Every Great Journey Begins With… [Open]

[Coriander]

Winter 59, 511 AV As Coriander slipped into the fringe of Castle Commons, the scent of half cooked meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, tickling her nostrils teasingly. The smell itself almost seemed warm in the crisp winter air as she breathed it in. She made the mistake of insinctively inhaling deeper, attempting to catch more of the tantalizing odor, only to find the sickly sweet stench of rubbish hidden underneath. To a traveler, the commons may have appeared shiny at first glance, but it was rotten to the core just like all the rest of Sunberth. Still, even as her nose wrinkled at the unpleasant afterscent, her stomach growled irritably, desperate. She ignored it. A small group of half-dressed (but maybe half naked would be more accurate) drunkards stumbled past, swaying precariously and happily slurring an unrecognizable-- yet blatantly lewd-- sailor’s song, bodies and spirits warmed by ale. She easily slid to the side to avoid the group, their antics causing an unconscious shake of her head and perhaps a shadow of a smile. Only in Sunberth. Not many others were out save for a handful of tightly bundled shoppers, a hired arm or two, and an old beggar slumped against a wall (most likely a corpse, frozen to death the previous night). The streets tended to be less crowded in this season, not so hectic and bustling. Breathable. It complicated things for a small time crook, who took refuge in the crowds that their victims had trouble navigating as naturally as themselves-- but she wasn’t there to steal. Not this time. That was precisely why it didn’t make sense for her to feel so on edge, casting nervous glances over her shoulder at short intervals. She was poised on the tips of her toes, moving at a pace too fast to be a walk, but not quite fast enough to be a jog. She always felt jittery in the open, with so few bodies to hide behind, but at the moment she was doing nothing that would endanger herself. Castle Commons was a relatively safe place (the special Sunberth brand of ‘safe’, that is) to be if you kept your hands off the merchandise. The one time she came to the district without ill intent and she was more anxious than she had ever been. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Perhaps it was the fact that her feet were numb from the cold and as a result felt clumsy and weighted. That coupled with a layer of snow, which was trampled just enough to become a slippery slush beneath the soles of her shoes, gave her a sense of being impaired. Just as she was thinking this, her foot met with a slick patch of ice. For one bewildered second, the world tilted at an odd angle and she glided, arms pinwheeling rather gracelessly, before she toppled into an innocent passerby. Fortunately, neither of them were knocked over in the incident and after a brief, flustered moment, Coriander hastily took a few startled steps backwards. A frustrated, “watch th' hell you’re goin’,” slipped her lips before she had time to check herself-- or the person she’d just collided into.

[Javial Kripsin]

It had only been a day since the second great snow storm of Sunberth had struck. Freezing temperatures, scarce food stocks, and plenty of white stuff. Memories of a childhood playing in the powdery precipitation fluttered through Javial's mind, but they were quickly stomped out with the reality of a more adult life. Snow ruined everything. It made simply leaving the house a chore, and work had been a bit scarce lately as it was for the Information Broker. To think that he was considering branching out into other entrepreneurial opportunities, for shame. What would a man like Javial do? Mercenary work? Common labor? Not well suited for a man who had managed to keep his hands relatively clean for so long. Blood only traveled so far. If his covert actions got a man killed that was good enough reason to simply deny himself any direct responsibility. "Observation: There is a gangly creature approaching." the sphere upon his left earring spoke to him, but it was far too late. The impact occurred a bit more sudden than the Sunberthian man was prepared for. "Analysis: Your reactionary gap needs to close significantly to take advantage of any observation I can provide. Conclusion: You must reduce your reaction gap." "Yes, yes, I'll get right on that. And Shirelieu, could you not call Human's 'creatures?" was Javial's response. Shirelieu had a tendency to devalue the Human race as a whole, as well as a vast majority of the sentient beings upon Mizahar. Whether she was making an exception for Javial, or simply stringing him along was never quite revealed to him. The body that struck against him did surprisingly little to move him, leaving him to believe it was nothing more than a child. The height and weight seemed appropriate, but the words that came out of her mouth...well, given life in Sunberth Javial still wouldn't put it past childhood. The girl seemed to be a teenager at the very least. Pulling the corners of his coat and adjusting his collar slightly, Javial gave a brief cough into one closed fist, the steam from his own breath spewing out into the freezing winter air, "Ahem. Excuse me." he replied, though his sincerity was questionable. That was when the severity of the offending party's scrawny nature struck him. "Gads child, the winter has not been good to you. Have you not a stew at home? Not a scrap of meat? Not even the slightest morsel? It takes a strong constitution to ward off cold of this magnitude." as he spoke, the difference between their voices and speech was immediately apparent. It wasn't simply dissimilar, it was almost comical. Steady and proper, with barely a hint of an accent. Either he was a foreigner, or he worked hard to reduce the verbal give away of his Sunberthian upbringing.

