Closed Sullen Shopping [Fallon]

[Zandelia]

Spring 24th, 514 AV – The Knight’s Armoury – Midday


Zandelia found herself leaning upon the stone wall that comprised the shop front for the Knight’s Armoury, one foot upon the stone so that her right knee was jutting out at a perpendicular. She was filled with a jittering feeling for the first time in as long as she could remember. These were not the butterflies of love, nor the twisting of fear. It was the feeling that one got when they knew that they had done wrong, done wrong to someone who whilst may have been met a handful of days previously was worthy of more than an affronted retort. Her bones felt heavier than usual, flickering of guilt burrowing through her head.

I shouldn’t have said it, I know I shouldn’t. Oh, she gave as good as she got but It was a low thing to comment on, not really bond building material. Least I now know she’s sensitive about it…won’t be making that mistake in a hurry she told herself sadly.

“I’m just surprised we didn’t try to kill each other, the crew certainly gave us the fearful eyes as if expecting a scuffle” she muttered to herself, sadness turning into a dark cloud of fleeting anger.

She had been insulted in exchange and it still stung. She was not a little girl, nor a young woman but deep down inside her she still held insecurities about herself that were just so easy to exploit by those who could read her well enough. Oh she flaunted herself, her current garb shone tat out like a beacon, but that was just business. Business required the use of any asset, no matter how bloody or crude. She considered what she wore – tight leather trousers, white blouse pulled tight under a body-hugging corset. Leather jacket and gloves finished the attractive scenery, though her Shadowsilk Robes draped over her shoulder carefully fell to hide that body part.

“Petching little shyking…” she trailed off the muttering, seeking control as she waited to see if her peace offering would even be accepted, “I hope she does, otherwise I’ve lost a decent ally” she sighed to herself, not willing to admit how quickly Bitzer had grown upon her – close quarters bred affection as the saying went.

Losing Bitzer would not have been the worst thing to have ever happened to her of course, but it would put her plans back and cost her the wit and wisdom of a woman who she fancied could match most men in their fetid, skulking city. Sunberth! She watched the crowd ebb and flow, they were the life’s blood of Sunberth – not the syndicates. The mob ruled it, though they were tricked into thinking that they didn’t for the most part. She hoped to sue that, Bitzer hoped to use that too she thought. They had had ten days to discuss all manner of subjects, from philosophy to schemes. There was a crude outline of events that they hoped to achieve but so far nothing to achieve them with. She wondered if Bitzer had spent the last few days seeking out her supposed contacts and taking action.

Perhaps she doesn’t even need me? Perhaps…I am… she slipped into self-loathing melancholy then, her dreams had dark of late.

She missed Orvin too, that little pup had always had a way of cheering her up. His boundless energy and playful personality seemed to reflect everything that Zandelia was not.

“Come on lass, show up. Come on. I need you. You need me. Come on” she whispered to herself, a mantra over and over as she protected her bagged belongings upon the floor and awaited her judgement.

[Fallon]

It was perhaps with a stiffer mind that Fallon forced her legs into movement. Back straight, the dull clink of steel in its sheath was in rhythm with the footfall, each step focused on being definite and precise. A slow seething existed deep within her core, the burning pressure of anticipation trembling from within. Hot breath exhaled out, her lips parting into a wolfish grin. She was hungry, she knew that. But for what was immediately beyond her - food, sustenance, or perhaps something a lot more primal in nature. The pink tongue darted across her lips in thought as she stepped, through the twisted ally and into the low Spring sun.

Boyish would have described her today, and if it was not for those who knew her already many would have presumed her as such. The hair was groomed and tied back completely - the occasional strand falling forward across her focused brow. The armour was donned, the red sash hanging from her waist, a bright, vibrant colour against the dulled leathers and ragged coat that masked her frame into that of androgynous. And whilst she walked, she could not help but keep looking down upon her feet, willing them to take those broad, swaggering steps that the males of Sunberth seemed to take.

Perhaps, it was simply her bit of fun. Her simple quick where she could allow some strange curiosity to the world around her to break out and through. Or even some last ditch attempt at self expression. Never the less, she persevered with her companion in tow. The bowing head of the wolf looked up to her on occasion, the eyes turning up and waiting almost for her to do something or issue a command of some form. Or at least some basic form. She was still sceptical at best when it came to him.

