The pair make their way towards the gibbets, Faolan occasionally breaking into little stifled laughs about the torch comment.
As they wend their way closer to the Market's center, it's easy to see Sen standing atop a table in the 'tavern', gesturing theatrically as he recites some tale to a gathering circle of undead.
He's good; Faolan has to admit that: he takes on the voices of each character of some epic poem, lends the accent of older Common speech to the narration. His movements are full of vitality, of frenetic energy that even Faolan, for all his distaste for crowds, finds enthralling.
He doesn't see Rin immediately, but that could mean anything. (And likeliest, that Rin has a hand in someone's pocket.)
[ He's not half bad. ]
<.>
[ No; he's not. ]
Dima's not seen Sen in full performance mode. He's known the elf to be eloquent; has known Sen's penchant for the dramatic, and to have a knack for cadences of speech. This, though—
Well. He's not so bad, at all. (There's almost a question of how he hasn't secured a reliable circuit of work among those who have money.) (There are a dozen immediate answers, including the likelihood of Sen telling a lord to stick a finger up his own ass, including the elf's clear distaste for the inevitable and entitled haughtiness of the wealth, and of course including Sen's not entirely unknown status as a criminal.)
He doesn't quite want to interrupt Sen. He does catch sight of a tiefling darting among the crowd, and yes, that was Rin's hand in someone's pocket. Shit's sake.
Dima sighs, gives Faolan's shoulder a light touch (he's like to linger) (he lingers only briefly, briefly, and lets the touch warm through him) and Messages Rin's location, then Messages Rin, [ Have you two located our spirit already. ]
Rin responds, [ The what? ], then seems to put two and two together, and after slipping their hand into one more pocket, darts over to Faolan and Dima, blinking rapidly, bouncing up onto their toes, then down. They look over at Sen, seem to catch upon his story, then with effort look back to Fae and Dima. "Find anything?", they ask, pulling at their own hair.
<.>
That touch is something he could live off of for years. The memory of it: Sen telling his evocative story in blue wisplight, and Dmitri beside Faolan, bathed in that same blue - dreamlike. (His hair catching the color in its blackness, becoming Stygian, soft, inviting-)
And the hand at his shoulder like a promise of what every touch could be.
If the world was only a little different, he would press a hand to Dmitri's waist and let the natural movement of an embrace draw them together.
(It's not...fair.) (Very little is fair.)
He's glad Rin's arrival stems the flow of thought and suppresses a smile at the almost coquettish way they're playing with their hair.
(Sen must be smitten with them.)
(They certainly seem something with Sen.)
"One of the adjudicators is going to ask around. He'll come find us in - forty-five minutes or so." He raises his chin towards Sen. "Do you suppose he'll be done by then, or is this a two-act performance?"
<.>
Rin flicks a glance toward the stage— And catches there, one hand moving to their cheek as they follow Sen's hands in a series of gestures, hum at the sound of his voice. (They were doing something. Talking to someone? Talking with— Oh. yes!)
To Faolan, "He's been at it a bit now."
[q: did sen and rin’s search of the tent and ghosts turn up anything?
INV s: 13 r: 22
dm: Sen found very little; he kept finding himself distracted, though who can really say why!
Rin managed to find out there is in fact a newcomer in the Market who was slain while attempting to assassinate a lord from Mysos. They also managed to learn that his name is Payl Gower before both they and Sen were run out of the shop for time-wasting.]
As Rin tell it, their voice hushed: "So one, if you don't buy things they kick you out, which I think is pretty rude. Also, it's hard to find out how ghosts go about getting hired. It's obvious they do, but everyone was mum about the process. Third, Sen made a ghoul laugh so hard she snorted bile.
"Yeah, also, it seems a lot like the guy's - the ghost's - called Payl Gower, or Payl Gower tried to kill some lord from Mysos who may or may not have been Calabra, but probably was. Oh, oh, did Sen tell you? That [muncher of seared shit] acts like a guy who's asking to get killed."
Dima, against his better judgment, snorts. And adds, "You're not wrong."
Rin nods; of course they're not wrong. "Also no one wants to eat with him.
