Sen and Rin, with Faolan trailing along after, approach a canopied shop with rows of tables displaying nothing but mirrors. Some of these seem perfectly normal at a glance, albeit ranging from common to ornate. Other distort the reflection, or the world around the reflection. Some show no reflection at all - only blackness, only an empty white space.
Floating dismally between the tables, here and there rearranging a display, is Payl Gower. He is - was - a younger human man, and from the lighter pearlescence of his hair, it's easy to see he was blond, likely fair-skinned. Now, he's pearly gray, sad-eyed and frowning at himself in his merchandise.
When he sees the party, he gestures, "Please, have a look. If you have any questions -"
His customer service attitude drops a little. "Well. I'm not exactly going anywhere."
<.>
Rin is going to try very, very hard to stay focused on what they've come here for. (It's definitely about Payl Gower, who is a ghost and is supposed to be in here and might be that ghost right there.) The trouble is, there are an awful lot of mirrors. And Rin is awfully fond of mirrors. They're definitely glancing at the mirrors around. Then stopping briefly in front of one, and a little less briefly in front of the other.
Rin is in fact quickly losing focus on what they've come here for.
Dima hangs back briefly, not letting the others from his sight, not about to let them enter the tent before he joins—
He only needs a moment. To think; to let the image of hands upon his hand, fire around both settle deep in his mind. To scratch Liviana's neck lightly, and nod when she asks in her way whether he's all right. A moment, and moment, and then he follows after, into the shop of mirrors, standing near to Faolan.
The tiefling swirls around, blinks, then slips back toward the group, now offering the ghost a nod of their head, "It's Payl, right?"
<.>
Sen does nothing to curb Rin's enthusiasm or redirect them from their reflection. Shouldn't they admire their appearance? He does, so very much. He trails them; they look in mirrors and he watches them, and all is right in the world until Dima enters.
He must have said something. Sen darts a suspicious look at the man and pulls a face that clearly says, Don't harass Rin.
Faolan watches all of this with a faintly amused expression that fades when he meets Dima's eyes. His look becomes complicated, because it's all complicated when it should be very simple. (He should get away from Dmitri before getting away hurts any worse than it already will.)
The ghost furrows its brow at Rin, then inclines his head in confirmation. "Do I know you?"
And then, by way of explanation, he adds apologetically, "My memory - I can't recall much. I'm told it's normal. If I've met you, I don't remember you. I would have, I think. Never - Might have never. Met a tiefling."
<.>
Rin has - for the moment, and moments don't last so very long - let the mirrors go. Ghosts might not be any match for a mirror, but they're still interesting; Rin hasn't exactly conversed with many of them. And if Payl can't remember having met a tiefling, well! He is very lucky that Rin should be the first! Grinning, they offer a bow, with a sweep of their arm.
"Now you can say for certain that you have! And no, no, I believe if you had met me, you'd remember. I'm not so simple to forget." They raise a finger to tap their cheek, thinking, thinking. "I am very good at forgetting, however, so if I'd met you, I also wouldn't recall! Faces elude me, do you see? Most faces; there are some that stay forever, right there in my head."
They move their hand back to their side— But not before giving Sen's arm a playful poke, then a small brush. "The point is that we have a question for you. Or several questions?" Does Rin recall the questions.
Not precisely...
But they'll take a running guess!
"How did you die, anyway?"
Dmitri meets Sen's glance with a studiously neutral expression. They are here for a reason, and Rin may scurry about as they please once this has been completed.
Though. Now that Rin's offered a question, Dima begins to think that maybe, maybe he ought to have left them to their mirrors.
He clears his throat, shakes his head, but doesn't speak yet. He is watching Payl closely, seeking any signs of the being he might have been in living, trying to determine for himself how newly this man became a ghost.
<.>
The forthrightness of the question seems to surprise Payl; it's apparent that it isn't a common (or polite) subject, and perhaps it's one that no one's approached him with before.
"I..." he begins, then trails off. He seems to be searching his memory when he looks away. "It was a knife. Sudden - It's so strange. It felt like nothing at first. Like someone dragged a thumb across my neck.