Shoulders bumping in with the crowd, she felt the flow. Her weapons clinking in place, her security in this city that she was far from certain about. But still, she could hear it. The beat of the voices, the pulse of people as they simply existed in the city. A humming tune that existed just out of reach. Teasingly almost. Gloved fingers pinched her brow, the gaze turning from the faces down to the shadows that danced at the floor.

What was it Zandelia wanted of her? What was it that tore her away from doing her necessary work? Surely enough insult had been said on the sailing back to the city, enough of their pride injured and left in tatters. Was this another round and attempt to gain the upper hand? Or perhaps even just a tool to use. Never the less, it was only due to the previous counselling the woman had provided in laying out of plans that Fallon chose to respect her request. That and she knew she was in need of replacing her own equipment, thus this served as a good excuse to do so. From the brow did her fingers go down to her throat, the tips massing it as it released a croak. Focusing she felt the voice box tremble, forcing and cracking as she released a low tone. Or at least until she gave a wince and a cough, "Gods above. What does that woman want?"

Orvin gave a snort in response, his jaws holding onto a long tear of fabric that he had acquired from her coat when they left. And much to her annoyance the beast had refused to let it drop. Feet clunking, it was her eyes that gave an uncertain blink to Zandelia. Back straightening she looked the woman up and down - twice in fact - and then began to produce a healthy hue of pink upon her cheeks. With her imagination quickly clicking into overdrive, the mercenary simply stared from the safety of a few feet away. Or at least until she managed to redeem some composure.

With a mocking bow, she broke a nervous grin and the voice cracked into life, "You called and so I ca-" There was a sharp look as Orvin pressed himself against the woman and looked to reacquaint himself with her, the tail beating madly in familiarity, "Don't you dare Orvin." The gloved hands came together, clasping and wringing as she pondered upon which name to use, "What is it you wanted... Dasoma? And loose the frown, you look nicer when you smile."

[Zandelia]

What if she doesn’t come? Do I act alone? We had an agreement. Would it be broken by her indifference? Would she become wrathful if I went along with my own plans, possibly cutting across hers without knowing Well…I could hardly be blamed for that! Yet…she is decent company. It would be a sad- she was thinking to herself, ideas and fears circling like so many scavengers of the mind.

Her thoughts were broken by a gentle tugging at her robes, insistent and yet not threatening in nature – it was almost like having a child tugging at her leg, desperate for attention. Her frown stayed upon her face but her gaze shifted downwards, took in the shaggy fur and the upturned grin that only a canine could produce – lips pulled full back and fangs glistening in friendly greeting. The tail was whipping from side to side too, she notice, arced upwards in its eagerness. She leant down to give the head a rough pat, flapping the ears as her fingers moved – her happy act was stopped short by the hard, flinty words.

Bitzer… she knew, startled that she had been so deep in thought that she had been crept up upon by the other woman – she was hardly the most stealthy of creatures after all. She shook her head, she would have to do better to survive her home city.

Sunberth had a habit of eviscerating the unwary, she could only be happy it was the other woman that had found her off guard. Or…she hoped at least. Some rather nasty things had been exchanged after all.

“You came” she felt a tension she had not noticed release itself, only by a fraction but her breathing was now slightly easier and a true smile swept across her face, “I hdd thought that…well…what with, you know…”she searched for the words but found nothing that was adequate.

It was almost as if what small bond they had formed previously had been fully severed. The other woman seemed cold, harsh and distant. She didn’t even want Orvin greeting her with companionship – that was a terrible reproach to Zandelia, almost an insult. It was one thing to be ignored by a human, another to be forcibly pushed away from a loving animal. She had fought many enemies in her time, but chastisement and guilt for verbal exchange were new to her.

She sighed deeply, taking a deep breath and deciding to just plunge into the wall that was Bitzer, there was little else for it. Bridges had to be made once more. That thought saddened her but she did not dwell upon how much for such a short time, that was a triviality for now.

“And you look nicer when you are closer, you don’t need to make me feel any more guilty you know,” she spoke the words that had needed to be said for days now, “look…I’m no good at apologies. Never really had to give one. Easier to think of what’s ahead. But…for what it’s worth…I’m…sorry” she all but whispered the last words.

