for his hand, meaning to inspect the injury.
Alastor says carefully, "Later. Hopefully we can be away before they realise you were at the centre of a mage-wind?" He gives Yosannah an amused glance.
She opens her mouth to comment but no words are forthcoming. She nods, silent, and begins to aid his packing.
Two young girls run to the drunkad who remains unconscious on the dirt ground. The poke at him with their toes and giggle.
Alastor is efficient, getting Yosannah to hold the backpack while he packs away the instrument and tightens the straps. It takes him less than a minute to swing it onto his back. "I heal fast anyhow - my hands have always had to."
Yosannah bites at her lower lip, "Umm, well, all right then. Thanks again." She steps away as if meaning to go.
Alastor walks along with Yosannah. "We should walk away. Eyes are still on us. Leaving is part of the bard's art. Not the first alley, nor the second - a decent-sized road, then the first turn off that."
Yosannah offers the man a sidelong glance, curious as he follows along with her. "Okay," is her only reply as they walk. He is correct, however, a few lingering glances are cast in their direction though no gesture is made after them.
Alastor walks as if totally unconcerned, but when finally out of sight he sags a little. "So - whence ~do~ I know thee?"
She considers this with a nod, "You recognize me then? Good, I thought you seemed familiar as well. Unfortunately, I can't recall from where."
Alastor says "Avalon? The WEB? Corilaine or Amber or Niemand's?"
A crooked smile escapes her lips. She is now more at ease, "Any of the above I suppose."
Alastor says "Well, I need a getaway now, and not to return for a week. Still, I made two pastries, a pint of ale - always good luck - and about three steli. That's almost a night's lodging."
Yosannah halts their walking and regards the man, "That's it? You need a new line of work."
Alastor laughs. "No, occasionally people give me jewels that would buy most of this town. I support a room at the Eleventh House, an apartment in Kryonia, and a couple of other places in shadow. But it's good to keep my hand in, and the Kryonian crowd is hard work."
Yosannah nods and turns her hand over her shoulder, peering down the street from where they came. And then, "I'm Yo, by the way," she returns her gaze to him with a faint smile.
Alastor says "Alastor Harper." He looks up at Raem Castle. "Or Alastor Castle if you prefer. That's the lump of stone in question."
A tiny knot of curiousity forms at the center of her brow. She follows his gaze to the caste and asks, stupidly, "What?"
Alastor says "I was born in the shadow of it. Alastor Castle, you see?"
Yosannah considers, "I suppose so." After a moment, she shakes her head, "No, actually, I don't see. Tell me about it. You were born here?"
Alastor nods. "Named for a famous bard's son, and for the castle."
Yosannah wets her lips and nods again. "I see." She is quiet for a moment, "Perhaps I should be going." She exhales slowly, "My mood is such that I'm no good for conversation it seems." She offers him a reassuring smile though it is obviously forced and distracted.
Alastor gives a bow as if glad to have seen a new face. "Then I'll go practice conversation with others - words are my fortune, sad to say."
Yosannah chuckles softly at that. She extends a hand, "Thank you, again, for your assistance, Alastor."
Alastor gives a firm hand-shake and leans back against the wall, foot keeping him upright so as not to squash his hard. He watches the entrance to the alley as Yo leaves.
Vrokk, Klub Slamjam...
Zeta strolls into the club, moving a bit with the music, her hands raising to move through the crowd. A smile is given to the random guy she passes here and there. Otherwise her chin is held high and she has this look on her face like she owns the whole damn place - ever the proud one, Zeta.
Yosannah sits in the dark corner with two other individuals, a young man with blackened eyes as a result of too much liner. The other is a young girl who appears to be unconscious, head buried in her own arms atop the table. Yosannah notes Zeta's arrival immediately and her gaze follows the woman's movements across the room despite the fact that the young man beside her seems to be in mid-conversation. The auburned haired woman offers him a distracted nod and a smile in an effort to show she remains interested in his attentions.
From afar, Rykerheadlocks.