"Anyway. That's what we've got so far, and then Sen started telling a story and..." They gesture to the stage— And turn the gesture to a wave, because they've met Sen's eyes! While they're at it, they're going to blow him a kiss, then rock back onto their heels, smiling bright. "Of course everyone started listening, and Sen ought to be heard, so here we are.
"And maybe the whatever-it-was you talked to can give us some of the 'where is he now' part of the information."
<.>
Faolan listens politely, then exchanges a glance with Dmitri that turns into another look of puzzlement.
"Do you know Calabra?"
From across the space, over the heads of a large group of ghouls, Sen catches the kiss without interrupting his tale, presses it to his cheek, and points to the spot. Only then does he interject, stride unbroken, "No treasure more valued than a kiss for luck."
Several heads nod knowingly, several gazes turn briefly towards Rin, and some expressions bear distinct looks of sorrowful longing and distant envy.
Attention returns to Sen's tale quickly enough.
From behind Dmitri and Faolan, a voice says with good-natured exasperation, “Bards.”
Nerys waits patiently, arms folded, a scroll tapping slowly against his upper arm. "He's really very good. It takes a particular sort of talent to tell the Conception of Halister with such command. Moreso without the whole thing turning to shambles amid bawdy jokes and unseemly gestures.
"We ought to contract him sometime."
<.>
Dima looks to Faolan, feeling a dim flicker of concern; it might not be wise to mention his own connection to nobility of any sort. Then again, Dmitri has no wish to veil what he is, certainly not from Faolan, and if their group happens to meet with the vacuous fool, it's better he know beforehand.
"In passing. I'm blessed to have had little interaction with the esteemed 'lord'; matters of his - mmm - call it business, call it intrusions, have been my sister's prevue. Calabra and his taxation practices have proven a thorn in her side.
"And the man is an absolute bore. I'd be entirely content to let the thieves handle his interactions."
Meaning also: If Faolan wishes to not place himself in the room with the man, Dima will see that he doesn't have to.
Rin beams as Sen takes their kisses, as he puts it on his cheek which is a very good place for it to live, they think. (They should kiss his cheek sometime. Actually kiss his cheek. Actually kiss him at all. That'd be very nice, and better still.) When Sen speaks of their kiss, Rin offers a bow in his direction, and a wink. That felt nice, as well; Sen speaking of them. Sen speaking so well of their kiss which must certainly give him extra luck!
They hear someone approach and seem to address their gathered trio. They don't really pay attention - though they note with satisfaction that whoever-it-is is praising Sen's performance, as whoever-it-is very well should - until the voice speaks of a contract.
At which point Rin turns on their heels to face the— Oh, the speaker is an elf! Who doesn't look very undead at all, but not everyone is, and the point is that Sen might find opportunities here - if Sen wants, of course! - and the point is that when opportunities arrive they ought to be taken, and since Sen isn't here to claim it for himself—
"He might like that." Rin nods seriously, thinks, and sticks out their hand. "I'm his manager; you can talk to me."
<.>
Faolan isn't considering the aspect of Calabra's nobility - or wasn't. He is now that he's aware Dmitri is trying to protect him from the possibility of interacting with Calabra.
He doesn't know what to do with that. (The protection. The thought that he needs protection. The thought that Dmitri wants to be his protector.)
When Nerys joins them, it's almost a relief to have a distraction from the direction that conversation could have gone, though he does keep stealing puzzled glances at Dmitri.
If Nerys is at all surprised by Rin's claim, he has the good grace to hide it. He takes Rin's hand and bows courteously - neither kissing nor shaking, as though he recognizes something about the tiefling without inquiry.
"And so I shall - though I'll need to defer that conversation until later. There's something of an emergency that requires my attention. I came only to deliver this to Dmitri here, and to inform you that your assassin ghost is right across the path, in that shop with the mirrors. Do you see? Yes, just there. Payl Gower, I believe."
As he speaks, he hands off the contract, and pauses before making a departure. "Try to deal gently with him. It's not an easy transition. The first years are terribly hard on them."
<.>
[note: Dmitri is going to look over the contract before Nerys heads off. Does it all look to be as they discussed? Slash also is there a section for or space left for the negotiation of including an item from the Market?
dm: The contract is exactly as discussed, with space left for the negotiation of an item from the Market.]