“Those things, they shouldn’t have been said and they weren’t true. I thought…”

Petch…these things are difficult! she cursed privately.

“Well, we could begin again. You said before you needed gear. Thought I might go with you. Need things of my own. Might treat you too…if you like?” she asked almost tentatively.

She took in the armour and the weapons and prayed to Akajia that a fight wouldn’t be the inevitable eventuality. She was not even sure she could kill the woman. Not sure she would even have the heart to.

[Fallon]

Orvin adored the attention, or at least until Fallon chided him to stop. Moving away his eyes followed the finger that came down before him and lightly pressed against his nose, "Stay Orvin. Stay."

Her orbs returned to Zandelia, the face of the woman being taken in and out of focus. Frustrated, worried, no something else. The way she held herself, the tensed breath and then flicker of smiles searching for a glimmer in her own blank canvas face. The gloved hands pressed together, then looped round behind her back, out of sight and out the way. Occasionally her knuckle would tap upon the blade of the kukri, but other than that there was little movement.

"That I had disappeared into shadow? That I had turned my back on you?" Fallon gave only suggestions, but the eyes remained fixed where they were. She was far more alert than when she was in Sahova. Sharp, precise, the words resting upon the tip of her tongue - she was revived here, fresh and in command of her emotions. The lids pinched, searching for a reaction. The heavy sigh that quivered at her lips, her reluctance to take a step forward and across - be it physically or verbally. And it was with that firm line of segregation and separation that eventually the woman would have to face. To stand with nothing, to reattach burning bridges. To grasp blindly at a hope. Even as the stutter and stammer of words reached her ears, did the mercenary continue her cold stare.

And then, promptly she laughed.

It was deep as it was loud, a sign of pure amusement that race its way from the pit of her stomach and out into the air. Clapping a hand onto her shoulder she broke a grin, the spark of mischief in her eye. Fallon shook her head, her hand raised as if to silence the woman, "Remember the Scars. We take reminders of the past, learn from them and hope not to make the same mistake. Let us move on from it and the childish... events." Her eyes only flickered down to Zandelia's form, notably landing upon the breasts and flickering back up, "I suppose that's one way to prove you're not a complete board."

With glee and vigour rising up into her form, her brow lifted as she stretched a single gloved finger over and gave a tap upon the woman's cheek. The accent, trilling in odd highs and lows, rung our she spoke quickly, "Turn the frown upside down. Or I will give you something to frown about." Taking a step away she gave a pivot on her heel with a flick of the hand at Orvin "Go on, to chew on her coat too, obviously wants you slobbering all over you. So, let's start again."

Clearing her throat she addressed Zandelia directly with a wicked, almost mischievous looking forming upon her lips. There was a broad, sweeping bow - exaggerated in all movements - her hand raised forward much like a man would offer his hand to a lady whilst the other wrapped up right beneath her form, "Will you, fair lady accompany this young fool in getting supplies?"

Stealing a glance at the look up onto her face, Fallon simmered the grin down into a smirk and unphased with this large act - probably due to looking ridiculous on her own terms. Straightening, the mercenary offered her left arm in polite gesture whilst the other hand stretched out before them,"Shall we? Or will you simply stare for a while longer?"

[Zandelia]

The moments passed, tense and charged with the anticipation of eternity – Tanroa’s river seemed on the cusp of branching into one of two directions, a small tributary of the grand waters that the two women were about to be span down irrevocably. Bitzer’s words lashed her in ways she could not have suspected, harsh and cold they cut off her own and answered them with her own thoughts returned to her verbally. She would have traded in much to have been able to turn back the hourglass and make it so that their spat had never occurred. She could not though and the initiative of fate was with the other woman, it was discomforting.

Well…looks like I’ve petched another contact- the thought came to her just before it was cut off.

Bitzer laughed.

The relief was palpable and she felt like laughing herself but dared not too, confusion warring with new-found joviality in the unexpected occurrence. Bitzer raised her hand and spoke words that were laced with wisdom but could not be processed by her at the moment. Zandelia was content with the fact that weapons were not apparent or even suggested at. At her comment about the board her cheeks reddened as she glanced aside, trying not to show her guilt overly much – even with this new compatriot she attempted to be guarded with herself. It was a ridiculous notion given the past few chimes but it was her nature.

