Find yerself a good knife [Old Quarter]

[Marlow]

31st of Summer, 511 AV

First, you need to find yerself a good knife.

Marlow smiled at the memory of the old fisherman giving him a lecture. Then again, something deep within his locked away memories agreed with the old coot. If he was indeed a sailor in his old life then it would stand to reason that he'd need a good knife not just to do his job, but also for protection.

He remembers the old man telling him that the best knives were made of Isurian steel just like the one he owned. How he got an Isurian steel blade was a mystery to Marlow. Then again, how he had enough money stashed away to provide Marlow with enough funds to start over was a mystery too.

Marlow had been in Zeltiva long enough to know that the sellers in the market would probably not have any Isurian blades in stock, and if they did they'd be suspect, so he decided that his best chance of getting one would be in the shops found in the Old Quarter.

Now he stood at the edge of the six blocks that made up the Old Quarter. He looked around hoping to spot a wooden sign that marked a shop that sold blades or someone he could ask for directions.

"Now, where can one find a good knife around here?"

[Flick]

Flick was not enjoying being apart from her bondmate. It ate at her, twisted in her gut. Syrilas just made her wish him there, with her, and it ached for him not to be. Bonding was a lot more conplicated then anyone had ever said - then again no one had ever given her a manual on it.

And so it was with this restlessness eating at her, the young kelvic packed her small backpack for a short journey. Zeltiva was close to Syrilas, and being close to the ocean it was reminicent of Riverfall. The market smelt like home, and the immediate area offered excellent hunting ground for relics and artifacts.

Wandering the city streets dressed in a soft white cotton dress, the blonde let her senses roam the streets. Smells, sights, sounds. It wasn't quite like the other places she'd been. As she passed a man, his voice reached her sensitive ears. Stopping, she turned to him and smiled warmly.

"A good knife? Here? From what I can tell, your better off looking to Syrilas for quality goods. Otherwise, I am sure I saw a shop around here." Stopping her mouth before it ran away from her, the fennec took a breath.

"Sorry, that question wasn't really for me, was it." Again she smiled at the man.

 

[Marlow]

Marlow turned to look at the speaker. He obviously did not expect to see a thin girl in her teens addressing him and his brows raised in surprise.

Marlow performs a shallow bow towards the young girl, tipping his tricorne before straightening. "You have very sharp hearing mistress. And quite well-traveled too by the sound of things." Marlow gestures towards the Old Quarter. "As for me I must make do with what I can find here. The Old Quarter holds the finest shops in Zeltiva and it is my hope that they have what I seek."

Marlow looks at the girl and appears to be a bit embarrassed. "If you would be so kind as to show me to the shop mistress? I'm afraid that I have not really spent any time in this area of Zeltiva, having confined myself to more common quarters."

[Lux]