In that case, Dima offers Nerys an appreciative nod, and asks Faolan via Message if he'd like to take a look at it, adding that [ It's all in order; I only thought you might like a glance. ]
And, to Nerys, "You have my thanks." And. "What manner of emergency?"
Rin, meanwhile, is pleased by Nerys's courtesy, and offers a bow of their head. "I'll let Sir Sen know of your interest."
Not particularly concerned about any emergency, they've turned their eyes toward the shop and yes, why yes there are a number of mirrors and Rin is very intrigued and thinks they'll have to take a look around whenever they've all finished with whatever they're doing with the ghost.
Turning back to Sen - taking a moment to appreciate his performance - they Message him: [ Ghost alert! ]
<.>
Faolan starts to reach for the contract, then stops, his fingers curling. His hand drops uselessly to his side and his head cocks in almost good-natured perturbance.
[ You don't need to do that, Dmitri. Ask my input. I'm no more qualified to advise you than any other shit-sm- ]
He silences himself, pursing his lips, and breathes once before amending, [ Any other farmer's son. ]
With a shake of his head, he folds his arms and turns away to watch the performance come to its conclusion.
Sen might be rushing things a bit; he received Rin's message and would indeed like to dispense with the necessaries of business before any more fun's to be had. At the end of the tale, he gives a bow to slow applause (thankfully, slow only because the ghouls in the crowd seem to have limb control problems.)
He doesn't ask for coin, but someone presses a drink into his hands when he jumps down from the table; he motions for Rin to come join him, to come show him the ghost with one hand and discretely dumps out the drink with the other.
Meanwhile, Nerys has paused in his step and is offering an awkward sort of smile. "Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. This is part and parcel to my work with the Market. Disputes occur, trades go a little awry. It's why adjudicators exist. Nothing to worry about, Gentlemen. And Rin."
He bows again and strides off - and when he thinks he's out of sight (but probably isn't), starts to run.
<.>
It's Dima's turn to look puzzled, then stung (feeling a moment's wounding for himself; feeling wounding as well for Faolan, who must have heard the word a hundred times), though he composes himself a half-moment later, a long-learned instinct. Faolan turns and in the silence after, Dima places the contract in a pocket, feeling unsteadied, fighting against a furrowed brow and a tick of his lip.
To Nerys, he inclines his head. "As you say. Your information is appreciated, Nerys."
And after a few moments, he Messages Faolan again: [ I would be pleased to have your advice. I've watched you, Faolan; you're no fool.
I thought as well that you might like to review the contract for yourself, in case you— ] An awkward halt, and if he were speaking, Dima might nearly have stammered the start of a word. What he'd intended to say was 'In case you come along.' What he realized partway through the sentence was a possible cause for Faolan's declining the contract: That the man doesn't intend to aid in the task. (The Faolan doesn't intend to travel with Dima beyond Loch Bien, and really, Dima was jumping ahead of himself again to think otherwise, and really, it isn't an expectation Faolan needs placed upon his shoulders.
Dima clicks his tongue, tries again. [ In case you were curious. ]
He tries not to think about what will follow from Loch Bien. He tries not to notice the way his chest feels constricted, or the metallic taste within his mouth.
Rin's applause is enthusiastic, with a whistle thrown in for good measure. When Nerys departs, they offer him a pleased smile, then turn to find Sen beckoning to them. Of course they dash his way, then fling their arms around his waist, looking upward with a toothy grin. "That was magnificent. I've never seen anyone hold a roomful of ghouls rapt, but you did it!" Lowering their voice, looking briefly annoyed: "It's a shame we can't pick pockets here. They never would've noticed." Then, brightening, "But Sen, Sen, you tell stories so wonderfully! I could listen to you all day, and then all the next day and the next after!
"Speaking of!" The raise their forefinger, teasing silence for juuuust a moment before continuing, "They want to have you perform here again. For pay, you know. This— Nar... Nor... Something. A wood elf, the one Faolan and Dmitri were talking to. He was impressed, as he ought to be, and I told him I'd talk to you, and I think—"
Oh, right! They just remembered! "Also I'm your manager now. If that's all right with you."
no subject
As they wend their way closer to the Market's center, it's easy to see Sen standing atop a table in the 'tavern', gesturing theatrically as he recites some tale to a gathering circle of undead.