[Coriander]

Coriander was caught off guard by the man’s polite response, even more so because she was aware (and surely he was, too) that his accused lack of ‘watching where he was going’ had done nothing to cause the small blunder. He should have taken offense. Any normal Sunberthian (as far as she was concerned) would have cuffed her across the head, at the very least. It was an action that she had almost grown to consider as tolerant dismissal, and from its absence sprung her suspicion. She had yet to learn which to be more wary of; a man with big sword or a man with a nice coat, but exercising caution was never a bad move. She stood perched on the balls of her feet, a force of habit, her body leaning slightly to the side as if urging her to flee. She quickly scanned the area for a reasonable route of escape, should the need arise. Although, in these conditions, an attempt at a hasty retreat would probably end instead with her sprawled face first in the snow, so it would be better to avoid it if it wasn't necessary. She was in no hurry to add to the mild embarrassment she already felt. She was not clumsy, she did not trip. And yet, she had. She felt the familiar bite of aggravation at the word ‘child’, but now there was new material to factor in. An accent. She wasn’t very culturally rounded, so she couldn’t place the origin of the inflection. If he wasn’t a native to Sunberth that would explain his seemingly mild mannered disposition, and maybe do a bit to settle her uneasiness. “Winter ain’t good to no one,” she replied, apprehension creeping into her words despite her efforts to keep her voice casually disdainful. She silently reprimanded herself. Her nerves really were shot today. Then her eyes were drawn like magnets, curious and appraising, to the shiny gold loop dangling from the man’s left ear. After that discovery, she took the time to really look at him; the slicked hair, the olive skin, the fine clothes. It was a shame any window for thievery had already come and gone. With just a pinch of newfound petulance, she added, “Better to some, but it ain’t good to no one.”

[Javial Kripsin]

"Observation: The Human creature is staring at me." Shirelieu spoke up yet again. The cold always put her in a 'good' mood, if one could even tell the positive from the negative within the tone of her voice. The more frigid the temperatures became for the common man, the harder Shirelieu's exterior remained, dutifully protecting it's liquid inner core. She always seemed to be most willing to interject her thoughts and opinions during the winter, and seemed most distant and introverted in the summer. Immediately Shirelieu's comment had Javial wondering, did this girl know? No, it didn't seem that way, the cover was perfect for the most part. Irylid were naturals at playing the 'static object' card when it came to disguising themselves. Was she...marking him? It was too early to know. If the girl was a thief, she didn't appear to be very successful. Of course appearance wasn't everything, Javial's appearance certainly didn't mirror his success, or lack there of recently. He needed more contacts. Anyone was a potential contact, but the more desperate and socially destitute the better. That wasn't all, he couldn't help it but he felt something almost genuine for the girl. He was a scrawny nothing all those years ago, fighting to stay fed. Stay alive. With a shoulder rolling sigh he tried to push those days from his head. No matter how much he wanted to forget them, when moved back into this society he willingly allowed those memories to further cement themselves into his history. "Right then. Well, today is your lucky day." he began, seemingly undeterred from conversation despite her lack of optimism. Of course conversations didn't always go as planned. You had to have contingencies, you needed to bend the rules. Magic was just the trick, Hypnosis. Subtle, elegant. Did it always produce a desired result? Not exactly, but it was easily hidden away from the unyielding hatred the populous of Sunberth had for the stuff. You had to exercise care though not to dig too deep, or try to sway too much. Some people had a sixth sense to know when their emotions and desires were being trifled with when you leaned upon them too heavily. "You look hungry." even though he spoke, his words were laced with the power of Suggestion. It could only work if the context was correct, in this case some part of the subject would have to indeed be hungry. With some assessment and observation an educated guess could yield some accurate results, "I used to live in the Sunset, I know what it's like. I'll get you a meal. We'll talk a bit, maybe get you some direction. Don't get any strange ideas though, there's no strings attached. I'm not some creep tossing 'hidden costs' your way." his voice clung to a tone that attempted to say 'you can trust me'. A hand went across his jet black hair from the front to the rear, simply checking to ensure none of it had gone out of place after their abrupt physical encounter. If one could read Javial's mind, they would see the newsflash that yes, there were hidden costs. Gambling went both ways though, Javial knew that. Sometimes he could get a valuable informant, or a contact with important skills. Sometimes he simply lost out the cost of a meal.