Zeta makes her way finally to the bar where she games for the bartender's attention with a pleasing smile and a gentle wave of her hand. Once attained she orders a drink, some deep red concoction, and turns to consider the room. Something draws her attention; perhaps it's intuition or possibly the slightest tinge of reality that ebbs from within the darkened corner. But she looks there. When she sees who's there a thin smile spreads over her lips and she begins the journey around the club patrons to get there.
A crooked smirk plays on Yosannah's lips as the Chaosian makes her way to the dark corner table. She lifts her hand before the young man who sits beside her, interrupting his talk, and gestures to the girl at their table. There is an exchange of words and then he rises and moves to stir their companion. She groans and he helps her rise. As Zeta nears, he casts a frown in her direction but comments not, carrying the girl away.
Zeta watches the young man carry away the girl, a playful expression laying on her features. Then the Yosannah she speaks, "Serpent's greetings, lady. Fancy running into you here." She motions to a seat at the table, a silent request for permission to sit.
Yosannah offers the lady a nod of her chin and indicates a free chair. "Fancy that. I was hoping someone from your neck of the woods would show up here tonight to join me. You're not what I was expecting, but count me for happily surprised." She reaches a hand for the table and collects up her beer bottle. She drinks deeply. Her eyes are glazed. As if this might not be her first beer tonight.
Zeta places her drink on the table before she seats herself. She offers a passing male admirer a flirtatious smile after crossing her legs and situating herself. Looking back to you, a touch of amusement is betrayed in her dark gaze, "It's good to see you too." A grin finds its way to her lips, "I'm curious though, what were you expecting?"
Zeta moves into the Dark Corner.
From speakers nearby thuds a song:
"No words, you keep your silence;/people talk in whispers where you are./I hear the sounds of violence, tell me brother,/where'd you get those scars?"
Yosannah shrugs her shoulders as if the answer is insignificant but sips again. From behind the bottle she offers, "A friend from Sawall."
Nearby, Zeta smiles gently, "Sawall? I wasn't aware that the Rimduke visited Vrokk." She raises her glass to her lips, staining them pale red with the sip.
Yosannah scratches at her neck, "The Rimduke? Despil? Hardly."
Zeta chuckles, the tapered tip of her finger tracing the rim of her glass, "You mean you two aren't big buddies?"
Yosannah casts a sidelong glance in her direction and offers, matter of factly, "We aren't fucking one another if that's what you're asking." She sets her bottle atop the table and stares intently at it, "He quite fancies you, as a matter of fact. No doubt you know that, however."
Zeta raises a brow and shakes her head, a hand raising to show you her palm, "That's not what I meant at all. I was just teasing. And he can fuck whoever he wants. He doesn't owe me anything." She smiles slightly, "And I know he likes me. But I think he likes the idea of me better. But he has a new interest these days, occupying his mind." She gives one shoulder a half shrug.
Yosannah looks to the bar across the room. She lifts her beer bottle and points at it, indicating that she needs a refill. "Do tell."
Zeta ohs, glancing towward the bar off handed. "You know the Lady of Avalon, Bridget, don't you? She's really a lovely girl." She doesn't sound as if she means ill of her...
Yosannah chuckles at this though it starts with something of a tisk, "The Empress?" More chuckling as she peers into her now empty beer bottle, "His brother's sister. That's perfect." She shakes her head.
A server arrives at the table with another beer bottle and hands it off to Yosannah. She extends her legs under the table and stretches out so that she might get at her rear pant's pocket. She hands the server several bills.
Zeta grins a little and she nods, "He's a rogue. A cute one. But a rogue none the less." She sips her drink again, "But anyway. I guess I could be blamed of the same thing. What's a female rogue called?"
Yosannah shrugs as she twists the cap of her bottle and tosses it to the floor, "Oh, I dunno. A whore?" She looks fully at Zeta now, "But you're no whore, Zeta. Of course."
Zeta laughs, "No. A whore does what they do for some sort of payment. I do what I do for fun." She shakes her head, "Though, admittedly, I don't get to play as much as I used to. All work, as it were."
Yosannah offers, half heartedly, "Too bad, actually." She drinks deeply. It is clear that she has a rather disinterested attitude this evening. She sets the bottle atop the table and rocks it back and forth. When she exhales, her cheeks billow.