Slumped in a ruggedly heaving bundle, Lux found herself once again where she had several months ago: This of course being outside a crookedly constructed building, surrounded by the iridescent fogs of odour. Raising somewhat small and carelessly carved hands to her nose, she tried her best to conceal whatever oxygen this atmosphere had to offer, between that of her mouth and the curvature of her hands. Adorning shabby and scuffed clothing, her frame loosely wound between the swabs of cloth, her eyes befell to the red encircling rings about her wrists; bruised and chaffed. It wasn't the first time she'd escaped a master, and she dared not think that it'd be the last; A notion which somewhat amused her. Her lips curved slightly in the corners at this notion, before tugging downwardly as the gravity of reality descended once again. She ran her decrepit ivory fingernail across the peeling skin, wondering indeed where she was to end up and what next she was to endure. And yet, this was the least of her problems. A somewhat bemused gentleman stood across from her position, conversing with an otherwise thin and young female. Despite his upright posture, his facial expression and body language both seeped a sense of awkwardness, unfamiliarity and discomfort with both the setting and situation. In contrast, the female seemed quite at home, if not disturbingly so, amongst the bustle of the streets before them. And yet, the comfort within said female was distorted by a melancholic drift within her movement; A drift that often indicated loss of a companion (Whether temporary or permanent.) This gave Lux something to relate with, and thus an opportunity. The small songbird situated atop her shoulder cocked its head to the left, detecting a sense of intrigue in it's master. Not that it was any of her business, Lux was fond of imaginary tales and conclusive thinking on such a round subject as persona. Regardless, she sought it not her place to speak. After all, she could be and was most likely wrong. Her tongue writhing about the words contained within her mouth she uttered to herself: ''To be found is to be reclaimed from that which is lost and yet...There is more missing than what is immediately obvious..'' Her worlds fumbled about a few times in her stuttered rehearsal: Words she'd learnt from a poet or two. ''T-That which is l-l..'' She paused with a slightly disgruntled sigh, running her index finger across the ruffle of feathers aside her head. A weakness she'd know in herself to be sparked by a lack of tutoring at a young age, Lux found herself internally cursing at the simplistic mind-set of her people: Kelvics. Looking outwardly toward the crowd she spoke from the rim of her hood, both herself and her feathered companion cocking their heads in simultaneous movement: ''You wouldn't happen to be lost, would you?''

[Flick]

Flick grinned at the man as he bowed, her nose crinkling a little at his speech. The man spoke light a knight, yet he wore no signia. It was all too...fluffy. Unsure how to act, the young kelvic made a simple curtsy.

"I can hear the sound of a cricket under the ground whilst he settles in for the evening! And yes, I suppose I have travelled a bit!" The girl felt a bit proud of herself, smiling all the while. As the man asked her to lead the way to the arms distributor, Flick smelt the other one coming. It distracted her thoughts, pulled at her mind. Turning with her nose, the fennec fox stared at the new comer with wide dark eyes. A frail looking girl, dressed in naught but rags and dust with a small bird perched on her shoulder and hood drawn over her head. Her skin was so pale it was almost white and her hair even whiter still. Her wrists were bruised and chaffed, and almost immediatly Flick felt the memory of her time with her first master to be. Collared, beaten, bruised. This girl had been a captive. A slave? The fox felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Lost...no..yes. Yes!" Suddenly the kelvic snapped back to reality. Staring at the man, then back at the girl Flick nodded and pointed at him.

"He's lost. I'm just...here. I'm Flick..." She wanted to scream out, and I'm a kelvic! But the other girl was so...fragile looking. What if she ran away, what if she actually wasn't a kelvic. She might just be...someone whom was escaping. Not a kelvic.

[Lux]

