The man cocks his head at the party, and particularly at Dima, and presses -
"But you see, if you are going, my master will want a word." And, hastily, "He'll pay good coin."
<.>
...This may. Change matters. Slightly.
Depending.
He arcs an eyebrow, expression unimpressed. "Your master.
"And who is he, this man who pays good coin for myths?"
Dima is also going to Message Sen, who seems the most likely to have heard of the Night Market: [ You know these stories, yes? ]
<.>
Sen snorts and nods confirmation. He knows and doesn't tell the stories; he finds them absurd and only suited to particular audiences.
[note: Rin absolutely giving Sen a look of ‘???’]
The servant bows - even if he does hesitate halfway down - and replies, "Umbero Calabra of Mysos; his entourage is traveling to Loch Bien for the fifth centennial - and, of course, celebration of Lord Bien's champion."
Faolan stifles a snort at this and looks out a window, no longer interested in this conversation.
<.>
Dima worked very hard to not sharply exhale through his nose right there.
<.>
Unperturbed, the servant continues, "He charged his retinue with the task of keeping a weather eye out for those who might prove to be traveling east. There are rumors the Market will inhabit the ruins - "
"For two nights, before the whole thing vanishes like bad wind," Sen finishes for him, and answering Rin's question. "The Nightmare Market is a figment of some drunken necromancer's imagination. Are you certain your master isn't having a laugh at your expense?"
<.>
Rin's brow furrows; they quite like the sound of a Nightmare Market. And maybe it's just a story, but sometimes stories turn out truer than people think. Okay, maybe not often, and if Sen says it's not true it probably isn't, but still—
"What ruins?" They're looking at the guy with the Umbero master. "Also what's your master even want with it?"
Dima huffed a laugh at Sen's remark, and is just. Going to give Rin a subtle Look.
Dima would also like to try to discern whether the man before them is telling the truth, whether he believes this Nightmare Market nonsense.
<.>
The man seems to believe he's telling the truth.
And when asked what his master wants, he looks particularly dodgy - or wary ? - as he glances around, then tugs his vest and clears his throat. "That isn't for me to say."
Then, relenting somewhat, he adds, "I can't stay here and convince you. Listen, my master will dine at the Lion and Boar tonight. If you're interested, meet him and ask him what questions you have. If not, well - can't imagine what you want with those things, but good luck with them."
'Those' things being the odd assortment on the table.
<.>
"I don't believe your lack of imagination is our trouble." Dima has leaned back in his chair slightly, and there's a slight warning in his voice. He is not interested in entertaining this proposition or this sketchy little man. Looking away - finding that his eyes land on Faolan, and yes, Dima has to remind himself to continue speaking - he finishes, idly, "Be on your way."
Rin continues watching the guy; they're not not thinking about having a word with this guy's master. They'll just... Think about it. For a bit.
<.>
The servant leaves with another, curt bow.
Sen drums his fingers on the back of Rin's chair where his arm has come to rest - certainly only because of his impressive length of limb and need to sprawl, and not because of. Rin.
Faolan is dividing his attention between his food and the world outside the window; the moment the party was mentioned, he checked out of the conversation and remains so now.
Sen waits just long enough for Dima to know he's about to play devil's advocate.
[note: Dima’s bracing himself.]
"...It wouldn't hurt-“
<.>
[q: does Dima know anything about Calabra bc nobility connections?
a: He's heard the name as a merchant lord deeply entrenched in Mysos, and Dima's sister has probably been infuriated by his attempts to levy taxes on those from Morovsk who use the canals.]
Aaaand Dima sighing out loud, clearly exasperated. "In what world would it not hurt. We could all stand a long evening's rest, and Calabra is a perpetual pain in the throat. I've no interest in seeing the man." Certainly not, unless Morovk's business calls for it; thank the gods that Calabra's been largely Derzhena's problem.
Rin has absolutely perked up at Sen's words - and possibly, possibly because the elf's leaning on the chair, which is kind of nice? - their tail flicking. "All right. So what if we go talk to him? See what's he got to say. Sen's right, it can't hurt." They pause, humming to themself, and look at Faolan. "What d'you think?"
Dima is looking very studiously at the ceiling and muttering something about being curious whY the man chose to speak with theM.
<.>
Faolan blinks, his attention returning to the group now that it's been summoned. Something about - speaking with someone? He wasn't...listening. (His mind was two days north.)
"Don't worry what they think, Pretty Rin. If we want to go see what his lordship has to say, we shall." Which is to say, if Rin would like to go, so would Sen.
