Flashback Orchestrated Pandemonium [Franciska]

[Meville Brightshade]

Sixth day of Spring, 510 A.V. The Frozen Falls Market. It was one of Meville's favorite places in all of Avanthal for several reasons. First off, it was constantly filled with intrigue both foreign and familiar. There were so many different kinds of people selling whatever it was they had to sell. It made for an exciting cultural immersion. Secondly, there was always some sort of tension between the deceptively jovial shopkeepers. For example: Frishka, the middle aged woman who tended a stall that dealt mostly in strange clay figures from some far off land, was madly in love with Berkal, the young man who often performed feats of strength for money from passers by. However! Lilkin, a crotchety old man, constantly complained to Whist about how Berkal was scaring away his customers. Whist was infatuated with Frishka and knew how much she admired Berkal, so he would often try to remove Berkal from the scene, but every time Berkal would flirt his way out of trouble by getting Frishka to defend him. The third thing that was simply wonderful about the Market was how easily the intricate relationships between the shops could be meddled with. Today, Meville decided he would put an end to Berkal's days of panhandling. For one, Berkal was a rather attractive man with a terrible personality. Though Frishka wasn't much better in that regard, Meville had a much better chance of getting the "strongman" into trouble rather than the loud-mouthed figurine saleswoman. In his fairly short lifespan, Meville had quickly realized chaos was much more entertaining than the simplicity of order. Thus, he often took it upon himself to disturb the peace for the betterment of disorder. In this particular case, Meville had chosen to swipe a fairly expensive, though small, wood carving from Lilkin's store. During Lilkin's incessant grumbling fits to Whist, the old man had been too distracted to notice Meville slither over and remove one of the pieces. Of course, seeing as Berkal was his focus, as soon as the strongman moved over towards the shop, the missing carving was immediately realized. With a few swift and concise movements, Meville deposited the wood carving into the strongman's cup before ambling over to Frishka's shop. As the shouting began to escalate, the woman quickly apologized to her patrons and hurried over to join in the raucous argument. Meville happily grinned as more and more people became interested in the fight, rather than what was going on. He then removed several clay figures and proceeded to stuff them into the snow around Berkal's cup. Once that was done, Meville made sure to move at a easy pace to a place near the fight so he could hear what was going on. At that point, Berkal was denying the accusations of theft being shoved at him from the crusty old Lilken. Whist decided it was time they sort it all out by checking Berkal's person and the area where he had been performing. As the crowd moved over to where the strong man had been, someone exclaimed the figure was indeed withing the few possessions Berkal owned. That really set everyone off. There were shouting and insults being thrown all about, but it really became a deafening cacophony when Frishka joined in shortly after someone discovered the clay figurines. At that point, Meville decided it was best he make himself scarce. Someone had called the Icewatch and several more people were trying to deal with the "lawbreaker" themselves, making the scene a little bit too dangerous for Meville's tastes. His impish grin in full beam, Meville slid out from the writhing mass of bodies and made his way down a side path that had probably been dug by some children looking for a more private place to play. Once there, Meville chuckled to himself, recounting the event that had just transpired. It had gone a little better than even he had expected. At this rate, Berkal would, at the very least, go to prison for some time. It would certainly change the dynamic. Meville's excitement quickly dwindled when he heard footsteps behind him. The whole point of taking this particular path was that few others ever used it, as it didn't really go anywhere in particular. He froze for a few moments to see if the footsteps would continue. They didn't. It was certainly disconcerting. He hurried along, the person behind him growing ever closer until... Meville jumped around and shouted. He didn't really know what else to do.

[Franciska Whitevine]