From speakers nearby thuds a song:
"Your mamma told you that you're not supposed to talk to strangers/Look in the mirror and tell me do you think your life's in danger here/No more tears, tears, tears..."
Zeta nods, "It /is/ too bad. I miss being carefree, but unfortunately we can't live that way forever." She takes a drink, "Which actually brings something to mind that I was hoping to talk to you about."
Yosannah closes her eyes and inhales. She runs a hand over her hair and nods. "Somehow, I suspected this conversation was going to get down to business. It always does." More nodding. "Alright. What's up."
Zeta raises a brow and considers the lady for a moment, "I can't help it. I'm an opportunist." Her lips purse and her gaze grows a little colder, "Magnus. I understand that he and Scott made some soort of arrangement together."
Yosannah offers, knowing immediately of what the woman means, "Depends on who ya talk to. Ryker says that Scott confessed as much. That Magnus directed him to move against me and Ryker." She rests her head against the back of her chair and sloutches, "When I brought it up to Magnus he laughed in my face. The asshole." She swallows, "Why does it matter to you?"
Zeta answers, "Among many other reasons, my son wants to attend the Academy of Magic. Since Scott is the Head Master there, it raises some concerns. If he's in league with Magnus then the Academy needs a new Head Master before my son will go there."
Yosannah inquires, "Your son?" She is obviously surprised by this information, "I didn't know you had a..." her voice trails off.
Zeta notes, "Well, I do. So you see why Scott's affiliations are important to me. If anything bad were to happen to my son there because of someone's idiotic relationship with with Magnus, I would hate bringing the whole place to the ground as pay back. But I would."
Yosannah's eyes close again, weary and obviously consumed with mild intoxication, "Magnus. Goddamn I'm so sick of being linked to that man." After a moment of self pity she returns more fully to the matter at hand, "For what it's worth, Magnus seemed genuinely surprised when I brought up any desire he might have to move against us." She doesn't clearify who she means. "And Scott never confessed why he attacked me and Ryker. I tried to pry it from him, but ... nothing." She shakes her head again, "The source of my information regarding Scott's ties to Magnus comes from Ryker... actually. Let me correct that. It comes from War. So take that for what it's worth."
Zeta notes flatly, "Believe me. I know what it's like to be linked with that man." She nods then and says, "Yeah, it's hard for me to trust anything Ryker says for a whole new set of reasons. But I happen to know that Magnus has recently trumped Prince Corwin of Amber and asked him to move against you and Ryker. For whatever reason he has it out for the horsemen. What makes me curious is why he would go as far as to turn to an Amberite for help against those he's entitled Saints. It's not only hypocrisy, it's cowardice."
Yosannah offers, "I've heard as much." More drinking as the music thuds about them. "I have a hard time believeing Corey's dad would have any interest in such a thing." She rubs at her eyes, "Jesus, can't Magnus just leave us the hell alone."
Zeta shrugs, "You would think. I don't understand why you all don't just put him down like the dog he is. He's not protected by Chaosian law, you know. And the knights have all but left him."
From speakers nearby thuds a song:
"Sittin on the park bench/*guitar riff*/Eyeing little girls with bad intent..."
Yosannah chuckles, a single short exhileration of breath, "Put him down? And then what? Someone just as moronic... or perhaps moreso, takes his place. We replace Magnus with someone we don't know. Someone far worse." She eyes her bottle, "I'll take the known versus the unknown."
Zeta raises a brow, "I'll take his place. Untill a new person is groomed for the position. Do you believe me to be just as moronic?"
Yosannah regards the woman cooly and with a scrutinous eye, "How am I supposed to answer that? We hardly know one another lady. I don't know your position on the four of us. I have no idea what your intentions are." She looks out into the crowd of people dancing to the thudding music, "I... I'm tired of worrying who will be the next person in Chaos to stake a claim to me. I'm tired of caring." The bottle is raised to her lips.