Her lips cracked in motion toward the wide-eyed girl in an instance. She was somewhat parched and yet, not distressingly so. Her voice decorated with a slight coarse cut, no particular accent clinging in a chalky substance to the back of her throat, she spoke with a clarity much unsuited to that of her image. A ghost like hand curled forward in amongst the fogs of scent, piercing in it's pale complexion, and yet blemished by the markings of a contracted ownership. Indeed, Lux had many an owner (Though not simultaneously of course) and all of which she'd eluded due to a duty to both herself and belated father. The world was as she was to make of it. Should that be strewn across the floor with a soaped bristle brush, so be it. Should it be shackled to a post outside a tent for entertainment, so be it. And yet, all of said fates and a many few more, were not to be what Lux conclusively entitled her destiny. Thustly, without hesitation, she found the means of escape; Be it a loophole in daily routine, neglect or a matter of lock picking, she was to her own destiny as much as any deity. This is indeed not to say that Lux had a lack of faith. By all means no. Though the tales she'd dabbled in about the campfires of a wanderers world, were that of warnings; To be weary of yourself and more so of those whom have created you. And so it was. Her eyes softened upon the opposing Kelvic, a melancholic glance befalling her as she noted a warmth within her trembling dilated iris: ''You've bonded then. How pleasant. Please..'' She raised a softer gesture, her fingers curving slowly in the air, simular to the coil of a feather as she smiled in good humour ''You've no need to look so solemnly upon me. Once a wanderer, then a slave, and first afore mentioned now regained. Though..'' She paused once again in contemplation. Her palm coiled delicately about the marks wound tightly about her wrists, the skin chipping and crackling roughly against the ivory of her hand, a texture much like bark. Her callouses were indeed not the issue. She'd no desire to be aesthetically pleasing; after all, it draws attention. The issue was that the memories it was now forever to engrave to her skin. The nights and the voices all the same. ''It's been a long long time since the air felt warmer. It seems that way once free, no?'' Her attentive glance fell upon the girl gracefully and yet attentively, her lips curving with a softened laugh, bouncing about the back of her throat ''I'm sorry. I've said too much.'' Her head tilted toward the gentleman, her eyes somewhat mismatched in direction which in turn unnerved most in her gaze. This was not genetic or permanent, merely Lux attempting to refocus her eyes from what would be a shoddy tear or drape of an aura, to the actuality of the persona ahead. She smiled lighter in her deep-set features as she spoke softly, her song bird encircling his head: ''You seem to be discomforted. Have you lost something? Or merely yourself perhaps.'' She smiled to herself, her index finger outset in the air for the little bird to re-perch atop. Despite her young age, the words were complacent of niavety. Lux was very aware of the world around her, to be a cruel and colder one than that of the stories. ''Well, may I be of assistance? In any possible way.'' Her eyes darted between the two of them as she spoke slowly, her features slightly softer and rounded than that of her first appearance. Indeed a fragile Kelvic as pressumed, she peeled her hood from about her face, plucking a small white feather from her hair as she adressed them. Transformations were tricky, and even more so when weakened. The right scenario provided the right temprament. Needless to say, a shoddy dusty room was indeed, not sufficient. She waited in her usual, somewhat unnerving silence, for a rebuttle or reply from either of the two.

[Marlow]

She can hear what? That can't be normal. Marlow was about to voice his surprise out loud when the other girl arrived.

His first thought was not on the girl's question, but rather on her appearance. She looks like she's been treated quite badly.

For a moment something stirred within his locked memories as if a pupa trying to break out of its cocoon at the disconcerting thought of bondage, of being restricted. And just like mist in the mid-day sun it was gone.

He tried to follow the brief exchange between the two girls, but could not fully understand what they were alluding to. Finally something the newcomer did say something that hit him like a club between the eyes.

Have you lost something? Or merely yourself perhaps.

"I.. That is..." He looked from one girl to the other and took a deep breathe and quickly composed himself before continuing. "I'm not really lost, merely unfamiliar with the Old Quarter. And I would appreciate any assistance any or either of you may be able to extend to me." He then turned towards the girl with the songbird. "But perhaps we should get you to someone who can look to your bruises first. I know an old fisherman who can work miraculous things using kelp."

Almost as an afterthought he added, "I am called Marlow."

[Flick]

Flick listened to the girls strangely poetic voice, coarse but not so that it grated. So much more that it held the fox's attention like a moth to a flame. Her words were so direct, and a statement not a question. Did the bond radiate of her just so? The kelvic swallowed, eyes still locked on the curiously damaged other. Kelvic, she was a kelvic. Her comment about being free swelled inside Flick, and unbidden she felt the prickle of tears. Moved by the girls words.

Blinking them away, Flick faltered. She'd lost her defensive wall of perkiness and false joy. It disarmed her, and left the young creature exposed to her warped reality. Struggling, the blonde pulled herself together in time to hear the man speak. He looked to have been as affected by the girl as herself.

"Yes, he's right." Flick said firmly, before putting on her mask again with a wide welcoming smile.

"I'm sure your wrists hurt, and I'd like to come with you. If you don't mind." Her wide eyes turned back to the man with a polite nod. Reality was, if the other kelvic declined Flick wasn't going to just dissapear. The other woman intruiged her.

