Black Market, cont.

[Jeff Brolin] Wits+Investigation
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Jeff Brolin] *His eyes fill with wonder, slightly. And he grins, a rather cheeky expression from him. And then the grin slowly fades, as he realizes how this creature must have taken these things. He looks back to the creature, and then to the 'cap.* And how many of these did the owners part with willingly? *he says quietly.*

[Mean Tommy] Its unsettling. The memory of his single sip of what Worth has to offer. The confidence and complete lack of regret mingled with the loneliness. Could that be the way younger Kiths see each other in their Grump years? For a moment- a moment Tommy will soon refuse to remember he'd ever courted- Tommy wonders how that's a bad thing. How exactly.

Terror

The word tastes like home. Even unspoken, just flicked across his silent tongue like a piece of favorite candy. Tommy raises a hand to wipe a tell- tale gleam from his thin lips before his eyes swing back to Worth.

He ceases the complex emotional algebra of trying to decide whether it really is better to love and have lost. Belatedly, he realizes his attention had slid from the jar of Terror back toward the fountain. With a will, he wrenches his attention back to Worth.

"Aint gonna be a client, Woyth.." His attention slides to Jeff, and in reply he favors the Satyr with a wide, wicked smile. Somewhere between familiarity and mania.

"Now... sub- contractor? Some kinna..." He drifts razored fingers airily. "Product requisitions agent? Heh. mebbe."

He winks at jeff. Perhaps he has an idea or two in that direction himself.

[Maialen de Xove y Miasol] Maialen looks behind her just once, when the first sound of stone-on-stone begins to close the way behind him. Her pale face, gently rounded through brow and cheek, sharpened toward her chin and slanting ears, still and cool as the moon in the black velvet of some half-remembered, nameless sky. The stalls tug her attention away from their host; soft mouth just parted in though as her fine hands ghost over the display cases, pausing on those pieces that strike her out the most.

Desire.
Annihilation.

The black compact. The screw-top jar.

Her gaze slides back to the compact; she is still beside its display, now, half-turned to glance back at the pair of nightmares - their chitinous host and the redcap, besides - over her bare shoulder, the gentle curve of her neck still as glass except for the movement of her pulse in her throat.

"Your name three times, Worth," quiet, a steely, dark-eyed note of caution in her gaze, mismatched with the soft curve of her little mouth, faintly pink against her pale skin, " - how is that a fair bargain. What would you gain from it?"

[Black Market Gimmick] "Publicity, Dear Lady. The most lasting of things."

A simple admission, outside of the boundaries of the bargain. Worth's attention is difficult to really reach, as the shadows above the Lantern light, which faces mostly downward and at eye level, are thick and prominent. They display outlines at best, of which, Worth is merely a series of movements overhead. Oddly, terribly quiet, those clicking legs a brief thing at the back of the mind.

"Willingness is dependent on situation and circumstance, Dear Hedonist. I capture what may well be lost, with or without the requisitioned's permission. Inspiration is never to be squandered for the sake of petty ethics." A brief pause, what might be considered a sigh "But yes, I see how you may interpret such as wrong. Be assured, that any items procured here are done in the same manner as all favours. Through negotiation. No item was gained without proper recompense."

And finally to Tommy. The monstrous head suddenly appears above one of the lanterns, lowering into view with a smoothness and grace that is disturbing on such a monstrous visage.

"Truly, Warmonger? I believe such things can be arranged. I admit to a decided lack of assistance, since the crash of the former Kingdom here. Few are so willing to purchase much less obtain. The prizes for such things, beyond the acts themselves of course for one such as you, would be beneficial and plentiful. Something to consider..."

And those compound eyes, the human orbs within them, oddly murky, as if closed by human lids, swivel to orient on Maialen a small distance behind them.

"Do you find something of interest, Dear Lady?" A glance then at the Stall she stands beneath: Annihilation.

[Mean Tommy] Tommy eats, and hates, and destroys. Jeff is passion distilled and amplified in every motion and word.

Sidhe? Their power is in simply existing- and a far reaching power it is. Ergo, when Maialen starts talking, Tommy starts quieting down. Long before he realizes the floor is hers, it has been for some time.

[Maialen de Xove y Miasol] The creature does not look back at the display case when the centipede does. Still, her hand hovers over the display, index finger pointed precisely at the compact. Her attention remains on the moving shadows defined by the beast if she cannot have his eyes, and lingers.

"This one," she returns, her attention steady on his shadows. " - how much?"

[Mean Tommy] "Cheap enough."