"I don't think I felt much pain at all, actually. Shock of the body. By the time I realized what had happened, it was nearly over."
He looks at the party again and laughs a perfunctory, self-effacing sound that dies immediately. "That's not what you wanted to know. Forgive me. I - had gone to do something terrible. Stupid. But I have a daughter, and it's more terrible to watch her go hungry. I was promised what seemed a small fortune for helping my employer to his end.
"It would have been enough to keep her warm and fed for years. Enough to set her up somewhere in the city and give her a life.
"So I went with poison, and because I'm no studied killer, I was caught. I tried to run and his brute caught me."
<.>
"Your employer?" It's Dmitri who speaks first, voice even, showing little of his own feeling. (His own feeling, which isn't nothing. Which carries the sensation of two hands around his own, and the ache in hearing Faolan's pain, and Faolan's turn away. Which carries as well, just now, some modicum of pity for the man. It was a foolish choice Gower made - an errand taken without skill, without means - but poverty drives men to far, far worse.
And in formation, there's a thought, a plan to follow from Dima's pity.)
"Forgive me; I impose inquiry without offering my name. I am Dmitri Voronin. The four of us" (here he gestures to the group) "are seeking information related to the circumstances of your end, and the work that led to it.
"We're to receive payment for whatever we might glean. And it occurs to me that we might see that some share of the profit is directed to your daughter."
<.>
Sen again shoots Dmitri a look - a glare - but almost immediately rolls his eyes in acquiescence. Nevermind that this is his little errand, and Dmitri is just along for the Market trip. Bastard.
Double bastard: Faolan weighs in with, "If nothing else, we could make sure she's well."
The two of them need to crawl into a sack together so Sen can win his bet and he and Rin can be on their way.
Payl looks torn; clearly, his daughter's security means a good deal to him.
"I - was one of the servants of the merchant-lord Calabra." He seems to be restraining himself from speaking further and clears his throat in discomfort. "What kind of information are you looking for?"
<.>
Dmitri isn't going to give Sen the satisfaction of acknowledging that Look, though he does Message the elf, [ If you have a more pertinent question, feel free to unleash your torrent. ]
At Faolan's words, he nods once; it wouldn't be, won't be so difficult to do. If nothing else, Dima can see that some measure of Voronin money is carried to the girl. (He isn't going to consider the fact that he isn't typically prone to offering monetary support, not so early in a negotiation.) (He isn't going to think on what this early offering might have to do with Faolan, or with the rings on Dima's hand.)
It's an interesting revelation - that the man was a servant of Calabra - though not at all unheard-of. Dima's about to respond when Rin cuts in with a 'tsk' and—
“That [ brimstone-encrusted anus ] seems about as nice to work for as a constipated chimera." And, after a moment, a little softer, "Well, I'm sorry about your daughter."
And, from Dima: "Did you recognize the being who offered you this fortune?"
<.>
Payl smiles at Rin's comment, though it's more perfunctory than amused. It seems he knows exactly what kind of man Calabra is. As for his daughter- "As am I."
To Dima, he replies, "I did. At the time, I - or, no. No, that's wrong. What I remember is I knew a name, because I spoke with someone sent by -"
He frowns darkly. "It's all jumbled and patched. I can't remember who wanted Calabra dead and who hired me on whose behalf. The faces are blurred. Voices distorted."
He motions to one of the mirrors reflecting back a hazy view of the Nightmare Market. "Like this."
And then, suddenly, "I would like it. If you'd look in on her. My sister will have her now, I'm certain of it. Morwenna Gower. She's not much older than my girl, though. Only nineteen now to Manon's twelve. Can I trust you?"
Sen pulls a flat look at Dmitri, then steps in. "You have our word. We'll make certain the girl is unharmed and looked after. You don't have anything to worry about from us; we may be scoundrels, but we're generally the honorable kind."
[PERS, s: nat 20]
Payl looks relieved, even smiles genuinely at the group and utters, "Pelor bless you all."