He does level a look at Dima and add, "If he's a perpetual pain, consider: suppose he does believe the Nightmare Market exists and is paying coin for someone else to go. Suppose we agree to go spend the evening jaunting around in some fucking ruins. Stargazing. Listening to foxes. That thing you two do when you're Messaging and think we're not looking, with the longing gazes and pitiful puppy-dog eyes.
"Then we come back here and tell him whatever tale he wanted in the first place of wraith souvenir stands and skeleton auctions. Not only do we have more coin, but you've gone and pulled one over on one of the many, many people you loathe."
<.>
His eyes go just a little wide at Sen's talk of Messaging, and Dima might have thrown the elf a scowl if he hadn't been distracted by the thought of— Oh. Stargazing and climbing among ruins with Faolan. (Seeing the man lit by the stars.)
It doesn't hurt that Sen's final point is aptly made; Dima would rather like to give Calabra a kick in the knee, and he's certain his sister would appreciate the story.
There are other ways to get at Calabra. There will also be other opportunities - maybe? (please, please) - to see Faolan in starlight (the image, again, jars his pulse). And Dima is not inclined to trust the bastard; his general rule is to offer trust to no one (Dima is not going to think about what level of trust he may have extend the three sitting with him), and particularly hold no trust in his fellow nobles.
Dima's folded his arms, is tapping two fingers sharply at his bicep. (A glance, a lingering look at Faolan shows that— Mm. The man doesn't look to be precisely here. He's been very quiet, but then he did seem tired, and city travel doesn't suit everyone.) (It doesn't suit Liviana, either; she'd elected to take a few hours' flight away from this place, and though Dima had been reluctant to see her go, though he'd felt a pang at her absence, they very *least* she's owed after what she went through is free flight.)
He speaks at last, staring at Sen: "If the two of you wish to speak to him, you may waste your time as you please.
"Should you care to share your findings - if there's coin worth pursuing, and if Calabra can keep his impositions to an absolute minimum - the venture might be worth exploring."
Might. Maybe. But Dima isn't going to deal with this until he has more proof it's worthwhile.
"In any case, I suspect my presence would dissuade rather than encourage disclosure of his schemes."
To Faolan, he Messages, [ Are you all right? ]
<.>
With that settled, Sen turns to Rin to plan accordingly for the night's foray into the wealthier quarter of the city; this conversation may or may not include talk of stopping off at the house of a wealthy 'friend' (or mark, as it were) and coming away a little richer for having visited.
Faolan, however. Faolan's mind is on Alfrig and his Champion. (Bastards.) (It's not important anymore.) (It - really might not be.) (It's not safe to think like that, in Dima's direction. In the direction of a future that won't exist, and this because men are more like Alfrig and his Champion than they are like Dmitri Voronin claims to be.)
Dmitri's message intrudes on his thoughts and a blush creeps across his cheeks. (He doesn't know whether he'd like it to be because of Dmitri's voice or embarrassment from his thoughts.) (He'd rather not feel his face burning.)
(He needs to put a stop to all of this. Dmitri's ever-nearing. His thoughts. He -)
Breathes.
He looks up and meets Dmitri's eyes and offers one truth. [ I'm tired. ]
It's a truth. A rather large one. Still, he adds before returning to his food, [ Just tired. ]
<.>
(He must have caught Faolan off-guard.
That must be what the— Well, it'd looked at if the man's skin flushed. Isn't it the likely answer? Never mind what Dima might like to imagine.
Never mind what he might imagine, envision later.)
Dmitri nods once. [ We'll have rest soon.
I won't say I'm not weary. And the thieves can tire themselves out how they like. ]
What worries him is the depth of meaning that seems contained within Faolan's admission. It's possible the man only needs time to sleep, and to settle all that happened so quickly, so heinously around them. (It's possible there's something more, as well.)
He clears his throat. "It would be wise to secure our lodgings sooner than not. Let's make it our next stop after this, shall we? Settle ourselves in, and then sleep or scatter as we please."
Rin's been grinning at Sen, then at their food, then at Sen again. They like very much this plan of his; it's got intrigue, it's got sneaking, it's got loot! And now that Rin's back in a city, they're eager to get some work going. They might not be here long; better make the most of it!
They realize Dmitri was maybe speaking. The gist of the words filter through, and Rin nods. "Works for me."