He's good; Faolan has to admit that: he takes on the voices of each character of some epic poem, lends the accent of older Common speech to the narration. His movements are full of vitality, of frenetic energy that even Faolan, for all his distaste for crowds, finds enthralling.
He doesn't see Rin immediately, but that could mean anything. (And likeliest, that Rin has a hand in someone's pocket.)
[ He's not half bad. ]
<.>
[ No; he's not. ]
Dima's not seen Sen in full performance mode. He's known the elf to be eloquent; has known Sen's penchant for the dramatic, and to have a knack for cadences of speech. This, though—
Well. He's not so bad, at all. (There's almost a question of how he hasn't secured a reliable circuit of work among those who have money.) (There are a dozen immediate answers, including the likelihood of Sen telling a lord to stick a finger up his own ass, including the elf's clear distaste for the inevitable and entitled haughtiness of the wealth, and of course including Sen's not entirely unknown status as a criminal.)
He doesn't quite want to interrupt Sen. He does catch sight of a tiefling darting among the crowd, and yes, that was Rin's hand in someone's pocket. Shit's sake.
Dima sighs, gives Faolan's shoulder a light touch (he's like to linger) (he lingers only briefly, briefly, and lets the touch warm through him) and Messages Rin's location, then Messages Rin, [ Have you two located our spirit already. ]
Rin responds, [ The what? ], then seems to put two and two together, and after slipping their hand into one more pocket, darts over to Faolan and Dima, blinking rapidly, bouncing up onto their toes, then down. They look over at Sen, seem to catch upon his story, then with effort look back to Fae and Dima. "Find anything?", they ask, pulling at their own hair.
<.>
That touch is something he could live off of for years. The memory of it: Sen telling his evocative story in blue wisplight, and Dmitri beside Faolan, bathed in that same blue - dreamlike. (His hair catching the color in its blackness, becoming Stygian, soft, inviting-)
And the hand at his shoulder like a promise of what every touch could be.
If the world was only a little different, he would press a hand to Dmitri's waist and let the natural movement of an embrace draw them together.
(It's not...fair.) (Very little is fair.)
He's glad Rin's arrival stems the flow of thought and suppresses a smile at the almost coquettish way they're playing with their hair.
(Sen must be smitten with them.)
(They certainly seem something with Sen.)
"One of the adjudicators is going to ask around. He'll come find us in - forty-five minutes or so." He raises his chin towards Sen. "Do you suppose he'll be done by then, or is this a two-act performance?"
<.>
Rin flicks a glance toward the stage— And catches there, one hand moving to their cheek as they follow Sen's hands in a series of gestures, hum at the sound of his voice. (They were doing something. Talking to someone? Talking with— Oh. yes!)
To Faolan, "He's been at it a bit now."
[q: did sen and rin’s search of the tent and ghosts turn up anything?
INV
s: 13
r: 22
dm: Sen found very little; he kept finding himself distracted, though who can really say why!
Rin managed to find out there is in fact a newcomer in the Market who was slain while attempting to assassinate a lord from Mysos. They also managed to learn that his name is Payl Gower before both they and Sen were run out of the shop for time-wasting.]
As Rin tell it, their voice hushed: "So one, if you don't buy things they kick you out, which I think is pretty rude. Also, it's hard to find out how ghosts go about getting hired. It's obvious they do, but everyone was mum about the process. Third, Sen made a ghoul laugh so hard she snorted bile.
"Yeah, also, it seems a lot like the guy's - the ghost's - called Payl Gower, or Payl Gower tried to kill some lord from Mysos who may or may not have been Calabra, but probably was. Oh, oh, did Sen tell you? That [muncher of seared shit] acts like a guy who's asking to get killed."
Dima, against his better judgment, snorts. And adds, "You're not wrong."
Rin nods; of course they're not wrong. "Also no one wants to eat with him.