"Can you tell us anything about the person who hired you?" Faolan presses gently. "Anything at all. Even if it doesn't seem important."
Payl considers the mirror under his ghostly hand for a moment; he begins to shake his head, then starts suddenly. "Wait. There was something troubling about their face. I think they kept it hidden, but the wrap fell and -"
He drags a hand down along his jaw. "There were scars here. Three or four - like a bear or some beast took a great swipe at them."
<.>
It takes everything in Dima's power not to roll his eyes at Sen— Or it would, were it not for Gower's sorrow and subject, or for the promise Sen gives; it's one Dima can only agree with, and he can't pretend Sen doesn't say it well.
He does give Faolan a glance of approval, both for the question and the manner of its asking. (For a man so long abused, he can be achingly gentle, careful.) (However his tender heart has been kicked, wounded, he hasn't lost it wholly; hasn't, Dima thinks, lost much of it at all.)
Rin nods vigorously with Sen's promise. They don't do a lot of making sure anyone's taken care of, but no kid should be left almost alone at twelve, and if word's gotten around about the circumstances of her father's death, the road ahead could be extra rough— For her, and for the ghost's sister, as well. (Who isn't a ghost, but also probably didn't count of raising her niece out of nowhere.)
"That helps," they say to Payl's description. And, "Are there any mirrors in here that might help put things together? Like. Mirrors that can show 'what was,' or whatever?"
[q: would dima or rin have met anyone whose face would match the scarred description?
If the person with the scarred face is someone they've ever encountered, they can't remember the meeting.]
<.>
Payl doesn't bother looking around. He just shakes his head at Rin. "There was a mirror of that kind, but I sold it at the last Market, south of Mysos. Doesn't matter, though. It only showed what a person remembered. I'd touch it and the whole thing would turn black."
Seeming to remember something more, Payl makes a small 'ah' sound. "They gave me gold. I remember that. They gave me a pouch with gold in it - half of what was promised. I can't remember what I did with it, but I can guess. Tell Morwenna to look in our old hiding spot. She'll know."
A sense of peace seems to descend over Payl. "If you can do that - I'd be grateful."
no subject
Floating dismally between the tables, here and there rearranging a display, is Payl Gower. He is - was - a younger human man, and from the lighter pearlescence of his hair, it's easy to see he was blond, likely fair-skinned. Now, he's pearly gray, sad-eyed and frowning at himself in his merchandise.
When he sees the party, he gestures, "Please, have a look. If you have any questions -"
His customer service attitude drops a little. "Well. I'm not exactly going anywhere."
<.>
Rin is going to try very, very hard to stay focused on what they've come here for. (It's definitely about Payl Gower, who is a ghost and is supposed to be in here and might be that ghost right there.) The trouble is, there are an awful lot of mirrors. And Rin is awfully fond of mirrors. They're definitely glancing at the mirrors around. Then stopping briefly in front of one, and a little less briefly in front of the other.
Rin is in fact quickly losing focus on what they've come here for.
Dima hangs back briefly, not letting the others from his sight, not about to let them enter the tent before he joins—
He only needs a moment. To think; to let the image of hands upon his hand, fire around both settle deep in his mind. To scratch Liviana's neck lightly, and nod when she asks in her way whether he's all right. A moment, and moment, and then he follows after, into the shop of mirrors, standing near to Faolan.
And, seeing Rin distracted, Dima sighs internally, Messages, [ Rin. ]
The tiefling swirls around, blinks, then slips back toward the group, now offering the ghost a nod of their head, "It's Payl, right?"
<.>
Sen does nothing to curb Rin's enthusiasm or redirect them from their reflection. Shouldn't they admire their appearance? He does, so very much. He trails them; they look in mirrors and he watches them, and all is right in the world until Dima enters.
He must have said something. Sen darts a suspicious look at the man and pulls a face that clearly says, Don't harass Rin.
Faolan watches all of this with a faintly amused expression that fades when he meets Dima's eyes. His look becomes complicated, because it's all complicated when it should be very simple. (He should get away from Dmitri before getting away hurts any worse than it already will.)