Zeta shakes her head, "You have but to ask. And I have no concern or claim for the Horsemen. You have recently roused my curiosity. I know that the horsemen were involved in the death of my best friend. At least with me in charge of the church, the horsemen wouldn't have to worry about a charge being lead against them. Not unless they charged against Chaos. But anyone who does that will have me to worry about no matter what position I'm in. My concern is for the faith of my people. Outside that, I think friendship would be nice. I've heard nice things about you."
Yosannah chuckles lightly. "Nice things. I can honestly say that's the first time I have every heard that, lady. Truly."
Zeta shrugs and smiles lightly, "You've never given me reason to think otherwise." She tilts her head, "This thing with Scott. I guess I'll just have to ask him myself."
Yosannah wets her lips, "Good luck." And then, "Though, for what it's worth, I'm not entirely impressed with the Academy myself. Bunch of hacks if you ask me."
Zeta ohs gently, "You think so? Where would you say would be a good place for my son to learn then?"
Yosannah shrugs her shoulders, "Experience is always the best teacher. Hell, that's how I learned." She considers this for a moment, "Of course I had a little help." She taps a finger against her temple to demonstrate what she means.
Zeta sighs, "Well, I think he had his heart set on the Academy for some reason. Some of his friends go there I think. But what he wants. That's what he'll get." Spoken like a proud mother. "I learned on my own too. But I don't know enough about artifice, which is what he's into."
Yosannah raises a brow, "Artifice? That can be a dangerous proposition without training." She nods, "You are correct in sending him to the Academy then." She is serious now. Perhaps for the first time during the duratio of the conversation.
Zeta chuckles at that, "Alright then. I'll just interview Scott on my own then. And find a new Head Master if need be."
Yosannah offers, "Well, Head Masters are appointed by the retiring Master. Which should make your plan an interesting proposition."
Zeta shrugs, "If he gets dropped in the Abyss, someone will have to take his place. If he's in league with Magnus he deserves what he gets."
Yosannah considers this for a rather long moment, "That would probably mean Ryker would have to choose a new Head Master... hmm."
From speakers nearby thuds a song:
"Maybe I'm all messed up!/Maybe I'm all mesed up!/Maybe I'm all messed up in you!"
Zeta frowns, "Ryker's a gigantic ass, but he's a smart one. Anyway, you can't tell me any more about Scott and that's really what I wanted to know. We can discuss more pleasant things if you want."
Yosannah rubs the back of her hand over her brow, "More pleasant things. I like that. I'm tired of thinking on this issue anyway." She tilts her head back and drinks deeply.
Zeta smiles watching you drink, "Well, tell me then what you do for fun? Obviously you like to drink." She grins.
Yosannah eyes the bottle, "Actually, not always. You happened to catch me in a mood. The kind of mood that requires some sort of distraction. My usual distraction happens to be unavailable tonight, and so here I am." She casts a gaze about the klub, "Pretty pathetic, actually."
Zeta looks around the club, "You could do worse?" Her head tilts as she looks back at you and she asks curiously, "What kind of distraction?"
Yosannah sniffs and shrugs her shoulders, "Jurt Sawall has been serving as my distraction as of late." She considers this for a long moent, "And that's rather pathetic too, come to think of it." She shakes her head, "Maybe we should stick to the issue of Scott."
Zeta laughs, "I don't know. You could do worse. He has his charms." She grins, "I would offer distraction but that would just be taking advantage."
Yosannah bites at her lower lip, "I suppose so." And then, "Taking advantage? Whattah ya talking about?"
Zeta purses her lips slightly, playful and looks to the bottle in front of you, "You've been drinking. You might be impaired." She teases.
"Impaired? Well obvoiusly."
At that moment the handsome young man that had been sitting with Yosannah when Zeta arrived returns to the table. There is no sign of the girl that he carried off. He offers Zeta a charming smile, his gaze taking it's time to regard the woman. Then, to Yosannah, of offers a nod of his chin, "I think this is what you wanted." He sets a compact, metal box before her. She sits up and leans foward to inspect the thing. With a nod, she sends him away.
Zeta winks to the young man and then regards the box before raising her eyes back to Yo. "Yes. Obviously." There's a laugh in her voice.