Franciska walked through the myriad of stores at Frozen falls market. Holding a basket in one hand, she read the shopping list written by her grandmother. “Some dried fruits… chestnuts… honey for grandpa’s tea… Hmm.” She dutifully checked the contents of the basket to make sure she hadn’t missed anything important. It seemed she already had everything crossed out except for just one more. Her eyes then fell on the last item in the neatly written list. “Flavored snow for our dear Ciska…” Franciska’s face instantly lit up with a grin. “Thanks grandma.” Icy blue eyes turned mirthful green as she cheerfully hummed her favorite song. Flavored snow! She just can’t get enough of that sweet, sticky syrup and that sensation when the cold treat slowly melts inside her mouth. Franciska licked her lips, her pace quickening in anticipation. She was already hurrying out of the market when a series of incensed shouting caught her notice. It wasn’t uncommon for people to get into squabbles over prices, but this situation seemed to be escalating way out of control. Franciska headed towards the large flock of people circling a certain stall, a displeased expression on her face. Everyone looked like they were anticipating a brawl to take place and no one was even trying to break the fight! These fools. Franciska tutted. Have they really no regards for the peace that the Icewatch strives so hard to keep for everybody? The young Whitevine tried to push her way through the crowd, but her efforts were all in vain. She can’t see what was happening; all these people were just too tall for her to get a proper view over their shoulders. From what she can hear though, it seemed the fight had stemmed from a case of theft. Apparently a strongman had stolen some wooden carving from a merchant. It was just a few paces where he was performing, no less. “Something’s not right”, Franciska thought. “Why would a thief steal from a shop and set up a stall right next to his victim? That’s so self-defeating. He’ll immediately get himself found out like that.” She took a step back from the crowd and ran her eyes through the surroundings. “Unless…” At a small area a few paces away from the unruly crowd, Franciska saw a young man placing several pieces of small figurines around a wooden bowl. Inside the bowl was a wooden carving. It didn't take much to put two and two together as to what had really happened to the livid merchant's stolen goods. Soon as the deed was done, the man joined the crowd as if he didn’t just plant the stolen pieces among an innocent person’s possessions, looking smugly happy on how chaotic the market had become because of some pieces of missing handicraft. Soon enough, the crowd moved over to the suspect's area to check his belongings. This sealed the poor man’s fate. Everyone was now wrongly accusing him of being a thief while the real perpetrator merrily walked off, unapprehended. Franciska was gritting her teeth the whole time she watched the scene unfold. She cannot allow an innocent person take the blame for someone else’s misdeed. The young Vantha tried to tell an older woman what had really transpired to clear the name of the strongman who was wrongly accused, only to be told to stop meddling in the adults’ affairs. “Fine, I’ll chase the real thief myself.” She muttered angrily under her breath. Franciska immediately took off after the young man, her grip on the basket growing ever so tight as her temper rose. She followed him down a side path, slowing her steps to a few feet behind the man. Franciska kept quiet, silently fuming as she tried to figure out how to make him surrender to Icewatch. When the man suddenly stopped, Franciska was frozen to the spot. She found herself panicking, her mind racing with pessimistic thoughts. He knows he was being followed. What would she do if he confronted her? Would he try and fight her? There’s a huge chance she would lose, he’s way bigger than her. The man moved again, this time faster, and Franciska found herself chasing after him on instinct. This was no time to hesitate, she will catch him no matter what and make him pay for the theft… was what she was thinking until the man turned around and shouted all of a sudden. The young Vantha thought her heart stopped beating outright. The basket she was holding had fallen to the ground, its contents spilling onto the snow. As soon as she was able to regain her senses, she raised a hand and slapped him hard on the cheek. The amount of force she used left the inside of her palm stinging in pain. “What was that for?! Were you trying to have me killed from fright?” she spewed shakily in her mother tongue, the musical language of Vani, through gritted teeth. Her eyes were a swirling pool of dark colors. Tears of frustration threatened to fall from the corner of her eyes as she glared hard at the troublemaker, not really noticing the look of shock on his face from being subject to the unforeseen abuse in Franciska's hands.

[Meville Brightshade]

Temporarily frozen by the Meville's unprecedented shout, the young woman stood for a few moments in shock. Had he been in full control of his body and not in a semi-paniced state, Meville would have used that slight interruption to run. To his dismay, when he demanded that he turn and dash off down the dug road, his body kindly reminded him that he was very much in the same stance as the woman in front of him: frozen by fear. In Meville's case, that fear was replaced by astonishment as the woman's hand came down upon him like a biting lash of a whip. He stumbled to the side several paces, too out of wits to do anything but stare at her with wide blue eyes as she reprimanded him for being the aggressor. He moved his jaw slightly, flinching at the uncomfortable feeling her hand had left upon his cheek.

When she'd finished, Meville had recovered enough to give his own retort. While she had spoken in Vani, Meville felt no reason to politely try to translate what he had to say. If anything, he took a small comfort in the knowledge that the language barrier would be too great an obstacle for the girl and force her to leave him alone. "You kindly explain to me what one is supposed to do when one has a little shadow chasing behind!" He rubbed his face as his eyes watered from the aftermath of the impact. "Would you rather I'd turned about and greeted your pretty face with a strike of my own?" Meville didn't wait for her response, instead he placed his hands on his hips in a huffy manner, "Certainly not!"