[Coriander]

His voice almost seemed overtly careful, as if he were speaking to a wounded animal-- something that sparked irritation, but the feeling was vague and muted, flickering for only a brief moment. Once it was gone she couldn’t seem to remember why it had been there in the first place. Hungry. Yes, of course she was hungry. She was so hungry that her stomach ached and typically she would begrudge the statement of something so ridiculously obvious. She had a scathing quip on the tip of her tongue, but it just sort of-- melted away, before she could get a hold on it. Then he made that offhand comment about living in Sunset Quarters. That piqued her interest, but she was skeptical. Living in Sunset was like being thrown into a pitfall. As she understood it, the only way out was either completely leaving the city or using the bodies of others as stepping stones. Again, suspicion slithered at the back of her mind. She was no stranger to ulterior motives veiled with kindness, and it was often that food was used as leeway for cruel intentions. Too many times had a hand been outstretched to her with an offering of bread only to sock her in head once she was close enough, followed by cackling laughter, as if they had just told some magnificent joke. As if she was a joke. Still, there was a reason why she always took that risk, even after the third and fourth and fifth time that it turned out the same unpleasant results. Food was invaluable, life sustaining, and the promise of it was too alluring to ignore. Admittedly, she would feel guilty for eating while the two other orphans went hungry at home. The guilt was enough to prolong her hesitation, and almost enough to make her decline, but there was something compelling about the way the stranger's words wrapped around each other. The anxious flutter in her chest had dulled enough for her to get her bearings. Her stomach was urging her along with sharp, insistent little pangs. She was starting to shiver, blood cooling from remaining stationary, and she had to clamp her mouth shut hard to keep her teeth from clacking together in a pathetic chatter. Her feet were still uncomfortably numb. “Alright,” she agreed rather bluntly. She reasoned that if she ate now, she could give her rations for today, and maybe even tomorrow, to the others. Gods know they needed the extra energy. Winter was taking its toll on their health. Yes, that’s what she would do. Besides, if the situation took a turn for the worse, she was pretty confident she could weasel her way out of it somehow. She was good at that kind of thing. "If you wanna buy me something to eat, I'm not gonna say no." She shifted on her feet, crossing her arms (mostly to trap her own body heat, but hey, he didn't know that) and eying the man with something close to expectancy. Her wariness was dimmed, but not snuffed. She lifted her chin in deviance, although she was unsure of what, exactly, she was defying. There was always something, even if it wasn’t readily recognizable. “But I’m old enough to know people aren’t nice just ‘cause they wanna be.” And what she really meant was clear enough; but I don’t trust you.

[Javial Kripsin]