Yosannah opens the case. It is not much larger then a pack of cards. She removes a metal object from within. It is shaped like a miniature gun. At the point of discharge is a needle attached to a clear tube. Within the tube is an glowing blue liquid. She swallows and nods after inspecting the thing. Seemingly satisfied, closes the case.
From speakers nearby thuds a song:
"Running! On our way...Hiding... You will pay...Dying... One thousand deaths! Searching.... SEEK AND DESTROY! Searching.... SEEK AND DESTROY! Searching.... SEEK AND DESTROY!!!"
Zeta watches with mild interest and she grins, "Ah. Vrokk always seems to have some sort of goodies to offer hm? It's always so much fun watching to see what happens with those things." Her dark eyes twinkle a bit.
"This shadow has the most incredible nanotechnology. Used in the drug trade too. Like this little number." She pats the case. "In any event, we were going to talk of more pleasant matters."
Zeta grins and says, "I thought this /was/ more pleasant." She considers the blue vial, "Unfortunately those things rarely work on me. But I love to watch them work on others."
Yosannah bites at her lip and nods, sympathetic, "They tend to work once for me. And then my symbiote compensates for the injection and infects the technology." She inhales deeply and exhales slowly. "Who knew."
Zeta shakes her head, "I don't have a clue why they don't work on me. They won't even work if I shift into a purely human form." She shrugs, "One of the pleasures of being me." She grins.
Zeta pages: It's her locket that she took onto the logrus with her on both walks. Anything that infects her is driven off by it. Even the most potent things like shifter viruses and curses like Thanlis get pushed out of her system eventually. But she doesn't know why those things happen. She's not aware that it's the locket which she keeps shifted inside her because it's the one her mother gave her before she died.
Yosannah laughs at that, "Poor you." And then, "Truthfully, this is reasearch," she pats the case.
Zeta lifts a brow and smiles, "Oh? What sort of research? Planning on shipping that out and making a profit?"
Yosannah shakes her head, "No. Every time I take somethign like this, or use somethign like this, my simbiote learns how to compensate for it. We learn it's properties and how to counter." She shrugs. "Research"
You feel a tingling sensation in the back of your head. Despil attempts to make contact with you. Type '+trump/answer' to answer it, '+trump/page' to request that the caller page you, or '+trump/ignore' to ignore it.
Yosannah gets a distant look about her and a knot forms at the center of her brow.
You have established contact with Despil.
Zeta wonders, "Is there something wrong?"
To the image of Despil, Yosannah intones without moving her lips, "Despil." She smiles though her eyes are glassy, "Are you okay?"
Yosannah offers, "Trump call...."
The image of Despil says "I've been told I'm better than okay."
Zeta nods and scoots her chair back, "I should let you get that then." She smiles, "Thanks for the chat."
To the image of Despil, Yosannah smirks. If she spoke he might sense laughter.
The image of Despil says "What are you up to?"
Yosannah offers, "You're most welcome. I will make certain to follow through with Scott's connections to Magnus, lady. And will contact you should I hear something"
To the image of Despil, Yosannah says "A friend was just leaving when you made contact." Her gaze is droopy; probably from too much drink. In the background, the thudding of music."
Zeta leaves the Dark Corner.
The image of Despil says "Ah. Sounds like you have been having fun."
From speakers nearby thuds a song:
"We talk about saving the world now, Eddie / But it's our vanity gone mad/ She'll survive us all perfectly well / When we're all long buried and dead / Clever monkeys with technology / Barely out of the caves and the trees"
To the image of Despil, Yosannah says "Pull me through Despil. I'm ready to get out of this place."
Zeta gives a final smile and turns to disappear back into the crowd.
The image of Despil offers to pull you through.
Zeta moves forward and vanishes, leaving behind a rapidly fading afterimage.
You grasp Despil's hand and he pulls you through.
Despil's Chambers...
A pleasant and warm room, even if a little large. The walls of the room are dark wood and brass. Plush rugs cover wood floors, cushiony underfoot. The rooms furnishings are carefully set about the room, each placed with a precise eye.