"Anyway. That's what we've got so far, and then Sen started telling a story and..." They gesture to the stage— And turn the gesture to a wave, because they've met Sen's eyes! While they're at it, they're going to blow him a kiss, then rock back onto their heels, smiling bright. "Of course everyone started listening, and Sen ought to be heard, so here we are.
"And maybe the whatever-it-was you talked to can give us some of the 'where is he now' part of the information."
<.>
Faolan listens politely, then exchanges a glance with Dmitri that turns into another look of puzzlement.
"Do you know Calabra?"
From across the space, over the heads of a large group of ghouls, Sen catches the kiss without interrupting his tale, presses it to his cheek, and points to the spot. Only then does he interject, stride unbroken, "No treasure more valued than a kiss for luck."
Several heads nod knowingly, several gazes turn briefly towards Rin, and some expressions bear distinct looks of sorrowful longing and distant envy.
Attention returns to Sen's tale quickly enough.
From behind Dmitri and Faolan, a voice says with good-natured exasperation, “Bards.”
Nerys waits patiently, arms folded, a scroll tapping slowly against his upper arm. "He's really very good. It takes a particular sort of talent to tell the Conception of Halister with such command. Moreso without the whole thing turning to shambles amid bawdy jokes and unseemly gestures.
"We ought to contract him sometime."
<.>
Dima looks to Faolan, feeling a dim flicker of concern; it might not be wise to mention his own connection to nobility of any sort. Then again, Dmitri has no wish to veil what he is, certainly not from Faolan, and if their group happens to meet with the vacuous fool, it's better he know beforehand.
"In passing. I'm blessed to have had little interaction with the esteemed 'lord'; matters of his - mmm - call it business, call it intrusions, have been my sister's prevue. Calabra and his taxation practices have proven a thorn in her side.
"And the man is an absolute bore. I'd be entirely content to let the thieves handle his interactions."
Meaning also: If Faolan wishes to not place himself in the room with the man, Dima will see that he doesn't have to.
Rin beams as Sen takes their kisses, as he puts it on his cheek which is a very good place for it to live, they think. (They should kiss his cheek sometime. Actually kiss his cheek. Actually kiss him at all. That'd be very nice, and better still.) When Sen speaks of their kiss, Rin offers a bow in his direction, and a wink. That felt nice, as well; Sen speaking of them. Sen speaking so well of their kiss which must certainly give him extra luck!
They hear someone approach and seem to address their gathered trio. They don't really pay attention - though they note with satisfaction that whoever-it-is is praising Sen's performance, as whoever-it-is very well should - until the voice speaks of a contract.
At which point Rin turns on their heels to face the— Oh, the speaker is an elf! Who doesn't look very undead at all, but not everyone is, and the point is that Sen might find opportunities here - if Sen wants, of course! - and the point is that when opportunities arrive they ought to be taken, and since Sen isn't here to claim it for himself—
"He might like that." Rin nods seriously, thinks, and sticks out their hand. "I'm his manager; you can talk to me."
<.>
Faolan isn't considering the aspect of Calabra's nobility - or wasn't. He is now that he's aware Dmitri is trying to protect him from the possibility of interacting with Calabra.
He doesn't know what to do with that. (The protection. The thought that he needs protection. The thought that Dmitri wants to be his protector.)
When Nerys joins them, it's almost a relief to have a distraction from the direction that conversation could have gone, though he does keep stealing puzzled glances at Dmitri.
If Nerys is at all surprised by Rin's claim, he has the good grace to hide it. He takes Rin's hand and bows courteously - neither kissing nor shaking, as though he recognizes something about the tiefling without inquiry.
"And so I shall - though I'll need to defer that conversation until later. There's something of an emergency that requires my attention. I came only to deliver this to Dmitri here, and to inform you that your assassin ghost is right across the path, in that shop with the mirrors. Do you see? Yes, just there. Payl Gower, I believe."
As he speaks, he hands off the contract, and pauses before making a departure. "Try to deal gently with him. It's not an easy transition. The first years are terribly hard on them."
<.>
[note: Dmitri is going to look over the contract before Nerys heads off. Does it all look to be as they discussed? Slash also is there a section for or space left for the negotiation of including an item from the Market?
dm: The contract is exactly as discussed, with space left for the negotiation of an item from the Market.]