She had a pretty good head on her shoulders, this one. Unlike the typical starving vagabond she had quite some resilience to her, enough to openly voice her caution. Not bad. "Seems you are. Let us talk while we walk. The Pig's Foot is the best place I know of to sit down, eat, and not get killed." he mentioned, turning toward the Market square, the location of the Pig's Foot, the most famous and supposedly 'safest' tavern in all of Sunberth. With it's structure in the heart of market district, it was well known to just about everyone in the city, a fine place to grab a meal and something to drink. So long as you didn't stay too late. That was when the shadier people tended to pop up, although it depended on how you viewed 'shadier' people. Those made the best business partners, for a man like Javial. As he walked Javial seemed to keep a close eye upon the people that walked past, or even that simply stood speaking with one another. Not enough to appear to be ignoring the girl he had most recently met, but enough to be pointedly utilizing some of his concentration to keep tabs on his surroundings. "Information is what I deal in. Typically there's quite a good market here in Sunberth, though recently these snow storms have done quite well killing off my contacts either through cold or starvation. Everyone's always out to better themselves here in Sunberth, which means they're always trying to put someone else down. My job is to make that easier, but I stay alive by staying honest. There are rules in the game, so to speak." Javial always tried to stick to the rules, a set of restrictions he had himself operate within in order to keep himself from becoming a 'casualty of war', so to speak. With the recent weather making a miza was becoming more and more difficult. Things were becoming desperate all over, which meant even he had to go out and try to recruit some aid from somewhere. Young folks typically worked the best. They had enough free time to gain some worthwhile information, and they didn't freeze or starve as easily as the elderly. "I've been looking for someone to work as my contact. It doesn't take much, certainly not as much time as working in a shop or...binding books, or whatever it is people do these days for a coin. Doesn't even take all that much effort. It just takes a person to go places, listen to things, watch with a good set of eyes, and then tell me the results." As they began to come upon the walls of the Tavern, the interior glowing softly with the lanterns that framed the windows, Javial switched gears to the meat of the conversation. The point was to get this girl to trust him, and that sort of thing was never easy. He could wield his Hypnosis to some extent to aid him, but if the potential for trust wasn't there, no amount of Djed was going to change a person's mind. Working that life's essence into his words, he continued on, "Trust, that's more valuable than a coin in a place like this. So how can I get you to trust me. It all goes back to the rules. Staying honest, it's the best way to do business. I'm going to ask you if you're interested in becoming a contact, and I'll instruct you in a few ways to go about being the best one you can be. I won't even have you answer now, feel free to do it after the meal. This way it's a winning situation for you. Accept, and get a meal and a way to make some steady Mizas. Decline, and you still get the meal. If you have questions, feel free to ask them. After you." he mentioned the last bit in passing, pulling open the main door, pressing the wooden planks against the brisk winter wind.

[Coriander]

‘Them talking’ turned out to be him explaining the nature of his work while she listened attentively, searching for double meaning in his words with a concentration that was borderline paranoid. There had to be a catch to this whole thing. There was always a catch. At least they actually were headed in the direction of market square, and not down any shady backstreets or anything. Not that she’d be dumb enough to follow him into any dark, remote area. She had a bit of trouble keeping up with the pace he’d set, trailing a steady half step behind him. Although they weren’t walking particularly fast, his legs were much longer than hers and, naturally, his strides were as well. She silently cursed him for it. She silently cursed every tall person in the whole of Mizahar. She interrupted her own inward damnation of all beings over the height of five foot two with a half stifled snort of laughter. Binding books? Was that even a thing in Sunberth? She was pretty sure a majority of the population was illiterate. He seemed like the type for books, though. It still wouldn’t make for a very good business. When the conversation began to shift ever so slightly, she wondered, is he propositioning me? Her question was answered soon enough, when he directly presented her with a decision. It was tempting, she had to admit. After all, one of the main reasons she had ventured to commons that day was to find a way to make money. Real money-- not the cutpurse-food-for-a-day kind. She had been saving up some, squandering mizas here and there, but if she was serious about her goal (and she was), she needed a more reliable means of income. Even if it was only every once in a while. It wouldn’t be a far cry for her. She spent most of her day out on the streets and people never paid much heed to the quiet kid creeping past; she heard things. But. “I’m s’posed t’ trust someone who sells secrets?” she asked doubtfully, stepping swiftly past the man and into the tavern. She almost smiled when her feet touched solid hardwood, even if it was a bit damp by the door. She didn’t go into these places much. “Seems pretty backwards t’ me.” The inside of the building was a paradise compared to outside, warmed by fire and collective body heat, light from the lanterns casting everything in a very faint orange hue. The crowd and the hum of their chatter was comforting. She liked being in places where there were enough people and enough noise that eyes and ears weren’t drawn to her. Barely a head turned to herald their entrance. Not to mention, the thick scent of food was already starting to make her salivate, stomach twisting impatiently. She swallowed thickly. “How does that even work?” she inquired as the man stepped in after her, curiosity beginning to win out over her caution, now that they were in a presumably safe place. He was a pretty curious character, after all. “Do you give any kinda information to anyone, or s’there some kinda criteria? Other than payment, I mean. I get that you tell people stuff t’ give ‘em an edge, but what if someone wanted to know somethin' simple, like… geography? Do you do that kinda information, too?” So maybe she was interested in geography, for various reasons. She had a pretty decent vocabulary of spoken words, the only problem was that she couldn’t read them. Well, she could to a certain extent, just not to the extent of detailed geographical texts. She didn't dare brave Stumble for the sake of a trip to the library, anyway. Even if she decided to walk in the end, she was going to milk this encounter for all that she could. She craned her neck up to look at him, “And what do they sell here that’s sweet?”