Then, to Sen, [ The sooner we ditch them, the sooner WE'LL have fun. ]
no subject
"But you see, if you are going, my master will want a word." And, hastily, "He'll pay good coin."
<.>
...This may. Change matters. Slightly.
Depending.
He arcs an eyebrow, expression unimpressed. "Your master.
"And who is he, this man who pays good coin for myths?"
Dima is also going to Message Sen, who seems the most likely to have heard of the Night Market: [ You know these stories, yes? ]
<.>
Sen snorts and nods confirmation. He knows and doesn't tell the stories; he finds them absurd and only suited to particular audiences.
[note: Rin absolutely giving Sen a look of ‘???’]
The servant bows - even if he does hesitate halfway down - and replies, "Umbero Calabra of Mysos; his entourage is traveling to Loch Bien for the fifth centennial - and, of course, celebration of Lord Bien's champion."
Faolan stifles a snort at this and looks out a window, no longer interested in this conversation.
<.>
Dima worked very hard to not sharply exhale through his nose right there.
<.>
Unperturbed, the servant continues, "He charged his retinue with the task of keeping a weather eye out for those who might prove to be traveling east. There are rumors the Market will inhabit the ruins - "
"For two nights, before the whole thing vanishes like bad wind," Sen finishes for him, and answering Rin's question. "The Nightmare Market is a figment of some drunken necromancer's imagination. Are you certain your master isn't having a laugh at your expense?"
<.>
Rin's brow furrows; they quite like the sound of a Nightmare Market. And maybe it's just a story, but sometimes stories turn out truer than people think. Okay, maybe not often, and if Sen says it's not true it probably isn't, but still—
"What ruins?" They're looking at the guy with the Umbero master. "Also what's your master even want with it?"
Dima huffed a laugh at Sen's remark, and is just. Going to give Rin a subtle Look.
Dima would also like to try to discern whether the man before them is telling the truth, whether he believes this Nightmare Market nonsense.
<.>
The man seems to believe he's telling the truth.
And when asked what his master wants, he looks particularly dodgy - or wary ? - as he glances around, then tugs his vest and clears his throat. "That isn't for me to say."
Then, relenting somewhat, he adds, "I can't stay here and convince you. Listen, my master will dine at the Lion and Boar tonight. If you're interested, meet him and ask him what questions you have. If not, well - can't imagine what you want with those things, but good luck with them."
'Those' things being the odd assortment on the table.
<.>
"I don't believe your lack of imagination is our trouble." Dima has leaned back in his chair slightly, and there's a slight warning in his voice. He is not interested in entertaining this proposition or this sketchy little man. Looking away - finding that his eyes land on Faolan, and yes, Dima has to remind himself to continue speaking - he finishes, idly, "Be on your way."
Rin continues watching the guy; they're not not thinking about having a word with this guy's master. They'll just... Think about it. For a bit.
<.>
The servant leaves with another, curt bow.
Sen drums his fingers on the back of Rin's chair where his arm has come to rest - certainly only because of his impressive length of limb and need to sprawl, and not because of. Rin.
Faolan is dividing his attention between his food and the world outside the window; the moment the party was mentioned, he checked out of the conversation and remains so now.
Sen waits just long enough for Dima to know he's about to play devil's advocate.
[note: Dima’s bracing himself.]
"...It wouldn't hurt-“
<.>
[q: does Dima know anything about Calabra bc nobility connections?
a: He's heard the name as a merchant lord deeply entrenched in Mysos, and Dima's sister has probably been infuriated by his attempts to levy taxes on those from Morovsk who use the canals.]
Aaaand Dima sighing out loud, clearly exasperated. "In what world would it not hurt. We could all stand a long evening's rest, and Calabra is a perpetual pain in the throat. I've no interest in seeing the man." Certainly not, unless Morovk's business calls for it; thank the gods that Calabra's been largely Derzhena's problem.
Rin has absolutely perked up at Sen's words - and possibly, possibly because the elf's leaning on the chair, which is kind of nice? - their tail flicking. "All right. So what if we go talk to him? See what's he got to say. Sen's right, it can't hurt." They pause, humming to themself, and look at Faolan. "What d'you think?"
Dima is looking very studiously at the ceiling and muttering something about being curious whY the man chose to speak with theM.
<.>
Faolan blinks, his attention returning to the group now that it's been summoned. Something about - speaking with someone? He wasn't...listening. (His mind was two days north.)
"Don't worry what they think, Pretty Rin. If we want to go see what his lordship has to say, we shall." Which is to say, if Rin would like to go, so would Sen.