The ghost furrows its brow at Rin, then inclines his head in confirmation. "Do I know you?"
And then, by way of explanation, he adds apologetically, "My memory - I can't recall much. I'm told it's normal. If I've met you, I don't remember you. I would have, I think. Never - Might have never. Met a tiefling."
<.>
Rin has - for the moment, and moments don't last so very long - let the mirrors go. Ghosts might not be any match for a mirror, but they're still interesting; Rin hasn't exactly conversed with many of them. And if Payl can't remember having met a tiefling, well! He is very lucky that Rin should be the first! Grinning, they offer a bow, with a sweep of their arm.
"Now you can say for certain that you have! And no, no, I believe if you had met me, you'd remember. I'm not so simple to forget." They raise a finger to tap their cheek, thinking, thinking. "I am very good at forgetting, however, so if I'd met you, I also wouldn't recall! Faces elude me, do you see? Most faces; there are some that stay forever, right there in my head."
They move their hand back to their side— But not before giving Sen's arm a playful poke, then a small brush. "The point is that we have a question for you. Or several questions?" Does Rin recall the questions.
Not precisely...
But they'll take a running guess!
"How did you die, anyway?"
Dmitri meets Sen's glance with a studiously neutral expression. They are here for a reason, and Rin may scurry about as they please once this has been completed.
Though. Now that Rin's offered a question, Dima begins to think that maybe, maybe he ought to have left them to their mirrors.
He clears his throat, shakes his head, but doesn't speak yet. He is watching Payl closely, seeking any signs of the being he might have been in living, trying to determine for himself how newly this man became a ghost.
<.>
The forthrightness of the question seems to surprise Payl; it's apparent that it isn't a common (or polite) subject, and perhaps it's one that no one's approached him with before.
"I..." he begins, then trails off. He seems to be searching his memory when he looks away. "It was a knife. Sudden - It's so strange. It felt like nothing at first. Like someone dragged a thumb across my neck.
"I don't think I felt much pain at all, actually. Shock of the body. By the time I realized what had happened, it was nearly over."
He looks at the party again and laughs a perfunctory, self-effacing sound that dies immediately. "That's not what you wanted to know. Forgive me. I - had gone to do something terrible. Stupid. But I have a daughter, and it's more terrible to watch her go hungry. I was promised what seemed a small fortune for helping my employer to his end.
"It would have been enough to keep her warm and fed for years. Enough to set her up somewhere in the city and give her a life.
"So I went with poison, and because I'm no studied killer, I was caught. I tried to run and his brute caught me."
<.>
"Your employer?" It's Dmitri who speaks first, voice even, showing little of his own feeling. (His own feeling, which isn't nothing. Which carries the sensation of two hands around his own, and the ache in hearing Faolan's pain, and Faolan's turn away. Which carries as well, just now, some modicum of pity for the man. It was a foolish choice Gower made - an errand taken without skill, without means - but poverty drives men to far, far worse.
And in formation, there's a thought, a plan to follow from Dima's pity.)
"Forgive me; I impose inquiry without offering my name. I am Dmitri Voronin. The four of us" (here he gestures to the group) "are seeking information related to the circumstances of your end, and the work that led to it.
"We're to receive payment for whatever we might glean. And it occurs to me that we might see that some share of the profit is directed to your daughter."
<.>
Sen again shoots Dmitri a look - a glare - but almost immediately rolls his eyes in acquiescence. Nevermind that this is his little errand, and Dmitri is just along for the Market trip. Bastard.
Double bastard: Faolan weighs in with, "If nothing else, we could make sure she's well."
The two of them need to crawl into a sack together so Sen can win his bet and he and Rin can be on their way.
Payl looks torn; clearly, his daughter's security means a good deal to him.
"I - was one of the servants of the merchant-lord Calabra." He seems to be restraining himself from speaking further and clears his throat in discomfort. "What kind of information are you looking for?"