Now that that was out of his system, he was finally able to take her in a bit better. She was more than a head shorter than he, but it did little to assuage the feeling that she were somehow above him. Her eyes glistened in the light, the telltale shimmer of tears being held back by her anger at him. Biting his lower lip, Meville sighed, letting his indignant anger tumble to the snow below him much like her basket had done. "I apology." He carefully knelt down and restocked the basket with its original contents. As insufferable as she seemed, Meville was not one for tears of any kind unless they were those of glee. Once the task was done, he stood up and handed her the basket with an apologetic grin. "Meville. Ah, I sorry for scare you."

Common | Vani

[Franciska Whitevine]

She wasn’t really thinking when she smacked him like that. Franciska knew it was extremely careless of her to do that, and felt it would be her fault and nobody else’s if something bad were to happen to her now. Afraid that the man would retaliate in kind, Franciska immediately shifted her small body into a defensive stance, eyeing the man’s movements closely to prepare herself for an attack. She was expecting him to hit her back that what he did next came as more of a shock to her than anything else. His response was not a blow. It was a sharp retort.

Franciska internally winced as he chastised her for tailing after him. She very much wanted to snap at the man about who was in the wrong at that situation. Still, she held her tongue back, especially after catching the tone of his words. He could have hit her, but he didn’t. The Vantha knew he was right but it did nothing to make her feel better. In fact, she wanted to strangle him so bad for treating her like a clueless child.

The young man sighed and after uttering a polite apology in Vani, dropped to the ground to pick up her fallen basket. Franciska’s mouth hung open as she watched him retrieve the foodstuffs that had spilled onto the snow. She took the opportunity to take a better look at him. Things happened so fast that she hadn’t really noticed it earlier, but the man had blonde hair and fair skin instead of the darker hues of the Vantha. Thinking back, he responded to her in effortless Common. He looked every bit like a foreigner but he didn’t seem to be all that foreign to Vani. He did understand her enough to give his own snide riposte.

As soon as he was done retrieving her items, the blonde-haired man stood up and offered her the basket. Franciska’s face faintly softened as she stared at his features. Was he really such a bad person? There were plenty of chances for him to dash off, but here he was giving out his name and apologizing for scaring her. She tried to banish the thought, but Franciska was slowly finding herself reassessing her first impression of him.

“Why?” She placed her hands on his that was holding her basket, solemn red eyes boring into his blue ones. “…why did you frame that person for theft? What’s your motive for doing that?” She gave him a disapproving look, releasing his hand as she took the basket. “Was it all for fun, Meville? I could swear you looked much too happy seeing everyone at each other’s throats like that.”

Franciska wondered if he understood what she was saying. He was a foreigner after all, and she found that non-Vanthas often found it hard to comprehend the melodic tones of their language. Deciding she might get her point faster in Common, she quickly added, “Making people fight… it is not good. You have… have to say what you do earlier. To them.”

b

[Meville Brightshade]

The young woman's questions caught Meville completely off guard. He sort of started at her with a look of bewilderment as his mouth fell slightly agape. Apparently, he appeared as though he hadn't understood what she had said as she decided to translate into surprisingly good Common for how well she spoke Vani. To be frank, he had only really caught the gist of it. The rise and fall of the melodic Vantha language was incredibly difficult to follow for most foreign speakers. Meville had grown up around it, so the most difficult thing for him was the actual vocabulary, since most of the language flowed together so harmonious it was often difficult to discern one word from the other. Still, he'd comprehended enough to know she was asking him about the scene back at the market.

As far as getting caught went, this wasn't the first time. Meville had had plenty of encounters with both the Icewatch and the general populace of Avanthal where he received his punishment in some form or another. With the Common addition to her questions and statements, Meville's brow lifted slightly as he frowned. He was, in a sense, being reprimanded, however she took more of a motherly tone with him than many of the others who had done so before her. She was soft, in a sense, perhaps due to his earlier acts of charity and chivalry. If that was the case, Meville decided he'd get a few more laughs in before he returned home.

Of course, he had to be careful enough to keep from enraging her as well as the opposite of her bursting into tears. With that in mind, Meville wasn't entire sure which language he was supposed to speak in. She seemed to have understood what he said in Common well enough, but Meville couldn't tell if that was just from his tone or not. Seeing as she was Vantha, spoke Vantha, and probably thought in it, he'd try that first. "Fun? ...No." Again, his selective vocabulary made things a little difficult. "Don't get me wrong, everyone biting and yelping at each other like half-crazed animals is certainly something I find amusing." He chuckled slightly, remembering the impossibly red face of Frishka once she'd realized her beloved had stolen from her. "You asked me for my... My meaning? Er... why I did it, yes?"