In that case, Dima offers Nerys an appreciative nod, and asks Faolan via Message if he'd like to take a look at it, adding that [ It's all in order; I only thought you might like a glance. ]
And, to Nerys, "You have my thanks." And. "What manner of emergency?"
Rin, meanwhile, is pleased by Nerys's courtesy, and offers a bow of their head. "I'll let Sir Sen know of your interest."
Not particularly concerned about any emergency, they've turned their eyes toward the shop and yes, why yes there are a number of mirrors and Rin is very intrigued and thinks they'll have to take a look around whenever they've all finished with whatever they're doing with the ghost.
Turning back to Sen - taking a moment to appreciate his performance - they Message him: [ Ghost alert! ]
<.>
Faolan starts to reach for the contract, then stops, his fingers curling. His hand drops uselessly to his side and his head cocks in almost good-natured perturbance.
[ You don't need to do that, Dmitri. Ask my input. I'm no more qualified to advise you than any other shit-sm- ]
He silences himself, pursing his lips, and breathes once before amending, [ Any other farmer's son. ]
With a shake of his head, he folds his arms and turns away to watch the performance come to its conclusion.
Sen might be rushing things a bit; he received Rin's message and would indeed like to dispense with the necessaries of business before any more fun's to be had. At the end of the tale, he gives a bow to slow applause (thankfully, slow only because the ghouls in the crowd seem to have limb control problems.)
He doesn't ask for coin, but someone presses a drink into his hands when he jumps down from the table; he motions for Rin to come join him, to come show him the ghost with one hand and discretely dumps out the drink with the other.
Meanwhile, Nerys has paused in his step and is offering an awkward sort of smile. "Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. This is part and parcel to my work with the Market. Disputes occur, trades go a little awry. It's why adjudicators exist. Nothing to worry about, Gentlemen. And Rin."
He bows again and strides off - and when he thinks he's out of sight (but probably isn't), starts to run.
<.>
It's Dima's turn to look puzzled, then stung (feeling a moment's wounding for himself; feeling wounding as well for Faolan, who must have heard the word a hundred times), though he composes himself a half-moment later, a long-learned instinct. Faolan turns and in the silence after, Dima places the contract in a pocket, feeling unsteadied, fighting against a furrowed brow and a tick of his lip.
To Nerys, he inclines his head. "As you say. Your information is appreciated, Nerys."
And after a few moments, he Messages Faolan again: [ I would be pleased to have your advice. I've watched you, Faolan; you're no fool.
I thought as well that you might like to review the contract for yourself, in case you— ] An awkward halt, and if he were speaking, Dima might nearly have stammered the start of a word. What he'd intended to say was 'In case you come along.' What he realized partway through the sentence was a possible cause for Faolan's declining the contract: That the man doesn't intend to aid in the task. (The Faolan doesn't intend to travel with Dima beyond Loch Bien, and really, Dima was jumping ahead of himself again to think otherwise, and really, it isn't an expectation Faolan needs placed upon his shoulders.
Dima clicks his tongue, tries again. [ In case you were curious. ]
He tries not to think about what will follow from Loch Bien. He tries not to notice the way his chest feels constricted, or the metallic taste within his mouth.
Rin's applause is enthusiastic, with a whistle thrown in for good measure. When Nerys departs, they offer him a pleased smile, then turn to find Sen beckoning to them. Of course they dash his way, then fling their arms around his waist, looking upward with a toothy grin. "That was magnificent. I've never seen anyone hold a roomful of ghouls rapt, but you did it!" Lowering their voice, looking briefly annoyed: "It's a shame we can't pick pockets here. They never would've noticed." Then, brightening, "But Sen, Sen, you tell stories so wonderfully! I could listen to you all day, and then all the next day and the next after!
"Speaking of!" The raise their forefinger, teasing silence for juuuust a moment before continuing, "They want to have you perform here again. For pay, you know. This— Nar... Nor... Something. A wood elf, the one Faolan and Dmitri were talking to. He was impressed, as he ought to be, and I told him I'd talk to you, and I think—"
Oh, right! They just remembered! "Also I'm your manager now. If that's all right with you."
<.>