<.>
Dmitri isn't going to give Sen the satisfaction of acknowledging that Look, though he does Message the elf, [ If you have a more pertinent question, feel free to unleash your torrent. ]
At Faolan's words, he nods once; it wouldn't be, won't be so difficult to do. If nothing else, Dima can see that some measure of Voronin money is carried to the girl. (He isn't going to consider the fact that he isn't typically prone to offering monetary support, not so early in a negotiation.) (He isn't going to think on what this early offering might have to do with Faolan, or with the rings on Dima's hand.)
It's an interesting revelation - that the man was a servant of Calabra - though not at all unheard-of. Dima's about to respond when Rin cuts in with a 'tsk' and—
“That [ brimstone-encrusted anus ] seems about as nice to work for as a constipated chimera." And, after a moment, a little softer, "Well, I'm sorry about your daughter."
And, from Dima: "Did you recognize the being who offered you this fortune?"
<.>
Payl smiles at Rin's comment, though it's more perfunctory than amused. It seems he knows exactly what kind of man Calabra is. As for his daughter- "As am I."
To Dima, he replies, "I did. At the time, I - or, no. No, that's wrong. What I remember is I knew a name, because I spoke with someone sent by -"
He frowns darkly. "It's all jumbled and patched. I can't remember who wanted Calabra dead and who hired me on whose behalf. The faces are blurred. Voices distorted."
He motions to one of the mirrors reflecting back a hazy view of the Nightmare Market. "Like this."
And then, suddenly, "I would like it. If you'd look in on her. My sister will have her now, I'm certain of it. Morwenna Gower. She's not much older than my girl, though. Only nineteen now to Manon's twelve. Can I trust you?"
Sen pulls a flat look at Dmitri, then steps in. "You have our word. We'll make certain the girl is unharmed and looked after. You don't have anything to worry about from us; we may be scoundrels, but we're generally the honorable kind."
[PERS, s: nat 20]
Payl looks relieved, even smiles genuinely at the group and utters, "Pelor bless you all."
"Can you tell us anything about the person who hired you?" Faolan presses gently. "Anything at all. Even if it doesn't seem important."
Payl considers the mirror under his ghostly hand for a moment; he begins to shake his head, then starts suddenly. "Wait. There was something troubling about their face. I think they kept it hidden, but the wrap fell and -"
He drags a hand down along his jaw. "There were scars here. Three or four - like a bear or some beast took a great swipe at them."
<.>
It takes everything in Dima's power not to roll his eyes at Sen— Or it would, were it not for Gower's sorrow and subject, or for the promise Sen gives; it's one Dima can only agree with, and he can't pretend Sen doesn't say it well.
He does give Faolan a glance of approval, both for the question and the manner of its asking. (For a man so long abused, he can be achingly gentle, careful.) (However his tender heart has been kicked, wounded, he hasn't lost it wholly; hasn't, Dima thinks, lost much of it at all.)
Rin nods vigorously with Sen's promise. They don't do a lot of making sure anyone's taken care of, but no kid should be left almost alone at twelve, and if word's gotten around about the circumstances of her father's death, the road ahead could be extra rough— For her, and for the ghost's sister, as well. (Who isn't a ghost, but also probably didn't count of raising her niece out of nowhere.)
"That helps," they say to Payl's description. And, "Are there any mirrors in here that might help put things together? Like. Mirrors that can show 'what was,' or whatever?"
[q: would dima or rin have met anyone whose face would match the scarred description?
HIST
d: 14
r: 15
f, s: also failed check
scarred face: nat 20
If the person with the scarred face is someone they've ever encountered, they can't remember the meeting.]
<.>
Payl doesn't bother looking around. He just shakes his head at Rin. "There was a mirror of that kind, but I sold it at the last Market, south of Mysos. Doesn't matter, though. It only showed what a person remembered. I'd touch it and the whole thing would turn black."
Seeming to remember something more, Payl makes a small 'ah' sound. "They gave me gold. I remember that. They gave me a pouch with gold in it - half of what was promised. I can't remember what I did with it, but I can guess. Tell Morwenna to look in our old hiding spot. She'll know."
A sense of peace seems to descend over Payl. "If you can do that - I'd be grateful."
<.>