“Well,” she rolled her shoulder uncomfortably as the stinging response of days past entered her mind, “I suppose that it’s good my robes are covering my over inflated…rear end” she brought her gaze back to Bitzer again and left out a large held breath.

Bitzer touched her cheek and she was shocked, for a split second wondering if the act was in place to get close and knife her but knowing that was not the case. She shuddered at the unknown quotient of Bitzer the tactile.

“I’d rather not have something else to frown about unless my beautiful face get stuck in place,” she responded just before Orvin barrelled into her with exuberance, “hello Orvin, I’ve missed you” she spoke kindly as she felt his teeth tug at her clothing, ruffling the fur along his flanks affectionately.

“And how can I refuse the offer of such a knightly display?” she chuckled as she extended her hand and slipped it through the other woman’s arm so that they were linked now, close enough to embrace and her bags now in her free hand also.

“A fool you are not, as well you know Sera, but I’d gladly accompany you though gazing would also be enjoyable” she played into the act and allowed herself to be steered through the door and into the Knight’s Armoury – a misnomer these days but the finest place in Sunberth for martial apparatus.

For what that’s worth in this city she noted privately.

“What are you leading me to then my dear, deadly weapons? You do know how to treat me! The perfect present indeed” she grinned, the act becoming enjoyable now – though whether it was truly and entirely an act with Bitzer was always difficult to figure out she had found.

She decided to flow with it and hope for the best, it was the only true option open to her.

“What are you in the market for today my dear? I seem to remember you wanted a blade of sorts. I forget its name now, you know me and violence” she spoke, Bitzer knew her own tastes were towards the more clandestine than open combat.

The dark warmth of the forges beyond caressed their cheeks as they came face to face with the harassed figure of the merchant, sweat poring down his face she noted.

“Well? What’s it ya want eh? We gots the finest! Inna market for death well look nah farther! Well?” the shop keep opened with.

Zandelia looked at the other woman, she was sure they would have fun with him.

[Fallon]

With only a grin upon her face and the passing of discomforts through Zandelia's own. With redness on their cheeks, and a quick step forward it was the arm of Fallon and the firm rubs of Orvin that escorted them forward into the day. With a gentle pat and incline of the head, the mercenary felt the linking of arms. Perhaps it would have been unusual for her to partake in such activities, but with a face that was familiar and a world that she was still not used to - well, better company could not be chosen.

There was an expression of distant musing when she heard the word 'Sera', the features having softened and her eyes having betrayed her. It had been over a season since she had last heard such a term, among the stone walls and towers that made up Syliras. And it was with each step did the ring of combat and the crunch of steel play within her mind. Enough so that she was lost in some day dream, and the words of her linked falling away into an echo. But it was feet that still managed to guide them into the Armoury.

It took a few long ticks for Fallon to respond, her lids narrowing down as she simply stared off into the distance. Not that it lasted.

Blinking sharply, Fallon awoke from her thoughts and looked about. Her head turning around the dull lit recesses of the armoury. That scent of steel and ash in the air, the heavy oppression of near gloom, and the clunking of hammers in the background. It was no Iron works, but it was still a forge for weapons and equipment. Thoughts turned and spurned into action, her mental list compiling together as to what was needed and what was wanted.

Orvin padded his way around them, his snout pressing against the floor, his fur bristling out to the ringing of work. Or at least until he brushed himself firmly behind their legs and fixed his gaze accusingly upon the merchant who approached them. Zandelia was still looped onto her arm, the grin having now shifted from one woman to the other in the matter of chimes. And it was with that shift that Fallon was quickly dragged back

"Yes, yes, Market," She turned her eyes away from Zandelia and pinched her brow with her free hand. The merchant was waiting for. Clearing her throat she gave a respectful nod to him, and unlinked her arm "It's a tulwar I'm looking for." Taking a step towards him she removed her own blade and its scabbard from her belt to show it to him as an example, "I'm sure you know what I'm on about."