 

[Lux]

To her dismay, her wrists had caught more attention than that which she had perhaps primarily intended. The crude fact of the matter was that she was captive to her own benefit, seeing as she was both a wanderer and a female; She was vulenrable to the dangers about her, and more so the dangers to have yet presented themselves. Indeed, she was not scared of the world, merely aware of it. Extremely aware. Though such attentive natures left alot to be desired in terms that her connection to those about her, was often accurate and yet distanced. As if she'd constructed a woven barrier between herself and those she'd loved. It was a safety net, to remind her that fate was indeed something less courteous than perhaps first impressions fabricated. Having lost both her mother and father, to separate causes albeit, she had no doubt that the gentleman behind it were most certainly intertwined in a grim occupation of revenge. The mere thought of her fathers last words, left a bitter ink stain atop her tongue, that when she spoke, it'd form verse rather than immediate sense. A trait she'd developed both to mask her true thoughts, and to word the remaining scraps simultaneously. Lux enjoyed people to not understand; it meant she had no ties to people and thustly, the pain that was probable and exacted from loss was less likely. If she had no bond mate, she was once again free. And yet, this never stopped her yearning. She knew of the love between her parents, to be unrivalled by any force; Hence why her mother left Jace (her murderer.) Love was often something she searched for primarily in the wilderness, in any size, shape or indeed form. She felt that although she herself did not enjoy to be connected to those close, she could share in something common and much larger than just her and another being. A larger love, fashioned from nothing else but commonly based ideals and motives. This love, was stronger than any else. Her eyes fell softly upon Flick as she recoiled internally. Noting that perhaps she had spoken out of term, Lux hid her wrists under a swift tug of her sleeves. Though initially she was unclean due to neglect, she felt this was to her advantage; in that it did not attract another potential ''owner''. Indeed no, she minded not the smell or the perception of others (often low might I add), rather she focused on her means of freedom. She wanted a life, regardless of it's social stature. Looking lightly up upon the male she lifted his hand, patting the back of it softly with the tips of her fingers like the first inklings of rain, before adding a soft form of reassurance: ''It's fine. It goes down after a while. It doesn't hurt. It just prooves to be irritable when I find myself on edge or nervous. No need to fuss.'' She gave a final pat before dropping his hand, her attention turning back to flick: ''Well then, shall we make a start on getting found? I've never particularly liked the notion of Lost. Nothing is lost merely misplaced...'' Her ramblings rounded the corner of a nearby lane, in which at the head lay a crookedly dim building which was poorly lit and yet substantially so. Pressing her hand to her brow to narrow the light interference, she smiled with a conclusive nod to the building, before arching her back and coiling her claws about the curvature of her seemingly malnourished hips: ''That is what you're looking for. I think.'' She paused before arching a brow ''That is what you're looking for, right?'' She paused before pursing her lips (A motion she often did subconsciously when in contemplation.)Lux had noticed that the gentleman seemed not to know exactly what he wanted. On the contrast he seemed bewildered and bemused simultaneously. As if thin or diluted by the thick oils of reality, poured over him in the latest events of the day. Perhaps he did know what he wanted. Though it was highly doubtful, due to the nature of his facial expression. Indeed, Lux did not press further than a few words, in anticipation that she may get more than what she initially intended from him: ''Well...What do you want?''

[Marlow]

Marlow couldn''t quite figure out this pale girl, but when she patted his hand he felt that her bruises were something she would rather not call attention to. Much as he would like to help her it was obviously her decision not to accept it.

The pale girl pointed out a shop with a trade sign denoting a dealer in arms. Nodding as much to himself as to confirm her observation he addressed both girls.

"Aye. That is what I am looking for. If they don't have the item I want, then at least they might refer me to someone who does. As for what I want..." Marlow paused to smile again at the memory of his benefactor lecturing him on what he needs to do. "I guess 'want' is not really the word I should use, but rather 'need.' I need a good knife and nothing beats a knife made of Isurian steel."