The furnishings are dominated by two items in particular, the four-poster bed which is draped in dark green silk; and the large desk of mahogany with a matching and padded wooden chair. Along one wall is a large wardrobe and two nightstands, one to either side of the bed. Also found in the room are a loveseat and two comfortable, padded chairs. All about the room are tall bookshelves. So many, that one might mistake this for a library of sorts, were it lacking a bed. Set across from the bed is a fireplace set in deep green marble. Before the fireplace is carefully laid a large fur of white, which appears quite soft. All of this is lit by a small chandelier hanging from above, which gives off a gentle magical light.
Yosannah steps forward and into Despil. It's clear she's been drinking by the scent of drink on her breath and the smoke that seems to fill her clothing.
Despil smiles and kisses your cheek. "How was it?"
Yosannah blinks once or twice so that her eyes might adjust to the light. She smiles, coyly, "Night on the town. What more good a girl want." With that she spins away and looks for a place to sit. She drops herself onto the loveseet. Once adjust she offers, "Magnus, can kiss my ass."
Despil says "Want anything? Water? Liquor? And what's Magnus been doing now?"
"I'll have some wine if you don't mind." And then, "He lied to my face. Denied having anything to do with Scott asaulting me." She shakes her head and looks at her hands, fingers spread before her, "That asshole."
Despil kisses your cheek and pours two glasses of a German white as he knows that's what you like. He comes back with that and water. "He is."
Yosannah removes her cap and tosses it aside. "Thank you," she accepts the wine glass and scoots to the far end of the couch so that he might have room to sit should he so desire. "Though I'm starting to wonder if he really sent Scott after me. He seemed genuinely doubtfuly when I questioned him about Scott." She gulps at the wine. There is nothing danty about her manorisms tonight.
Despil sits next to you and says, "He's definitely going after Ryker."
Yosannah nods, glass cupped in both hands, "I know." She exhales, "I'm going to go to Begma. Ryker and I have to work this out."
Despil nods to you and hmmms.
Despil says "There are people who want to get rid of the bastard."
Yosannah sets the glass aside and chuckles, "Which bastard are we talking about, Despil."
Despil says "Magnus."
Despil says "Not Ryker, this time."
Despil says "I actually like Ryker."
Yosannah smiles at this, "He's grown on me over the last several years as well. Ryker, that is. Not Magnus. Magnus still addresses me like I am his five year old child." She rests her had against the back of the couch and closes her eyes, "Is it any wonder I can't stand him." She rolls her head and opens her eyes so that she might regard Despil, "God, you and your brothers look so much alike," she observes.
Despil says "Is that bad?"
Yosannah smiles, "Not at all. Just an observation. I'm reminded of it from time to time."
Despil says "How are you and Jurt?"
Yosannah smiles at this, "Jurt is Jurt. We see one another when the mood strikes us I suppose."
Despil smiles and nods. "It makes me smile to see you together."
Despil winks. "Let me know when you want a wedding peformed."
Yosannah's mouth opens though no sound is forthcoming. Her wineglass glingers in her hand, still as she.
Despil laughs a bit and says, "Sorry."
"No you are not."
Despil says "All right, I'm not."
Despil says "Have you considered becoming a Chaosian?"
"Becomeing Chaosian? No, I haven't. I'm not sure how that matters, Despil."
Despil says "It would make you protected by law."
Yosannah shakes her head, "I don't know that that is important to me. I mean, doesn't it always require an oath to your King?" She bites at her lip, "I don't know that something like that is in my best interest." She smiles at him, "And it's not as if anyone is suggested that marriage is in my future such that becoming Chaosian would be necessary, Despil."
Despil says "Or to some house lord."
Yosannah wonders, "House lord? What do you mean?"
Despil says "If you were a Chaosian, then an offense to you by Magnus would be a crime."
Despil says "I'm a house lord. You could, for example, swear to me. Now that is an oath to the king indirectly."
Yosannah smiles at this and chuckles lightly, "It would seem a farce to everyone Despil. I mean, I'm not even family."
Despil says "Everyone is family."
Yosannah shakes her head, smile still lingering on her lips, "Maybe to you. But until there is marriage or blood ties..." She shakes her head again, "No one will take such a thing seriously. Least of all Magnus.
Despil says "Magnus doesn't count -- especially as he's not a citizen."