For a moment the merchant looked at the covered blade, his brow creasing into a frown before he simply took it up. Letting him study it, he drew it partially, his greasy grip handling it before he simply handed it back. The shop keep gave a glance at both of them, "Aye, might have one for ya. How much ya pay for ya death lad?"
"Find me a blade, then I'll tell you," there was a click as she returned the blade to her belt, "Sorry, awfully boring stuff for you to listen to."

And then promptly she winced when the words 'lad' finally clicked. Eyes turned to the merchant as he gave a snort, his eyes prickling to Zandelia, "Your arm tease want anything?"
There was a slide of the eye to her, followed by a shrug, "I'm sure she'll say if she does."

Grinning she returned to her, the left arm coming round to return to her link, her eyes staring off after the man - challenging almost for him to say something. Lips parted to show her teeth, that glint of mischief in her eye as the keep simply shook his head to look out back. Whilst his back was turned however, the mercenary turned her lips to whisper into her ear, "Do you actually want anything? I might be a while, I'm fussy with my blades."

[Zandelia]

She watched the back and forth with interest, her sense of joviality slipping away for a few chimes and being replaced with silent assessment and observation of her compatriot. She was intriguing, a warrior actor who seemed to know how to play others better than they did themselves. Already it seemed the shopkeeper had mistaken them for a couple, and Bitzer was the designated male. Remembering their verbal exchange she held her breath and awaited the wrath but eased it from her chest when it did not come. She tilted her head and wondered if such an insult only affected the other woman when it was someone who she actually seemed to appreciate.

Or perhaps it is a bargaining tool? she mused to herself as she watched the man walk away and move through his stocks in the back room.

“He called me an arm tease, and I wasn’t even wearing a dress to match the description. Shame, a wasted opportunity no? No kiss for the arm tease today, eh?” she chuckled as she placed her make shift bag upon the counter and pulled Bitzer closer for a moment, squeezing her waist with a grin.

The brutish man returned with a selection of tulwar for Bitzer to peruse through, Zandelia didn’t doubt that she would take her time for inspection. If one were to buy blade then they should take the time to make sure it was worth the gold – in Sunberth faked goods were traded as true ones on a Bell to Bell basis after all.

“Want anything lass? Or are you here just to be the scenery?” the merchant leered at her suggestively and she relaxed into the role of eye candy

A useful tool for negotiation she noted as she unravelled her goods and laid them out upon the polished wood of the counter.

“Oh well, I want to trade these in for a price and use it to buy something a bit darker. More…sensual. If you’re going to wear leather might as well make it pleasing to the eye. Are you pleased?” she shifted herself so that her blouse was now gaping slightly, her bosom exposed for a good view into its eternity.

“Hah! Pleased nuff to ask for second look lass. Trade in, eh? Well we’re always in the market for goods,” he returned, inspecting her studded leather armour with an astute eye, “little damage. Bit worn. Give ya 5 gold for it?”

“Five? But it’s worth at least twenty surely?” she smiled, deep and as charming as she could, her fingers moving to gently touch those of her negotiating partner.

“ Twenty? Pull the other one…ten!”

“Fifteen”

“Hmm, fifteen…and a kiss?” he tested her efforts now, suspecting the act and pushing for a lower price.

“A kiss? Oh, well I was hoping for so much more but a kiss it is. And fifteen” she walked leaned across the counter, her corset slightly pulled down now as she spoke so as to be barely supporting her flesh.

“Done!” the man was quick to accept and she cupped the side of his face and their lips met. Deep and long the kiss was, tongue and all – as well as a little bit of groping hands that she allowed to pass unchallenged.

“Done…” she breathed onto his lips gently, she had fetched a better price than she had hoped.

“Good stuff lass…good stuff. You wanted something darker huh?”

“Black as night if possible” she smiled sweetly back at him, waiting for him to leave before she scrubbed the overpowering taste of him from her tongue.

“Might ‘ave sumthin for ya then. Stay here and don’t be leaving now. Not been treated like that in a lnog while” he chortled, obviously not believing his luck. He turned his back and she scraped her tongue across the back of her blouse’s sleeve.

Petching…awful! Has he been eating shyke or what? she cursed to herself, astutely avoiding Bitzer’s gaze for now and cheeks slightly red – she hoped the merchant would assume it was from lust.

People did so like to fool themselves she found. They told themselves they were attractive, strong, cunning and varying other epithets that were seldom truly deserved. The merchant returned rather more quickly than he had for Bitzer.