[Javial Kripsin]

Javial procured a table for the two of them, even going so far as to pull out the girl's chair for her. Yes, Javial was cultured, polite, even gentlemanly, but you didn't survive Sunberth giving everything away. He had seen the darkest, desperate gutter life, and the man was fully prepared to do anything possible to keep away from that type of atrocity. Whether she accepted it or not, he pulled up his own seat soon enough and took his place at the table, briefly yelling for a cup of tea. "I prefer to call it information, before I call it secrets. And there is criteria, otherwise I'd have people stabbing me in the back. And that's something non-conducive to business." briefly he changed the flow of the conversation, "Sweet? I imagine they have some candied yams, or perhaps a glazed fowl." he mentioned with a shrug, rubbing the underside of his chin momentarily. "Anyway. Selling information isn't always this dangerous business it's made out to be. Geography is actually a fairly typical commodity. Or more so, people often want to know where some thing is, rather than some place. There are times when people just want to know where to locate a rare piece of artwork, or a person. Gods only knows what they do once they find the thing, or that person, but that's the rules. I don't ask, and I don't want to know. I keep my word, other wise I don't get any business. People keep their word with me..." Javial paused for a moment as the server brought him the tea he had asked for previously, "...or else I should say, I haven't yet had anyone not keep their word with me. No one that is still around, that is." he seemed fairly comfortable speaking those words as he sipped his steaming drink, a bit of warm solace in the frigid winter. "All information has a price, and everyone has questions. Finding the answer to those questions is what I do, and as I mentioned it doesn't always end up with a dagger in someone's back. Sometimes a business will want to know another business's stock, or prices. Sometimes a tavern wishes to know a competitor's recipe." he spoke that last bit, leaning in closely, hushing his voice before drawing back to his normal seated position. "When you play it safe and just go after information you're willing to risk, it really isn't all that different from anything else I suppose. Just a lot less physical labor and less time consuming. Of course there are days that I have to spend my entire time putting quill to paper, so to speak, but it's less static than working a store front, and it gives me much more ability to move about as I please. There is a lot to learn, but it's not difficult if you've a mind for such things. Interested in hearing more?" As he spoke, Javial was doing his best to gauge the girl's level of interest. His eyes watched hers closely, attempting to note her body language and level of attention. That was part of the job too, after all. Understanding those with genuine interest, from those just playing along.

[Coriander]

Coriander attempted not to give him a weird look when he pulled her chair out for her. Attempted. Regardless, she sat down, quickly stepping on her heels and wriggling out of her wet shoes (to hell with propriety). She pulled her feet up onto the chair with her, curling her toes inward in pursuit of warmth and wrapping her arms around her shins. It was an easy fit. She went slightly bug-eyed as he mentioned things like ‘candied yams’ and ‘glazed fowl’ as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. She whispered a soft 'wow' under her breath. She was pretty sure she’d never even seen either of those the things in her entire life. How much did something like that cost? But, oh, right. She had other things to think about for the moment. She scratched idly at a groove in the table as she listened, taking in his words carefully. Then she perked, ears catching on that last sentence, spoken so unassumingly over a cup of tea. No one that is still around, that is. It was precisely the vague hint of lethality that she had been searching for since their conversation began. Surprisingly, instead of giving rise to new suspicion, she actually felt relieved. There was no longer a completely unknown danger, now she had some small gauge of what he was capable of. The implicit statement (whether he had meant it as she perceived it or not) somehow made him seem realer. Normal. Now that that was out of the way, she could focus more on the actual offer. She may have said something reproachful about selling secrets, but that was mostly just her being obstinate and prickly. It actually sounded kind of cool, all things considered (though she'd be hard pressed to admit it out loud). She shifted in her seat, pulling her legs closer to her chest, “So, what would I have to do?”