Its a mutter. Just a scrape of words that doesn't last long and isn't loud. The only thing to set the phrase aside from a simple statement that the sky is blue is that for a moment narrow, wicked eyes are once again on Maialen's mouth. It could just be her imagination though.

[Mean Tommy] (Sorry! Should have waited! Will slow it down now.)

[Jeff Brolin] *He is just listening for now, though he steps away from the Forget section, to take a look at what the Sidhe is doing.*

[Black Market Gimmick] "That, Dear Lady..."

And the head vanishes into the nexus of dark above once again, only to return a moment later (too swiftly for physics proper to have allowed) to hover just above and to the right of Maialen's choice. Those compound eyes shift and suddenly the murk clears from the human sights within them, revealing pure cerulean iris' in each.

"The Narcissist Gleam. A potent piece of self-assurance. Powerfully content, the powder contained within was taken from a hundred starlets, fancied themselves prepared for Mortal Film and Stage and thought themselves the look of belles and gleaming smiles. A Hundred whispers of self-satisfaction and the appearance of Aphrodisian commodity. Beauty refined to a thought of pleased satisfaction. A hint of the Narcissist himself." A pause. "Highly addictive."

The Head shifts, part of it's body lowering to settle gaze on her once again, massive head swiveling and the needle toothed appearance of those 'jaws' fluttering.

"A steep price for such as this, Dear Lady. I ask a Darling's Modesty. Freely sacrificed and untainted. Innocence with a hint of curiosity, that precious moment between the Sweet and the Sultry."

[Jeff Brolin] *He laughs faintly at that.* Already got enough narcissism in a poin... *He pauses. And he tightens his jaw, realizing he was about to speak without thinking. And the woman is rather terrifying in her own right.*

[Mean Tommy] What worth describes is not so much annihilation as Tommy knows it.. which is just as well.. perhaps it will distract from his slip of the tongue. empty-belly eyes settle on the compact as well.. then flick to Worth and linger there for a while. Slowly, Tommy's eyes fog over. Settle into some middle distance.

Also slowly, a smile ghosts across his face. Growing wider and wider, then impossibly wide. He chuckles a bit, as though he'd just gotten a joke. Finally, his attention settles on Maialen and Jeff intently.. waiting to see if they get it too.

[Maialen de Xove y Miasol] Tommy speaks; the creature gives him a slantwise look that lingers past the limits of the polite, edging into the baleful. Her eyes are dark, her keen features still, the soft, sculpted lines of her face nearly marble in their perfection. The sooty lashes against her cheek like the shadow of a black-winged bird against the moon and the brief, knife's edge twist of the little bow-mouth at which (she imagined) the redcap dared look the only signs of life underneath the flash of a glance.

Then her mouth softens, the corners gentling as she lifts her gaze from redcap to satyr (brief and level here) to shadow-of-the-beast over them.

"I have no patience for self-satisfaction, Worth. Such a very - settled thing. Perhaps you might suggest a better vintage?"

[Jeff Brolin] What about something simpler? A good nights' sleep. Or mebbe you'd be willin' to take a bit of an unpleasant memory for somethin' else. *He looks back and forth.* All of these emotions. These things. These traits that people lose. Gotta be somethin' less positive.

[Black Market Gimmick] "How true, Lady and yet I find myself lacking enough knowledge of you or your station to accurately present you with a proper vintage" It is clear there is a touch of agreeable humour to the use of that word. The large head, easily a match in weight to Tommy and Jeff combined, lifts smoothly back into the shadowy above. Jeff quips suggestions, perhaps for Maialen's own consideration and Worth seems to 'Hmmm' from above.

"Perhaps it would be best for you, all of you and each of you, to describe for me what it is you may be looking for. It need not be specific mind you. A mood. A desire. A quiet reprieve or a very loud moment in time." A brief pause, shifting movement from above. "Dear Hedonist, that may well be arranged too. I am not simply a provider of wishes, but an agent of repurposed goods. What one considers a horrid thing of memory, another may regard as a cherished reminder. You would be surprised at the Puritans that have come through my markets, in search of a Hangman's Despair."

And the head shifts into view over the next Lantern down, a dozen feet and two more stalls (Power and Misery) further up the alleyway.

"Ask what you will of me. I shall endeavor to provide."

[Jeff Brolin] All I want is information, *he says with a cant of his head.* You said you knew about the missing Freehold. About its location. You must have some sort of memory in regards to it. What would you want in payment for that?