“There! Night Leather I think it’s called. Bestest and blackest that we got. Only one set left and not a mark on it or I’m blind. Try it on?”

“Would I get a better price for it if I did?” she asked, letting a feigned giggle escape her throat.

“Maybe…maybe. With your studded’s gold could offer it at a decent price for another little show yeah? Forty five?” she offered, clearly wishing she would accept.

“Forty five…” she let the words trail off as if deep in thought, lips pouted and finger placed upon them delicately, “for you…a deal” she pushed her old armour away and awaited Bitzer’s own choosing.

“I’ll need my lover’s help though, so for now could you be a darling and fetch we a few more things? Small things” she asked.

“What’ll ye have?”

“Bring me some daggers, throwing and normal please. Sheathes too” she returned with, leaving him to go about his business and finally looking at Bitzer – she was redder than ever at the mention of them being lovers and trying like all shyke to control it.

The actor becomes the acted upon. Hopefully she won’t be too mad she fervently hoped to herself.

[Fallon]

There was a subtle tensing as she was reeled back in, the sudden space between them closing tightly and the gentle squeeze ensuring that they were supposedly an item. Her throat tightened, a nervous smile as she looked upon her cling on. Her lip gave a quiver, trying to formulate some words upon her tongue, "I what? Kiss?"

She barely had time to blush before the merchant returned and placed the small collection of blades down for her to inspect. And so taking the opportunity, Fallon slipped out of her grasp to allow some better inspection of the blades. All the while however, the eyes of the mercenary watched their conversation carefully - checking almost that the woman would not suddenly find herself out of her depth.

Filtering through the blades was the first issue she was certain one of them were definitely not tulwars; be it because the blade being too thick or the wrong shape. It was perhaps only due to her familiarity of the weapon that such traits could be determined. Taking up one she felt the weight of the narrow grip between her fingers, her eyes looking down the flat of the blade and its curvature, the orbs flickering to the cutting edge. Scrutinizing it carefully she leaned in to study the chipped cutting edge, and then the gloved finger tips tracing over the cracks that rooted from it. Tentatively she put it to the side and moved onto the next one.

Are you pleased my ass, Fallon's eyes flickered from the merchants, down to the cleavage of Zandelia then back up to the merchant, Mother petching pervert. There was a scowl, the pupils judgingly glaring at the merchant before snapping back down at the second blade she was inspecting. To intervene or not - never the less the bubbling look of annoyance pinched at her expression. Her gloved thumb traced the edge of the blade, her fingers wriggling to find comfort on the hilt. There was the gentle wiggling of the wrist, her eyes looking down the length of it before realising it was bent to one side.

Disappointed, she placed it down next to the other and moved onto the next, her ears prickling to the flow of conversation that was going on beside her - battering and negotiation striking against her ears. And a promise of a kiss. Fallon winced again, her focus stretched between finding a good blade and allowing her instincts to keep an eye on Zandelia. There was only a light frown as the exchange was made, her fist clenching tightly out of reflex. Was she angry? Probably, but why exactly? It was her own choice to stoop to such methods, thus it was not to her to intervene, was it?

By the time the man had gone out back to hunt for this armour as to be as black as night, Fallon held the third tulwar in her grip. Embarrassed? Either way their eyes refused to meet. And whilst nothing was said, the mercenary was left to simply dwell upon the edge on whether or not everything was alright. Taking a step away from the counter, Fallon checked the third blade - lining it up and testing the length and the weight. Rotating her wrist she felt the weight within her grasp, the eyes looking down to the undamaged edge and lacking cracks upon its surface. And then promptly she passed it into her left hand - that was to be the hand to use it after all.

Holding a blade in her left hand felt odd to say the least. It was the side she used defensively, or for magic, or for balance. Putting an additional weapon into that hand maximised the potential output of damage - as and when she learned to use it efficiently - whilst forgoing defence. Then again, perhaps it would aid her there too. She did not know yet. There was a gentle hack down a few inches, her feet wriggling into position before she repeated the same again. The tip wavered, testing and teasing against the air as the merchant returned with the dark leathers.