Yosannah purses her lips together in thought. "The bottom line is this, Despil. I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not one of you. And I'm not going to swear to your house when I have no real tie to it. That can't be good for Sawall, and it's certainly not good for me. I know you understand what I'm saying." She offers him a warm smile.
Despil says "If you ever feel your life is in danger, you have refuge with me."
"I know, Despil. And I trust the sincerity of your words." She smiles, coyly, "Given my propensity for the men of your house..." She shrugs her shoulders and looks to the floor, "Imagine that. Sawall and the Riders tied through marriage." She chokes back light laughted, "My word that would be a treasure."
Despil winks. "Go for it."
Yosannah waves a dismissive hand, "Ha. Short of a mandate from on high, I doubt it, Despil. You know better."
Despil says "What? We're friends, you can confide in me."
Yosannah inhales deeply and exhales slowly. She shakes her head, "I can't ask this of Jurt, Despil. For one, I'm not sure that there is love there. Secondly, Marrying to unite Sawall and the Horsemen... I don't know what I think of that either."
Despil says "I don't mean next week, no."
You say "What do you mean, Despil?"
Despil says "Eventually, you know, if things go well, and all that."
Yosannah eyes him, jaw working, "It has its practicalities, doesn't it."
Despil watches you and says, "A few, doesn't it?"
Yosannah nods, "That is does." She sets her glass aside and rises. "Perhaps you and your brother might discuss this. And I will do the same with the others." There is a sadness about the tonal qualities of her voice accompanied by a resigned nod.
Despil says "Talk to me, Yo. Why the long face?"
Yosannah offers him a feigned smile, "Long face? I would think that is obvious. I know that uniting myself and the others with Sawall would provide saftey and protection. I'm not stupid, I know that it will serve as an issue of self preservation. And at the same time, you might win us as an ally." She lowers her gaze. "Marrying into your family might serve that end. But I might very well be sacrificing love to that end. I don't know that your brother loves me. My heart wants to believe that is possible, but I can't be sure. And so I am doubtful." She offers him a meek smile, "That's all I have ever wanted, Despil. Is a place to call home, and a companion that might share love."
Despil says "Then work on the love bits, and see if the rest follows."
Yosannah nods. "And what do you desire, Despil. For Sawall. What if love does not follow.
Despil says "Love isn't everything. It's not merely a luxury, but it's not the end-all, either."
Yosannah nods, agreeable, "True. But you haven't answered my question."
Despil says "And there are different kinds of love. My parents loved each other, but it wasn't a smoochy-love with birds flying overhead and songs in the air."
Despil says "For Sawall? Prosperity. Happiness. Power's good, too. Stability. What any good ruler wants."
Yosannah bites at her lower lip and nods, "I understand." She exhales again and nods, "Then I will talk with your brother ... though I think it might be important for you to do the same."
Despil says "I'm happy to."
Despil says "We could do it together, even, but that could be threatening."
Yosannah nods, agreeable. "I think you are right."
Despil says "How else does your life go?"
Yosannah clasps her hands togther, fingers twined about one another and raises them to her chin so that she might supress a yawn. Obviously, she is distracted by this conversation, "Hmmm? Oh!" She smiles, "As well as it can, I suppose." SHe looks over her shoulder at the bookshelf and notes, "I'm tired, Despil. I have a lot to think on. Perhaps I should get some rest."
Despil says "Sure, sure. Mind if I pester you about one other thing?"
Yosannah wets her lips and rests her head against the back of the couch, "Sure."
Despil says "Avalon. Bridget mentioned to me that you had a message for her."
Yosannah nods, "I did. I left word for her about a week back. I had an experience there a while ago. A number of us did, actually. I wanted to talk to her regarding this. As well as some other matters that aren't so significan't." She yawns and covers her mouth with her hands, "We have not connected, however. Why do you ask?"
Despil says "She mentioned it. I thought I might be your errand boy if you wanted."
Yosannah reaches a hand out to cover his should he allow it, "Thoughtful as always. No, I just need to clear some time to meet with her. She's a busy woman, the Empress."
Despil puts his hand over yours. "All right, all right."