[Maialen de Xove y Miasol] "That is best, I do think, Worth," the sidhe returns with a gliding little half-smile that does not reach her shadowed eyes as she drifts (floats?) in the wake of their host, pausing to glance over the offerings in both booths: Misery, and Power. Lingering - as one may well expect - on the latter rather than the former. Her voice is made in her throat as much as the soft palette of her mouth. " - as I am not sure I would like you to know that much about me, yet.

"In time, perhaps." Here she puts her hand directly down on the display case for the Power offers. "He's right. You and I already have a bargain on that score, Worth. What you know of the Baron's fall in exchange for a noble's kiss."

[Mean Tommy] "Mistress awready paid feh dat one." Sub-vocal, spat to the side at Jeff as the massive Redcap hooks a thumb to Maialen... somewhat belatedly, he gives the Sidhe just a touch of a nod. Just a touch. Redcap respects that promises nothing but a long memory. The funny thing there being that Tommy apparently assumes she'll be sharing the information.

Perhaps he will learn. Not everything Iron Maggie said about Sidhe was simple rhetoric, and the Goblin King may as well find out sooner or later. Elsewise, someone else may well wear the crown.

"I wanna tawk moah 'bout doin a bit o' collectin' feh yah. It can wait 'til I'm elsewheah dough."

[Black Market Gimmick] "I offered what information I had regarding the fall of the Baron prior. The Freehold is another matter entirely and such things would not be cheap, Dear Hedonist. The return of the Kingdom or possible exposure and harm that may do to my own business would be unpredictable at best. A lack of prediction is as sound a coffin nail as it is another market to exploit." There is a pause. Something of consideration from the shadow.

"Were you to find for me True Love. Something personified, not necessarily defined. A taste of glamour, untainted and pure from such a source, I believe i could be persuaded to divulge the information I possess."

And then the voice falls to Maialen and her own decree.

"Yes, in that, we do, Dear Lady. Understand that the Baron and I were not friends. I abhorred the standards in which he ran this city and he in turn, detested my dealings with it's denizens. I did my best to avoid his detections and inspections, barely tolerated as I was and in exchange provided many of his courtiers with their necessary functions and needs. Those sources, however, dried up some time ago. Nearly a year, I would put it, to the day. No great conflagration, no explosive battle that I witnessed or heard. At once, a great source of Pure Dreaming seemed to..."

...and here he lingers, as much as Maia does over the stall for Power where King's Desire and General's Victory, sit in containers labeled 'Flammable', next to black cloth wrapped packages beneath a tiny sign with the word 'Leviathan' in stylized bold.

"...vanish. A terrible thing that, but a wonderful opportunity. Now, I believe I have accommodated your requests and it is time for your own payment." Indeed, the small party of Changelings seem to have reached a dead end wall, just past the Stalls and Lantern light.

"Shall we adjourn to the Garden once more?"

[Black Market Gimmick] "Discussion of Employment and your security deposit for such, can be discussed on conclusion of this transaction, Warmonger."

[Jeff Brolin] *He presses his lips together. Nothing else TO do, but plan, and come back later. He nods slightly, and he sighs, to turn back towards the garden. Who could find True Love so late in the day?*

[Mean Tommy] Terror

There it is again. Empty-belly eyes just pass across the word again, and a raucous, screaming wind whirls through Tommy's insides. Tickles and licks at the inside of his ribcage. From without, it just looks like a shudder. Deep and abiding.

His boots clop and ring as he follows Jeff and the Sidhe back toward the courtyard.

[Maialen de Xove y Miasol] "And yet - " the Sidhe returns, " - as you yourself said, your business has suffered in its absence, dear Worth. I think the return of the place would not be so dangerous for you and your - market - as you would have us believe." She dips her dark head, then, a brief nod of assent, lifting her soft white hand from the case by which she lingers, glancing back down as she does she, studying the contents with the contained, reflexive grace that is her birthright.

There is a low noise of assent formed in the back of her throat, soft and grave. It takes her the time between two heartbeats to pull her faceted gaze away from Leviathan to settle them back on the illiquid, clacking shadow of the nightmare, and then she simply inclines her head in assent, walking back down through the market stalls, listening to the half-formed whispers from within as they return to the garden.

[Black Market Gimmick] (Hey Folks, so it's gettin' a touch late and i know bed's necessary for a couple of you guys at some point. So we're going to pause here. I'm thinking we're actually almost done and another session like tonight will probably wrap us up nice and good. So if folks are around tomorrow or thursday, I can do either of those.)

[Jeff Brolin] ((I'll be around both around these times.))

[Mean Tommy] (Tomorrow around this time works better for me.)

[Maialen de Xove y Miasol] (tomorrow!)

[Maialen de Xove y Miasol] (sorry, I was trancing. :) )