"Take this one," she inspected the tip carefully then turned her eyes to the man, "Blunt as anything, but the blade is solid and the weight good. You got the scabbard for this one?"
Her eyes flickered between him and Zandelia, a firm step over to close the gap and her eyes burning upon them. For a tick she held it there, before placing the blade firmly down onto the counter. Her hand gingerly, then rose and rested upon Zandelia's shoulder - a warning almost that she was still her's, even if it was in the loosest possible sense. She could see the man, deciding upon a price, "How does twenty-five sound to you lad?"
"It's blunt, I'm going to have to sharpen it. Looks like the thing is second handed too. Time and money that sort of thing, something my sort doesn't need. Give you twenty two with the Scabbard thrown in."
There was a firm point, the slow turning of calculations in her head. Thinking about it she paid a similar price when she got her first tulwar, and that was a new piece from Syliras itself. Holding her gaze she stared, the silence of the man as he slinked away to tend to both of their needs. Exhaling, Fallon turned her eyes back round to Zandelia

"You need my help?" Fallon breathed, her eyes finally meeting hers. Both seemed to wear a healthy red hue upon the cheeks. Though whilst Zandelia seemed more embarrassed, Fallon swum with a nervous energy. Still, she braced herself for whatever it was she required. Her hand however, obviously had a mind of its own. Snaking its way up the tips rested upon the jaw of the woman, a flicker of a smile upon her lips. Tapping Zandelia's own and then withdrawing her hand, Fallon spoke, "That bad eh? Need help getting rid of the taste?"

[Zandelia]

It was a tense moment for her, sensing Bitzer approach her as the shop keeper ambled away to fulfil her request for small armed death. She was not sure what she had been expecting – angry remonstrance perhaps or a muttered warning that she shouldn’t push things too hard. Even being referenced as a common slattern seemed more likely to Zandelia than what actually occurred. The feel of Bitzer’s fingers upon her jaw and tilting her head so that their gazes locked, the brush of the finger upon her lips and the retreat of it which was akin to a separation after such an intimate contact. It was gentle and precise, the other woman’s cheeks just as red as Zandelia’s own. It confused her she had to admit.

She shies away from physical contact when acted upon her…and yet she touches me like a lover? And those words…an invitation? Gods I can’t figure this woman out! she thought, not for the first time wishing she could read the locked doors behind Bitzer’s eyes.

She kept their gazes locked, green reflecting green as she hoped for a hint, some subtle flickering that might aid her in working out what Bitzer wanted. There was nothing though, not even a whisper. She found herself infuriated but did not allow it to show upon her countenance, instead favouring Bitzer with a small smile and wondering if she should test her premise.

“No, no help needed to deal with this man,” she responded, choosing her words carefully, “though I must say I’ve tasted better. I’d ask for your help in that regard but I’d rather not put you through tasting him from my lips. Perhaps alter after we’ve washed it off with some ale?” she posed the question, looking for any reaction.

In truth she would have kissed Bitzer then and there, forcing their lips together if possible. She was not a truly monogamous creature and if it meant getting a foot inside the woman than was Bitzer then she would have pushed her luck. Lhex spoke then, though, and the shopkeeper returned with the assorted merchandise and spread them across the woodwork. She turned and sifted through them, looking for what she had in mind and finding it quickly enough. One singular dagger, known as an Assassin’s dagger, was picked out and she tested its weight and edge. It was decently made and blunt but she could sharpen it well enough. She slipped it back into its sheath and placed it next to the Night Leather she was about to purchase. She also placed two throwing daggers and a sheath designed to attach them to her shoulder into her purchases pile.

“There, that should do it I think” she smiled sweetly at the shopkeeper, “time for the show?” she asked, knowing the answer.

She turned to Bitzer and pulled the armour from the desk. She slipped her boots off and pulled her corset off afterwards so that she was now standing barefoot and her white blouse was loose about her form. She pulled her trousers off and replaced them with the soft dark leather set, making sure that the shop keeper got a decent look at her arse beneath her small clothes to give him little opportunity to think about going back on his bargain.

“Bitzer, going to need help with the torso if that’s okay? Buckles are not my strong point” she asked the woman as she slipped on the leather gauntlets and buckled the vambraces into place. She threw the torso part at her afterwards.

“Possibly for the thigh guards too, can never get those right” she stated, voice cracking slightly and wondering if she was about to push her premise a little too far.