He'd gotten a little caught up and had forgotten Common wasn't her native tongue, a surprisingly common experience for him despite being surrounded by the Vantha his entire life. Er... I did for lesson. People weak mind, weak heart. Breaking is... Learning?" That certainly wasn't the right word. "I meant it's interesting." He realized the entire time he'd been too distracted with formulating his response and verbalizing his thoughts to release the basked back into her possession. Smoothly pulling his hand from hers, Meville placed his left hand upon his hip as he gestured with his right for emphasis. "They're terrible people anyway. I didn't make them do anything they wouldn't have done without me."

At this point, Meville had, more or less, abandoned Vani until his tentative companion asked otherwise. Chatting about the weather was one thing. Trying to explain the reasoning behind his actions so that another person might understand was completely different. "Think about it. If any one of them chose to look past their petty, self-centered ideologies, they would have been loathe to miss the inconsistency of the entire situation." Meville pointed at her with a cheery grin. "There was, logically, not a single moment of time between the theft and discovery for Berkal to be the culprit. It's completely ridiculous!" Here, he paused, chuckling to himself at how absolutely nonsensical the whole prospect was.

"Yet!" The word was said a bit louder with much more emphasis. "Yet they chose the opportunity to charge him with theft, looking past the logic all around them to focus upon the impossible lie." He shook his head, his tone a combination of mirth and nonbelief. "You said 'making people fight', when, in fact, I did nothing of the kind." Of course, her choice of words was very possibly due to her own limited vocabulary, much like his own. "I simply lit the flame that became an inferno thanks to those that cast upon their own fuel."

He gave the woman a sly grin before adding, "Also, is fun."

Common | Vani

[Franciska Whitevine]

Franciska raised a questioning brow as she tried to gauge the man’s understanding of her words based on his facial expression. She was rather confident of her Common, having had to learn the language at an early age in her frequent travels as a child. It may not be flawlessly spoken but she was sure it was at least intelligible. There might be a significant lack in the vocabulary department but certainly, it wasn’t that hard to understand on a foreigner’s ears, was it?

The slight delay in response have had the young Vantha worried. It would have been much too troublesome for her to have to rephrase her sentence once more for the benefit of the blonde-haired foreigner whose name was Meville. To be honest, she would have just opted dragging him all the way back to that crowd of buffoons and exposed the true events of the day since they were all too daft to realize it by themselves. However, the man had shown her a kind gesture and it simply would be too impolite not to return it with at least the same degree of understanding.

When he had spoken next, it was in Vani. Franciska blinked in mild surprise, noting that he did understand her people’s tongue. That is, he seemed to know at least enough of the language to deny her accusation. The words that flowed from him right after were, unfortunately, in Common. Unfamiliar was his play on words to the thirteen year old Franciska that she was only able to catch the terms wrong, bite, and animals. Whatever it was that he said must have been amusing since it elicited a slight chuckle from the man, but the humor of it was lost to the young Whitevine.

Despite the obvious difficulty in articulating his thoughts, Meville was considerate enough to try speaking in her language once more. Franciska caught the gist of what he was trying to say, to some degree. It seemed to her that the man was trying to teach the people back at the market a lesson. The original intent was nice, but the method by which he shoved his questionable “lessons” in their faces wasn’t. There were other ways to get people to change, but causing a huge racket at a public place isn’t one of those. In her opinion, what he did was most likely self-serving in nature. But she won’t push it at that point just yet.

From then on, the foreigner had reverted to talking in his own tongue, much to Franciska’s vexation. Meville was pretty much throwing words that were way over her head that she can’t help but think he was doing it on purpose. He looked very happy while gabbing away, too. She could have grasped more of his monologue if he slowed down his speech. Even so, Franciska would never admit that she didn't understand what he just said. Besides, she got some of his words enough to know he was talking about the incident earlier, and how obvious it was that the strongman, presumably named Berkal, was not the culprit. Franciska couldn’t agree more to this.

“Also, is fun.”

Her head had inclined slightly to the side as she stared at him, confusion evident on her face. “…What? But earlier- You said it was not for fun!” After a few beats, Franciska’s eyes narrowed, darkening. He was messing with her! She won't believe that liar's words again, ever. “I see. You’re clearly enjoying this more than you should, Meville.” She had been very wrong in thinking he was some delinquent. No. He’s an utterly annoying, highly irritating, impossibly immature troublemaker. Looking at the man, she can tell that he was older than her by some years but Franciska felt like she was talking to a rascally kid instead.