He does level a look at Dima and add, "If he's a perpetual pain, consider: suppose he does believe the Nightmare Market exists and is paying coin for someone else to go. Suppose we agree to go spend the evening jaunting around in some fucking ruins. Stargazing. Listening to foxes. That thing you two do when you're Messaging and think we're not looking, with the longing gazes and pitiful puppy-dog eyes.
"Then we come back here and tell him whatever tale he wanted in the first place of wraith souvenir stands and skeleton auctions. Not only do we have more coin, but you've gone and pulled one over on one of the many, many people you loathe."
<.>
His eyes go just a little wide at Sen's talk of Messaging, and Dima might have thrown the elf a scowl if he hadn't been distracted by the thought of— Oh. Stargazing and climbing among ruins with Faolan. (Seeing the man lit by the stars.)
It doesn't hurt that Sen's final point is aptly made; Dima would rather like to give Calabra a kick in the knee, and he's certain his sister would appreciate the story.
There are other ways to get at Calabra. There will also be other opportunities - maybe? (please, please) - to see Faolan in starlight (the image, again, jars his pulse). And Dima is not inclined to trust the bastard; his general rule is to offer trust to no one (Dima is not going to think about what level of trust he may have extend the three sitting with him), and particularly hold no trust in his fellow nobles.
Dima's folded his arms, is tapping two fingers sharply at his bicep. (A glance, a lingering look at Faolan shows that— Mm. The man doesn't look to be precisely here. He's been very quiet, but then he did seem tired, and city travel doesn't suit everyone.) (It doesn't suit Liviana, either; she'd elected to take a few hours' flight away from this place, and though Dima had been reluctant to see her go, though he'd felt a pang at her absence, they very *least* she's owed after what she went through is free flight.)
He speaks at last, staring at Sen: "If the two of you wish to speak to him, you may waste your time as you please.
"Should you care to share your findings - if there's coin worth pursuing, and if Calabra can keep his impositions to an absolute minimum - the venture might be worth exploring."
Might. Maybe. But Dima isn't going to deal with this until he has more proof it's worthwhile.
"In any case, I suspect my presence would dissuade rather than encourage disclosure of his schemes."
To Faolan, he Messages, [ Are you all right? ]
<.>
With that settled, Sen turns to Rin to plan accordingly for the night's foray into the wealthier quarter of the city; this conversation may or may not include talk of stopping off at the house of a wealthy 'friend' (or mark, as it were) and coming away a little richer for having visited.
Faolan, however. Faolan's mind is on Alfrig and his Champion. (Bastards.) (It's not important anymore.) (It - really might not be.) (It's not safe to think like that, in Dima's direction. In the direction of a future that won't exist, and this because men are more like Alfrig and his Champion than they are like Dmitri Voronin claims to be.)
Dmitri's message intrudes on his thoughts and a blush creeps across his cheeks. (He doesn't know whether he'd like it to be because of Dmitri's voice or embarrassment from his thoughts.) (He'd rather not feel his face burning.)
(He needs to put a stop to all of this. Dmitri's ever-nearing. His thoughts. He -)
Breathes.
He looks up and meets Dmitri's eyes and offers one truth. [ I'm tired. ]
It's a truth. A rather large one. Still, he adds before returning to his food, [ Just tired. ]
<.>
(He must have caught Faolan off-guard.
That must be what the— Well, it'd looked at if the man's skin flushed. Isn't it the likely answer? Never mind what Dima might like to imagine.
Never mind what he might imagine, envision later.)
Dmitri nods once. [ We'll have rest soon.
I won't say I'm not weary. And the thieves can tire themselves out how they like. ]
What worries him is the depth of meaning that seems contained within Faolan's admission. It's possible the man only needs time to sleep, and to settle all that happened so quickly, so heinously around them. (It's possible there's something more, as well.)
He clears his throat. "It would be wise to secure our lodgings sooner than not. Let's make it our next stop after this, shall we? Settle ourselves in, and then sleep or scatter as we please."
Rin's been grinning at Sen, then at their food, then at Sen again. They like very much this plan of his; it's got intrigue, it's got sneaking, it's got loot! And now that Rin's back in a city, they're eager to get some work going. They might not be here long; better make the most of it!
They realize Dmitri was maybe speaking. The gist of the words filter through, and Rin nods. "Works for me."
Then, to Sen, [ The sooner we ditch them, the sooner WE'LL have fun. ]
<.>