Boots were slipped on and then the full dressing took place. She tried not to look at Bitzer as she helped, dared not to in truth. At any rate once it was done she tested the mobility and slapped various portions of the armour to test its sturdiness – she found herself satisfied.

“There we go, a show and coin. Fifty five gold all told” she placed the stacks of gold upon the counter for the shop keeper to count out and wrapped her now unworn clothing within the folds of her Shadowsilk Robes.

“Anything else you need Bitzer?”she asked, she was ready to leave and put this embarrassing episode behind her.

She had a mind to get a little present for the other woman and she also noted that Orvin was ready to exit also, nosing the door as he was.


ooc- 55gm total

[Fallon]

”I was thinking just filling you up with drink,” Fallon blinked, ”You know, half a keg of wine to wash the taste out. Enough so you could almost swim in it.” She was honest there, perhaps almost brutally so. Eyes stared, waiting almost for Zandelia to rise up and challenge her with some wit. But she did not, and instead her attention turned away to back to the merchant. It was only then – rather promptly - the realisation of the ‘show’ dawned on her.

Turning her head away, she sucked in the air. She sought composure, to be able to steel her mind from one trail of thought to another. That was her game however, obviously to make Fallon as uncomfortable as possible in such a short amount of time. Her brow creased into a line, her thoughts pushing it aside as best as possible. It was just helping with putting on armour, right? Nothing more to it. And she had helped plenty in her time of being a squire.

Shaking the feeling off, Fallon turned her head round to face her. Long gone was the blush, and out came the look of thoughts and tactics. Of course, the armour when she was a squire was plate and other such heavy materials – not leather. There was the approach, her hands out as she grabbed at the woman’s arm. It was with focus that she pulled on the buckles of the Vambraces, her hands rotating and flexing Zandelia’s own as she worked. The mind simply tuned out the implications and thoughts behind it all, choosing to focus only on the task at hand. A forced desensitisation for her own sake.

Her hands continued to move, tip pushing gently at points to force a straight back and then darting round to the buckles to ensure a snug hold. To be too tight could cause an issue, circulation, breathing, movement itself. To be too loose then it would fail on defending, rub upon the skin and snag up on all manner of things. There was silence however as Fallon moved down to the thigh guards – or at least until she correctly mumbled, ”Cuisse. Not thigh guard.”

Perhaps the knights had rubbed off on her after all. Reaching round she focused on tightening it more, her little finger wriggling between the straps as a test and then promptly pulled away. Giving the woman space, Fallon watched as she tested it out, her own eyes watching for points and snags that could possibly form. Though she did feel that if she did speak up, Zandelia would not be too bothered anyway. Eyes slid over to the merchant as coin was exchanged, the lids narrowing before the question was turned onto her.

”For me? No. Nothing more,” She gave only a nod to the tulwar and scabbard she had picked out, and placed it down before her. Head turning to the canine she spoke firmly, ”Orvin. Leave it. We’ll be out in a moment.”

Fishing out her own coin she did the slow process of counting it out, her fingers sliding the Mizas across the table. Lips twitched in their counting, slow and careful as she struggled before finally giving a nod. She claimed the blade, quickly strapping it to the belt on the opposite side and turned to make her exit. A hand pushed open the door, allowing escape. Taking the opportunity, Orvin darted outside first his paws skidding across the ground as he left the threshold. Fallon herself paused, ”Shall we m’lady?”

Of course she was embarrassed; the way her brow knit at the dusting of pink on her cheeks betrayed her. But her eyes continued to stare, refusing almost to budge – defiant in letting Zandelia know just how much so. When they finally did leave however, a mighty sigh escaped her. Her shoulders hunched forward, all the strength having left her and the held in pressure finally being released. Back pressing against the shop wall she released a sigh, and barely paid attention to Orvin as he dashed his way around them in his excitable fashion.

”You… you…” she gave a half hearted thump at the woman’s arm, a cracking curl of the lip as the tension seethed out. Light teasing danced upon her lips, barely breathing upon the air, ”You bitch. Come on, where you taking me next to embarrass me further? Give my nervous disposition some time to brace itself.”

oocSo I don’t have to search later on. Tulwar and Scabbard purchase. 22gm