She grabbed his wrist with her free hand and buried her slender fingers around it. “We’re not going anywhere with this talk. Why don’t you just own up to what you did just so we can get this over with?” Franciska let out a weary sigh. “Even if they not know… not know on their own, you tell them real event. Happen. You do right thing.” In Vani, she added, “Because I am not letting a man get jailed and relationships get muddled when I know he didn’t do anything to deserve it.” That's right, and she would drag him all the way to the Vantiguida herself if that's what it takes to get him to take responsibility for his actions.

b

[Meville Brightshade]

Meville couldn't help but burst out with impish glee as the young woman floundered for a moment given his contradicting explanation. He hadn't really intended to come off so very duplicitous, but she was paying enough attention that she had caught onto the inconsistency. Well, either that, or she was only really able to catch a few words in Common and ruminate on his sparse Vani. While the latter was much more likely, it still stood that the young woman seemed to drop whatever vestige of tentative trust she'd seemed to place in him and replace it with a very close friend of Meville's: caution. Her astute observation as to how very much fun Meville was having was followed by a very surprising attack upon his person.

Before he really realized what had happened, his wrist was in the custody of the young woman. It was a firm grip, surprisingly strong for how the girl was built, but what kept Meville from struggling to remove her bony shackle was the glint in her eyes. Out of all the people in the market to have noticed his shenanigans, the one digging her nails into his skin was, more than likely, the absolute worst one to discover him. She was speaking now much like he'd done to her (revenge, perhaps?). The melodic Vani danced around his ears, though the tone was far from anything he would have danced to. It was accusatory. Though that was all Meville really got out of it other than the "I's" and the "we's". Thankfully, she followed up with Common.

What she was propositioning was absurd. Yes, perhaps he'd gone slightly overboard with his little lesson, but once the Icewatch arrived, Meville doubted there would really be that much of a problem. They were peacekeepers, not craven monsters jumping to conclusions like the market populace. They would ask questions, interrogate witnesses and so on, until they would reach the very obvious conclusion that Berkal was innocent. The only lasting damage would be the mistrust between all of them. All in all, it was a perfectly acceptable outcome in Meville's opinion. In fact, it was optimal, really. Berkal got of relatively free, and that particular section of the market was suddenly void of that particular flavor of drama for a least a week or so. Obviously his newly appointed conscience didn't see it that way.

She muttered something after the Common explanation, which Meville strained to both hear and translate. It was something along the lines of her not wanting to do something because she knew something. Assuming she was speaking of the market situation, Meville figured she felt partially responsible for not being able to explain to the dunder-headed fools who the true culprit was. He didn't really see how that was his problem. If the adults didn't want to listen to a child's wisdom that was just rough weather. Dragging him back into it was only going to make matters worse, though Meville was quickly realizing his "companion" wasn't nearly as concerned with his well-being as she was for hers. Understandable.

"Wait wait." Meville tapped on his captor's wrist with light strikes, more of a twitch during thought than an attempt to break free. "Berkal not getting jail." Speaking Vani slowly was much like reading a sing-song poem at half the intended rate: drawn out syllables and ridiculous mouth positions. Thus, when Meville spoke Vani, it was relatively quick, though not entirely understandable. "Berkal get trouble, yes. But jail?" Meville laughed, patting the girl on the hand and shaking his head. "Icewatch not stupid. Icewatch know fake. They fix no problems."

He could tell, even without her replying, she believed him just about as far as she could trow him with one arm and a serious heart condition during a marathon. Biting his lower lip, Meville tried to think back to something credible to support his claim. "Maybe remembering glass sell lady?" His eyes widened in emphasis, "Big mess. Everything breaking. Peoples thinking, 'That boy do!'" Meville shook his head and grinned. "Icewatch come. Ask questions. They find glass sell lady do. She do for get boy in trouble. Boy fine. Glass lady get trouble. No jail both." He stopped there to let it sink in (and for the sake of letting her translating into fluent Vani).

Deciding he might try once more in Common, though at a much slower rate (which was much more comfortable than in Vani), Meville tried to piece it all together. So if you take me back, all that will happen is... Well... Nothing really. Maybe I'll get a stern talking to, but nothing actually happened. No one stole anything. See?" He sped up slightly, feeling as though he'd made a firm case in his favor. "Even if we do go back and explain, it won't fix what you want to fix anyway."

Common | Vani